Dylan O'Brien Imagines.

Training | Stiles Stilinski

A/N: In celebration of the new teen wolf trailer, I give you FBI Stiles!! xoxo

The sun shined through my blinds, indicating that morning finally came around after the long night of training I had with Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. He's the guy my boss had paired me with for the FBI training and it's gets kind of awkward, since he's a really attractive guy and most nights, he sees me in just a sports bra and spandex. The director had set up apartments for each of the trainees and their partners, resulting in Stiles being my roommate. Luckily, it was a two bedroom apartment. I squinted my eyes, groaning as I pull the duvet over my head, not wanting to be awake at the moment. As I try to get back to sleep, a knock on my door echoes off the walls.

"GO AWAY," I mumbled tiredly, feeling all the bruises on my arms and stomach, wincing a little when I turn around, facing away from the window.

"C'mon, Y/N. Get up." Stiles deep voice flowed through the wood. I bite my lip, always liking how he sounds when he first wakes up in the morning, or even in general. He's got such a great voice. The door opened, Stiles walking in, hearing his footsteps coming closer to the bed. He pulls my blanket away from me, his eyes widening as he noticed that I'm not wearing any pants, turning around, facing the window.

"Stiles, you act like you've never seen a girl in just a shirt and panties. You don't have to look away. You knew that I don't wear pants to bed, so you walked into this knowing what was gonna happen." I smirked, getting out of my bed, walking towards my dresser as I can feel eyes on my back. I pulled my shirt up, looking at the bruise that was embedded on my ribs, running my fingers over it, hissing.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, looking at the bruise on my ribs, walking over to me, placing his slender fingers against the black and blue skin. I grabbed his hand, flinching away from him and he looked at me, a sad expression on his face. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I didn't want to be that rough on you, but you just weren't getting it right." He sighed, sitting on the bed as a frown was present on his beautiful pink lips.

"It's alright. That's our job, Stiles. I'm going to end up getting hurt one way or another. I'm a little glad that you were rough on me, because other people won't be. So, thank you." I muttered, placing a kiss to his cheek before I walk into the bathroom with some clothes, closing the door behind me.

Oh god. Why did I just do that? Now he's gonna think I'm weird, damn it. I rested my head against the door, my eyes shut as I think about the feeling of his skin against my lips. Stiles always held a soft spot in my heart when we'd stay up late after a training session, Star Wars playing softly in the background as he told me about his life in Beacon Hills. He even told me about the supernatural, which I refused to believe at first until he had video chatted Scott, proving to me that he's a werewolf.

Stiles stared at the wall, shocked at what I had done. His hand grazed over his cheek where my lips had just been. His cheeks heating up, turning a pinkish color as a lopsided grin appears on his lips, looking towards the bathroom door. Don't do it, Stiles. You shouldn't let your personal feeling fall into the mix.

I walked back into the bedroom, finding Stiles with a grin on his lips, playing with his fingers as he seemed lost in his thoughts. "Stiles?" I asked, smiling as he jumped a bit, looking over to me, noticing I had gotten dressed. I look down at my outfit: my tie-dyed spandex shorts paired with a grey tank top and sports bra. "Whatcha thinkin about?"

He shrugged, shaking his head as he stood up, wiping his hands on his basketball shorts, swallowing visibly. "N-Nothing. Just thinking about home again," He lied, not looking into my eyes as he looked around the room. I let out an mhm, walking out of my bedroom, into the living room, grabbing my sneakers along the way. Stiles waited by the front door, leaning against the doorframe as I tied my shoes, running over to join him. "Ready?" He asked and I nodded my head, both of us heading out the door, driving towards the FBI training center that was located in California. We walked inside, our gym bags strapped on our shoulder as I laughed at a joke he told me in the car, feeling people's stares on us as we make our way to the ring.