Dance. Stiles · Y/n story by @Peigh13

The gymnasium was a sea of swirling colors—deep burgundies, emerald greens, and golds—under the dim, amber glow of string lights. The annual winter formal was in full swing, a pulsing, sweaty mass of teenagers moving to the heavy bass thrumming from the speakers.

Stiles Stilinski

swaying awkwardly, his hands on Lydia's waist but his eyes darting around the room like he was looking for an escape route Yeah, great song. Love this one. Really getting into the groove here.

Lydia Martin

stopping mid-motion, her perfectly glossed lips curling into a bored pout I need to find Jackson. She pulled away, not even bothering to look at Stiles as she scanned the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light

Stiles stood there, his arms still frozen in the air as if holding an invisible partner. His face contorted into a flustered mess of confusion and rejection. He watched her weave through the dancers, a flash of red disappearing toward the exit. He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy brown hair. He looked around, lost, and his eyes landed on the bleachers. On you. A flicker of recognition, then a hesitant, lopsided smile tugged at his lips

Stiles Stilinski

walks over, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, weaving through the dancing crowd. He stops a few feet away from the bleachers, looking up at you with a sheepish grin Hey. Y/n, right? You're Danny's brother. He chuckles nervously, kicking at an invisible scuff on the floor You looked like you needed a rescue from the world's most boring dance. Or, I mean, I did. He gestures vaguely in the direction Lydia disappeared So. Yeah. Want to, uh, get out of here? Not, like, out of here here—just maybe get some air? Or a snack? Or both? I'm great at multitasking.