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smileysuh · 1 year ago

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seeing double

🌙staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.”

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy twice, John calls y/n whore/slut/bitch once each cuz he's an ass, demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, deep throating, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, double penetration (pussy/mouth), triple penetration (pussy/mouth/finger in ass), spanking, choking, biting, punishment, blindfold/sensory deprivation, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, John cums on her face, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.9k

🍭 aus. Warlock Johnny, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. ya'll thought one Johnny was enough for us, but I give you double John- threesome of the year

“Do you trust me?” Johnny asks, pulling away from a breathtaking kiss to lock his gaze with your own. His hands are gentle on your hips, but something in his smile makes you uneasy.

“It depends,” you admit. “I thought I trusted you last month when you decided summoning a demon was a good idea but that didn’t turn out very well, did it, Johnny?”

“What do you mean?” he laughs. “That was a great idea! He gave me a new spell book!”

“Yeah, a book of black magic! Please tell me you haven’t been messing around with that again-”

“Fine, I haven’t been messing around with it,” Johnny pulls you deeper into his room, “I’ve been reading it.”

“Johnny-”

“Trust me on this one, I found a spell and I think you’ll really like it!”

You can’t believe you’re humoring your boyfriend on this, but with a sigh, you take a seat on his bed. “Fine, what is it?”

“It’s a cloning spell,” Johnny grins, picking up the Demonic Grimoire.

“A cloning spell?” you repeat, eyes widening. “Are you trying to suggest a threesome or something? You know, if you want another girl to join, it’s easier to just go find one rather than conjure up a double-”

“Not another girl,” Johnny cuts you off. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.”

You simply stare at him for a moment, trying to register his words. “You mean… you want to…”

“Conjure up a clone of myself, and rail you with him, yeah.” Johnny’s grin widens. “Besides, that demon did warn me that most of the shit in this Grimoire is made for sin, and what’s more sinful than this? Lust, gluttony, pride, greed, sloth, hell, even envy is probably going to pop up. Maybe you’ll feel a little wrath too, if you act bratty. We can do all seven of the deadly sins in one go!”

You find yourself laughing. “You sound way too excited about committing cardinal sins, Johnny.”

“Well, I am half demon, remember.”

Sometimes you do forget that your sweet boyfriend is partly demonic. But his stint with the pentagram last month had reminded you just how close to Hell he really is, even behind his large smile and the ‘I love you’s’ that he showers onto you daily.

Many warlocks have a demon mark. Some have horns, or a tail- some sort of clear sign that they’re not of this world. But your Johnny? The only mark he has connecting him to the land below is heterochromia, one eye with a black iris, the other brown. In low lighting, it’s almost easy to miss the slight difference in color, and your boyfriend blends seamlessly into the human world with something as mundane as a pair of sunglasses. Others of his kind aren’t nearly as lucky.

It’s been over twenty years since all manner of ‘night beings’ revealed themselves to your world. Vampires, witches, warlocks, werewolves, demons, angels- the list goes on. And while humanity has gotten used to these ‘others,’ they’re not fully accepted yet either. You have family members who would have a heart attack if they knew what you got up to with Johnny every week.

“Come on, baby,” Johnny sets his Grimoire down in favor of grabbing your hand. “I’ll only do it if you want to give it a try.”

“Is it easy to cancel the spell?” you ask. “Last time you conjured that cat with batwings we couldn’t get rid of it for a week-”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love Mister Whisker-Bat by the end of the week though, you were just as sad to see him go as I was,” Johnny insists. “But yeah, canceling the spell is easy. I’ll be using one of my hairs for the spell, to get rid of the double, all we have to do is light the small alter - and hair - on fire.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Is that a yes?” Johnny’s eyes widen. “You’ll have a threesome with me and me?”

You laugh at his choice of words. “You can conjure him and we can see what he’s like, how’s that sound?”

“Trust me, baby, you’ll love him.” Johnny flashes you a wink, his brown eye disappearing momentarily so all you see is the black one. It’s a quirk of his, whenever he winks, it’s always the demon eye on full display.

“How are you so sure about this?” you ask, standing from the bed and wrapping your arms around the back of Johnny’s neck, looking up at him with a smile. His confidence is one of the things you love most about him, even if it does get him into trouble.

“I just am, it’s a feeling I have.” He shrugs, hands finding your hips.

It’s impossible to be this close to your boyfriend and not kiss him, so that’s what you do, pressing your mouth against his. It’s gentle at first, but as with everything when it comes to your warlock boyfriend, it quickly turns heated.

Johnny’s tongue swipes across your lip, begging for entry. You invite him into your mouth, stifling a moan at the feeling as his hands hold you closer, tugging you flush to his chest.

You have no idea what tonight will be like, but you do trust Johnny. He’d never let you get hurt, and you doubt his clone will either.

Your fingers slip up to thread through his hair. He’s had it dyed a blondish grey for as long as you’ve known him, and you’re living for the way it sets off his skin tone. You’d half expected the strands to be crunchy when you’d first kissed him months ago, but his hair is as smooth as silk- Johnny has some sort of potion hair mask that he uses to keep himself shiny and soft.

You tug gently on his hair and Johnny groans against your mouth, digging his digits against your hips. He’d said he needs hair for this spell to work, and you narrow in on two strands, biting his lip at the same time you give a rough yank.

“Ow!” Johnny yelps, pulling away from you. He looks down at you with wide eyes.

“You said you needed hair for the spell,” you grin, holding out the strands. “Here, I was just trying to help.”

He gives you a look that says he doesn’t quite believe you, and it only makes your smile widen.

“Okay,” Johnny sighs. “Let’s do this.”

You watch him approach the small alter he’s made on his desk. There’s a large, circular mirrored tray as the base. Covering the reflective surface is a number of dried herbs and other warlock items, a bottle of something dark red, what looks like salt or ash- there’s also a few runes decorating the space, and bits of parchment covered in incantations.

Johnny sets his hair in the center, then pulls a lighter out of his jean pocket. He lifts a black candle, igniting it. As the flame licks the wick, Johnny begins to speak in some form of demonic language, picking up the Grimiore with his free hand.

You practically hold your breath, watching him as he tilts the candle at an angle, allowing the hot wax to drip down onto his hair, sticking it to the mirror. When he seems satisfied with the amount of black wax, he sets the candle down next to the hairs.

