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okay-j-hannah · 1 year ago

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Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: series rewrite, start of season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, eventual pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, health problems, lightheadedness, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: Just a note that the reader will be in the dark for a while, meaning that lots of episodes/scenes will be skipped. Also, the heart conditions/problems the reader has comes solely from extensive research and isn't meant to be completely accurate - I did my best.

Part 1: Her Broken Heart {You Are Here}

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Part 3: Blue Handprints

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Part 8: The Favor

Part 9: The Weight of Decisions

You walk purposefully to your last class of the day, holding onto the straps of your backpack like your life depended on it. New school. Old town.

It was just so noisy.

The squeak of your sneakers was drowned by the bustle of the dozens of highschoolers weaving through the hallways. Side conversations rose in volume, laughter was piercing, lockers slammed metallically, and the morning bell rang with a sharp noise.

You avoid rubbing shoulders with your peers, but inevitably a lacrosse player rams into your side while chasing a ball. You put a hand protectively to your chest, a glimmer of pain dancing across your ribs.

Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe.

Walking into English, you eye the rapidly filling seats. You recognize most faces even if they don’t recognize yours. A few skittish steps forward and you spot the dark silhouette of Scott McCall.

The uneven beating of your heart seems to lessen at someone you could at least talk to amicably. He appears to feel the same as he finds your gaze and smiles crookedly.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he whispers encouragingly. “It’s nice to see you finally at school.”

You smile back, “Thanks, it’s good to be out and about.” You pick the desk beside him, closest to the window. “There’s a lot of people here.”

Scott laughs, “What did you expect?”

“Less than this,” you say, thumbing the syllabus in front of you. “I thought Beacon Hills was a small city.”

You hear a cough directly behind you, fingers drumming against the metal desk surface. You flit your gaze to Scott, but he merely rolls his eyes.

“(Y/N), this is Stiles. Stiles… meet (Y/N).”

You turn in your seat to see a closely shaved head, wrinkled hoodie, and widening brown eyes.

“Uh… hi,” he says.

You swallow hard, “Hello.” Your brow furrows, “You’re Scott’s best friend.”

Stiles nods, playing with his fingers, “Yeah, for years. And you are…?”

“Another friend,” Scott interjects, “Friend of the family.”

You feel warmth as Stiles leans forward in his seat, “A friend that I’ve never heard about?”

That made your stomach clench. Of course you didn’t have many close friends, more acquaintances than anything else, but it still scared you to think you’d be judged on that fact.

“We don’t talk much,” you say quietly, turning back around.

Scott had what you hoped wasn’t a pitying look in his eye when he got distracted by neighbors ruffling through papers; then to a pencil dropping; then to a charm bracelet clanking against a desk. With each new noise his head was whipping about.

You tried to read the first page of your syllabus when a gentle tap on your shoulder startles you. You contained the jump in your heart as you turned towards Stiles.

He spoke with a soft but urgent voice, “Are you new to the town?”

“No,” you answer shortly.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you at school before?”

“I was homeschooled until this year.” The anxious fist in your stomach continues to clench further. “I’ve lived here almost all my life.”

He continues to lean forward as the teacher rose to address the class. “How do you know Scott?”

“Our parents are friends.”

“How come he’s never mentioned you before?”

You give a breathy laugh, “Do you always interrogate newcomers or is this just your usual charm?”

He finally leans back in his seat, “I like a good mystery.”

Your smiling reply makes the corner of Stiles’ mouth quirk upward, just as the teacher declares:

“Stiles, are we really going to end the day with a detention?”

Stiles looks up, frowning, “No, sir – just welcoming a new face.”

“Yes, Miss. Westbrook. I’d suggest surrounding yourself with different company. We don’t want a tainted reputation now, would we?”

Scott put a hand to his mouth, stifling a laugh as Stiles lifted his arms in silent outrage. You are stunned but feel a giggle rise in your chest.

The teacher continues, “As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night.”

The laughter in your chest dies in a cough as you replay the teachers unfeeling words in your mind.

“And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

There was a collective groan, but you had already started dating the semesters projects in your academic calendar. The different books you’d be reading were some of your favorite classics: The Scarlet Pimpernel, Jane Eyre, The Count of Monte Cristo, and Sense and Sensibility.

You could already see the outline for your midterm paper on the differences between loving with sense and loving with sensibility.

Then the classroom door opened, and a pretty girl walked in with someone from the office.

“Class, this is our new student Allison Argent.”

You silently thanked the heavens that you weren’t introduced like that to the entire sophomore class. But the introduction intrigued you. Perhaps you could befriend this new student as you were somewhat new yourself.

You met her quickly by her locker after class.

“Hello,” you say in your gentle voice, “I’m (Y/N). I’m new to the school too.”

“Oh, thank god,” Allison says, “Just when I thought I’d never survive the first day.”

You grin, “New kids on the block need to stick together. How are you feeling about the move?”

“I’m used to it,” she says, leaning against the wall of lockers, “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m not new to the city, just the school. I was homeschooled before this. Jumping into the school year in January isn’t preferable, but it’s better than listening to your mom lecture about the Pythagorean theorem while doing the dishes.”

Allison laughs just as another girl walks over to introduce herself and her boyfriend. This new face, Lydia Martin, was clearly a commanding personality. And you quickly quiet yourself as she speaks to Allison.

“So, this weekend, there’s a party.”

“A party?” Allison says, taking a step closer to you.

The boyfriend, Jackson, adds, “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

Allison clearly didn’t want to go, judging by how she closed herself off and turned towards you. She fumbles for something to say as you note how the two popular kids never acknowledged your presence.

“Actually, we’ve already made plans for Friday night,” you say quickly, the beating of your heart increasing as Lydia made eye contact with you. “I’m helping her finish setting up her room.”

“Who are you?” Lydia asks, surveying you with her wide eyes.

Allison interjects, “This is (Y/N), she’s new to the school too.”

Lydia seems satisfied in her findings, “Pretty.” She pulls on both of your sleeves, “Let’s go to lacrosse practice.”

You panic, “Oh, no – I actually need to head to the library. The first day came with a lot of homework.” You curse the lines of judgment creasing Lydia’s brow. “I’m sorry, I need to catch up.”

“You need to pick, sweetheart. Beauty or brains. You can’t have both in this school.”

You believe that to be blatantly untrue, but you apologize again as Allison gets dragged off. You sigh, steadying your heartbeats. Your mother will be coming soon to pick you up anyway.

~~~

It was another long evening shift at the hospital working in the clinic. You assisted with logging patients in, taking their medical histories, noting their blood pressure, and administering medications.

You were currently disposing of some items in the sharps container when Nurse McCall came around with a dirty gown and gloves.

“(Y/N)!” she says cheerfully, “How are you?”

You smile, washing your hands in the nearby sink, “Tired, but that’s not unusual.”

She gave you a motherly look, eyeing you like the nurse she was. “How’s your breathing? Have you gotten lightheaded tonight?”

“Nope.” That was a lie. “I’ve been doing great. I worked through the line waiting in the clinic. Now I’ve just got to clean up before heading home.”

She raises her eyebrows, impressed. “I wish your work ethic came in a bottle. I’d give a dose to my son.”

“Oh, you should give Scott more credit. He’s working hard on the lacrosse team, I hear.”

“Have you two… has he been…”

You give a soft smile, “He’s been talking to me in class, yes. He’s been very kind to me.”

“Good,” that seems to relieve her. “I know you’re not the closest of friends but starting school in the middle of the year can’t be easy.”

“No,” you say with a sigh, “But I think I’ve made a few friends. Scott and Lydia and Allison…”

“So are you going to the party tomorrow night?”

You give a weak laugh, “I don’t think I’m made for parties, Melissa.”

“I mean,” she laughs too, “Scott is taking Allison to that party – I figured if you’re all friends now then…”

“Oh,” you compose yourself, “No, I’m not going.”

“Shame,” Melissa folds her arms, “I would’ve liked a trusted pair of eyes on my son. I tell you he’s gotten all squirrely since coming back from winter break.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ll check up on Allison to make sure she’s alright.”

Melissa leans over and rubs your arm, “You’ve been working like a madman since the summer. We’re all very impressed with you, (Y/N). But you have a habit of doing too much and telling us too little. You have to promise me you’ll be honest about how you’re feeling.”

You brush her off, “How many times have we had this conversation?” You take a step back, “I feel fine. The summer tuned me up. I feel I can do anything now.”

“I like the confidence,” Melissa says warmly, but she still held worry in her eyes. “I’m just looking out for you. I promised your mom.”

You grimace, “Has she been bombarding you much?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

The pair of you share a laugh, “I wish she’d stop worrying.”

“We all worry,” Melissa sighs, grabbing a new box of gloves for the nurses station. “That’s what happens when you have people that care about you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you walk around her, “I gotta go before my dad waits in the urgent care drop off too long.”

“Hey, about that…” Melissa calls after your retreating form. “I was thinking about your carpool situation and maybe you and Scott could drive together. You know – so you don’t have to rely on your parents as much.”

Anything to get more independence from your parents. “I didn’t think Scott had a car.”

“No, he doesn’t. He gets rides from his friend Stiles. Maybe you could join them?” She watches your expression grow anxious, “Or you could ask your new girl friends?”

“Yeah, right,” you snort, “Lydia and Allison live on the other side of town in those big important houses with the four-car garages.”

Melissa shrugs, “Then ask the boys. Stiles is a little… odd. But he’s a good kid.”

“Thanks, Melissa,” you give her a tired smile, “I’ll see you over the weekend.” You pull out your phone as you head to clock out.

Your connected watch reports to you the steady heartbeat you’ve had during the day – just two rapid spikes. Swiping away the health report, you text Allison and wait for her replies as you head towards your father’s car.

“So you’re actually going to the party?”

“What can I say… Scott asked me.”

You smirk, “I saw that coming a million miles away.”

“Sorry about our hangout though, I was going to tell you at school tomorrow.”

“It’s alright. I’ll just get started on the chemistry homework for next week.”

“You don’t want to come with us?”

You scoff, “And be a third wheel? No thank you.”

Your dad continues a conversation about your workday as he drove out of the hospital parking lot. “Any big cases come in?”

“No, nothing particularly stressful. Maybe one guy who was nervous around needles.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’m proud of you sweetheart. And not a single fainting in five weeks.”

You lean your head against the window, suddenly glum, “Let’s hope it continues.”

