#did this instead of paying attention to our criminal justice class lmao

[nottherealsquiddo]

[part 1]/[part 2]/[part 3]

i just HAD to bang out a second

[duskholland]

Will You Be Lime? (Stiles Stilinski imagine)

Summary: in which Stiles has an affinity for terrible pickup lines and decides he wants to win you over. 

Warnings: just a couple of curses here and there

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: this is...this is just really fun. It’s also what I’d like to describe as ‘Hannah got a stupid idea and decided to roll with it’. I completely blame @truthorclifford for this tho - Mason’s pickup lines are incredible and 100% inspired this fic lmao. Happy reading! :)

“Hey, Y/N, heads up!”

At the sound of a loud voice, you snapped your head up to see a large object hurtling through the air, headed straight towards you. Letting out a small yelp, you dropped your pen and managed to catch the thing, your heart racing.

“Stiles!” You exclaimed, hands shaking. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” he offered, coming to a stop in front of your table. He looked down at you, grinning like a madman. “Do you like it?”

“You…” You broke off, turning the piece of fruit in your hands. “You got me a lime?”

“That’s not all,” he prompted, rocking back on his feet. You squinted at it, letting out a short laugh a moment later.

“Why’d you hand me a lime with your number on it?” You asked, confused not even beginning to describe how you felt.  

Overwhelmed by laughter, Stiles had to take a moment before replying. “It’s a pickup lime!”

You looked up to meet his eyes and lasted precisely two seconds before dissolving into laughter. “Oh my god!” You exclaimed, bending over the desk as your body shook. “That’s awful!”

“I know,” he agreed, rubbing his hands together. “I came up with it for you.”

Grinning, you nodded your head appreciatively. “Well, thank you.”

You’d met Stiles when you both began college together. You were studying the same course so found yourself sharing identical classes, often ending up partnered together for assignments and group work. Despite sharing a friendship with him, you hadn’t got his number, neither did you know much about him other than the fact that he’d made a repeated point of trying to win you over with horrific pickup lines. Or, limes.

“I thought you’d like that one,” he mused. “How’s your work going, though? Is that Professor Bell’s essay?”

You reached over and patted a free chair, Stiles moving to slip into it a moment later. You’d escaped to a study room in the criminal justice department to try and nail a tricky homework assignment before you went home for the night.

“Yeah,” you began, rubbing at your temples in frustration. “It’s killing me.”

“Do you want any help? I am the best project partner, after all,” he said with a wink. You laughed, shaking your head ever so slightly.

“Thank you, but I think it’s something I need to do by myself.” As kind as the offer was, you weren’t close enough to Stiles to feel comfortable with him giving up his Friday night for you. Besides, you’d almost cracked it.

“You sure?” He asked, seeming reluctant to leave you.

Nodding earnestly, you picked up the lime and held it out. “Do you want this back?” You asked, watching as he stood from the chair and shook his head.

“Nah, you might need my number someday. And besides,” as Stiles walked around the table, he gained a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I think you’re suffering from a lack of Vitamin Me.”

Scoffing, you placed the lime back on the table. “Sure, sure,” you agreed, going along with it. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

Stiles nodded, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Will do!”

When Stiles next approached you, it was about a week later. You hadn’t seen him in any of your classes or lectures and had found yourself missing his quirky sense of humour. You’d managed to keep in touch via text, however, as you’d found yourself giving in and messaging the number scrawled across the lime - not for any romantic reason, just because...well, you liked him. As a friend.

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard his voice say from across the lecture hall. Looking up from your phone, he walked towards you, a box of raisins in his outstretched hand. He slipped into the free seat beside you, amber eyes lit with a humorous light. Smirking, he asked, “do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?”

“Shit, Stiles,” you said, laughing lightly. “How many of these do you have?”

Despite looking slightly put out, Stiles was otherwise his normal self, tilting his head to the side. “As many as it takes to win your heart, honey,” he chimed. You found yourself blushing at the comment, surprised at the way your heart began to beat against your chest.

“Where’ve you been this week?” You asked, pulling out a notebook. Your lecture was due to start any minute but the professor had yet to appear, meaning you had some time to catch up with your friend.

Drumming his pen on the top of his paper, Stiles responded. “Had to go home for a bit, family thing.” When your eyes widened, he shook his head with a laugh. “Nothing bad! My dad was getting remarried.”

“Oh,” you said, relieved. “Was it nice?”

“Yeah,” he answered, looking sincere. “It was a great wedding and I got to catch up with some old friends. They gave me some new lines, as well,” he added, grinning somewhat.

Smiling, you nodded your head. “I look forward to hearing them.” And you did, truly. Despite not being able to figure out whether he was genuinely asking you out or simply playing a game with you, Stiles’ cheesy attempts never failed to cheer you up.