His voice has taken on a deeper edge as he continues reading the spell, and you can practically see the power begin to radiate off your warlock boyfriend, like grey waves resounding out from his flesh, echoing through the room.

Your hair stands on edge, a slight heat overtaking you, and you smell the familiar scent of brimstone. It’s a smell you’ve become accustomed to since Johnny apprehended the Grimoire in his hands, and it’s always given you an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You like to think of Johnny as your soft boyfriend, but he’s a warlock, and the demonic side of him is never more evident than on nights like these.

You’re not sure what to expect as Johnny’s spell work comes to an end. Bat-cat had appeared in a puff of smoke, but as you look around, there’s no dark cloud, no evident conjuration-

“Huh,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “That should have worked-”

The lights flicker out, the room going dark aside from the one black candle burning on the altar.

Then, just as suddenly, the lights turn back on, and your gaze shifts to the switch by the door. Your breath catches as you take in the man standing there, one hand lazily touching the switch. Johnny’s double has appeared, and he’s the one who just turned the lights back on.

“Hi, losers.”

While the new Johnny clone is wearing the same white shirt and black jeans combo your boyfriend has on, this Johnny has dark hair. You’ve always loved your boyfriend’s coloured strands, but there’s something so regal about the dark brown- it sets off the sharp angles of his face, and leaves you breathless.

“Who are you calling losers?” Johnny retorts, closing the Grimiore and turning to face the double at the door.

“I’m calling you two losers,” the clone grins. “You’re a loser for wanting a threesome with yourself, and she’s a loser for agreeing to it.”

“You’re a bit of a dick, aren’t you?” your boyfriend laughs.

“Not any more than you. I’m your double, anything I say or do is something you would say or do, well, it would be if you let your demonic side out more often. You’re so good at keeping that part of you under lock and key, but not tonight. Here I am.” The double pushes off from the wall, approaching your boyfriend. “Don’t be mad if you don’t like what you see.”

“I’m not mad about what I see,” Johnny says thoughtfully, “I’m just wondering why your hair is so dark. Thought you were supposed to be a clone.”

“My hair is like your demon side, you can try to cover it up, make it lighter, but this spell always knows your true self. Besides, baby thinks I look good with this hair colour,” the clone’s gaze shifts to you, and he flashes you that classic Johnny grin, “isn’t that right, baby?”

“I-” your words get choked in your throat, and you swallow thickly, looking between your boyfriend and his darker double. “Johnny-”

“Another charade to appear nicer,” the clone clicks his tongue. “Your blonde, soft-looking boyfriend might go by the name Johnny. But tonight, you’ll call me John.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots tonight,” your boyfriend interjects, “but… having two different names for us isn’t a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” John smirks, “you came up with it yourself.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

The two handsome men exchange a knowing glance, and your insides twist with anticipation.

They’re gonna fuck you up and you just know it.

“So, since I’m not the one calling the shots,” John sighs, gaze shifting to you again, “how about you tell me how this is going to go? I’d hate to step on any… toes.”

He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you up. You’re used to Johnny’s black iris, but John’s dark hair makes it stand out even more. It’s noticeably demonic, and it makes your heart race in your chest. You feel like a prey being sized up by a predator, and something about it has your panties getting wet.

“You know what?” your soft lover cocks his head to the side. “Baby, how about you tell us what you want to do? You’re the one who’s about to be railed, you should get to choose how it happens, don’t you think?”

“I like how you say that as if you’ll actually fully listen to her,” John scoffs.

“What do you mean? I always give baby a say in things.”

“Yeah. Sure. Except you nudge her in the direction you want to go. We both know it’s only going to take a little stroking, a little making her gag on our cocks, and she’ll be putty in our fucking hands. Baby just wants to please, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” John’s grin widens when all you can do is stare at him.

There might be a response for his lewd observation, but you’re already feeling nice, submissive and dumb. There are no thoughts in your head except ‘holy fuck.’

This dark John is really hot, especially when contrasted by your light boyfriend.

You’re literally in awe, lips parted ever so slightly, your body tingling with anticipation.

“You know what?” Johnny sighs. “You’re right. We both know baby loves when we’re in control, so lets just… be in control.”

“Now you’re talking,” John grins. “I’ve got a suggestion.”

“Let's hear it.”

“What if we blind fold her? Make her guess who’s touching. Punishment for wrong answers.”

“Punishment?” you ask, voice coming out much shakier than you’d meant for it to.

“Nothing you won’t like,” John assures you. “Now be a good girl and grab the blindfold from the bedside table for us.”

Your eyes shift to Johnny, and he gives you a small nod. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn and do as you’re asked, holding out the silky eye covering a moment later.

“Now put it on,” John instructs. “And this time, don’t look at him for permission. Just do it.”

You do as you’re told, hands shaky as you cover your sight with a strip of darkness. As soon as your vision is blocked, you feel more sensitive. You feel even more like prey. Most of all, you feel vulnerable.

There’s a half-demon warlock and a dark clone with demonic intentions staring at you like they want to eat you up. To top it all off, you’ve now just blocked off one of the most important senses.

The bed dips next to you, and you jump slightly from the motion.

A large hand smooths across the back of your neck, angling you to face the side, and then lips are pressing against your own.

This mouth is familiar, and you lean into the kiss, letting out a sigh of relief. You reach out, grabbing at the man’s knee to steady yourself, wanting to get lost in the person’s lips-

But then they’re pulling back. “Guess who?” they ask, voice soft.

“Johnny?”

A small chuckle, and you realize immediately that you’ve already failed the first test.

“How easy it is to trick you, baby.” He lets out a deep sigh, pulling away completely, standing from the bed. “Time for your first punishment. I think three smacks should suffice. Get on all fours, and say thank you for each one.”

Your skin tingles, heart beating wildly in your chest. You do as you’re told.

Getting into a doggy position, you bend down slightly, arching your back. You’re on edge, listening intently for movement. Soft footfalls let you know someone is approaching, and then two hands grab your asscheeks through your pants, squeezing roughly.

“First three through the jeans, but once we’re done with you, I’m taking these off.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and you let out a small moan of affirmation.

Your panties are sticking to your core already, and the first hit makes you cry out, pussy clenching around nothing. It had been a heavy-handed smack, harder than Johnny has ever hit you before- but there’s something almost delicious about it.

