Quick Summary Of [thomas]

quick summary of [thomas]

"no one has ever survived a night in the maze"

Thomas: yolo

"you won't last one day out in the scorch"

Thomas: yolo

Undercover || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: just a blurb! nothing too lengthy because this is my first writing piece on here <3

word count: 845

WARNINGS: a bit of cursing, mentions of guns! This should be almost action-comedy :)

Inspired by this prompt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Just try to relax, Stiles, okay? I don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time.”

As you looked over at your best friend and partner-in-crime, Stiles Stilinski, you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes as he thought back to the last time you both went undercover to get particulars on possible threats.

He tugged on his bottom lip in attempt to suppress the growing smile on his face as he continued to relive the memory in his head. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, eyes flickering up to rising number of floors in the elevator. “I thought we handled Cleveland pretty well.” He spoke while pushing his body off of the wall and fixating himself right next to you as the elevator doors began to open.

You cringed at the memory. Cleveland, what an experience.

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget the time I had to break a man’s nose to successfully get information out of him after a certain someone decided to get a little too carried away with their role?” You sighed dreamily, but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s beaming grin at the fact that you remembered your first operation together. But how could you forget?

Stiles Stilinski had a horrible Russian accent.

“You made me get blood on my favorite dress.” You grumbled out to him, adjusting the fake prescription glasses on your face as you slowed your movements in front of two large glass doors in the pristine hallway of suits and pencil skirts.

With furrowed brows, Stiles trailed his eyes down your figure to inspect your outfit. “I thought this one was your favorite?” He mumbled, adjusting his tie due to the slight nerves he gets just before a meeting like this. Glancing down at the plum colored peplum dress you decided to wear, you met his confused stare with a look of disgust.

“What? No, I hate this dress. I just had nothing else to wear.” You explained with a shrug. Just as Stiles opened his mouth to speak, a older gentlemen in a dark suit pulled opened the doors the two of you stood in front of. His mouth snapped shut just as you straightened out your posture and offered the man a tight lipped smile, which he returned.

The man held his hand out, graciously shaking both of your rights ones with an award winning grin. “Ms. Warren and Mr. Rapp, I presume?” He asked to which you both nodded to confirm your false identities you were given with. “Donald Cheever, please, let’s begin.” The man, Cheever, wasted no time in opening the door wider for the both of you to step through.

Stiles was quick to take the closest seat next to you, a hand on your exposed knee as Mr. Cheever sat across from you both, hands folded in with one another.

The older man’s grin faded away within seconds, being replaced with a stone cold stare set on the two of you. “I can’t help but say that you look ravishing in the at color, Ms. Y/L/N.” He spoke cooly, sending shiver run straight down your spine as you swallowed thickly.

Stiles’ grip on your knee tightened, his jaw clenching as his whiskey colored eyes grew dark with anger. “Why don’t we cut the shit, and you tell me why you are really here, hm?” The man in front of you asked, and before you could fiercely decline his proposition, Stiles opened his mouth.

“You’re a dangerous man. Incredibly stupid as well, I mean, what’s with the ginormous shiny building if you’re supposed to be hiding from the government?” Stiles sneered, and you placed your hand over his to squeeze it in a warning manner.

Cheever turned to you, raising his brow in a questioning manner. “Please ignore my associate if you can.” You sighed, ignoring the incredulous look Stiles shot you.

There was a reason why your undercover operations always ended up getting physical. Stiles can never shut his mouth.

“I really can’t.”

“Are you just unaware that you have the whole Virginia base on your ass for incredibly lethal arms deals?” Stiles scoffed in disbelief, and your head snapped in his direction just as his own eyes widened in realization.

“He certainly does now, Stilinski.” You muttered to him between clenched teeth, shooting him a deadly glare to which he gave you an apologetic shrug.

By the time you both turned back to Cheever, you were not only met with his smug expression, but a black .45 caliber pointing directly at you.

