Req: Stiles x best friend reader where reader gets taken by the ghost riders and Stiles remembers.
You had no idea finding yourself in a forgotten child’s bedroom would lead to this. The hairs on your arms stood on end, and something inside you told you to get down, so you did. Looking under the bed you saw a pair of boots standing on the other side of the bed.
You began to shake as the boots stepped forward. “Y/n?” You heard from down the hall. And suddenly after you had blinked you found that the boots were gone. The only shoes you saw were Stiles Vans stepping into the room and rounding the bed. You looked up at him still laying on your stomach. He cocked his head to the side giving you a half grin. “Taking a nap on the floor are we?”
“Stiles there’s something wrong.” You were shaking as if the room had turned to ice. His smile dropped as he immediately knelt at your side.
“Let’s get you to the Jeep.” He picked you up and carried you out of the now empty room. He set you down on the seat.
“Do you still have the bestiary in the back seat, I had an idea.”
“Yeah, I do.” He reached over you pulling the book from behind your seat. You flipped through till you found what you were looking for. On the page was a zombified cowboy.
“This is it. But Stiles… there’s something else. I saw them, which means they are coming for me too. He shook his head.
“No, no they aren’t, they can’t. I-I won’t. I can’t let them.” He rounded the car to the drivers side. “I’ll drive. I’ll drive forever if I have to.”
The wind began to pick up blowing leaves and debris around the Jeep. “Stiles it’s not going to work. They will come for me.”
“They’re called the Ghost Riders. And when they take me all of you are going to forget me.” You choked out a sob. “I need you to try and remember. Remember me.”
“I could never forget you please, please don’t leave.” The car screeched to a stop. In the middle of the road was a man on a horse. While the wind rocked the jeep the figure stood stone still on his steed.
Suddenly the door on your side of the Jeep flew open. You screamed and thrashed as you were grabbed and pulled from the Jeep. Then everything went still. Stiles looked around trying to remember where he was driving, and why there were tears rolling down his cheeks.
Weeks went by and Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that something was profoundly wrong with life as it was. He had received a call from George Washington University.
“Is this a Mieczysław Stilinski?”
“On your paperwork you have listed that you requested a dorm in the co-ed dormitory and that you wanted to request a specific roommate. But there’s no name on the form. We are going to need you to re-fill out the form.”
“Oh? I- uh, I don’t remember doing that…” he frowned still holding the phone to his ear.
That same week he looked around the lunch table at his friends. Scott sat to his right and there was Malia to his left, but there was a space between them. “Malia I have a question.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you sit directly next to me?”
“I don’t know? I just don’t?”
“And that doesn’t bother you? Something is wrong here and we need to fix it!” Stiles slammed a fist onto the table.
“I’m sorry? I didn’t know me not sitting beside you made you feel badly?”
“No it’s not that. It’s like something is missing. Someone, is missing.” Stiles growled out.
“Stiles. What are you talking about? That doesn’t make sense?” Scott asked.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Never mind. You guys aren’t listening. I’m going to figure this out myself then.”
He was flipping through lore book after lore book trying to find something to name the feeling in his gut. He looked up at his board. He suddenly noticed sentences scrawled in red dry erase marker that wasn’t his handwriting. Nor was it Scott’s. “Who do you belong to?” Then he heard it. As his fingers brushed the dried ink on the board he heard, in the back of his mind, the sound of your laugh.
“I’m telling you, something is wrong Scott. There’s handwriting on my board I don’t recognize! And I heard this laugh, it sounded so familiar, like Deja Voo.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
“NO! I do! I do know.” He had tears in his eyes now. “I just need to remember. Remember. Come on Stiles remember.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. His head shot up to look at Scott. “Ice bath. We can stick me in an ice bath. It’ll drop my heart rate enough to help me reach my subconscious. If I can reach subconscious I can remember them.”
“Are you sure about this Stiles?” Scott had his hands on either side of his best friend, ready to dunk him into the ice cold water.
“Yes, let’s do this already.” With that he was plunged underneath the surface of the water. His mind went blank at first, the shock of the cold reaching into his head. Then he heard it again, the laugh, your laugh.