Your toes curl, and you suck in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Good girl,” someone praises you.

Another smack has you moaning even louder, grabbing at the bed sheets and bunching them up in your hands. “Fuck, thank you!”

The third hit has you practically trembling. You can already feel a bruise forming- but the pain is perfection, in a masochistic kind of way.

“Thank you!”

“Time to guess who delivered your punishment, baby.”

You feel like a dumb little slut. You’re already slipping into sub-space, delirious and horny. If you had it your way, maybe you wouldn’t even want to speak full sentences anymore. Your mind is swimming, and nothing feels coherent.

“I-” you lick your lips. The smacks had been hard. “John?”

“Wrong again, pretty girl. Your soft boyfriend is the one who just punished you, but I guess he’s not so soft anymore. In fact… I’d say he’s quite hard. We both are.”

“Fuck-” you groan, imagining your boyfriend’s cock all stiff in his pants- then you remember that the visual should be doubled, and you can feel your mouth beginning to water.

“Second punishment, suck us off. We’ll see if you really know your boyfriend’s cock or not.”

A hand grabs at you, helping you off the bed and onto your knees on the floor. “Johnny?” you ask.

“Wow, you finally got one right.” The laugh that fills the room is distinctly clone like.

“Do I get a reward, John?”

“The reward is you get to suck cock, and since you just got two in a row, you’ll get to suck both of us.”

It’s almost comical how reward and punishment are the same thing, but you’re in too deep to question it.

Now is not the time to be bratty, and you know it.

There’s a small shuffle in front of you, and then someone instructs you to “Stick out your tongue.”

You do as you’re told, and a second later, a cock is tapped against your wet muscle. You fight the urge to try to suck on it, allowing the man to coat themselves in your saliva. You even begin to drool, and you feel a drip make its way down your chin.

“Suck.”

You immediately lean forward, swallowing the bulbous head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, and you sink down as far as you can. Johnny has a big cock, you’ve never been able to take it all, but that never stops you from trying.

Your hands brace against someone’s thighs, and you begin to bob your head. The man above you lets out a groan, fingers threading through your hair, guiding you to bob faster, taking more and more into your mouth.

“Guess who,” the man you’re sucking on breathes.

You pull off his cock, feeling a line of spit still connecting you to the best dick you’ve ever had. “Johnny.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulls you onto him again, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. Your fingers dig into his thighs. You push your reflex away, doing your best to please your boyfriend.

“Fuck it,” comes a rough voice, “my turn.”

A second hand grabs your hear, tugging you away from your boyfriend’s cock- only for the same cock to be pushed past your lips.

It’s sinful how exact the clone is. He has the same large vein running along the underside of his length, the same mushroom tip, the same slight curve, the same taste-

But his motions are different. He’s more aggressive, forcing you all the way onto him like you’d willingly taken Johnny just moments ago. The sudden feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat with no prep - no sucking to start - has you gagging hard, your eyes beginning to water.

Grabbing onto his thighs to steady yourself, you do your best to relax, to focus on the sounds beginning to leave John’s lips, but as he fucks your face, it’s hard not to feel every inch of him.

“Don’t be so rough,” Johnny tuts.

“Don’t be a backseat vouyer,” John retorts.

“She’s being good for you, why are you being so mean?”

“This is part punishment, remember?” You listen to the clone click his tongue, and then he’s tearing your blindfold off. “Besides, I like how she looks when she cries.”

This is so sick and twisted.

If John is saying this, it means that somewhere, buried inside your soft boyfriend, he also likes seeing your eyes well with tears.

You struggle to open your eyes, looking up at John. He’s staring down at you, and he releases a deep groan when he notices you watching him. “You love this, don’t you, baby? You love being used like our little fuck toy. Love taking this big cock deep in your fucking throat-”

You hate that he’s right.

Your panties must be soaked by now.

“Fuck-” Johnny whispers, and you wonder how it looks for him to watch himself fuck your face like this. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

“It’s enough,” your boyfriend states, firmer this time.

“Someone finally grew a backbone,” John laughs, pulling his cock from your mouth. You gasp at the loss, a line of spit still connecting you to the rock-hard length in front of your face. Tears trail down your cheeks, and you’re breathing heavily. You dig your fingers into John’s thighs, marveling in the moment of reprieve.

“Are you alright, baby?” Johnny asks. When you turn to look at him, concern is evident all over his face.

You nod, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck, I forgot she calls us that sometimes.”

“She calls me daddy sometimes,” Johnny corrects, “and only when she’s in subspace- you really did a number on her.”

“We did a number on her. You started it with the spankings, remember?”

Johnny ignores his clone, reaching down to help you to your feet. He leads you to sit on the bed, getting onto his knees so he can be eye level with you. “He wasn’t too rough on you, was he?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“You’re still good for this?”

You nod, reaching forward to grab at the front of his white tshirt. Johnny lets you pull him in for a kiss, his large hands smoothing along your thighs.

Your tongue dips out to stroke his own and your boyfriend groans, squeezing you through your jeans. “Pants off,” he says, dragging his lips from yours so he can begin to tear your clothes from your body.

It’s shocking how quickly he gets you down to your underwear, and then he pushes you onto the bed. He pries your thighs open, and you feel two sets of dark eyes on your core.

“Already soaked. I knew you liked being our good little cock slut.”

“I guess I should give you a taste first, seeing as the only cock that’s going inside this pussy tonight is mine,” your boyfriend sighs, pressing one kiss to your knee before standing up to make space for his clone.

“Yeah, our cock.”

“My cock,” Johnny says, firmly this time. “You only get her mouth.”

“What’s the point of a demonic threesome if she’s not going to be properly double stuffed?” John asks, sinking down onto the floor between your spread thighs.

“One in the pussy, one in the mouth is double stuffed.”

“We both know I want her ass,” John rolls his eyes.

“I’ve never even been in her ass, don’t get greedy.” Johnny clicks his tongue.

Their bantering is doing something to you. The way they discuss this so confidently as if you’re not even in the room- you’re getting a view of Johnny’s inner thoughts, the battles he has with his demonic self-

He’s never talked to you about anal. But then again, his cock is so big it had taken you a while to even be able to receive it fully in your pussy, let alone somewhere else.

“If you’re good tonight, I’ll consider conjuring you again,” Johnny says finally.

