Dylan O'Brien Imagines

LockDown// Stiles

You had a normal day at school, normal classes, normal friends.

Things have been normal lately, no supernatural things going on right now, things were like they used to be. You could finally bring up your bad grades.

"Hey Stiles," you smiled as you sat down beside him at lunch. "Whatcha doing?"

"Hey babe." He leaned over and kissed you cheek. 

You two weren't exactly together, but you were something. Not official but together. Complicated.

"I have a test next period that I have no idea about." He sighed, staring into the text book. 

"Spanish?" You ask, staring over his shoulder.

"Si." He smiles.

"Actually, I'm pretty good at Spanish," you smile, pulling his notebook from underneath is textbook. 

You start writing out what's going to be on the test and explaining it to him. "You're so smart."

You followed Stiles to Spanish, which you had with him. 

You were in the middle of the test when it happened. When your principle yelled 'Code Red' over the intercom, you were told to get underneath the desks and wait.

You thought this would pass within a few minutes, until the windows are shattered at the sound of gunshots. 

Everyone started screaming and running, but Stiles found you and pulled you out of the room. You heard the gunshots and the sound of people falling. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him against a wall, your backs pressed against it. 

"What the hell was that?" You breathed as you stayed against the wall. 

"My dad said someone escaped from the prison in the next county." Stiles said, pulling his phone from his ear.

Stiles grabbed your hand and pulled you from the wall and into the locker room. You sat in the corner, Stiles hand over your mouth to keep you from talking. You talked when you were nervous.

"I'm gonna get a bat from the locker and call my dad, but I want you to hid in the closet, I'll be right back." He whispers in your ear. You nod and get up, walking to the closet in the room.

You looked at him one last time before hiding in the very back of the closet. 

A few minutes later, you heard the door open and close, but this time the footsteps were heavy and dragged out. 

It was the shooter.

You clamped your hand over your mouth, holding in your heavy breaths. 

All you could think about was Stiles. Was he okay? Did he get out?

The door swung open and someone grabbed your foot, dragging you out. A loud scream escaped your throat as they towered over you.

He had a knife in one hand, hiding his gun in his waistband with the other. You tried to get up, but he straddled you, putting his knees on your arm. You learned one thing from spending time with Sheriff Stilinski.

You reached up and punched him in the throat. He staggered off of you but not before sticking the knife in your shoulder as you ran through the door. You turned and slammed it, looking for anything to put against it. 

You grabbed a stack of chairs, pushing them against the door. You shoulder was throbbing and bleeding badly. 

You grabbed the ax from the fire box and started walking around school, in search for somewhere to hid.

Someone turns the corner and you swing the ax, barely missing them.

"Stiles?" you sighed, dropping your hands at your waist. "Shit, you scared the crap out of me."

"What happened? Why aren't you hiding? Was that you I heard screaming?" He badgers you with questions.

"He found me."

He motions to your shoulder. "And he did that?"

You nod. The door opens and you grab his hand and pull him into a tight closet.

Your body is pressed against his and your heavy breaths filled the small space.

You stared at him, his brown eyes staring back at you. Suddenly, he leans down and crashes his lips onto yours, sliding his arms around your torso.

Your lips moved against his lips perfectly, your mind slipping out of your situation for a few minutes. 

You pulled back, resting your forehead against his chest. "We're making out while a killer is running around school."

He groans, resting his hand on the curve of your waist.

You hear the sirens reaching the school as you two hid. 

Fourteen gunshots later, your principle came on the intercom and said everything was okay and that medics were going to be in in a bit.

"C'mon, we need to get your shoulder checked out." He said, pulling you out of the closet. 

As you walked together, hand in hand, a bat in his loose hand, an ax in yours, you stopped him.

"So are we a thing?" You asked, staring at your intertwined fingers.

"I thought we already were." He furrows his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess, it's just we never confirmed each other, I just kind of figured but-"

He leans down and kisses your softly. "Does that answer your question?"

You nod, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him again.