Save You from Yourself

The reader is having a rough day. Luckily, Stiles is there to remind her that he will always be there for her.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 4509

Warnings:depressive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, mentions of death, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N:hi everyone, here is my first stiles stilinski fic ! it’s really just a comfort fic that i made for myself to read whenever i have days like these. i felt like stiles is the perfect comfort character when dealing with anxiety. please know that i am always here if you ever need someone to talk to <3 i love and care about each and every one of you

Masterlist

From the moment you woke up, you knew that today was one of thosedays. 

One of those days where it felt like a chore to even slide out of bed. Those days where you wanted your thick covers to just swallow you whole. On these days, every little thing became a chore, a burden that was too heavy for your shoulders alone— not that you would ever admit it to anyone. On these days, you wanted to be left alone, curled up in bed, staring at your dark ceiling while darker thoughts plagued your mind. You wished you could blame it on the clouds that covered the blue sky or the stack of books on your desk that you had yet to read, but it was neither of those things. It was your head. 

Your head was a terrible place, filled with a darkness you couldn’t explain. It often echoed that your friends were better off without you, as you contributed nothing to the pack. You couldn’t fight like Scott, you weren’t as smart as Lydia, and you couldn’t problem solve like Stiles. You were utterly useless. 

Sometimes, on the really bad days, it was taken a step further, leaving you with the image of what the world would be like without you: completely the same. The supernatural activity would still exist, taking away the precious moments of high school that you and the pack had barely been able to experience. The lacrosse games, school dances, after parties— all of it would go on as it does now. 

Your mom would still work tirelessly to make ends meet, and your dad was a piece of shit who would be grateful not to have another mouth to feed during the weekends that you would normally visit. The pack would be impacted the most, but you knew that they were strong enough to stick together, much as they had done after Allison’s death. Often times, you were able to fight these thoughts, convincing yourself that people would care, but other times, it was damn near impossible to not believe them. 

The supernatural beings of Beacon Hills seemed to have taken a break, which— while relieving for the pack— left you with more than enough alone time with your thoughts. You could feel your tears ready to burst at any given moment, making you feel fragile and weak. As much as you wanted to talk to your friends about it, you knew that they had far bigger issues to deal with.

Scott was constantly taking care of the pack, full of endless worry. While you knew he would drop everything if you asked, you couldn’t do that to him. All you would be was a burden— another problem that he had to fix. 

You would normally confide in Lydia, having been best friends with her since the second grade. She was by your side when your parents had split, her mom generously allowing you to sleep over at the Martin’s whenever life at home got really bad. For a while, you were one of the only people who knew just how smart she was. The two of you told each other everything, from first kisses in middle school to when she lost her virginity to Jackson the summer before sophomore year. But you also knew that even months after, she still has nightmares about Allison’s death, and the last thing you wanted was for her to worry about losing another close friend. 

That left Stiles, and he was completely out of the question. Not just because you had been hopelessly in love with him since he lent you a pencil in third grade, but mainly because you knew that he too was struggling. The Nogitsune left him feeling doubtful as he questioned every action, wondering if it was truly him or someone else playing with his head. You knew that his panic attacks are worse than before, and he even told you that sometimes he still didn’t know when he was awake or dreaming. 

You weren’t close enough to the rest of the pack to talk to them about your issues, having only met Kira less than a year ago, and Isaac had gone to France with Chris. Ethan was still mourning the loss of Aiden, the perfect half violently ripped from his side long before he should’ve. You knew you were alone, and you’ve accepted that you probably always will be alone during the lowest moments of your life, but that didn’t make these days any easier. 

You glanced to your clock that sat on the bedside table, and watched as the minute hand moved closer and closer to seven o’clock, when your alarm would go off, and the day would begin, whether you liked it or not. It was Thursday, meaning lacrosse practice would start during lunch and then run long after school had ended. You figured that besides third period, you wouldn’t see Scott or Stiles until later tonight, if even at all. Great.