You swallow thickly, gaze shifting to your soft boyfriend who’s really taken the reigns over his demonic double. John chuckles between your legs, shaking his head slightly before pressing his lips to your inner thigh.

“Did you hear that, baby?” John asks. “Sounded like a challenge to make you cum.”

“Then I guess…” your voice is much to hoarse and shuddery for your liking, “I guess you better not disappoint.”

The clone between your legs scoffs loudly. “As if disappointing you was ever an option.”

You open your mouth to respond, only for John to press his face against your panty-covered core. His tongue flicks through the soaked fabric, teasing by your clit and making your legs twitch. Your hands fly to grab at his dark hair, and a whimper slips out of you.

He’s being a tease, and from the way he’s looking up at you, smirking while kissing your pussy through your panties, John clearly knows what he’s doing. You shift under his mouth, laying back against the bed and pushing your core closer to him, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Please-”

“Begging already?” Johnny asks, moving to sit next to you on the bed. “Thought you’d hold out a little longer.”

“Can’t,” you mewl, arching your back as John pulls your panties to the side, blowing cool air along your throbbing cunt. “I need-” You lick your lips, gaze dropping to Johnny’s hard cock.

“You want something to suck on, don’t you, baby?” Johnny grins, reaching out to stroke your face as his clone’s tongue dives into your core.

“Yes,” you nod, accepting your boyfriend’s thumb past your lips. You moan around the digit, thighs clenching as John sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue while you stroke Johnny’s finger with your own.

“I guess I can let you suck me off for a bit, get you ready to take him in your throat-” Johnny muses. “But I want you on all fours, I wanna fuck your face, and I can’t do it at this angle.”

The man between your thighs pulls away suddenly, and his large hands easily flip you over, getting you ready for your boyfriend. It must be nice for him to have such a willing participant in the bedroom- you’re pretty sure Johnny could make any command, and John would follow through with getting it set up for him.

They have a one-track mind, and you’d bet your life that John is just as excited to get you on all fours as Johnny is.

Two large hands grip your ass, spreading your cheeks while Johnny shuffles to his knees and presents his cock to you. As you accept Johnny past your lips, a tongue presses into your wet hole again, and your toes curl at the stimulus.

“Just like that, baby,” Johnny coos, pushing your hair out of your face. “You suck on me, while he sucks on you.”

John growls against your clit, squeezing your ass roughly and shaking his head back and forth, earning a squeal that’s muffled by Johnny’s cock, which begins to glide in and out of your mouth.

“It’s funny- I can almost taste you,” Johnny muses. “I wonder if he can feel you on his cock like I can-”

The double pulls his lips from your pussy, and you can feel him momentarily panting, trying to catch his breath from the enthusiastic way he’s been eating you out. “I can feel it,” John confirms. “She’s always so good at sucking us off, even if she can’t fit much of us in that little mouth of hers.”

“She’s gotten better at blow jobs,” Johnny defends you, sinking further past your lips. “When she started, she could hardly take three inches, now look at her.”

His cock hits the back of your throat and you fight through your gag reflex. Your eyes are watering, so you shut them, focusing on being a good girl for your boyfriends.

Boyfriends. Plural.

You suppose - in this sex-induced haze - you’re already thinking of John as a lover. Any man eating you out as chaotically and thoroughly as he should be considered one, right?

When John’s mouth returns to your pussy and his thumb begins to circle your asshole, you definitely think of him as a boyfriend. Only your boyfriend is allowed to toy with you like this.

“Are you serious?” Johnny’s voice distracts you, the thrusts of his face fucking slowing down. “We just discussed no anal-”

“It’s just a finger,” the clone retorts. “She’ll love it. She’s already practically dripping- reacting all nice and pretty just from the thought, isn’t that right, baby?”

A gentle smack on your ass prompts you to pull off of Johnny’s cock, bracing yourself against one of his thighs while you catch your breath. You find yourself nodding, moaning like a whore in heat. “Please- I can take a finger, I can try-”

“We knew jealousy was a part of this, envy- one of the seven cardinal sins,” teeth graze your butt cheek. “I’m jealous of you getting her mouth and pussy, I’m sure you can suffer through watching me finger fuck this tight ass for the first time. We both know you’ll be the first to actually fuck it sooner or later- why can’t you let me have this one win? Come on Johnny, she’ll love it. You conjured me to make her feel good, didn’t you?”

“Fuck, you’re too convincing,” Johnny sighs, stroking your face. “Beg him for it, baby. I need to know you actually want this.”

“I want it so bad,” you whimper, a rush of emotion flooding through you. “Please, I wanna be full- I wanna feel it-” A strangled gasp escapes your lips when John spits on your ass, rubbing the fluid around your tight hole before pressing the tip of his finger inside of you. “Oh my god-”

Johnny threads his fingers through your hair, tugging so you’re forced to look up at him. “The moment you cum, we’re switching positions and I’m fucking you, got it, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moan.

“Now open up.”

You do as you’re told, and Johnny slips his cock back into your mouth, picking up where he’d left off.

Generally, when you’re blowing Johnny, it’s hard to focus on anything else. But today, it’s hard to focus on anything other than John, whose finger fills your ass perfectly while his tongue circles your clit like magic.

You can feel a pleasure bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and each rough thrust from Johnny has your body tensing, the orgasmic coil wrapping tighter and tighter-

Despite the cock in your mouth, lewd sounds are escaping you. A gurgling noise that you know you should be ashamed of- but you can’t bring yourself to care, mind occupied on the high that’s approaching much too quickly.

It’s clear that John wants you to cum. He wants to tear your pleasure out of you faster than you can even think-

His thumb massages your inner walls, stretching your tight hole open and making your toes curl.

“That’s it baby,” Johnny praises you, his grip tight in your hair while he fucks your face. “Taking us both so well.”

You can feel a tear of overstimulation roll down your cheek. This is almost too much for you to handle, and you haven’t even cum yet.

One particularly rough thrust has your throat constricting around Johnny, and it’s the last bit of stimulus you need to come completely undone for your Johns. Your abdomen tenses, and just like that, the chord snaps. It snaps hard.

You tear your mouth off of Johnny’s cock, practically screaming as your orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Your whole body is alight with pleasure, clit throbbing, pussy contracting around nothing, your ass sucking up John’s finger to betray the deep need that’s grown within you-

All you can do is moan like a desperate whore, clinging to Johnny’s thigh while John helps you ride out your orgasm. The double is unrelenting, as if he wants to work you for every last drop you can give him- his tongue switching between slurping at your clit and diving past your folds, stroking your walls as they shudder.