~~~

Friday comes and you’re on the couch enjoying another read of Harry Potter. You were just getting to the confession scene in the Shrieking Shack when your mother came in with a cup of herbal tea.

“You seem a little quiet today,” she says, nestling into the opposite end of the couch.

“No more than usual,” you say, sipping the honey and herb concoction. “I usually spend Friday nights reading, mom.”

She nods, stirring her tea in thought, “Yes, usually. But in the last few months you’ve been branching out. Going to public school, getting a job at the hospital, making some new friends.”

“And while that’s all terribly exciting, I still enjoy a quiet evening with my books.”

“Of course,” your mother replies, “How have you been feeling?”

“Mom,” you groan, “I feel fine!”

She sat straighter, “You have had two dizzy spells this past week. It’s not a crime to ask how you’re doing.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I started school this week, I’m bound to be a little stressed about that, aren’t I? When I started my job at the hospital there were a few dizzy spells in the beginning, remember?”

“Yes, but you don’t tell us about them anymore. I have to pull up your watch readings to find out.”

“What’s the point? I can’t control them all. Sometimes they happen out of the blue.”

“Precisely,” she says louder, “Which is why it’s important to monitor them for your doctor’s appointments.”

You open your book in a huff, “Can we not talk about this anymore? It always puts the house in a mood.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Allison. Your mother peers over your shoulder to see if it was a notification from your health app.

“Allison is getting a ride home from the party,” you whisper, texting a reply, “I wonder what happened with Scott.”

“Weren’t they on a date?” your mother asks, relaxed now that she knew the cause of your phone lighting up.

You shrug, “I thought so. I’m going to check on her. I’m sure she’ll want to vent.” You get up with your book and find your sneakers. “Could I have a sleepover?”

Your mother battled the rebuttal of keeping you at home – to coddle you with her security. “As long as you have your medication I don’t see why not.”

“I can drop her off on my way to the firehouse,” your father says, adorning his firefighter t-shirt and cargo pants. It would appear he had another overnight shift.

Fifteen minutes later you were outside the Argent residence, Allison waiting by the front door to welcome you with her frustrations.

The home was tall with big, open rooms full of chandelier light. It was rich with mahogany browns and beamed ceilings. Allison was guiding you up the stairs after a quick introduction to her mother in the living room.

“I just don’t understand why he left me there,” she says with an edge, “I thought he liked me.”

“I think he does like you,” you say as you enter a beautifully decorated bedroom. “We have to remember he is a high school boy.”

Allison quirks a faint smile, “But to leave me at a strangers house… he has to know I’m new to the town. I don’t know anybody well enough to get some help! And I was not about to call my parents for a ride. That would’ve been reputation suicide.”

You clear your throat, recalling every instance your parents have carted you around, refusing to let you drive yourself. “Who gave you a ride anyway?”

“Someone named Derek Hale. He said he was a friend of Scott’s.”

You feel your uneven heartbeats pick up, “Derek Hale? He’s back in town?”

“Do you know him?”

“No, it’s just…” your mind wanders to old police reports your mother talked about and past newspapers on the dinner table. “There was a fire that burned up the Hale House years ago. Most of his family died in that fire. He hasn’t been seen for years.”

Allison crosses her arms, suddenly giving herself a kind of protective hug. “You mean, he isn’t a friend of Scott’s?”

“Not that I know of, but I’m as much of a new friend here as you are.”

“But Scott said you’re a friend of the family.”

“Yes, I do work with his mom at the hospital,” you fight to keep the Hale memories at the forefront of your mind. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ve hanged out with Scott much.”

Allison nods, still gripping her arms as creases of worry etch her face. “Why would Derek lie about being friends with Scott?”

“He didn’t try anything in the car, did he?”

“No!” she says quickly, “He was really kind, even held the door open for me. He just asked about my relationship with Scott.”

You could feel the beats in your chest stutter. They were loud in your ears, “What did you tell him?”

“Just that I met him this week. I got help from him at the veterinary clinic – I accidentally hit a dog – and he asked me to this party.”

You sit on her bed, afraid that your heart rate was increasing more, “Did Derek seem interested in just Scott?”

Allison thought about it for a few seconds before sitting in her desk chair, “Yeah, it was the only thing we talked about.”

“Which would make sense if that was the only thing you guys had in common.” You put a hand to your chest, hoping to steady yourself with some pressure. “But I still don’t think him and Scott have ever been close friends.”

“That’s slightly concerning,” she says with a shaky laugh.

You return it, trying to take a deep breath without making it too noticeable. “Other than the abrupt departure and unfortunate ride home… how are you and Scott?”

A genuine smile returns to Allison’s face, “He’s so sweet. You can just tell how nervous he is and it’s so cute. After being jumped by Lydia and her friends it was nice to meet someone more sincere.”

“Lydia can be a little overbearing,” you agree, checking your watch to see your heart rate drop to a more acceptable number. “And Scott really is a sweetheart. He can be a bit of a worrier, but I find those are the ones who care the most.”

Allison likes the calming reassurance until the sound of her mother’s voice pierced the air.

“Allison! It’s for you.”

The loudness prompts the two girls to their feet. Up on the walkway towards the staircase, the pair of you had a perfect view of the door… and the boy standing out in the cold.

“Stiles?” you say confusedly.

Allison’s mother left the door open as she returned to her spot in the living room. Stiles stood awkwardly under the porch light, “Uh… yeah, hi.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, leading the way down the stairs, “Is everything okay?”

“Is Scott okay?” Allison asks quickly, following you to the doorway.

Stiles rambled, hands on his hips, “Yeah! Yeah, Scott is fine.” His eyes lingered on you as he paused. You had an instant suspicion that he was lying. “He asked that I check up on Allison since he had to run out.”

“Well, I got home all right, no thanks to him,” she replied with a huff. “But he seemed off, like he was sick all of the sudden.”

Stiles took hold of the sudden excuse, “Yes! That’s what happened. Scott just got really sick out of nowhere, like really sick – like find me a bathroom right now kind of sick.”

You wrinkled your nose at his lack of a filter, “But you said he’s fine.”

“I mean, yeah now he’s fine,” Stiles said loudly, as if that would cover up his little slip. “He met with his mom at the hospital and she gave him some… treatment.”

Your pulse was picking up again at his obvious covering up, “You know what… I told Melissa I would stop by the hospital late tonight to get my new schedule. You just reminded me,” you smile easily, putting a hand to Allison’s arm. “Raincheck on that sleepover, I don’t want to keep Melissa up all night, especially if Scott isn’t feeling well.”

“Yeah, of course,” Allison said instantly, “And would you text me if you see Scott there?”

“Sure,” you smile, “Stiles?”

He looked to you with wide eyes, “Hm?”

