Dylan O'Brien Imagines

What Did They Do To You?// Stiles

You watched as Stiles made almost all the goals, cheering him on. Every time he made one, he would look toward you, a grin on his face.

He was trying to impress you. He already had made an impression, a good one. You used to make bubble baths together, ever since you both were kids, you've had a crush on him.

But of course, he was in love with Lydia Martin.

The cold hearted, lifeless bitch that was always an asshole to Stiles, which only made him fall deeper and deeper in love with her.

You cheered him on, screaming his name, yelling for him to run, for him to watch out, to make the goal.

You knew something was wrong when all the lights on the lacrosse field went out. With everyone on the field still. Something was wrong, you felt it when all the screaming started.

The first thing you could think of to do was yell for Stiles.

"Stiles?" you screamed. "Stiles, where are you?"

People were pushing you, you couldn't see, you were scared to death of what was going on.

That's when you saw everyone crowded in the middle of the field, someone was down.

But you still couldn't find Stiles. "Scott? Stiles?"

You felt someone grab your arm, you turned around hoping to see Stiles' face but instead you saw Scott.

"Scott, where's Stiles?"

"I don't know, I don't know but Jackson is dead, he-he killed himself."

The lights come back up as you search the field for 24 jersey.

It was no where to be seen.

That's when you hear Sheriff Stilinski start yelling for Stiles too.

"Where the hell is my son?" He yells.

*an hour later*

You sat on his bed, tapping your leg viciously. He was gone, no one could find him.

You were just sitting here while everyone looked for him.

You got up, unable to sit there, just listening to your heart beat.

You started going through his research, looking through all his papers. You grabbed a pack of blank files and started separating his papers.

What else were you supposed to be? You had to do something.

You labelled them, putting them in the bottom draw of his desk. Another hour and you were finished.

You pulled open his laptop, seeing his laptop wallpaper a picture of you two at the winter formal together. You smiled softly, wiping a tear from your cheek with the palm of your hand.

He was kissing your cheek, your hand on the side of his face. You had a shocked expression of your face but you were faking it. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Where the hell are you Stiles?" You whispered to yourself.

"I'm right here." You jumped from the seat, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He was there, standing right in front of you, he had a giant bruise on his left cheekbone, a black eye and a busted lip.

"Oh my god Stiles, what the hell happened?" You grabbed the side of his face, turning it to examine it. "Who did this to you? Tell me who they are and I will learn how to hold a gun just so I can pistol whip those little bastards."

"Y/n! I said it was okay," he turned to look at you again. "It was some other people from the other team, they were mad about losing."

You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck, his arms around your torso. "I'm okay."

You pulled back and he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"Hmm, maybe I should be kidnapped more often if you're gonna clean up." He smiles over at his desk.

You chuckled before balling up his shirt in your hand and pulling his lips onto yours.

He seemed a bit shocked but he kissed back, pushing his arms around your torso, pulling you closer to him.

"Maybe I should be kidnapped just to that again."

You chuckled, running your thumbs over his cheeks.