“Good girl,” Johnny groans, petting your head with one hand while the other wraps around his cock, stroking himself through your high. He’s patient with you, allowing you to experience every shiver and moan, until your walls stop contracting, and John pulls away from your pussy with a wet smack of his lips. “Time for the main event.”

His words make you feel drenched all over again. John pulls his thumb from your ass only to smack it roughly, giving you a squeeze for good measure. “Be sweet for us,” the double warns, as if you’ve ever been anything but their perfect princess.

In just a few moments, Johnny and John have switched. Your light-haired boyfriend sets up behind you while the dark double settles by your face. His cock is red, leaking precum, and you realize you’ve hardly done much to touch him tonight- seeing as he just made you cum, you waste no time wrapping your lips around the mushroom tip, stroking your tongue along the ridge you find there.

“Fuck,” John groans, threading his fingers through your hair to anchor you like your boyfriend had just minutes ago. “Who’s our good little cock whore?”

“She is,” Johnny answers for you, sinking his cock deep into your pussy. “Fuck, our perfect little cock whore.”

He’s never called you this before- but it sounds so natural coming from him and his clone. Is this yet another one of your boyfriend’s fantasies? First anal, and now you being a good little cock whore?

Johnny is generally a man who sticks to praise, and while he’s still doing that- there’s this darker underlayer beginning to be more evident. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. This threesome with your boyfriend’s dark self is illuminating for not only your twisted sexual desires, but Johnny’s as well.

You can’t help the way you react to the term ‘cock whore,’ your pussy clenching tight around the large cock splitting you open. You begin to drool on John too, relaxing your throat as he begins to fuck your face. He might be a dark double, but John’s being shockingly soft with the amount you can take. He’s not thrusting fully- not making you gag and cry- he’s using you like a man who knows and respects your limits.

At least Johnny’s respect for you transcends form.

“You know what?” Johnny says. “I watched how hard she came with your thumb in her ass, I think you’re right about filling her up properly.”

“Bet she’ll go fucking feral for three holes filled,” the clone agrees darkly, making you moan around his cock. “See? Listen to her. She sounds like a bitch in heat. Fill her up, Johnny. She’ll fucking love it.”

These men are downright insatiable- you kind of love it.

Just like his double had, Johnny spits onto your hole, and a moment later, his thumb is pressing past the tight ring of muscles. Your boyfriend’s thrusts falter slightly, his focus lingering on the way you swallow up his digit, fluttering around both foreign intrusions.

“If we’d have known you’d like butt stuff this much, we would have started training you ages ago, baby,” John muses.

“We’ve still got time.”

“I won’t get to fuck her ass tonight. What time do I have?”

“Next time.”

“So I passed the test? There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Based on how our baby is reacting, I’d say there’s definitely going to be a next time,” Johnny laughs.

“Good. I might be a clone from hell, but I think never getting the chance to truly fuck this little kitten of ours would be the true torture.”

The warlock fucking you while pressing his thumb deeper into your ass scoffs loudly. “And we can’t have that, can we?”

“No.” John tightens his grip in your hair, fucking you harder. “We can’t… also, I have something to admit.”

“Oh?” Johnny releases a chuckle, thumb stilling inside of you. “Now this I have to hear.”

“You’re under the impression I’ll be conjured until you light your hair and alter on fire, but unfortunately, at the moment, I’m bound to the candle as well. You missed the fine print in the Grimoire. When the candle reaches its end, I’ll disappear too.”

In your periphery, you’re aware of both men turning to look toward the alter, and your boyfriend releases a small curse word. “I guess we better make this quick.”

“And you should buy a bigger candle next time, that six incher you used tonight is a fucking joke and we both know it.”

“My bad,” Johnny begins railing into you as hard as he had so far, pressing his thumb deep inside of you. “Guess I’m not the best at reading the fine print.”

“It’s okay, something tells me baby can only take so much more of this. She’s drooling all over my cock, her throat all nice and open, so ready to be fucked-” John groans loudly.

“We’ve really fucked her stupid, haven’t we, Big Guy?”

Your skin tingles- there’s an inkling of something deeper in Johnny’s tone… is he… is he flirting with himself?

The man above you moans louder. “Of course we did. Have you ever seen anyone with a better cock than this? And for her to get two of us? She’s the luckiest fucking girl in the whole world- I want her to thank us when we cum. Want her to know how fucking blessed she is by this.”

It’s an interesting paradox- to be blessed by a demonic threesome.

“Are you gonna cum on her face?”

“Fuck, if you let me. She’ll look so pretty all painted in cum.”

“She can’t say thank you if you keep her mouth full,” Johnny notes, digging his fingers against your hips while railing you as hard as ever. Each smack of his hips against your ass has his cock fully buried in your wet core, the tip of his length pressing against your cervix and making your toes curl with insatiable need.

“No, I guess she can’t.” John stuffs himself fully in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You’ve never felt impaled like this- taking two of the largest dicks you’ve ever had-

Your nose brushes by the dark clone’s pubic hair, and something about it makes you feel even more sinful, your throat constricting while lewd gagging noises fill the room. John holds you on his cock, letting out a deep groan at the feeling of your muscles tightening around him-

“That’s it baby, just a little more-”

“Fuck, she’s squeezing so fucking tight-” Johnny moans from behind you.

“I can feel it,” John breathes.

“When you cum, I’ll have to cum-”

“She’s close too-”

“Fuck.” Johnny pulls his thumb out of your ass suddenly, wrapping his hand around your front so two fingers can circle your clit. At the same time, John takes his cock from your mouth, releasing a loud moan-

You cum in unison with the dark double, and from the loud grunt at your rear, you’re pretty sure Johnny’s just reached his peak as well.

You’re breathing heavily, mind completely delirious. Your throat feels raw as you swallow thickly- “Thank you, fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you-” you begin to blabber as John cums hard on your face, his large hand jerking himself off while ropes paint your skin.

“Good girl, good fucking girl-” Johnny groans behind you, fucking you through your highs while his fingers continue on your clit, drawing out your orgasm while your pussy milks him for every drop of cum he has.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” you can’t stop saying it, even while tears and cum begin to drip down your cheeks, your body completely overwhelmed by the two men who know you like the back of their hand.