Shortly after, the professor entered thus disrupting your conversation. As you tried to pay attention to the lecture, you found your focus somewhat captured by the man beside you. He’d fiddle - scribbling patterns on his page, ripping off the corners of his paper, chewing the pen’s lid between his teeth - but instead of finding it completely annoying, you had to admit it was somewhat endearing.

When the lecture concluded, Stiles got from his seat and stretched his arms out, yawning loudly. Before excusing himself, he glanced back down at you, seeming a little nervous.

“I was serious, by the way. You ever want a date - an actual date - you’ve got my number. Just...shoot me a text.” Before you had time to process his words, let alone give a response, Stiles was walking out of the hall, legs carrying him at a speedy pace.

Sitting back in your chair, you let out a low sigh. He was being serious.

Lips twitching, you resolved to text him as soon as you were home.

“I have to say, Y/N,” he announced, eyes twinkling beneath the dim lights of the restaurant. “If you were a burger at McDonald’s, you’d be a McStunner.”

Almost choking on the water you were sipping, you had to cough before replying. “Why, thank you, Mr. Stilinski. I could say the same to you.”

You had to admit - Stiles cleaned up well. Not that it surprised you, but when he’d turned up at your door two hours prior to ‘escort you on the best night of your life’, you’d found your eyes lingering on his torso a little longer than they probably should have. You couldn’t help it, though. The burgundy shirt he’d put on was tight and managed to accentuate his impressive arm muscles in an extremely attractive way. The colour also flattered his complexion, amplifying the golden specks in his eyes and giving his face a youthful glow.

“You like my shirt?” He questioned, biting his plump bottom lip ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” You replied, unsure. You weren’t sure if he’d picked up on your lingering looks or if he was setting up for another line.

“Good,” he said determinedly. “Cost me an absolute fortune. It’s made from premium boyfriend material.”

“Jesus Christ,” you commented, laughing yet again. “I don’t know how you do it!” You admitted, forced to elaborate when he tilted his head to the side in an enquiring manner. “You’re so...so smooth,” you began, “it’s like you’ve rehearsed these, or something.”

Missing the way his ears tinged a light pink, Stiles cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like them,” he said, “because there’s a lot more where they came from.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

There was a brief pause whilst your food was brought out, and when you began to tuck into your delicious meal, Stiles struck up conversation again. “So,” he began, voice slightly uncertain, “why’d you finally agree to go on a date with me?”

Taken aback by the straightforwardness of the question, it took you a few moments to respond. “You seem nice,” you tried. It was difficult to explain what it was about Stiles that appealed to you. It wasn’t just one thing - it was a combination of things. The small studying quirks he’d adopted, the way he’d always look out for you in your classes, the ridiculous pickup lines. “Wait, finally? You only just asked me out!” You backtracked, staring at him somewhat accusingly.

“Y/N,” Stiles said with a fond sigh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out for five months.”

Mouth running dry, you shook your head firmly. “No. No, you haven’t. You’ve only asked me out once and that was last week. I’d remember if you had before that.”

“Well, then, I’ve been trying to woo you for five months. Guess my hard work finally paid off,” he said with a smile.

“The pickup lines,” you breathed out. So there’d been romantic intention behind them all along. “I wasn’t sure if you were just messing me around,” you explained.

“No, I wouldn’t do that. I, uh,” Stiles broke off, pointing to his cup of coffee, “I like you a latté.”

Biting on your lip to hold back a laugh, you held back the urge to reach across the table and plant a kiss on his infuriatingly attractive mouth.

“Well,” you began, nerves jumping around your chest, “I like you a latté, too.”

Licking his lips, the smile that flooded his face was completely genuine. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“We should go somewhere for our anniversary,” you suggested. From where he was settled further down the couch, Stiles glanced over to you and raised an eyebrow. “It’s our first one, may as well do something special!”

Since your first date, things had only escalated. You’d gotten to know each other, grown closer as friends, and then as lovers. It’d been a year and you were head over heels with the man that’d stolen your heart.

As he’d had printed on a sweet to give to you for Valentine’s Day, the two of you were mint to be.

“Oh, baby,” he began, adopting his signature I-have-another-pickup-line voice. “You know I wish we could run away together, but I cantaloupe.”

“Fuck off,” you murmured, laughing softly. You reached out to shove his shoulder, fondness ebbing across your chest.

“Okay, fine, I’ll admit that was a little weak,” he gave in. “But yeah. That sounds like a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Can’t wait to explore some places south of the Equator.”

Scoffing, you climbed off your sofa and began to walk towards the door. “Hey!” He called after you, and you didn’t have to look at his face to know he had his lips curled into a pout. “Where are you going?”

“Stiles,” you said, pausing to turn and faux-glare at him. “You know I love you, but sometimes you are unbelievable.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here, alone on this sofa, because you don’t like my jokes?” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at you accusingly.