You slowly turned your head back to Stiles, who was already looking at you and offering you a almost teasing grin. “It’s a good thing you wore that dress then, huh?”

You shook your head at his words with a hint of a smile, a chuckle passing through your lips as you slipped the fake glasses off your face, your gaze back on the man holding the gun.

It was a good thing, indeed.

51 notes for UNDERCOVER

OMG!!!

my first imagine on here has 23 notes i’m :’)

did i just write a lengthy stilinski imagine at 3 am? yes.

am i mad? no, just mentally exhausted!!

..did i post it yesterday? yes.

End of the Line [ 1 ] || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: this takes place during season 6A, when Stiles is taken by the Ghost Riders. a STYDIA SCENE TURNED INTO AN STILES x READER SCENE. also, italicized text symbolizes memory.

word count: 2,426

WARNINGS: i’d say none, but some might consider angst? I don’t know how this works yet.

Inspired by this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Your heart ached as you walked through the doors. It wasn't an aching that you'd get from seeing a sad scene in a movie or seeing someone cry in public — it’s the feeling you get when you lose someone. You felt like you lost someone.

You felt lost. And you didn't know why.

Frantic. You were so frantic, tears welling in your eyes as you scanned the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School in search of your hazel-eyed best friend.

"Y/N?"

You heard him call out for you, and in that moment you didn't care if you tripped over your own two feet to get to him. You did what it took to get to him as fast you could.

The wind was picking up. The golden brown autumn leaves that tumbled from the trees were being blown by the harsh wind, your hair being whipped around your face. You didn't care. You only cared about him, only cared about being in his arms.

"You know me. Oh, thank God." He panted, hurrying you into his strong embrace. You were speechless, heart racing at the thought of being too late before he was taken. Clinging to his body, your  fists clenching into his flannel shirt.

"I know you." You managed to squeak out, mind feeling hazy.

You knew him. But it began to feel like you didn't.

Your eyes screwed shut, and you hissed in pain at the sudden pounding to your temples. Instinctively, you held your head, ignoring the stares you were given by fellow peers as your slowed your walking in the hallway.

And just as quick as it came, the headache was gone. Your eyes sprung open, and you let your gaze travel through the sea of students. Fingers tingling as well as the tip of your tongue, and you couldn't explain why. Someone was supposed to be here. But where were they?

With your brows furrowed, a look of determination settled nicely on your features. You pushed your way through the bodies, but not without looking at each one of their faces in hopes of easing the longing feeling that was only growing in the pit of your stomach.

"I think everyone else is forgetting."

Your words were weary, tears leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. Bottom lip wobbling as your grip on his flannel shirt only tightened.

The sight of you this way broke his heart, and you could see it in his whiskey colored eyes.

'Those eyes, how could I forget them?' You thought. But little did you know it was already slipping your mind.

He opened his mouth to give you as many comforting words he could before his time was up, but it was too late.

The wind picked up gradually, cold air nipping at both of your skin causing your cheeks to flush. Your clothes flapping against your body as your hair attempted to block your vision of him. So you tied it up.

Although it was blind to your eyes, it wasn't to his. He froze in your arms, a panicked look taking over his beautiful features as his eyes darted around in front of him. You could feel his breathing picking up as you held him, which caused yours to do the same.

"What is it?" You asked, no matter how badly you didn't want to ask the question — you did.

"Do you see them?" Was all he asked, his arms slipping from their hold on you as he slowly stepped back.

You took this time to look around you, only to see the dimly lit parking lot with a few cars in it. "See what?"

He whimpered at your response, and you watched as tears filled his eyes. Taking a step toward you, his large hand clasped around your wrist, gently tugging you in his direction and away from the men on the horses that only he saw. His eyes weren't on you, they were on something ahead of you — they were on them.

"Stiles," You swallowed thickly, slowly pulling your eyes away from the empty lot to his fear stricken face. "If you can see them, they're gonna.."