Above you, John releases one last shuddery breath. He strokes your hair, whispering the word “Perfect-” and then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he disappears.

You collapse forward onto the bed, pussy still throbbing around Johnny, who slowly comes to a stop behind you.

Then he’s collapsing as well, laying his warm body against your back and pressing you against the mattress. His lips are hot along your bare shoulders and he seeks out your neck, teasing past your ear.

“You did so good for us,” he praises you. “Such a perfect baby.”

“Johnny-” you whimper, as deep in subspace as you’ve ever been in your whole life.

“I know, baby, I know. You don’t have to talk.” You hear him swallow thickly, and with one last kiss to your throat, he pulls away. “I’m gonna get you in a bath. Gonna wash all this cum off of you and cuddle you to sleep, sound good?”

“Please-” you moan, pussy clenching around him again.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his cock out of your tight, dripping hole. “We really did a number on you.”

But in all honesty, you really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! dream threesome tbh

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🔮 preview. “What happened to your manners, baby?” John’s grip increases again, making your head dizzy. “You were sweeter to me last time. Only sweet girls get fucked in the ass. So are you going to be sweet for me? Or am I going to have to punish you into submission?”

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, anal, blow job, oral, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy a few times, demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, double penetration (pussy/ass), big dick Johnny, pussy/ass stretching, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.7k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader

bonus

“Surprise, surprise. I didn’t think you two would conjure me again so soon.”

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to find John standing by the door. It’s been less than a month since you’ve seen him last, and like that first time, he’s dressed as the mirror image of your boyfriend. However, it’s not a white shirt and blue jeans, this time, your boyfriend had gone for full black attire, and it matches the dark hair of his demonic double in a way that has you practically throbbing already.

“What can we say?” Johnny grins. “We liked having an extra set of hands.”

“As if our hands are the best thing about us,” John rolls his eyes, pushing off from the wall. He approaches you like a predator, and you’d missed the swagger in his step, it’s a unique stride that has your heart picking up pace in your chest. “There’s no lying to me, not when I know everything you know, Johnny. I’m here tonight because our perfect little baby is finally ready for the main attraction. She wants to be double stuffed. Fully.”

“I guess there’s no point in fucking around,” Johnny laughs, “even if we do have more time than last I conjured you.”

Your gaze shifts to the massive candle burning on the altar. You and Johnny had gone to six different spell shops to find the largest one possible- it’s almost as big as Johnny’s dick when he’s hard, and girthy too. You’ve got all the time in the world tonight- even so, you don’t want to waste a second.

