Stiles Stilinski Imagines

Bad Day

Stiles could tell from across the field that you'd had a bad day, having seen throughout the week how the little things pilled on, refusing to ask for help you seemed to deflate in front of his very eyes.

"Stilinski!" Coach yelled when a ball sailed through the air and Stiles missed it, only to be smacked in the face with it.

"Sorry Coach." Stiles muttered, glancing back to see you'd hurried off into the school.

"What's up with (Y/N)?" Scott asked as they trudged back into the locker rooms.

"I don't know, I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet." Stiles grumbled, rushing to get done in the locker rooms so he could find you.

When he finally did find you, you were too flustered to even notice him, stopping only to try and pry your locker open which was stuck. After several furious thumps and your back splitting open you hurried off to one of the empty rooms at the back of the school leaving Stiles staring after you with an overwhelming feeling of uselessness.

"(Y/N)?" Stiles whispered as he knocked on the door of the storage room and found you sat on some old gym equipment.

"Hi Stiles." You snuffled and he frowned sadly, climbing up to sit with you.

"I got your stuff that fell out of your bag, I drove to the deli you like and got you lunch too." He smiled when you let out a watery laugh.

"I can't pay you back." You mumbled but he frowned and shook his head.

"My treat." He smiled again when you seemed to be happier for a moment before looking away from him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You gave your usual reply and he sighed as he tangled his hand with yours.

"No (Y/N), please just tell me what's wrong so I can help you." He begged softly and you turned back to face him with tears streaking down your cheeks.

"Everything's gone wrong all at once, I might not get my scholarship, my jobs cutting my hours and might not need me anymore, I'm sure I failed all my tests and I can't concentrate on any of my studying because it's so confusing and I have to help Lydia with stuff and..." You let out in a long heaving breath.

"Whoa, whoa (Y/N), slow down." Stiles chuckled, wiping away the fresh tears that dribbled down your cheeks.

"Oh Stiles, if you didn't want me to tell you, you shouldn't have asked." You sighed and went to cry again but he quickly hugged you, flopping back onto the gym mats with you in his arms.

"I want to know (Y/N) but if you keep worrying about everything all at once you're only going to feel worse." He sighed in relief when your head rested on his shoulder and you let him stroke your hair as he spoke. "Deaton needs someone to cover Scott's hours when he's doing pack stuff, if you wanted you could do the training program the school has with Melissa and the nurses."

"Really?" You asked, your voice muffled against him.

"Yeah, I can help you study, so can Lydia and I bet if you included Kira more she'd love to help out with your Lydia stuff... unless it's like, weird girly Banshee stuff that should be kept between you two... (Y/N)?" He smiled when he moved so he could look at you and found you fast asleep, exhausted from worry and your cheek stuck to his shirt, still damp with tears.

He carefully climbed down off the mats with you in his arms, grabbing your lunch as he slung his backpack over one shoulder and headed to the front desk.

"Hi, sorry (Y/N)'s not feeling well... I'm going to take her home." Stiles told the woman who eyed him worriedly as he hurried away before she could object. "Let's get you home and into bed, I'll call Dad and tell him to bring stuff for dinner." He muttered, kissing your forehead as he carefully put you in the back, not wanting to wake you.