You couldn't finish. You didn't want to, because you knew if you did, the truth would become even more real than it already has.

Stiles finally tore his eyes away from the Ghost Riders that slowly gathered in front of the two of you, grabbing onto both of your arms firmly.

"No, I know. I know. They're coming for me."

Headache again, but what was the trigger?

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, wincing at the harsh pounding in your head. It felt as though the back of your head was being whacked with a metal bat and you couldn't get it to settle or stop.

Looking around again, nobody seemed to give you the wave of familiarity you were yearning for.

You began to grow frustrated with yourself. Why couldn't you remember who you were looking for? They must've been way too important to forget if your body is aching to find them.

But you can't fulfill your own needs.

Why? Because you don't even know who you were looking for anymore.

"You have to get away from me. Right now, okay?"

You felt your pulse begin to quicken as the hairs on your arms and back of your neck began to rise. They were here, they were close. You could feel them, but you couldn't see them.

Shaking your head at him, Stiles scoffed. Now wasn't the time to be stubborn, so he let it go. "Alright, come on. Come on!"

He began to drag you off in the direction away from the school's doors, and you didn't even care about the fact that he was pulling you so carelessly, you were tripping over your own two feet. You needed to get away.

You crashed into Stiles' body as he stopped abruptly, him seeing a single Ghost Rider at the end of the path. "This way, this way, come on." Just like that, he was pulling you back in the direction you came.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He shouted, skidding into another stop.

The tears rolling down your face were relentless, looking in multiple directions, but seeing absolutely nothing. Unlike Stiles, who had every reason to be afraid, but all he was worried about was you.

"Stiles!" You finally broke, a sob escaping your lips as you let him drag you around through the parking lot in attempt to escape. "Stiles, where are they?" You whimpered, huddling your body as close to his as possible.

He slowed his movements, panting breaths with eyes full of fear and panic as he looked around you both.

"They're everywhere."

The headaches you were beginning to feel made you feel numb. It hurt that much.

Heading to your locker, you raised your shaky hands to the combination lock that rested there, swirling in the combination.

You've never had headaches or migraines this severe, or repeatedly in one day. You never thought to keep spare Advil in your bag or locker. Glancing at the clock posted on one of the walls in the hallway, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of having a little more than 10 minutes until class started.

'Maybe the headaches would die down by then,' you thought to yourself, rummaging through your locker to put away larger textbooks only to replace them with the needed ones.

Your locker slammed shut, and you clamped the combination lock back together. Almost immediately, you turned your head to look across the emptier hallway. You looked at the set of lockers across the hall expectantly, but soon made a face of confusion. The action was almost an instinct, but nobody you knew was over there, you were met with an empty set of lockers.

"Don't look at them, Y/N, okay?"

Stiles was booking it to his powder blue jeep, hand latched with yours as he struggled to get the keys out of his back pocket. Neither of you skipped a beat when throwing yourselves into the front seats, hands reattaching almost immediately.

"Don't try to scream, they'll take you too. Do not look at them." He ordered, both of you jumping at the loud crack of lightening in the sky. However to Stiles, it was the whip of a Ghost Rider.

You shook your head rapidly. "I won't, I won't!" you assured him, heart lurching in your chest as you watched the car keys slip from his shaking grasp.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Stiles' hurried movements stopped, and instead of starting the ignition and driving out of here, he let his hand fall into his lap. "What are you doing? We need to get out of here!" You yelped, feeling your heart stop all together.

"There's no time." Was all he said.

He turned his body to face yours, using both hands to grab onto yours with need. "Y/N, I'm going to be erased, okay? Just like Alex. You're gonna forget me."

Alex. A name you didn't recognize. You knew it was the effects of the Ghost Riders, and didn't suppress the sob that left your mouth.

"No. No, I won't! I won't. I won't." You promised, your sobs escaping at every chance they could.