“Could I get a ride?”

~~~

Stiles’ jeep was old and clanky, but in an endearing sort of way. You sat with your back more against the door than the seat, arms wrapped around yourself. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating rapidly. Any faster and you were worried about another attack.

“I’m sorry the heater doesn’t work,” Stiles said with a hint of embarrassment. He smacked the dashboard, “You look cold.”

“It’s alright,” you say quietly. You try to focus on the beats of your heart, willing them to calm down before you started to get lightheaded.

“You know what…” Stiles started to flail his arms around the wheel, trying to remove his suit jacket. He banged his head against the door before straightening out, “Here.”

You look at the outstretched jacket with endearment before quietly taking it, “Thank you.” You were much more graceful putting the jacket on, smiling at how Stiles mistook your concentration on your heart rate for being cold and uncomfortable.

“Now you need to tell me where Scott really is,” you say in your gentle tone.

Stiles suddenly gripped the steering wheel, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Scott isn’t really at the hospital. And I know something is going on with Derek Hale because he lied to Allison. And I have a funny suspicion that you know more than you were telling us.”

There was a twitch in his fingers as Stiles thought about how much to reveal, “You’re right. Something’s wrong with Scott. I don’t know exactly what, but I think he ran off and got lost in the woods.”

“He didn’t give you any hint as to why he would do that?”

“He’s just been acting weird the last few days,” Stiles continued, driving slowly. “When I saw him leave tonight and Allison get picked up… I went after him. But he ran away.”

You wrap the suit jacket closely around you, giggling at how the wide shoulders stuck out on your own frame. It smelled wonderful.

“This calls for a search party.”

Stiles looked worried and frantic again, perhaps still hiding parts of the truth from you. “You don’t mind wandering the roads by the woods? I could still take you…”

“No, I want to help,” you say against your better judgement. Your heart rate still hadn’t gone down. “Let’s start on the north side closest to where the party was at.”

It was already past midnight by the time you started scouting the woods. You kept your eyes out the window, tightly bound in Stiles’ jacket. Your heart rate remained high, the lack of proper oxygen to your brain was starting to make you feel woozy.

Your mother was not going to be happy when she checked your watch monitor.

“Hey, you alright?” Stiles asked, “You need to sleep?”

You shook your head, wincing at the slow motion feeling it produced. “No, I can stay awake.”

“It’s not a problem, really. I can drop you off at home.”

“That’ll waste time when we could be searching.” You sit up straighter in an attempt to expand your lungs. “I just need to take a breath.”

Stiles kept looking towards you just as much as he was looking in the surrounding forests. “How close are you and Scott?”

“Not very,” you say, “I’ve met him a couple times with his mom. Our parents are closer than we are.”

“And you’ve lived here most of your life and yet I’ve never met you before.”

You smile, trying to anchor yourself in your surroundings. It was another attempt to control your heart rate.

The smell of Stiles’ jacket. The rough road beneath the tires. The stale, cold air of the jeep. The sound of Stiles’ investigative voice.

“I don’t get out much.”

He laughed, “Then why the sudden change?”

“I felt like it.”

“Woman of many words,” he smirked, “You said you knew Derek Hale lied to Allison. What do you know about the guy?”

You sigh, “Just a little about his past with the house fire. My mom was a part of the dispatch call that handled the case.”

“Wait, did you just say a dispatch call?” Stiles jumped in his seat, “As in, your mom is a police officer?”

“No,” you laugh at his quick movements, “She works at the front desk helping transfer calls between civilians and officers. She hasn’t been on the active force in many years.”

Stiles had a comical scrunch on his face as he thought for a few seconds, “Your mom is Angela Westbrook? Front desk Westbrook?”

You nod, a strange furrow in your brow, “And you know her because?”

“Because my dad is the town sheriff!”

“You’re a Stilinski?”

Stiles had a shock of energy zip through him, “Yes, a Stilinski! I can’t believe our parents work together.”

“Your dad has been to my house a few times,” you say, amazed at the connections. “I wonder why he never mentioned me.”

“I guess I knew Mrs. Westbrook had a daughter, I just didn’t realize we were the same age.”

The hours ticked by as the pair of you searched the woods by the road. You both thought you’d seen some flashlights and decided to avoid them. Stiles came up with the idea to search by foot away from the woods for a mile or so.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a spare flashlight in the back,” he unbuckled his seatbelt.

You sit straighter, “I mean, wasn’t there a dead body found out there earlier this week?”

“The police are handling it.” He steps out of the car to grab his flashlight.

You stay where you are, uncomfortable with the idea of standing up when your heart rate was so close to an attack. You were lightheaded enough that the rush of standing would not bode well.

Stiles came around the other side with an exaggerated expression on his face as he opened your car door. “Forgotten how to use the handle?”

“No, I’m just…” you tug on the jacket sleeves. “I’m a little lightheaded to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” his face fell into concern immediately, “Is something wrong?”

You smile shakily, “Not at all,” you lie through your teeth. “Just be prepared to catch me if I fall.”

Stiles seemed to take that with the most seriousness as he backed up and held out a hand, “I got you.”

You struggle to breathe as you clamber out of the vehicle. You hold tightly to Stiles’ outstretched hand and wait for the inevitable feeling of the blood rushing to your legs. Your head felt empty, and stars started to twinkle in front of your eyes.

Stiles held onto your hand and put an arm around your shoulders as you swayed, “Woah, you weren’t kidding. You alright?”

After a few seconds leaning into him, squeezing his fingers with light pressure, your breaths started to come easier. Your head became clearer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” You let go of him, checking your watch to see that your heart rate decreased to an acceptable amount.

Stiles backed away quickly, rubbing his hands awkwardly down his pants. He was hesitant to look at you when he replied, “No problem. Does that happen a lot?”

“Oh, you know…” you start venturing towards the tree line, “People get head rushes when they sit too long all the time.”

“Right,” Stiles said faintly, jogging to catch up to you. He clicked on the flashlight and aimed it towards the trees. It was dark and misty and cold. The pair of you kept hearing rustlings between the tree roots and bumping into each other.

You could have sworn you heard howls and growls, but it must’ve been the wind.

“Can I ask why you weren’t at the party?”

“You can, but the answer is boring.” You cross your arms, the too long sleeves engulfing your hands. “I don’t go to parties.”

“Because?”

“Because they make me lightheaded,” you say with a smile.

Stiles tried to pick that apart, but smiled, nonetheless. “You know the more I try to get to know you, the more confusing you become.”

“I thought you liked a good mystery.”

“I do,” Stiles confirmed, shining his flashlight up through tree branches, “I don’t like not knowing things.”

“Sorry, I’m a pretty tightly sealed book,” you shrug, “I can be very evasive.”

“And I can be very persuasive,” Stiles mocked, using a silly voice.

You bump into him again, sort of on purpose and less because you tumbled on a stray twig. “You already know plenty about me.”

“Let’s check the list, shall we?” he chuckled, “You were homeschooled. Your mom works at the station. You suffer from frequent lightheadedness. You don’t get out of the house much. And you’re already a part of the pretty girls club.”

“Excuse me?” you laugh, “The pretty girls club?”

Stiles kicked at the leaves, “Yeah, you know Lydia, Allison… you.”

“Stiles Stilinski, did you just call me pretty?”

He comically puffed out his chest, “In a roundabout way, yes I did.”

You chortle, “See you know a lot about me already. We’ve only known each other three days.”

“You’ll find I can be very determined, (Y/N),” Stiles sighed, “I’ll figure you out soon enough.”

They continued their way through the woods until they came back to the car. It did not go unnoticed that Stiles went to help you open the door and climb into the tall vehicle.

The morning light was starting to peek over the horizon by the time they got back to the roads. The pair of them were starting to grow more worried by the minute. It wasn’t a friendly search party anymore.

“I hope he’s okay,” you say quietly.

Stiles looked your way before resting his hand against the stick shift between you. “We’ll find him. Or he’ll text me as soon as he gets to a phone.”

You lean towards the dashboard, “I guess we’ll find him first.”

Walking along the side of the road, pants covered in dirt and his shirt missing, was Scott. He looked ruffled.

“What happened to him?” Stiles murmured as he pulled over.

“What happened to his shirt?” you say just as quietly. Stiles shot you a look as you strip yourself of his suit jacket.

Scott came to the door and looked shocked to see you handing over the coat. “(Y/N)?”

“Scott,” you say with a smile, “Get in.”

You scoot over to be in the middle. Stiles immediately yanked his arm away as your thigh got in the way of how he was resting his hand on the stick shift. You rubbed shoulders again as Scott got comfortable.

“Long night?” you ask.

Scott rubs at his eyes, banging his head against the window, “You have no idea.” He suddenly turns to you, pressing into your side, “How is Allison?”

“She’s fine,” you say, “I’m a little more worried about you.”

“You know what actually worries me the most?” he grumbles.

Stiles licks his lips, “If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

“She probably hates me now,” Scott frowns, turning to you with regretful eyes.

You take pity on him, rubbing his shoulder, “She’s upset with you, but she doesn’t hate you.”

“But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology,” Stiles says candidly.

Scott groans, leaning against the headrest. You sit scrunched between them, almost scared to lean into either one. “I hear you were really sick last night. Though I don’t see how that explains your lack of clothing.”

“Night sweats,” Scott mumbles, “When I couldn’t sleep through it at home I decided to take a walk through the woods.”

“That’s a long walk,” you say, “Don’t worry, I’ll put a good word in for you with Allison.”

“Would you?” Scott says, looking at you like you were the answer to all of his prayers. “Could you make sure she knows how sorry I am?”

You pull out your phone to send that update text you promised her. “As long as you apologize in person too, I don’t see why not.”

“You’re an angel, (Y/N), thank you.” He bows his shaggy head to your shoulder before pouting against the headrest again.

“Could you drop me off a few blocks from my house? My parents think I’m sleeping over at Allison’s.”

Stiles nods, “Protective parents?”

“A little,” you smile.

“I’ll add that to the list,” he smirks. “I’ll have to open a full case file on you now.”

“That’ll be a dead end.”

Scott opens his eyes to peer at the pair of you, “Sounds like you two had as long of a night as I have.”

You yawn, “Stilinski here is trying to play high school detective. He’s on a role trying to figure out my criminal past.”

“Criminal you say,” Stiles drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’ll mean I need a corkboard and some red thread too.”

“What have you found out so far?” Scott muses, somewhat enjoying the change of subject.

“Not much.” Then Stiles points a finger at his best friend, “But you’ve known her longer than me – fess up. What do you know?”

Scott holds back a smile, “Did you figure out her mom works at your dads station?” After a swift nod he continues, “And that her dad is a firefighter?”

“Really?” Stiles says dramatically, “Any siblings?”

“Only child,” Scott continues, rubbing the tired from his eyes, “And she loves to read. Every time I saw her, she was always reading something.”

Stiles had a look of triumph on his face, as if it were a breakthrough in the case, “What book you reading right now?”

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.” You point the directions to your street, “I’m at the end when Lupin turns into a werewolf.”

“A what?” Scott says, shooting forward.

The friendly banter between you and Stiles suddenly shifts into surprise, “A werewolf. Haven’t you seen the movies?”

“Right,” he swallows hard, “It’s been a while.”

Stiles licks his lips again, “It’s ironic because last night was the full moon.”

“Oh, was it?” you hum, “That’s funny.”