With a sigh, you got out of bed, turning off your alarm before the shrill ringing had a chance to add to your mood. These days were low effort— you pulled a pair of sweats on and a hoodie that was a joint present from Scott and Stiles for your birthday last year. It was pale yellow with a small picture of the three of you on the left side of your chest— “To remind you that we’re always in your heart,” Stiles had told you when you opened it. Usually the picture made you smile, thinking about all of the memories you had made with the boys over the years, but today, you paid it no mind. 

You threw your hair into a loose ponytail and brushed your teeth. Too tired to put on any makeup, you laid back down on your bed. You always set your alarm so that you could grab a bite to eat before class, but today you used that extra time to prepare yourself for the day. You stared at your ceiling as you listened to the voices in your head. 

God, you’re so useless. Look at yourself. You can barely even get out of bed. Your eyes squeezed shut to try and prevent your tears from escaping, but a couple managed to get by. There was a knock at your door, and you heard your mom’s muffled voice.

“Y/N, honey, you’re going to be late to school.” You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, quietly sniffling before replying. 

“Yeah, I’m leaving soon,” you responded, trying to sound as normal as possible. There was a pause.

“Alright, I’m off to work now. Love you,” she said, a slight hesitance in her voice. You cringed— the last thing you wanted was for your mom to worry. She already had too much on her plate. You echoed her sentiment, wishing her a good day, and you sighed once you heard the front door close. She wasn’t wrong, if you didn’t leave now, you’d be late, and you had history first period with Kira’s dad. He was probably your favorite teacher this year, and the last thing you wanted to do was let him down by showing up late.

It isn’t as if you don’t already disappoint everyone else. What’s one more person? You shook your head to clear it of the voices, but they persisted.

You’re weak. You can’t even handle the truth. It’s a miracle that your friends haven’t left you already— but then again, they probably don’t even like you and just haven’t found a way to ask you to stop hanging out with them.

“You’re wrong,” you muttered to yourself, but deep down, you knew the voices were right. 

They probably talk about how annoying you are, and how you just freeload off them all the time. To them, you’re nothing. You’re not special, you’re not smart— hell, you’re not even funny. You watched Allison die right in front of you, and you couldn’t even help Stiles with the Nogitsune. You’re nothing but a walking piece of emotional baggage. 

The more you thought about it, you began to realize that you hadn’t hung out with Lydia in a while. Scott was always with Kira, and Stiles spent a lot of his time with Malia. They didn’t need you. They wouldn’t even notice if you just disappeared one day.

You shivered as you were hit by a burst of wind, kicking at the rocks in your path on your way to school. You may not have had a car, but luckily it was less than a twenty minute walk. When it was raining, your mom would drop you off before her work, but most days you preferred walking. 

The suburbs of Beacon Hills were beautiful, and it usually provided you a little bit of peace and quiet before school. But not today. Every step you took felt heavy, and the cold air settled underneath your skin, chilling you to the bone. You pulled your jacket around you tighter and briskly walked the rest of the way, even though you wanted to do nothing more than turn back and spend the day in bed. 

You slowed as Beacon Hills High came into view and dread filled your body at the sight of the massive swarm of students bustling around before class. Suppressing a groan, you approached the building, the sound of students chattering and laughter surrounding you. For the hundredth time today, you were hit with the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. 

Of course you’re lonely. Who would want to spend time with you? With a sigh, you went to your locker, mindlessly grabbing the books you would need for class before trudging to first period. You plopped into your seat seconds before the bell rang, the students around you quieting down when Mr. Yukimura began to teach. 

You tried to pay attention, but it was like the words were going in one ear and out the other. Your mind wandered, as it normally did on days like these. There was a bird perched on a branch right by the window, and you watched it hop around a couple of times before taking flight. A twinge of envy ran through, wishing you had the luxury of flying away, escaping, as easily as the bird had. Another fleeting thought of simply disappearing into thin air crossed your mind, but you shook it away, not wanting to deal with it at the moment. 

As if on cue, the bell rang, signaling class was over. The classroom was rapidly emptying, as students shuffled out the door, calling out a “thank you” to Mr. Yukimura. You picked up your backpack and made your way towards the front, about to slip into the crowd when he called out to you.