The only reason why you were sobbing as bad as you were, was because you were making a promise you couldn't keep. As you stared into the beautiful whiskey eyes of your best friend, as welcoming and calming as they were, they were beginning to look unfamiliar to you.

Stiles shushed your mumbles of promises by placing his larger hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. "You will." He whispered calmly, tears rolling down his own freckled cheeks as he gave you a small smile. "Just try to find some way to remember me, okay?"

Remember.

Your bottom lip trembled as you desperately grabbed onto his hands, your eyes never moving to look at anything but his own.

"Remember how you were the first person to know my real name?" He chuckled, eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of you giving him a breathless laugh at the hazy memory, soon followed by a sniffle.

Remember.

"Remember how you always liked to hold my hand in the hallways so you wouldn't get trampled, just like I'll always remember how you smile at me across the hallway from your locker." He spoke, words trembling while using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away to new set of tears.

You wept as you leaned into his slightly familiar hands, fighting with yourself to remember, but cried when you were only given a slight hazy vision.

You were forgetting.

Stiles tore his gaze away from yours quickly, before reconnecting them and sniffling. "Remember how you were the only person I talked to about my mom, Y/N. I trust you with my life." He breathed out, leaning his forehead against yours as his eyes shut.

"And I trust you with mine." You let out weakly, eyes closing as you savored the touch that, for some reason, brought you so much comfort.

Remember.

He pulled away slowly, peeling his eyes opened and you gasped. You didn't know those eyes, not one bit.

Stiles' heart shattered at the fact, he could see the scared look on your face clearly. Readjusting his grip on your face, he licked his lips nervously before speaking again."Remember... Remember that I've been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn't even realize until middle school." He chuckled humorlessly, swiping at the few stray tears that sprung from your eyes.

Remember.

You shook your head in his hold, the faint memories of your blossoming friendship since diapers flashing before your eyes. "Stiles." You wailed, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to silence your cries.

The boy's eyes flickered past you, his heart stopping at the sight of a Ghost Rider just outside your window. He released a steady breath, leaning into your face.

"And remember this."

He whispered, and before you could ask, his lips were planted on yours.

Tears rolled down each of your cheeks, merging together in the places your faces were touching. It was a whole new set of waterworks, because as he kissed you, you could feel the distant wanting of this moment. However, it was crowded by the overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity.

You pulled away, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you stared into a pair of beautiful whiskey eyes.

Remember.

The moment didn't last long at all.

Time seemed like it slowed instantly in this moment, but it hadn't at all — in fact, it happened way too quick for you to comprehend.

The door to Stiles' side opened by a large gust of wind, a Ghost Rider, and he was dragged out. You screamed, at an octave that would put a banshee to shame. Reaching out for the boy that was pulled out of the car by the wind, you choked on a sob when he disappeared with a crack of lighting.

Your arms wrapped around yourself as you pushed your body into the jeep at was slowly beginning to fade from your memory, the only word leaving your lips being 'Remember.'

You jumped at the feeling of a hand being placed on your arm, snapping out your daze to meet the concerned looks of Scott, Malia, and Lydia.

"You alright?" Scott asked softly, taking a step closer to get a good look at your face after getting a whiff of your anxious aroma.

As Scott stepped forward, Malia did too, inspecting your face with her naturally gruff expression. "People were looking at you stupid for staring at the lockers across the hall. Who are you looking for?" She asked bluntly, letting out a yelp from the whack on the arm she received from Lydia.

Despite how blunt her words were, you looked at her as tears filled your eyes. Her hard gaze softened almost immediately, feeling guilty as she thought what she said hurt your feelings.

But that wasn't it, not at all. It was the multiple painful headaches you got just from being at school for 10 minutes. It was the longing feeling you had in the pit of your stomach, the anxiousness you felt walking through the hallways because you were supposed to be with someone. You were looking for someone, but —

"I, um.. I can't remember."