~~~

You sleep off most of the weekend, having a lecture from your parents about the heart rate spike on Friday. You told them a night of rom coms and silly boy stories with Allison got you excited – that it was all fun and games.

You didn’t tell them you almost fainted because of it.

The next week was more enjoyable than the last. You excelled in your classes and spent your lunch periods reading in the library – you were already halfway through Sense and Sensibility for your midterm report.

Chemistry, History, and English were your favorite, most likely because your new friends were in those classes. Scott had become infatuated with Allison, especially after she had given him a second chance. Lydia was scheming something over her boyfriend being the captain of the lacrosse team. And Stiles was quickly becoming your highlight of each day.

He’d sit beside you during class and ask a personal question. “At least one a day,” he wagered, “I can ask at least one a day and get an answer.”

“As long as I reserve rights to refuse to answer any question.”

“I’m going to add those refusals to your case file.”

You’d roll your eyes, “Whatever you say, Stilinski.”

You were proud of the fact you hadn’t had another heart rate scare since the week before, meaning your body was adapting to the new stressful environment at school. That didn’t stop Stiles from insinuating you were going to have a lightheaded moment whenever you rose from your seat.

You never noticed how he prepared himself to grab you whenever you’d been sitting too long.

Chemistry had come around later in the week, you having arrived early to prepare the days experiment. Goggles adorning your face, you lit the Bunsen burner and tightened a flask of a chemical liquid above it.

Stiles skid over, sliding on his sneakers, “Hey, partner.” He threw his bag down and took the goggles you hand to him. He snaps them onto his face with a sharp, “ow.”

“I’ve started filling out the notes,” you say, observing how the liquid was starting to bubble with heat. “Why are you late?”

“I’m not late, you’re just early.” He sits on the stool beside you, resting his crossed arms on the tabletop. “Where were you at lunch today?”

You put a thermometer in the liquid, waiting for the right temperature, “In the library.”

“Is that where you always eat lunch?”

“You can’t eat food in the library, Stilinski.”

Stiles rubs at his nose fidgetily, “Scott and I were looking for you today.”

You pause, warmth filling your chest as you pour granules into the bubbling vial. “Sorry, I was reading for my book report.”

“(Y/N), book reports aren’t due for weeks.”

“Might as well get it done so we don’t have to worry about it,” you hum, writing down observations about the chemical reaction.

Stiles slumps a little, “Well, we missed you.”

“Scott just wants to gossip about what Allison thinks of him.”

“And what’s my excuse?”

You turn off the burner and remove the vial with tongs, “You’re trying to question me to continue your investigation.”

He sighs out a smile, “You’re right, of course. I haven’t asked you my question of the day yet.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to answer one,” you sigh with a smile on your face. “What do you have for me today?”

He was playing with his fingers when he asks, “Why do you spend lunch in the library rather than in the lunchroom with everyone else?”

You think about your answer carefully as you put away your supplies and let the vial cool down. “I don’t like being around a lot of people.”

“Why?” he presses.

You grab his goggles and snap them against his face, “Because it makes me lightheaded.”

He yelps and sways on his stool, “I’m beginning to think ‘lightheaded’ is code for something else.” He yanks the goggles from his face, and you snort at the deep lines they left around his eyes.

“Hey, there’s a science project that we need partners for,” you say as a way to change the subject. “Do you want to do it together?”

“(Y/N), we don’t have to do that project until the end of the semester.” He smiles at your antics of avoiding his questioning.

You shrug, “I like getting things done.”

He takes a deep breath, “Alright, at least I know I won’t fail the class if you’re helping me with the final project.”

After class the pair of you separate for final period, you heading to a different floor and running into someone at the bottom of the staircase. Someone tall and dark with light eyes.

That someone you recognize as Derek Hale.

You freeze on the last few steps, holding onto your backpack and feeling your heart beat unevenly again.

“You’re Derek.”

His face was cool and solemn, “What do you know about Scott McCall?”

“Why should I tell you?” Your arms erupt in goosebumps.

He steps closer, “Because I’m trying to help him. He needs to get it through his skull that I am not the enemy here. I need your influence in this.”

You hold back a scoff, fear overtaking that, “What business do you have with helping Scott?”

“Do you not know?” his eyes suddenly darken, “I thought you were one of his friends.”

“I am his friend,” you reply, “And I know people are suspicious of you.” A seed of doubt creeps up your spine, “I don’t like that a shady adult is creeping around the halls of a high school looking to make connections with students.”

He growls, actually growls much to your surprise. “I need you to tell Scott that I am here to help. I am innocent in whatever he thinks I’ve done.”

“What does he think you’ve done?” you ask quickly as Derek backs off.

“I can hear your uneven heart,” he says, turning around, “You should calm yourself.”

You put a hand to your chest, mouth agape at his retreating form. How the hell can he hear your heartbeat? A thrum of fear ripples through you as you run for your last class. You check the monitor on your watch until your heart rate was controlled before entering.

You didn’t see any of your friends until the next day. You were reading in the library over lunch again, finishing Sense and Sensibility and planning your report. You keep getting distracted by the whole situation with Derek and Scott.

What had the adult meant by befriending Scott? Why were you approached? What secret does Scott have that you didn’t know about?

You squeal as someone launches themselves over the library couch and sits beside you. Your cushion bounces as your heart leapt.

“Stiles!” you cry, “Don’t startle me like that!”

He nudges your shoulder, “Sorry, we were looking for you.”

Scott came around and sat on the arm of the couch, “It’s lunch.”

“Yes,” you say, “And I’m working on stuff in the library like I do every day.”

“No,” Stiles says, closing your book and stealing your pencil, “You’re going to join us for lunch today.”

You fight to get the pencil back, “I think I’ll just finish my report here.”

“(Y/N), there aren’t that many people in the lunchroom,” Scott says quietly, “And you’ll have us there.”

You stare Stiles down, “Did you tell Scott about my thing with lots of people?”

He shrugs sheepishly, “Come on, let’s go.” He waits as you stand, picking up your backpack for you. Scott led the way, nervous by how he wrung his hands.

“Has Allison talked about me lately?”

You shove his arm, “Scott, I can’t tell you everything we say during girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” Scott says in a panic, “I didn’t know about girl talk.”

“Yes, it’s where we drop all our juiciest secrets,” you snicker, “Including our thoughts on certain cute boys.” Scott points at himself, eyebrows raised, making you laugh. “Yes, Allison has been saying good things about you.”

Stiles matches your stride, “What about me?”

You look at him with a wide smile before leaning into Scott with another laugh.

“What? I’m a cute boy,” Stiles says, flabbergasted. “Aren’t I?”

They walk into the lunchroom that was still full of students. You spot Allison and Lydia sitting at the popular lacrosse table. Stiles, your backpack still on his shoulder, nudges you to one of the front tables.