“Y/N, if I could talk to you for a minute.” Your heart sank, already knowing what he was going to say. You disappointed him. What’s new? He waited for the last of the students to file out before giving you a comforting smile. 

“Is everything alright today, Y/N?” He asked gently. You nodded, forcing a smile. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t get that much sleep.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You didwake up before your alarm. He nodded understandingly, but he gave you a look as if he knew you were holding something back. 

“My door is always open,” he reminded you, and you thanked him before rushing out, eager to get away from his knowing glance. 

Your second class went by more or less the same as the first, and by the time you had entered third period, you were exhausted. Arguing with yourself took more out of you than it should have, and you relaxed into your seat, crossing your arms on your desk before resting your head onto them. Your eyes were closed for less than two minutes before the familiar chatter of your two best friends filled your ears. They began to whisper as they approached you, and you caught the last part of it before they took their usual seats, Scott in front of you and Stiles to your left. 

“—on my side! Scott, I’m telling you, she has absolutely no sense of boundaries.” You heard Scott shush him quickly. You were confused as to what they were talking about. Obviously they’re talking about you. Why else would they be whispering and then stop talking as soon as they reach you? Your stomach dropped at the thought. Did Stiles really think you had no sense of boundaries? 

Before you could dwell on it longer, the bell rang, and you slowly blinked your eyes open. You avoided their eyes, pretending to search your backpack for something as you rapidly blinked away the tears that had begun to pool. You didn’t think you had done anything lately that had crossed any lines. Stiles sometimes insisted on giving you a ride home from school, but you always checked that it was okay with him multiple times. Suddenly you felt very, very stupid in your sweatshirt and mentally cursed yourself for not wearing something underneath. 

There was a light tap on your shoe, and you realized that you had stopped rummaging through your bag, and instead were blatantly staring at it while in deep thought. You set your bag down and focused on your desk, picking at the peeling wood. In your peripheral vision, you saw Stiles’ shoe tap yours again, more insistently this time. You looked over at him, and he flashed you a smile, causing your heart to clench. 

“Morning, Y/N/N,” he whispered. 

“Hi,” you whispered back before turning to face the front of the room. There was a quiet huff on your left and then more shoe tapping. 

“What?” You whispered, looking at him once again. His eyebrows were furrowed, confusion filling is face. His fingers tapped against the desk mindlessly and he surveyed your appearance, taking in your makeup-free face and sweats. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and you thought you saw a hint of worry in his eyes. Mustering the same smile you had given Mr. Yakimura hours before, you shook your head.

“Nothing,” you whispered back. 

“Why—” He was cut off. 

“Stilinski,” Coach’s voice rang out, causing the whole class to look over at the two of you. “If it’s so important, why don’t you share it with the rest of the class?” Scott looked at you, his eyebrow lifting in question, but you shook your head, remaining silent, while Stiles stuttered out a witty response beside you. 

“Keep running your smart mouth, Stilinski, and I’ll have you running extra laps at practice,” Coach threatened, before turning back to teach. Stiles remained silent for the rest of class, but you could feel his lingering looks on the side of your face. 

You watched the clock as the long hand ticked closer and closer to the big twelve, sighing in relief when the bell finally rang. You were the first one out of the room, and you heard Stiles sputter in surprise at your speed. Not wanting to face him or Scott right now, you dashed into the closest girls’ bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You took a couple of deep breaths before making the decision to ditch the rest of your classes and go home. Not like you’ll be missed anyways. 

You waited for the next bell to ring, indicating that class had begun, and then five more minutes before leaving the stall, swiftly walking through the hallways and out the side door that led to the field. It was the longer way home, but the only way you could leave without getting caught. You walked briskly, partly because of the cold and also because you were ready to crumple into your bed, wrapping yourself in as many blankets as you could find. 

Small tears rolled down your cheeks, and you wiped at them angrily, hating how sensitive you were being. There were other things, biggerthings going on right now, and you couldn’t even handle one bad day? The voices laughed at you. How pathetic.