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kiame-sama · 5 days ago

Text

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 21

(Cater can often be found in the lake next to the Heartslabyul dorm, either lounging on Trey or just casually swimming on his own. Because Cater is a lake Nymph, he is mostly translucent and invisible among the lake water, meaning he can very easily scare his fellow dorm members. The first time he did it to Riddle he was stuck in a collar for a full two weeks and resolved to never pull the Unicorn into the water again. Trey had to save Riddle- since Riddle can't swim well- and even scolded Cater in earnest for his action.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, Savana king, mention of fear/trauma related to wolves/werewolves, spying, Platonic yandere goes protective, pride mentality, communal grooming, group obsessive behavior, Grim is only a good boy for his Hooman otherwise he is a menace, Nemean Lion, Werewolf, Faun, Satyr, Hellcat, Dragon, Selkie, Gnoll,

~~~~~~~~

Classes had somewhat felt like a blessing of normalcy for you and thankfully the professors were all in pleasant moods. Vargas even offered to 'set Leona straight' if the Nemean Lion ever got too rowdy or bossy. Trein made it clear that he expected you to come see him if ever anyone of Savanaclaw tried anything that made you uncomfortable. It seemed they all were ready to come to your aid if you needed them.

You didn't have many classes with Jack typically, but he seemed to suddenly be present in all of your classes. It was likely because of Savanaclaw being selected as your guards and Jack was the only first year who was an 'official' guard. There were times that you got used to seeing the Wolf-man in a passing glance, and there were times you caught sight from the corner of your eye and nearly jumped from being startled. Despite your efforts, it was proving difficult to fully relax around the Wolf.

Thankfully, most of your classes were with Ace and Deuce as well, the two Goats almost posturing around the Wolf. It was a funny sight alone and even more amusing scenario to think these Goats- who were shorter than Jack- were attempting to intimidate the Wolf. Even with the two pushing at Jack, he kept a mostly even temper and didn't even snarl at the two smaller freshmen.

Come lunchtime, however, the three were actually joking and relaxing around one another. Seeing them laugh and talk was such a stark contrast to how they had been not even hours before. It was odd enough that it made you think back to what the Ghosts had told you that morning. You knew the aura supposedly had an impact on the monster species, but what that impact specifically was eluded you.

Perhaps you would have to start keeping track of these odd instances. The notes app on your phone was a hidden enough place and you deftly entered the oddity before trying to return to the conversation at hand.

"So, (Y/n), what's the big deal letting little Grim chose Savanaclaw of all dorms? I was sure you were gonna choose Heartslabyul!"

"Well," you gently pet the little Hellcat's forehead and he purred in delight at your attention, happily munching away at some left over donuts from the day prior, "you heard his reasoning. Leona did save me that day- he saved the both of us- and I am deeply grateful for it."

"You haven't told us about that day yet, so I guess it's hard to visualize."

Ace glanced at Deuce who gave a side look at Jack. The Wolf noticed the look but was too concerned with what you were saying. You hadn't yet spoken to anyone outside of the staff and those who were with you that day about the event. Grim didn't like talking about it and even mewled while holding his ears if the subject was ever broached beyond simply mentioning it.

You idly noticed that those who sat at the other tables around your group had hushed considerably. It made you wonder how many ears had perked up to listen the moment you sat down. Even those you had not spoken too prior and only seen in passing had shown interest in you, some students passing by you several times before settling down.

You recognized some were Savanaclaw members, others were from Diasomnia. Even a few members from Heartslabyul were huddled around the tables nearest to you. It was hard not to be acutely aware of the presence of students around you. Unfortunately, you recognized that your entire week would be similar for the fact you had to stay in Savanaclaw with Leona due to the upcoming event.

"That day-"

"No!"

Grim let out a whimpering mew, holding his ears down and closing his eyes. You were quick to scoop up the little kit and cuddle him, his body shaking in stress even as you gently wrapped him in your school uniform jacket. He stopped shaking but still seemed stressed as you sighed and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"I won't talk about it here, far too many ears listening in. Regardless, I'm told the one who orchestrated the whole thing has already been sentenced."

"Oh yeah," Deuce quickly changed topic, tilting his head curiously as his goat ears angled back slightly, "Housewarden Riddle said it was a Huoshu scientist from the Queendom of Roses. The law protecting Humans may be old, but it is clearly still enforced and it is strict. It leaves very little room for uncertainty on punishment and many consider it harsh."

"I'm going to guess it has something to do with decapitation?"

"H-how did you guess?"

"... Riddle's favorite line is 'Off With Your Head' and he had to get it from somewhere. Why not from the Queen he so often represents?"

"I guess that makes sense..."

You hummed and went back to petting Grim as Ace grabbed a head of lettuce, pulling the green leafy plant apart and digging in. As he bit through several layers and Deuce grabbed some of the leaves that fell to the table, you were again reminded of how different these monster men were from you. Not only did they have different manners, but they had such different diets. It made you wonder how you understood them at all or if it was some cosmic joke that they spoke the same language and dialect as you.

During your musings a dark shadow fell over you and your two Goat companions froze, looking over you at whoever stood behind you. Jack growled reflexively on instinct before the sound died in his throat, his reaction telling you the likely identity of the interloper. With a quick glance you saw it was Leona who was grinning down at you in an almost good humored way.

"Stand down, Jack. That's a good boy, but no treat for you."

"Leona," you scolded the arrogant Lion, "don't belittle him like he's some pet. Not okay."

"Sheesh, Mousey, what are you, one of Royal Sword Academy's goons?"

A chorus of hissing and growling came from those sitting around you as it confirmed the other students were listening in. Their response let you know this Royal Sword Academy was not favored in Night Raven College.

"Who?"

"The place Che'nya goes. They're down at the beach line of Sage Island. They're our rival school."

Deuce spoke up, offering a quick answer to your question. You tried to think back on that time after the disastrous Unbirthday Party but most of those memories were blurred and almost foggy.

"Hm... I remember a pink Cat guy with a split tail, but I don't remember much about him beyond how warm he was. Pretty sure I was potioned out on whatever Professor Divus gave to me."

"He's the guy that shielded you from Riddle's magic blast after Trey hit him. He's-"

Leona quickly interjected, basically picking you up out of your seat as you gasped in surprise and turned to hold the Lion. Clearly he was not in the mood for a lesson and his patience had been exceeded.

"That's enough chatting about those goody two-shoes, point is, Night Raven isn't like that and you are here with us, not them. So, act like a Night Raven student."

"Leona, put me down-"

"Nope. You've been studying and being a good little student all day. Were going to the greenhouse to take a nap."

"I have classes-!"

"And I have a nap to get back to. I came all this way just to get you, and I'm not leaving without my favorite little squeaky toy. Got it, Mousey?"

"Leona-"

You squeaked as he turned and began walking, holding you in his arms and not even glancing back at the three freshmen as you called out to them.

"Tell professor Divus I can't come to class because I'm being pupnapped!"

Leona didn't bother with your words as he carried you and Grim out of the cafeteria. True to his word, he seemed to be taking you to the Greenhouse and you vaguely wondered how you were going to deal with the Lion. On top of it all, you wondered how Malleus or the other Housewardens would react to the Lion's brazen behavior.

~•§•~

Deep thunder rolled overhead outside the Diasomnia dorm, cracking with green lightning. The dour prince of Briar Valley watched through his magestone as the Nemean Lion carried the Human away to the Greenhouse. If it were up to him, he would teleport straight there and take his precious treasure away from the problematic Lion. But it wasn't up to him.

He agreed to allow this Lion to guard his most treasured Hoard member, but even then he was not happy with the arrangement. It told the Dragon that he needed to work even harder to befriend the Hellcat kit as it was clear his Human valued the small fur-ball's input. Still, he kept his ears perked for when his treasure called for his aid and he would stay back until that moment... Or until that Lion tried anything more than cuddling.

Malleus was still infuriated to know that his most prized treasure was in the claws of that loose and lazy Lion. Even Lilia had not bothered to berate the Dragon for skipping his classes, well aware that the temperamental Fae was going to spend most of the week watching his prized treasure. From the magestone he inherited, the Dragon watched and waited in constant alert for any sign of extreme discomfort.

~•§•~