Sitting down, Scott kept peering over at the back of Allison’s head. “See it’s not so bad in here, (Y/N).”

The patter of your heart would say differently, but you sit next to Stiles, nonetheless, pulling out your book report.

“I did mean to come talk to you guys about something that happened yesterday.” The boys lean in, eager for any strange story. “Derek Hale came to talk to me.”

Stiles slips out of his chair and crashes to the ground; Scott was stunned, “Derek Hale? Where?”

“On my way to my last class yesterday. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.”

Stiles crawls back onto his chair, winded, “He was inside the school? What did he want?”

You shrug, twiddling your pencil, “He wanted me to convince Scott that he was a friend. He said he was innocent, whatever that means.”

The boys share a look. You start outlining your report, “And I don’t know why but I think I believe him.”

“No, (Y/N), listen…” Stiles pulls on your shoulder so you would face him. “You cannot trust that guy. Whatever you do, do not be alone with him again, got it?”

“I don’t get it, why?”

Stiles licks his lips, urgent in the way he looks at you, “You need to trust me on this. If he tries to talk to you again, call me.”

“I would if I had your number,” you laugh. The boys pull out their phones immediately to exchange numbers. You snort at their seriousness, “If you wanted my number that bad you could’ve just asked instead of coming up with this elaborate Derek Hale story.”

“We’re not making it up,” Scott says, “That guy is dangerous.”

~~~

At the end of the week you were busy with your shift at the hospital. You had just finished checking on Jackson Whittemore who had a dislocated shoulder, and you were logging notes into the computer at the nurses station.

You were just updating a patient file when a hand slams onto the counter. You jump, clutching your chest.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles!”

Stiles was shocked at seeing you there, “Do you work here?”

“Yes, and for the love of god please announce your presence like every other normal human being and stop scaring the ever living daylights out of me!” It was a good thing they were in a hospital because your heart was about to give out.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with wide eyes. He rubs at his face, hiding a smile, “This is how you know Scott’s mom so well.”

“Yeah, add it to my case file,” you wave a hand, fixing your scrub top, “Why are you here?”

His eyes linger at something on your chest, making him stutter, “Um… Scott and I were uh… coming to check up on Jackson.”

“That’s right, you’re all on the lacrosse team. I heard it was Scott that knocked Jackson’s shoulder out of place.”

“That would be correct,” Stiles laughs nervously, scratching at the back of his head. “Is he alright?”

You smirk, nodding towards the end of the hallway, “See for yourself.”

Lydia had come to pick Jackson up, and the pair of them were currently making out in the middle of the hall. You turn away, slightly nauseous, but Stiles keeps observing like he’s never seen a kiss before.

“She’s never been subtle,” you grimace.

His mind seemingly elsewhere, Stiles fumbles for something to occupy himself with as he waits. He picks up a pamphlet on the menstrual cycle.

“Where is Scott?”

Stiles was stuck on a diagram of the uterus, “Hm?”

“Scott,” you say again, staring at the pamphlet cover, “I thought you said you were both looking for Jackson.”

“He went to find his mom first.”

You squint your eyes, “Melissa’s shift ended two hours ago.”

“Could you explain to me the function of the fallopian tubes?”

You snatch the pamphlet away from him, “What are you two hiding?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says nervously, “Don’t you have other patients to see or something?”

“First Derek Hale is telling me that Scott is keeping a secret and then you’re here covering for Scott while he snoops…”

“Who said anything about snooping?”

You stand from your chair, leaning towards the counter and Stiles, “Listen, I’m glad we’re finally friends. I like you guys. But I won’t be lied to forever. I deserve better than that.”

Stiles feels his chest collapse a little, sinking in on himself. “I could say the same thing about you. You’re always keeping things to yourself and giving vague answers to my questions. What do you have to hide, hm?”

A pang of hurt hit your chest, “Stiles, I’ve never lied to you about anything. If I don’t want to answer a question outright because it’s too personal, I tell you so. I’ve never hid something from you deliberately by lying to you.”

Stiles bit his tongue, folding his arms defensively.

You let the hurt show on your face, “I think you and Scott have been lying to me for a long time. About the party that Scott ran out on. About why you checked up on Allison last week. About your trust issues with Derek Hale. About what you and Scott are doing in the hospital right now…”

The will to argue was gone in Stiles, he just looks defeated as he watches the hurt fill your face. “It’s been for your own protection.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you whisper angrily.

Scott suddenly appears by the counter, out of breath. “Hey…” he saw your face, “Oh, hey what’s up?”

“Find what you were looking for?” you ask sourly before returning to your keyboard.

Scott shares a look with Stiles before muttering, “Yeah, uh… Jackson’s alright.”

“He left a few minutes ago.”

Stiles turns around to see that Lydia and Jackson really had left. He tugs on Scott’s arm and gave an imploring look towards you.

“I promise we’ll explain everything eventually.”

You keep looking at your computer screen, ignoring the words. Stiles flickers his eyes to what he noticed on your chest, just along the edge of your scrubs. Scott knits his brow as he listens to what was unmistakably the uneven pounding of your rising heart rate.

Stiles led the way to the elevators, cursing himself and smashing the downward button.

“What was that about?” Scott whispers.

“(Y/N)’s mad at me,” he rubs at his eyes harshly, “Mad at us. She knows we’re hiding stuff from her.”

“For her own good.”

“Yeah, but she sees it as us lying to her. I don’t blame her for being upset. We’ve been pretty crappy friends keeping her at arm’s length.”

Scott frowns, walking into the elevator, “You forget that keeping her in the dark keeps her safe.”

“Well, not anymore with Derek roping her into it.” He leans against the wall, holding tight to the railing. “Did you notice the scar on her chest?”

“No,” Scott says, “But I did notice her heartbeat. It was all over the place. She must’ve been really upset.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, “Did you find anything in the morgue?”

~~~

The next evening you drove with your mother back to the hospital. You were still aching with the argument you had with Stiles. You knew something was going on between him and Scott, but you still didn’t know what.

Your mother sensed your mood and said in a cheery voice, “We made an arrest today about that woods murder.”

“Did you?” you say in a quiet tone.

“Yeah, Derek Hale. He’s been back in town for a couple weeks. I guess there was evidence on his burnt property.”

You close your eyes, thinking back to the warning about Hale. “Good thing you got him.”

“And then I got a strange call on dispatch today from the Sheriff’s son.”

“Stiles?” you say.

She hums, “He’s one strange kid.”

“Does he call dispatch often?”

“He’s not allowed to anymore, but he did call today about a dog sighting.”

You shake your head, “You’re right, he can be real strange.”

“Are you sure you can’t make the big game tonight?” your mother asks. “Everyone is going, even the Sheriff.”

“I can’t. I’m helping on Melissa’s floor since she took it off to see the game.”

“That’s right,” she replies, “Shame. I’m sure your friends would’ve liked to see you in the stands.”

You turn in your seat, staring your mother down, “I thought you’d object to me watching a heart racing game surrounded by loud, rowdy people, standing in the frigid cold air.”

She shrugs, “You’ve been proving yourself capable of handling your heart rate, even when it’s the spur of the moment.”

A sudden warmth creeps up your chest. Your mother was starting to trust you despite the illnesses. It was just enough of a mood shift to prompt you to text Scott and Stiles good luck at the game.

The shift was long and grueling; you were exhausted by the end of it. Another medical assistant drove you home late, no doubt long after the lacrosse game was over. You made a mental note to commend Melissa for handling such a difficult floor of the hospital.

Your mom had been called away because of a case update and your father was on an overnight shift at the firehouse again. You were quick to shower the nights worth of patient grime off your body and throw your scrubs right into the washer.

You were just applying lotion in your pajamas when something hit the glass of your window. Startled, you stood from your bed and waited for it to happen again.

A small pebble flew through the air and pings against your window.

Peering through the glass, you saw a disheveled, sweatshirt-wearing Stiles holding a handful of your garden rocks. He waves at you shyly as you struggle to slide the window open.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles holds up his hands, “Seeing if you were awake.”

“And you couldn’t think to text?” you say incredulously, “Put those rocks back.”

He threw his handful of rocks on your mothers tulips, “My phone died like an hour ago.”

You stood there, leaning on your windowsill, regarding him with a soft expression. He looks tired and scared, eyes looking up and imploring as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Then what’s up?” you ask.

He swallows hard, the cold air making his breath come out in icy clouds. “I wanted to talk… about what you said yesterday.”

“How did you know where I live? You dropped me off at the end of the street, remember?”

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles, “And I just watched you walk to this house.” He scratches the back of his head, “Or maybe I looked up your mom on my dad’s computer and found her employee records.”

You nod your head slowly, “That sounds about right.”

“Can I… Can I come up?”

You bite at your lips, hair still wet from the shower. “Sure.”