You sprinted down your street, unable to stop the flow of tears now. You tore the sweatshirt off, grabbing the first t-shirt you could find. You began to cry harder when you realized it was one of Stiles’ old Star Wars shirts. Absolutely no sense of boundaries. 

You pulled your curtains shut to expel all of the light, and collapsed onto your bed, sure that you’ve cried a pool of tears by now. Your phone was buzzing somewhere, but you couldn’t find the energy to care. Instead, you hid in your blankets like a coward, letting sleep take over. 

You began to stir when your bed dipped. You felt soft fingers brush at your tear-stained cheeks, and you forced your puffy eyes to open. You would recognize those beautiful, brown eyes anywhere. 

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, “Scoot over.” You wordlessly shuffled to one side, and he slid under the covers next to you. Soft light from your bedside lamp dimly lit your room, and you vaguely wondered if your mom was home from work yet, and why Scott hadn’t come with Stiles. As you quietly laid side-by-side, you realized that for the first time today, those voices were gone. He turned his head to face you, and you did the same. 

“Bad day?” He asked, and you gave him a sad smile with a shrug. 

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. You didn’t hesitate to go towards him, but as he pulled you close to him, you were overwhelmed with emotions. He rubbed soothing circles on your back as your tears soaked through the front of his shirt. He held you as you cried, not saying anything. As your tears began to slow, you sniffled.

“Sorry,” you whispered. When you began to pull away, his arms tightened around you. 

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, confused. You toyed with a button on his flannel shirt as you shrugged.

“I know you have more important things to do than seeing me cry,” you said, keeping your head down so you wouldn’t have to see his reaction. This time, he was the one to pull away, resting his back against the headboard. 

“What are you talking about?” You rolled onto your back once again, tracing random patterns against the wall. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed. He gently ran his fingers through your tangled hair, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek. 

“Will you please look at me?” He asked, quietly. You turned your head towards him, instinctively leaning into his touch. 

“What’s going on, Y/N?” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Are you sick?” You shook your head. 

“Did something happen?” You shook your head again. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can you please sit up so we can have a normal adult conversation?” He asked, and you obliged. The blankets fell from your body as you sat up, and his eyes widened when he saw what you were wearing. 

“Is that my shirt?” You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you apologized.

“Why do you keep apologizing?” He asked, exasperated.

“You were right,” you said, relaxing against the headboard, turning your head to face him. “I don’t have any sense of boundaries.” You watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What?” 

“I heard you talking to Scott today. You said, and I quote, ‘she has absolutely no sense of boundaries’. And the more I thought about it, the more I realize you’re right. You drive me home sometimes, and I have a few of your shirts. I go to all of your lacrosse games and sometimes even the practices, but I thought that it was okay, since we’ve been friends since third grade and all,” you confessed, and you could practically see the gears turning in Stiles’ head. You saw the moment realization dawned on him. 

“I—that wasn’t about you!” He exclaimed. “I was talking about Malia!” It was your turn to be confused.

“Malia?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “She has this habit of sneaking into my house at night and sleeping in my bed.” A sense of relief filled you, realizing he wasn’t talking about you. You had a sense of boundaries after all!

“Oh!” You smiled. 

“Oh.” The smile falling when you finally registered the rest of his words.

“You’re sleeping with Malia?” You asked weakly, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. 

“Yes!” He exclaimed, before shaking his head. “No— wait, crap. I’m not sleeping with— well there was that one time but it was Eichen and I was possessed and I—” His rambling stopped when he noticed your crestfallen expression. 

Panic filled you, but not the same type of panic where you thought all of your friends hated you. No, this was the type of panic someone feels when they realize the guy they’re in love with is sleeping with someone else. A heart wrenching type of panic. A crying type of panic.

But you had already cried. And he had already held you while you cried. And despite being in love with him, you were also his best friend and you wanted to see him happy. And you loved him, so you wanted to see him happy even if it wasn’t with you. 

