Teen Wolf Imagines #Wattys2017

Not Like This

Of all the ways it could have happened, you hadn't expected this.
Things were going well for once. The deadpool of supernatural creatures to kill in Beacon Hills had been destroyed, Kate had been chased off by the Calavera's and Chris Argent was helping to lead their search for her, and neither she, nor her Berserkers had been seen since Mexico, and there were no hunters after the supernatural beings among you. All in all it had been a good three months, and things were finally settling back into a comfortable rhythm for Scott's pack. You had all been trying to help Jordan Parrish discover just what he may be, and the shifters amongst you were helping Liam learn to control himself during the full moon.
It was a Saturday night, which Lydia had decided when things first began to settle down would be pack movie night. A way to keep everyone together, and on the same page, especially with school and lacrosse, and all of the other little things that everyone had going on in their lives. This week was yours and Stiles's turn to host, considering you had been staying with your boyfriend and the Sheriff since they had found out that your family was abusing you both physically and mentally, and the two of you had run to the convenience store to pick up more soda, since you felt like there wasn't enough in your home for two werewolves, a werecoyote, and a Stiles. The four of them could probably polish off what you had at home, and considering Lydia, Kira, Jordan, and yourself would be present, you talked Stiles into driving you to the little convenience store not too far from your house.
What you hadn't expected was the armed robber that had burst in right as you and Stiles were approaching the register.
He moved his gun between Stiles, yourself and the clerk, warning you not to try anything, and demanding that the clerk empty his till into the backpack he tossed on the counter.
While the robber's attention appeared to be on the clerk behind the counter, Stiles moved back slightly, putting the boxes of soda cans in his arms down on the floor. It all seemed to happen in slow motion from there.
The  thief's arm swung around, and as Stiles straightened back up, the gun fired. You screamed, the boxes in your arms dropping to the floor as you jumped in front of Stiles, pushing him backwards. He stumbled and fell on his butt as you felt the bullet hit you, right beneath your shoulder. He stared up at you, his eyes wide with shock, as you grabbed at the shelves beside you in an attempt to remain upright as your legs gave out from under you.
You heard the robber swear, and Stiles shouting your name, his face a mask of shock. You saw out of the corner of your eye the robber grabbing his backpack and running from the store. Stiles was screaming at the clerk to call 911, to get someone here now, tossing his phone at him, telling him to call his dad, the Sheriff, maybe that will get someone here faster.
You tried to reach a hand around to the wound, grabbing at your shirt, which you could already feel was beginning to soak with blood. Stiles scrambled towards you, telling you not to move. He didn't know where the bullet had hit, and didn't want you making anything worse, or lodging the bullet in some vital organ or anything.
You looked over at him, and noticed that there were tears brimming in his eyes. You gave him a weak smile, the pain really beginning to hit you like a bus.
"Stiles....... Stiles, I'm okay...." you told him faintly, trying to push yourself up. He shook his head pushing gently on your shoulder to keep you from moving.
"No... You're really not, (Y/N)." he said, a couple tears brimming over. You shook your head, refusing to believe that this could happen.
"No... I'll be... I'll be fine." you gasped out. "This is... This is no-nothing." you claimed. "Ju... Just a.. fle-sh wound." you reached for his hand still on your shoulder, your fingers falling short.
"(Y/N), there's...... There's already a lot of blood..." he told you, moving his hand to grasp yours tightly, his other hand coming up to brush some hair from your face. You nodded, you had assumed as much from how quickly your shirt was becoming sticky.
"Of all.... the du-umb ass ways.... for me.... to get hu-urt." you laugh, your laugh turning into a cough. He shook his head, his cheeks already damp.
"(Y/N), stop..... Someone'll be here soon..." Stiles insisted, gripping your hand tightly. "You'll only make it worse. You have to save your strength." you start to laugh at the cliched remark, but it turns into another violent coughing fit.
"Think about it.... Sti-iles. Wi... With every... thing we've.... we've been thro-ough... this is... how... how I get.... hurt?" it was getting harder to talk, but you needed to impress the irony of the situation upon him. He shook his head.
"I was the stupid one who moved. I should have been shot... You shouldn't be hurt right now..." he said, shaking his head.  You gripped his hand as tightly as you could.
"Don't... Don't you d... dare say tha-at. Scott... Scott nee-eeds you. They all.... need you.... I... I need you... Stiles..." you told him vehemently. "I can't... even ima-gine... life... with-out you..." you said, your voice beggining to become breathless. He shook his head.
"Well I can't imagine it without you, (Y/N)! I need you... You keep me from going completely nuts in this world we've been thrust into. I can always count on you being there to patch me up if something goes wrong, you talk through things with me, help me sort out the jumbled mess of thoughts in my crazy mind. I can't do this without you, (Y/N)! Please, please just hold on. For me. Someone will be here soon. someone has got to be here soon!" he pleaded, a couple tears dripping off of his cheeks to land on yours. His grip on your hand was nearly painful as you shifted uncomfortably, gasping slightly in pain.
It felt a bit like someone had taken a white-hot poker and shoved it into the hole the bullet had created. You coughed, struggling to get air. You knew that your lung was possibly collapsing, and that you may not have enough time for the ambulance to reach you. You gripped your boyfriend's hand as best you could though.
"It's o... okay." You whispered. You smiled weakly at him, black spots appearing in your vision as the pain steadily increased. You knew the adrenaline that was leaving your system had shielded you from feeling the worst of it up to this point. "Stiles, please.... It... It'll be..... o-kay." you tried to move your thumb in a soothing motion across his hand, but your limb just didn't seem to want to cooperate, so you stopped.
"No. No it's not, (Y/N). I really don't know how to do this without you." he said brokenly.
"You di-id it... before." you reminded him. After Scott had gotten the Bite and before you had arrived in Beacon Hills.
"I didn't know what I was doing! I was terrified out of my mind most of the time!" he insisted. You shook your head.
"I... I be-leive in... you, Stiles." you told him, your eyes fluttering closed. His hand tightened on yours once more.
"No! No, (Y/N), (Y/N) please. Please open your eyes. Stay with me, please..." he begged. You could feel more of his tears hit your face and neck, but felt too far away for it to matter.
"(Y/N), please.... I love you. I love you, (Y/N). Please, please open your eyes." he pleaded.
You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to meet his beautiful brown eyes with your (E/C) ones. You wanted to tell him you loved him too. But the harder you struggled to open your eyes, to make the words pass your lips, the deeper the darkness enveloped you.
The pain began to fade to the edges of your consciousness, as did the reasons you were fighting against this lovely velvety blackness. You just wanted to sleep. You stopped struggling, and the blackness surrounded you. You felt no more pain.