It was like letting a dog off a leash. Stiles frantically jumps to the garden trellis growing on the front of your house. He struggles past the vines and up the wooden ladder, ignoring your calls of disapproval. He was huffing and puffing by the time he made it to the roof and next to your window.

“Stiles,” you say in your gentle voice, “My parents aren’t home. You could’ve come through the front door.”

His mouth was dry from panting in the cold night air, “Right, but that wouldn’t have been as impressive.”

You watch his fumbling figure fall from the window and onto your carpeted floor, “Yeah, that was real impressive, Stilinski.”

There was only a side table lamp on, lighting the bedroom in a soft peachy glow. You went to sit cross-legged on your bed, patting the covers in front of you for Stiles to sit.

He fixes his shirt, taking your offer before looking you in the eye. “(Y/N), I wanted to say that I was sorry.”

You look towards your hands, playing with the edge of your comfy pajama shirt. You could smell the fruity scent of your lotion still on your fingers.

“I didn’t realize our covering up was so obvious to you. We just wanted to protect you, but I guess it does seem like we betrayed your trust.” He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for you to look at him again, “When I got your good luck text I thought maybe there was still a chance you weren’t super angry with me.”

“Just a little,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.

“I wanted to tell you some things that we’ve been hiding from you,” he holds his hands up, “As a peace offering.”

You shake your head, “How generous of you.”

“The body that was found in the woods… Scott and I found it. Us visiting the hospital? That was Scott and I trying to find evidence on the partial body. Derek Hale? He had been seen on the property where we found the other half of the body. He was also in the woods with the first half. We were suspicious of him, and he was basically stalking us because of it.”

You listen carefully, your heartbeat was loud in your ears. “And when he came to talk to me?”

“That terrified us. We thought he was a murderer, and he was talking to you… alone.”

“You thought? My mom told me he was arrested today for the murder.”

Stiles rubs at his face with a tired hand, “Not anymore. The coroner’s said the cause of death was from an animal attack. And the victim was Laura Hale – Derek’s sister.”

“Must be nice having your dad be the sheriff,” you smile. “So Derek’s innocent like he told me he was.”

“I still don’t trust him. He’s not telling us everything. And since we’ve gotten him thrown in jail, my guess is he’s not very happy with us.”

You nod, your head clearer than it was at the beginning of the week.

“Is that everything you’ve been hiding?”

Stiles licks his lips, a nervous habit you’re realizing. “Do you remember when you said you don’t lie, you’re just honest about not sharing the whole truth?” At your nod he continues, “There is one more thing, but it’s not fully my thing to tell. We want to tell you, but it’s not exactly safe at the moment.”

You take the cryptic words and stew with them for a while. “Apology accepted.”

He let out a deep breath, “Thank goodness. Scott would have never forgiven me if we lost our one connection to the pretty girls club.”

You punch his shoulder and laugh, “The one thing I’m good for… gossip from the girls.”

Stiles rubs his shoulder, “That’s not why we want you around.” He clears his throat at your sudden undivided attention, “What I mean is… you’ve been a good friend, and we like you.”

“You and Scott,” you smile.

“Yeah, me and Scott.”

“Scott and I,” you correct, brushing the wet hair from your face, “How was the game?”

Stiles sat more relaxed on your bed, “It was great, we won. And there weren’t any injuries like Jackson’s.”

“Good,” you smile, “And Scott had a pretty victorious after party, so I’ve heard.”

“Allison texted you?” Stiles questions.

You shrug, “Of course. She said you were watching like a little pervert.”

Stiles chokes on his gasp, “I am not…”

“You were watching Lydia and Jackson too. There’s a trend I’m noticing,” you tease.

He shoves your crossed knee, relishing in your laugh, “Very funny.” He eyes the neckline of your pajama top, searching for the edge of the scar he noticed yesterday. “Can I ask you my one personal question of the day?”

“Fine,” you sigh, “Ask away.”

“Where did you get that scar?” he nods towards your chest.

You immediately clam up, covering the spot protectively. “I got it over the summer.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, egging you on, “How?”

“I had a surgery.” You watch the concern begin to etch into Stiles’ face. “I don’t like talking about it.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, blinking rapidly as he tries to compute the information, “But you’re okay now. The surgery helped you be… healthy?”

“For the most part,” you say quietly, “The surgery did help me be healthier.” You could already see the cogs turning in his mind. He was going to head home and research what surgeries would leave scars like that on the side of the chest.

His eyes wander your room for a minute before landing on your nightstand. There were three different sized prescription pill bottles resting there. He returns his gaze to you, but didn’t ask further questions, “So I was thinking… how about I give you rides to school from now on.”

You let out an anxious smile, grateful he didn’t press you about your health problems. “Honestly, that would be great.”

“Good,” he seems pleased with himself, “And in return for gas money, you come to our lacrosse games.”

You outstretch a hand, “Deal.”

Stiles takes your hand to shake and instantly blurts, “You smell really good.”

You laugh, “I did just shower.”

He awkwardly lets go of your hand, standing from the bed, “No, you always smell good.”

“Thanks Stilinski.”

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #okay j hannah #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

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randomdwellerr · 9 months ago

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A/N: i think I’ve fallen victim to the A03 writers curse as I dropped my beautiful computer down the stairs early this week. Anyways I hope yall enjoy a nice slow burn because I was 3500 words in like “I STILL HAVEN’T ADDED THE SMUT.” I think I did dumbification justice here but lmk ofc. Anyways this will be on A03 soon enough.

Office hours

Warnings: Dumbification, DubCon, Power Imbalances, cruel Zhongli lowkey, Spanking, Degradation. Lmk if I missed anything ❤��

Make sure to study chapters 9-10, 13, and 14 in your Geography Book and come prepared to discuss your findings next class.

Yeah right, if only the reading was comprehensible! The paragraphs about climatology jumbled together before flying off the pages, toward different corners of your room.

You’d studied so hard that when you squinted your eyes, it didn’t provide you with a clearer look, but instead blurred further. Only when you blink rapidly would the fog temporarily dissipate from view. At this point, you were one eye rub away from convincing yourself that this was a visual impairment, not a school related mental breakdown.

And that wasn’t the worst of it, your hands had begun to cramp from gripping your highlighter or pen while you frantically tried to write to retain some of the knowledge. That’s when you knew things were going downhill.

And to the surprise of no one, that didn’t work.

What was once a well organized notebook was now filled with scribbles or yellow streaks— and occasionally tears— as you continued to hunch over your desk.

You were— are a good student. B average, nice scholarship, advanced placement, everything had been going nicely but a stupid geography had been your downfall.

You didn’t intend on doing anything related to the subject when you took the class, and you surely weren’t now that you had a taste of the stress, but you had signed up for the class with a bit of peer pressure from your friends.

It was easy they said, we’d see each other more they claimed. If you could go back in time, you would warn yourself that only the latter was true, and only for a while anyway.

The first day of class in the crowded auditorium, you’d secured a plush seat with your group of friends. You’d figure the class would be easy enough, you’d taken a handle full of history classes through high school and now college.It didn’t hurt that Professor Zhongli was easy on the eyes—and the ears. His deep, rumbling voice paired with sharp hazel eyes was enough to distract you. And then there was that long ponytail, somehow managing to look both professional and a little magical when it caught the light. Oh, and an empty ring finger.

Honestly, if the whole teaching thing didn’t work out for him, envisioning Zhongli as a model wasn’t hard.

Everything started out fine. The first quiz had been easy enough, based on the contents of the syllabus Mr Zhongli passed out on the first day of classes.

After that, the harder stuff started. Climatology, Geomorphology, Hydrology, every single horrific

topic, that you couldn’t comprehend. The first couple class days, you would joke around with your friends, listen to music, anything else but study in the designated time. Your teacher however, never said anything, never called on you to answer a question, read aloud, nothing. If you doubted before he knew your name, you were sure he didn’t know it now.

When the second test came around, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, not only by not taking the class seriously but actually signing up for the class in the first place. A fat F, circled in red ink, rested at the top of your paper. When your friends sports low to mid A’s and B’s, you knew something had to give. And apparently the solution was simpler than you’d thought, as written in neat handwriting below the F was a note.

Perhaps you should try sitting up front, away from potential distractions.

Maybe instead of blindly signing up for the class you should have looked his name up on ratemyprofessor, even now you wanted to leave a scathing review on his surprisingly perfect record.

The paper was promptly balled up and thrown into a small corner of your room, probably next to your syllabus.

How utterly ridiculous. If he could notice you getting distracted during his lecture, he could also realize that you had stopped talking to your friends in class a long time ago.

But that wasn’t the real problem anyways, and you knew it. His class was too hard. It was deadline after deadline after deadline, whether it be of assigned reading, essays, peer review, and God forbid you attempted the extra credit.

There was bonus work to boost your grade so

of course you didn’t expect the work to be easy but hard was a true gross understatement.