When he opened his eyes he wasn’t in the water but his bedroom. “Stiles, why are you being weird?” Your voice sounded echoed and far away. He saw himself at his board writing something. But every time he tried to focus on the figure curled up in his bed it was like the picture went blurry.
He blinked and suddenly the vision changed. He was in the school locker room. He could see himself wrapping a towel around himself like a frightened school girl. “What are you doing in here?” His past self hissed. Suddenly the same blur appeared pushing past-tense Stiles into the lockers.
“I’m here to yell at you, you idiot! You lied to me, and almost got yourself killed!” He still couldn’t see you, but he could make out your voice.
He blinked again this time he saw quick flashes, a flash of your hair, a flash of your lips, a flash of your eyes.
Finally he was on the lacrosse field. A young child ran past him. He recognized his 10 year old self. Young Stiles held a stick, desperately trying to keep up with the rest of the children in the little league lacrosse team. He was pushed down by another boy.
“Jackson always was a prick.” Little Jackson laughed as young Stiles fell to the ground.
“Hey! Stupidhead!!! Leave him alone.” Another child in full gear stepped between the two young boys. The child pushed little Jackson aside. “I said leave him alone or I’ll beat you with my stick you jerk.” Little Jackson ran off crying to the coach of your threats.
10 year old you turned to young Stiles and held out a hand to help him up. “I’m y/n by the way.” You grinned down at the boy.
“Y/n” suddenly Stiles was housed from the water. He gasped as he took in gulps of hair. His lips not blue from the cold and lack of oxygen. “Y/n, their name is y/n. They were our friend. They were one of my best friends.” Scott gave him a puzzled look. “We need to get them back.”
By ‘get them back’ Stiles apparently meant tackle a ghost rider and get himself purposefully caught while Scott and the rest of them figure out how to stop an evil Nazi leading the ghost riders.
He launched himself at the ghost rider knocking it off its horse. It whipped around to face Stiles pulling out its revolver. He braced for impact as the gun fired.
When his eyes opened he was in a train station. He looked around wildly, searching for you. Here in this space he could see your beautiful face in his mind much more clearly. He searched through the rows of people sitting on the benches until he found you.
There you were glassy-eyed. Your legs were tucked up underneath you, just how you sat curled up on his bed. Your hands were hooded in your lap. You didn’t look up when Stiles stopped in front of you, stuck as if in a trance. Not even when he grasped you by your shoulders and shook you did you react.
“Y/n? Y/n please. Please I need you to wake up from whatever hoodoo they have you under.” He heard a horse whinny off in the distance. “Y/n, please you’re my best friend. You’re more than that because I-. Because I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a long time. So please would you stop being an idiot and wake up?” You blinked, once then twice.
“Stiles? Why did you call me an idiot?” He pressed a hand to his mouth, letting out a nervous laugh.
“I’ll explain later. But now we have to move.” He grabbed your hand pulling you up and towards the tracks. Before you could get far a ghost rider appeared.
He grabbed Stiles by the collar and housed him up onto the air. He dropped him to the ground before getting on top of him. They tussled on the ground until Stiles had taken the ghosts gun. It burst into a cloud of green dust making you scream.
He sighed looking toward you in relief. “Let’s go home.” A light shone at the end of the tunnel and you could hear your friends calling you and Stiles names. He led you out, and when the light subsided you were both back in the Jeep. On the road where you had been taken months ago.
You looked around, then at Stiles, who still sat watching you. You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his shirt as tears welled up in your eyes.
You pulled back looking him in the eyes. “Did you mean what you said? In the train station?”
His entire face went red all the way down his neck. “Well I- uh. Which part?”
Your face dropped. “You said you loved me. In the train station, you said you were in love with me. Did you mean it?”
His head dropped, taking your hand in his own, he played with your fingers as he spoke. “I did, every word.” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. Then you smashed your lips to his own. In started out needy and messy, but slipped in a slow graceful, passionate kiss as one of his hands found the back of your neck and the other your waist. “God, I missed you so much, even when I couldn’t remember you I missed you. It was like a hole inside of me.”
“I knew you’d find me, Stiles. You always manage to be the one to save me.” He rested his forehead against yours. He pressed one more chaste kiss against your lips before suddenly switching the Jeep into gear.
“Let’s get going baby, Scott needs our help, and there’s still a Nazi to take care of.”