“No.” You vanished from the room for a few moments, reappearing with your laptop. “Now we can start planning an adventure.”

You collapsed onto the sofa beside him, curling into his side as you passed him the laptop. “Oh,” he responded, voice softer. “Well...that’s a really good idea.”

“I know. I am the brains in this relationship, after all,” you teased, earning a sharp gasp and exclamation. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you covered, tilting your head to look at him. “We’re both the brains of this relationship.”

“Damn straight,” he agreed.

Before beginning his research, Stiles paused and moved to nuzzle his lips against your forehead, scattering a few light kisses across the skin. You let out a small sigh, snuggling further into his side contently.

“I love you,” he said, repeating the words for the millionth time. Just like it had the first time you’d heard them, your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

“And I love you too.”

“Stop complaining - you owe me,” you scolded, yanking Stiles along the mountain path. It was a warm day, the sun beating down on your heads, and your boyfriend of four years was struggling.

“I don’t see why you’re making me do this,” he grumbled, grip on your hand strengthening when you pulled him up an especially steep section of path.

“If I remember correctly, you dropped the worst pickup line imaginable in front of my parents and promised to do anything to make it up to me. This is it - this is what you have to do for me to forgive you. Besides,” using your free hand, you waved vaguely in front of you, “we’re almost there.”

“You’re lying,” he muttered, “we’re hours from the top of this bloody mountain. And besides - it wasn’t that bad-”

“Don’t even start. You might not be able to remember because you were drunk, but the look on my dad’s face when you said, and I’m quoting accurately, by the way, ‘are you an orphanage? Because I want to put my kids in you.’ will never leave my head. Ever.”

Blushing furiously, Stiles sighed. He’d gotten a little too intoxicated on the eggnog at a Christmas function, resulting in a moment you knew you’d never forget.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “It was a bad one.”

“The worst. And that’s saying a lot.”

“Hey! Most of the time my pickup lines are exceptional.” Realising he grumbled less when you distracted him with talking, you decided to tease him a little. 

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Name one other that’s been a bad one.”

“Oh, I can name several,” you promised, squinting as you noticed the peak of the hill steadily approaching.

Dropping your voice low, you did your best impression of Stiles. “Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to all my prayers.” He went to interrupt you, but you shook your head firmly and continued. “Is your name Google? Because you’re the answer to everything I’m searching for.” You broke off, laughing when you remembered the line he’d broken out before you’d slept together for the first time. “Let’s not forget, the only STD I have is a sexually transmitted desire...for you.”

Blushing furiously, Stiles shrugged. “You love them really.”

“Maybe,” you replied vaguely. With a final tug of his hand, you sighed with relief when you walked out onto the flat of the hill. “Look, you made it!” Knocking your shoulder against his, you quickly wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and he used you as a makeshift wall to rest his weight against as he recovered his breath.

“Fine, you were right,” he gave in, looking around. “The view up here is stunning.” Smirking victoriously, you helped him over to a large rock. Luckily the viewpoint was empty - what you were about to do was a private moment.

Taking off your rucksack, you saw Stiles’ eyes light up. “Did you bring snacks?” He exclaimed hopefully.

Biting your lip, you shook your head. After taking a final breath to calm your racing nerves, you moved your plan into action.

“Hey, Stiles, heads up!”

“Wh- hey!” Fumbling, Stiles barely caught the object you threw at him. “What- what the fuck is this?”

You waited, not responding, as he turned it over in his hands. “A lime,” he stated. “With a...with an engagement ring?”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, uncontrollable excitement coursing through them. “An engagement ring, right?”

Moving forwards, you pulled the ring free of the tape you’d used to attach it to the fruit with. Clearing your throat, you moved to kneel on the ground, looking up at him with a triumphant expression.

“Stiles Stilinski,” you began, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Will you be lime?”

Blinking quickly, Stiles’ jaw fell open. “The-the first time you use a pickup line, it’s to propose to me?”

“You betcha,” you agreed, perspiration prickling across your forehead. Seconds trickled by and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a follow-up question. “Well? Are you just gonna leave me hanging? Because this could be a really awkward walk home, let me tell you-”

Stiles cut you off by tackling you into a hug, knees crashing to the ground as he pulled you into his chest. “Of course it’s a yes, you idiot.” Knowing him well, you didn’t comment on the tears that clouded his voice. “I can’t believe you beat me out to proposing though!” He added, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Fuck, Scott’s going to be so pissed...we had this entire thing planned, and- actually, no, never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

He broke off, taking the ring and turning it over in his hands. “I love it. I-I love you.” After pushing the ring over his knuckles, Stiles’ hands fell to hold your waist. You were both kneeling on the dusty ground, hot and sticky, but the love that swirled around you was the only thing that mattered.

“And I love you.”

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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