The directions were simple enough, do this, this, this, a little more of that, and this again. As expected of a college course, but how could you manage to do all of that if you couldn’t finish— let alone understand the work you were actually required to do.

Soon enough though, you tossed your pride aside and moved to the front of the class. And true to his advice, you had been able to comprehend more, not a lot more, but something was better than nothing.

And it seemed he noticed too, his eyes began to actually find yours in class and his smile seemed genuine too. A polite, encouraging grin that never ceased to make your efforts seem worth it.

The next test, however, reminded you of your standing in the class. A cursive D+ sat like a black hole on the front of your quiz packet. Progress like that was truly no progress at all.

If you hadn’t already wasted water crying during the test itself, you would have broken down when he returned the paper to you. Face down.

With the actual exam coming up, you knew you needed to see Mr Zhongli in person. Under no circumstances could you fail this class, even if it didn’t help you further your career you still couldn’t flunk it. Lest you want to lose your scholarship.

The bag crossed over your chest, felt extra heavy as you trekked to Zhongli’s office. Maybe it was the computer, or the spiral notebook, but most likely it was the 319 page Geography book buried somewhere inside it. The physical copy was paid for by your scholarship but the online copy was not and being the broke College student you were, it definitely was not affordable.

Your knuckles brushed against the oak door, below the golden name plate that read Dr Morax. The name seriously fit him, it sounded just as professional as he was.

After a firm come in you found yourself inside his medium sized office.

He gave you time to take in your surroundings, multiple diplomas of varying degrees and schools hung on the cream walls. The wooden desk that separated you two was an organized mess, numerous stacks of papers, some graded, some not. Other nicks nacks were neatly placed on the desk, the school mascot bobblehead, newton's cradle, a small wooden globe, the things usually expected to see on a teacher's desk. This room was definitely bigger than most professors work spaces than you had seen.

“Please take a seat,” Mr Zhongli motioned to one of the plush seats in front of his desk. His own position was relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, hands folded neatly on his lap, one of his long legs sat draped over another. His slim ponytail was draped over his white button down, so long that it almost reached down to the black slacks he wore.

“Nice of you to finally stop by.”

Now that felt underhanded. Your eyes snapped up to him ready to say something back, but the words died in your throat at his look. HIs gaze was half lidded while he sported a lopsided smile that bordered on a smirk.

“Finally?” You sank into the seat, dropping your satchel onto the hardwood floor beside you with a sigh.

“Oh yes, your grade in my class is far from satisfactory.” Zhongli’s grin became tight while he spoke. The once playful glint in his eyes was taken over by a serious demeanor. Professor Zhongli.

You shifted forward, crossing your own legs to mimic his attitude.

“Yes sir, I’m sure you figured that’s why I’m here,” your voice sounded a lot more pathetic than you expected it to. It reminded you of the one time in high school when you begged your PE teacher to let you skip the FitnessGram Pacer test.

Let’s just say the second worst grade you’ve ever gotten was gym.

“I do,” Zhongli drawled, he now placed his arms on the desk, one hand remaining still while another gripped a pencil, “but truly, I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you.”

That was not what you had wanted nor expected to hear and your face reflected that. The whole wide-eyed mouth open shabang.

Zhongli released a breathy laugh at your expression, "there's nothing I can do for you but I believe you could help yourself.”

The anger you felt at his first dig was now bubbling back up, with more force. How many times could someone slyly insult you in one sitting?

¨And how could I do that sir?” Zhongli matched your attitude, pushing himself fully under the desk. His expression remained pleasant though, a nice albeit thin smile stretched across his face.

¨You could start by actually paying attention in class.”

Really? Like you hadn't just moved your seat to sit in the front of the class, mind you, BY YOURSELF. And all he had to offer is that your focus was still waning, it was though, only because you had the sexiest teacher ever though. Not from lack of effort on your part, so it’s not like it was truly your fault to start with.

Zhongli patiently waited for you to begin a retort before cutting you off with a demeaning wave of his hand, ¨Yes, yes, you moved. Like you should have from the start, you don't get a high five for doing what is expected of you. What I’d like to know is why you still struggle in my class, it’s definitely not from lack of opportunity.”

¨I assign plenty of extra credit, so I’m assuming it's not that.” Zhongli’s eyes flickered down, no not to your hidden bust, but to an open planner on his desk, before they met yours again. ¨Perhaps you should consider dropping my class.”

That finally made you bristle, visibly too, your eyes widened again as you recoiled. His words might as well have physically struck you. Being a good student meant that most teachers never had to criticize you, let alone act so sharp. His Zhongli’s blunt statements hurt in a way only a prideful student like you could feel.

You needed to act unbothered and hopefully, get under his skin too. Fixing your face into something a bit more stoic you started again.

“Doesn’t it reflect badly on a Professor if they have failing students?” You found your nails to be more interesting than meeting Zhongli’s intense gaze, his eyes seemed alight from the fierce way he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was a throaty laugh from him, that pulled you from your nail inspection.

“Students, yes. One singular student, not so much.”

Negotiations had definitely fallen through.

Outwitting people was something you were good at. One thing that hurts more than having your ego bruised is having it body slammed when you find out you're not as good at something as you believed yourself to be.

Reading your reaction Zhongli chuckled again, “oh dear, not the answer you wanted was it?”

Your eyes couldn’t lift from the floor now, but even that served as a constant reminder of the stage you were hoping to walk on. Before any of this happened.

Zhongli’s voice pierced the silence, “Well, I have some time to help you study now, is that fine with you?”

Really there was only one choice, but you contemplated both regardless. You needed his help to bring up your grade and hopefully pass the upcoming exam but also, you didn’t want him to belittle you any further.

Maybe you could study on your own. In high school you reviewed for biology tests using the Amoeba Sisters. Did they even have anything like that for geography though?

When you found the courage to meet Zhongli’s eyes again, now lounging in his chair with his hands braced behind his head. Your ears tinted pink when you saw his lips, still in a smirk but not as wide.

Maybe you could deal with his taunting for an hour or two. For your grade of course! Not because he was gorgeous or anything. Although it helped.

“Fine,” decided to lighten the mood a bit you added, “hopefully you’re better at this than in class.”

Zhongli let out a breathy laugh while he leaned further back in his chair to glance at the clock. “Perhaps, though you may find my teaching methods unconventional.”

“Oh?” You dug into your satchel to find your textbook, “how so?”

Zhongli crossed his arms in front of himself before releasing a thoughtful groan, one that had your pupils blow open a fraction wider. “How about I quiz you, and for each question you get wrong..”

His gaze flickered from the sky of contemplation to you, “I could use a more… tactical approach. Like consequence and reward.”

As his smirk seemed to stretch, the air in the office became heavier. You blinked, believing you were imagining his suggestive voice.

“Consequence?” It’s not like your grade could get much lower so what could he do to harm you?

The pause that followed was thick with unspoken meaning, you didn’t dare move either. You were frozen in the plush chair, pinned by Zhongli’s half lidded stare.

“For each wrong answer, I could bend you over my knee and spank you.”

You blinked, then blinked again. Did he really just say that so calmly? Like he asked you to make a batch of flashcards. Heat rose to your already rosey cheeks, and you quickly looked away, feeling your heartbeat just a bit faster.

“You can’t be serious!”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a straightforward form of discipline, it may even work on you.” The way he said the word you sent a chill down your spine. The word felt heavier, like he was implying that even someone of your caliber could understand.

You swallowed, hard. But you didn’t stand up from the chair, nor did you threaten to report him. Instead you stayed seated and actually considered his suggestion.

“What if I get the answers right?”

You seemed to be endless entertainment to Zhongli as he laughed again before retorting, “as unlikely as that maybe, we can come up with a suitable reward if that happened.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you completely ignored the ruder side of this comment.

Zhongli leaned in slightly as he gestured to the study materials laid out on his desk, “shall we begin? Or are you not going to be attentive enough again?”

He was challenging you, skillfully he goaded you

into playing his game, to participate in something where you both knew you were likely to lose. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused you to act so desperate. If you told on him now, you could probably drop the class without it being on your record, but a deeper desire helped guide your answer.

“I can focus,” you said, a little sharper than you had intended, “what’s the first question?”

Zhongli reached for the discarded textbook on his desk, flipping to a random page towards the middle. His smirk deepened as he read over the line.

“This is something we went over in class rather recently. Describe the process of orographic precipitation.”

Before you could catch yourself, your face fell. Your mind had blanked on you. And given the cruel grin Zhongli bore, he knew you wouldn’t know the answer.

Even though you vaguely remembered the name written on the board in class, the words didn’t arrange themselves in your head for you to create a clear answer with.

“I don’t remember,” you quickly added before Zhongli could speak, “this isn’t fair, you knew I wouldn’t know this.”

“I just opened the book, I didn’t choose the page at all.” His smug tone was nothing to match the satisfacted grin proudly stretched across his face.

