Stiles Stilinski Imagines

F.B.I. Training

I sit in a seat and pull out a pen.

"Is this seat taken?" I look up and see a guy with messy brunet hair.

"Oh no. Go ahead." I smile softly and he sits down. He pulls out a bunch of office supplies and neatly places them on the table, organizing them.

"You'll find three words on the official FBI seal, 'Loyalty, Courage, Integrity'." The FBI instructor begins. "You'll join actual Federal Agents as we investigate everything from white-"

"Collar crime to terrorism international and domestic?" The guy besides me says.

"Uh, yes, exactly." The instructor continues. "We're also part of task forces to catch kidnappers, murderers-"

"Serial killers?" I slowly look over at the guy and he just shrugs at me.

"Yes, even serial killers." The instructor becomes annoyed.

"Sorry, I'll raise my hand, you know. I'm sorry, keep going."

"One recent manhunt had our Crisis Response chasing down a bizarrely feral unsub in the wilderness of North Carolina."

The instructor puts up a picture of a man with some kind of tattoo with three spirals on his back. The guy next to me immediately spits out the water and quickly puts his hand over his mouth.

"Is there a problem-" The instructor looks in a book confused. "-uh, young man?"

"No. Sorry, uh, just got a little excited."

The instructor sighs. "No problem."

The guy next to me raises his hand and I roll my eyes. "Little question though, that guy up there, what's, uh, he wanted for?"

"Murder."

"Is, uh, sorry. Just what kind of, uh, murder, exactly?"

"Mass murder."

The instructor than continues teaching and the guy besides me is suddenly quiet now.

"How do you know all this stuff? And why do you keep bringing up extreme kind of FBI work?" I whisper to him.

"Uh, my dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills and weird crap happens there, like, all the time." He whispers back. I make an 'oh' with my mouth. He holds out his hand and I gladly shake it. "Stiles Stilinski."

"Y/n y/l/n." He smiles and we continue listening to the instructor.