So you mustered as much joy as you could find considering the situation, and you thrust it all into a smile. A smile that physically and emotionally pained you. A smile that you were sure didn’t quite reach your eyes, but you tried anyway, because Stiles was your best friend and you were not going to ruin this for him. 

“Well that’s good,” you said, cringing from how false it sounded even to your ears. 

“I’m glad—” Stiles cut you off before you could finish and maybe that was a good thing, because you were running out of things to say about how greatit was that he was with Malia.

“It’s not good. It’s not good at all. It’s actually kind of annoying how she keeps breaking in,” Stiles clarified.

“Maybe you should just talk to her about it? I mean, she was an animal until a few months ago…” you trailed off, unsure of how to respond. It didn’t matter though, as Stiles had already begun talking again. 

“Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow,” he dismissed quickly. “Enough about Malia, though, what’s going on with you?” His eyes searched yours, and you cowered under his concerned gaze before looking down, picking at the hem of your— his?— shirt, shrugging. 

“You know, just one of those days,” you said softly. He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to elaborate. You let out a deep breath. 

“My mind won’t stop talking, telling me things I don’t want to hear. Somedays it’s fine, and I can manage it, but other days like today, it just gets to be too much and all I want to do is to tell it to shut up, but I can’t because I’m pathetic and weak and I know deep down that it’s right,” you confessed, exhaling shakily as your vision blurred with tears. He pulled you up so that you were now eye-level and wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“What kind of things does it say?” He asked, gently. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his face when you told him. 

“Just that I’m not worth all of this,” you mumbled, “Worth all of you.” He was quiet again, and you opened your eyes, noting his furrowed brows and taut lips. You hated that he knew you would ramble if only to fill the silence. 

“I’m useless, Sti. You guys don’t need me around. I’m just a burden— a human that everyone has to keep an eye on. I look around me, and all I see is destruction, and I know that everything, everyone, would be better off without me. 

“I see Ethan by himself in class or Scott’s glances at Allison’s old locker, and every time I see it, I’m reminded that it’s my fault. Aiden and Allison. That’s myfault. I watched them die right in front of me, and I was frozen. I was too weak to fight the Oni, and the pack is suffering because of that. But most importantly, I—” your voice cracked as you began to cry. His arms tightened around you, encouraging you to continue. 

“I couldn’t save you, Stiles,” you whispered. He stilled underneath you, and you wiped at your tears, clearing your throat before talking.

“I should’ve known. God, how could I have not known? I’ve known you since we were seven, and I couldn’t even tell,” you blubbered, tears pouring out of you. 

“And now you’re stuck here, comforting me, when it should be mecomfortingyou, but I’m stupid and sensitive and I cry at anyth—” There was a quick moment where his hand cupped your cheek, and then warm lips crashed against yours, effectively cutting you off. 

For a fraction of a second, your eyes widened before fluttering shut, and you pressed into him, wanting to be as close as possible. His lips were pillowy and soft, moving with yours in a perfect dance. He was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against yours. For the first time, you noticed the little flecks of gold amongst the sea of dark brown. 

“You save me,” he whispered, “Every single day.” His thumbs wiped at your damp cheeks.

Newfound tears fell from your eyes at his words. They were simple but effective and said everything you needed to hear. This time it was you initiated the kiss. Your arms looped around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair. Eventually, you pulled away for breath, as your nose was stuffy from all of the crying. He was content to just hold you, and you relaxed into him.

Your eyes wandered your room, landing on the clock that informed you it was just past noon. You frowned. That couldn’t be right. 

“Sti,” you stared at the clock. “What time is it?” His eyes followed your gaze. 

“Almost 12:15,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “It’s right there on the clock, silly.” Your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why aren’t you at school?” He had practice today, and both of you knew Coach would kill him for missing practice when they had a game in two days. He shrugged with a small smile.

“How could I be at school when the person I look forward to seeing the most was crying at home?” You blushed, and he pecked your lips before giving you a serious look. 

“Please talk to me on these days, don’t shut me out. I’m here for you, Y/N. I will always be here for you, and I promise to save you every time.”