“I also just mentioned we went over this in class so maybe it’s not any fault of mine anyway.”

No use in arguing with him especially because you did somewhat recall him going over it.

“Next question.”

For five whole minutes, Zhongli asked you question after question. Each of which you got pitifully wrong. As time went on you itched for Zhongli to end this sadistic game, which he was no doubt dragging out. Maybe to humiliate you, or maybe to tally up each incorrect answer and actually hit you for each of them.

Your face began to blush at the possibility of him actually spanking you. He probably only said it to get under your skin and hopefully get better results. If that was the case, you’d be very disappointed but also relieved, you didn’t want to get hit that much.

“—paying attention.”

“Latitude!” You exclaimed before shrinking in on yourself. You knew for a fact that the answer to whatever question he asked that ended in paying attention was definitely not latitude and nor would an answer be so simple with him.

Suddenly Zhongli stood up, dropping the textbook closed back onto his desk. His expression was somewhat pleased but also very annoyed. Once he reached your side of the desk, he grasped your wrist, pulling you to your feet. And with a gentle yet steady hold, he guided you to his side where he once again sat down, only to look up at you expectantly.

Zhongli’s black trousers made it hard to see any depth in his pants, but from the visible bulge you could make an educated guess on how he was feeling.

“Must I spell everything out for you? Lower your pants and bend knees over my legs.”

Face falling again, you tried to ask why that was necessary before Zhongli cut in with a sigh.

“How will I know it truly hurts if I’m not hitting your skin?”

That was almost a logical explanation if it wasn’t so sadistic. Your face must have been bright red with embarrassment as you unbuttoned your slacks. His honey eyes tracked your every move, as you lowered the fabric down your legs, then stepped out of them all together.

Feeling a bit relieved at your choice of black underwear, and not your hot pink ones, you slowly draped yourself across Zhongli’s lap.

Only a few seconds ago, you were speculating on if Zhongli was actually hard or not but now you could tell he was as his erection poked your waist.

You could feel his heat from his palm warming your plush flesh as he rubbed small circles on your ass above your underwear.

Then came the first hit. A sharp pain stretched across both mounds of soft tissue, the ache rippled down your legs and to your toes. Rebelliously, you bit your lip to hide any noises of discomfort or the subtle pleasure.

“Oh? After being shown just how pathetic you are, you refuse to even take your punishment correctly?”

The hand Zhongli had used to hold you flush against his lap, slipped to your face and squeezed your nose shut. In shock, you opened your mouth to protest but before you could, a much harder slap landed against your ass. A loud cry of pain— definitely not pleasure, tumbled from your lips.

Heavy tears traveled down your face and wet Zhongli’s pants.

“Two hits and you’re already crying?” He softly kneaded the skin before slapping it again, “no matter, I assumed if you weren’t good at school you’d be good at this.”

“But I am good at school! It’s just your stupid class—.”

A slap rang out in the room as Zhongli delivered the harshest slap yet. This time he didn’t rub the skin, instead he lifted you off his lap and placed you on the cold hardwood floor of his office. The coolness soothed your burning bottom.

“You may surprise me yet with some skill.”

You took only a second to wipe your tears before you heard the sound of Zhongli removing his belt. Instinctively, self preservation won because you scrambled back, hitting your head on the edge of Zhongli’s desk in the process. But shockingly enough, he didn’t wrap it around his hand to hit you harder.

Instead he placed it on the desk as he worked on undoing his slacks button and zipper. Once he finished that, Zhongli reached into his pants to pull out his penis.

Truth be told, you weren’t a prude, you’d had sexual encounters before, none that went past giving or receiving oral sex but still. Zhongli’s dick was pretty too though, a thick underside vein ran from the scrotum to his tip. The head itself was flushed, apparently the blush he lacked on his face his cock made up for.

Still, the size itself was impressive, you couldn’t tell how long it was but at least your fist and a half.

From the angle you sat on the floor at, you couldn’t tell if he had any hair but you doubted a man as well kept as Zhongli would be anyways.

Suddenly his hands shot out and grabbed you under your arms, turning you around and placing him on his lap. In this position his thighs rested between yours.

“I had considered making you suck me off when you eventually did come to see me about your grade but to think you were such an… abysmal student, we’ll just do this for now.”

Zhongli lifted your ass before sliding your panties to the side and thumbing your clit.

“You couldn’t even take your punishment honorably, not that I expected you too anyways..”

Zhongli droned on as he rubbed same circles on your pearl. Though you hadn’t heard a single word he said, not that you had the capacity to do so anyhow, his fingers skillfully manipulated you to putty in the man’s hands. His middle finger slipped to your entrance as he began to lethargically massage your g-spot.

You had heard of that area but, you nor your previous partners had been able to stimulate it the same way Zhongli was now.

Reached a new height as he introduced another finger, further pressing into the velvety zone.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been touched in so long that you came so quickly but it happened regardless. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave as Zhongli allowed you to ride it out. The pleasure was kin to a hot shower (that you would definitely be taking once this was over with) after a long day. One of those showers that you sit in the tub and let the water trickle down from your hair to your toes.

Once the pleasure was over though, it was done completely. Zhongli removed his hands before pushing you down into the desk, half of your face buried into a stack of ungraded papers. His hand pressed down between your shoulder blades effectively pinning you to the wood.

You heard the chair roll behind you as Zhongli stood up, his penis slipping in between your folds.

“Now that you’ve had your pleasure, I will be taking mine.”

Without further warning, Zhongli began to pierce you, inch by inch he sunk deeper in your quim. He wasn’t rough, nor was he forceful as he pressed on. His hand still remained placed on your back but his other trailed down your side before grabbing your hip and pulling you back onto him. So now not only was he entering you, he was pulling you back to meet him halfway.

Your lower body ached at the intrusion, as low moans of pain and contentment left you. It felt weird to be filled up like this but also so natural. Now you hated not going further than oral sex with anyone else.

When Zhongli was completely inside you, he stopped moving to sigh, “truly made for this. If all were to fail, you could always sell yourself. I’m sure you’d make a nice sum of mora.”

Words of protest were turned into lewd moans as Zhongli began to grind into you, not not thrusting but slowly rolling his hips. Remembering your setting you bit your lip again, in hopes of not drawing unwanted attention.

“Don’t,” Zhongli began to pick up the pace, no longer rocking but instead coming all the way out before pounding back into you, hitting that special sponge inside you. “Everyone has already left for the day.”

Your gasp was turned into a high pitched moan as Zhongli rammed into you particularly hard. Him knowing that no one was there let you know just how in control of the situation Zhongli was, with that came a shocking revelation. He probably planned this all along.

You weren’t given anymore time to think about that possibility as Zhongli slightly lifted your chest from the desk. Now that one of his hands no longer had to hold you down, it wrapped around to toy with your nipple.

The harsh pulling on the soft nub brought out more yells from you as he didn’t relent of his intent to bully his way into your womb.

“Look at you,” Zhongli cooed, “drooling on yourself.”

Although his words were embarrassing, they didn’t register in your mind as you tried to bounce in tandem with his thrusts. At least you attempted to before his grip on your hip tightened in warning.

That hand also slipped to the front and sloppily rubbed your clit, leaving you to support your rocking weight on unsteady arms. The sound of his hips meeting your sore ass sent resounding sharp claps into different corners of the room.

It felt like hours upon hours of Zhongli’s grunting in your ear, the sudden sharp pain shooting up your spine from your butt, him pinching your sensitive nipple.

Now his movements were a bit choppy as, you assumed, Zhongli was close to reaching his orgasm. As opposed to traveling faster, his cock was going deeper, looking to bury its head in your cushiony womb. Merely seconds before him, you came. A second mind numbing euphoria, almost as rich as the last one covered you like a heated blanket. Your eyes squeezed closed as you were captured in bliss.

Just as sudden as it had started, it ended, as Zhongli emptied himself inside you. After a few seconds of his warm seed spurting inside you. The room was still hot with both of your gasps as Zhongli’s musky cologne permeated your senses from behind you.

Following your shared daze, he pulled out of you, allowing his semen to also drip onto the floor. You collapsed face first onto your geography textbook. Behind you, Zhongli’s leather seat creaked as he fell onto the chair. The sound of a draw opening made you aware enough to open your eye a little bit.

Zhongli's fingers came into view as he held a small tablet, “It’s a plan b.”

Opening your mouth to allow him to place the pill on your tongue you shut your eye again. You wanted the moment to never end, the nerve damaging pleasure you experienced tonight was truly life changing, but your momentary reprieve was ruined by the sound of Zhongli redoing his pants. In the midst of cleaning himself up, he rubbed up and down your back gently.

“You’re earned an A for the quarter by the way.”

Quick end note. Do you think Zhongli have a plan b implies that he’s done this before or that he prepared for you really well?

#genshin impact yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #kinktober

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