You sighed again as the Lion lay his head on your stomach, Little Grim having hesitantly allowed the golden beast to snuggle him. So long as little Grim was content enough with Leona, you wouldn't argue against the Lion's actions. At least the quiet gave you time to think about what steps you were going to take next.

It had become a waiting game for you, to wait until the Human ghosts found you a way home. Until then, you had to keep playing the interests of the monster men to your advantage and make sure you could keep Grim close. If a way out was presented, you would take it and make sure to take your little kit with you.

While you were lost in thought, a specific sound met your ears; sniffing.

The sound reminded you far too much of the Wolves and you felt yourself becoming more stressed as it drew closer. Your sudden stiffness and increased heart-rate did not go unnoticed as Leona's ears began to angle around before pointing the general direction of the sniffing. It was odd as you had believed Leona was sleeping, but you felt thankful that at least it was a Housewarden with you.

As the sound came closer, you heard an accompanying flop sound every so often, like something heavy being dragged. Leona actually sat up, setting Grim- who he had been cuddling- on your stomach and moving so the two of you were behind him and somewhat beneath the overhanging bushes. The Lion stared intensely as a grey muzzle of what could only be described as a squished and oddly noseless Wolf snout parted the reeds on the other side of the path sniffing and snorting loudly. What you thought was a muzzle without a nose quickly became clear when the nostrils of the beast flared above the drawn back lips of a snarling creature. Before you could scream, the plants were thrown to the side and a familiar coated giant seal could be seen, glaring with bright silvery-blue eyes at the Lion.

What surprised you was how immediately terrified Leona had become. This was a man you saw go toe to toe with a pack of Wolves and still manage to triumphantly sneer at them. His fear put you on extreme edge despite the semi-familiar look of the seal.

"... Leona?"

You whimpered out, holding a frightened and silently shaking Grim close to your chest.

Leona was unable to respond as a more than familiar voice growled out.

"You dare take my Pup before she could attend my class? Insolent little Lion!"

The fear worming inside of you melted into complete surprise as you realized just what the identity of the creature before you was. In some respects, you should have known from your own knowledge of the Selkies of your world that Divus would have a seal form. You just didn't expect to see it or the fact that he was enormous compared to most seals.

"GO BACK TO CLASS!"

~•§•~

The rather arduous day had finally come to an end as you stood now in the Savanaclaw dorm kitchen and let the day wind down to the night. The dorm was beautiful and clearly meant to mimic a more savana type setting, which Leona and Ruggie fit into far too easily. Jack stood out among the many sandy-brown and earthen colored pelts, his white snowy fur almost gleaming even in the lower light of the evening.

Divus gave Leona more than just a talking to and actually managed to chase the Lion up a tree. It was almost comical to watch how stressed Leona was in response to the Selkie and you vaguely wondered why a supposedly impervious Lion would be so terrified of a seal out of water. Granted, Divus was far larger in his seal form than he was in his Humanoid form, but it certainly gave more credit to how frightening he actually was.

Now the evening was setting in and you were faced with what they called their kitchen. You honestly hadn't expected much, seeing as none of the monster men needed to cook their food, but this was less than that. It was mostly just a pantry and fridges packed with primarily meat.

There was a place for a fire and the several racks of ribs sitting in one of the large fridges began to form an idea for what you would make. Its was going to be a meat heavy diet until you could take stock of whatever things you grabbed from Ramshackle, but Leona did tell you to use whatever you wanted in their kitchen.

There were more spices than you had expected and you began the long process of cooking up quite a bit of food, figuring you would likely have to feed at least yourself and your guards. Part of you wondered about the other dorm members and you begrudgingly decided to cook more than you planned even for your carnivore guards to eat. It was only to keep the peace as you were certain problems were going to arise from your presence alone.

Speaking of problems, it had been suspiciously quiet all evening. Leona swore to you he was going to keep an eye on Grim while you cooked and even insisted on it. The only thing that convinced you was that Grim wanted to look around the dorm. Still, for a dorm full of students it was suspiciously quiet.

~•§•~

An alluringly warm smell filled the dorm and seemed to turn every nose kitchen bound. It was rare for every member of Savanaclaw to be out all at once for so long, but the smells from the kitchen were near divine and drew in the entire group. Despite the many curious looks, none dare cross the clear threshold established by the leader of their Pride.

The sun bronzed ruler of the dorm lay in a lounging position on a stack of rocks still cooling from the afternoon sun, lazily grooming the little cat beast that sat impatiently in his arms. The ever loyal Gnoll lay directly by the mouth of the kitchen, effectively acting as a door to the delicious scents. Even the new pup Jack- who still had yet to prove himself despite his abilities in magic- somehow sat next to the two defacto leaders of the dorm.

Savanaclaw had no Vice-Housewarden as it needed no Vice-Housewarden, but it was still understood that Ruggie was the next to turn to if Leona was shirking his duties. Then there was Jack. The sophomores couldn't believe Jack of all students was selected. Most of the dorm couldn't believe they were selected at all to play host.

They figured after the way they had been accused and treated when this seemingly mythical Human got shomehow hurt, they would not have to play host. Now, as those sublime scents teased at the imagination and stomachs growled for food, it was hard to imagine such a gift going to another dorm.

Naturally, those playing in the Spelldrive Tournament were expecting the chance to get a taste of the divine smell, but the others were going to be left longing for scraps. Despite how some whined, hissed, and even growled, none had the courage to challenge the King of their pride.

Beyond just the smell of the food, the smell of the Human on Jack had drawn in many curious noses. The moment he returned was the moment several students began sniffing at his white fur. Jack was unaccustomed to such behavior from his dormmates as most just did the typical testing the new members and even fought from time to time all in good fun. This was different.

Still, so long as he was a guard he could handle the more than intrusive behavior. It was worth it to Jack. That being said, everyone was more than a little surprised at the almost sagely patience shown by the great Lion.

"But when?"

"Whenever she's done."

"When will that be?"

"Whenever it is."

"But I want it to be now."

"She's busy right now."

Grim was whining and asking questions he had already asked five times while Leona smoothed the kit's fur. Admittedly, Grim was being incredibly tolerant of the grooming behavior and it was just enough to keep Leona calm even with the questions. The other members of the dorm were stunned Leona was even tolerating the small cat-beast's presence especially with how irritating he was being.

"But why?"

"You said you wanted to look around the dorm."

"But I thought I was gonna go right back to Mama after."

"You should have clarified."

"But I want to go back to Mama."

"She's busy right now."

"How much longer?"

"As long as it needs to be."

"I don't want a bath!"

"Sucks for you. Only clean cubs get food."

"... How much longer?"

~•§•~

You sat looking out over what seemed to be an endless savana that stretched out beyond what you could see. In your lap sat a full bellied Grim who purred and lay in your affectionate arms. From what you could tell when the food finally finished and the near ravenous stares of the many students looking at the food in extreme longing, you were in for a long week.

Leona only allowed a select few to eat their fill, obviously including Ruggie and Jack, but four others you hadn't met were allowed as well. Naturally you and Grim were able to take whatever you wished and Leona made it clear to even Ruggie that you two got your food first. It threw you off a bit when- as soon as that first group had their fill- the rest was set out and descended upon by the remaining members of the dorm.

The way they ate was as if they all had been starving, yet none of them looked even close to how Ruggie had appeared when you first arrived at the school. You figured they just liked the way that the food had smelled while cooking and wanted to eat their fill. Despite the almost aggressive behavior they showed one another, none were willing to take even a sniff in your direction. Any that glanced at you were quickly sent scurrying off by Leona who glared poisonously from next to you.

Now you were winding down and sitting in Leona's room, his large bed sporting an assortment of pillows as it almost reminded you of the way a cat-bed from your world was built. You figured you would be in Leona's room, Ruggie and Jack moving blankets in as well despite Leona's grumbling about not inviting them. Your hand idly fidgeted with the magestone that hung from your neck as you found yourself surprisingly missing the overbearing Dragon and the usual faces of the Hoard.

"Oi, Mousey, get to bed. We've gotta get up early tomorrow to train for the Spelldrive, so you're getting up too. Got it?"

You looked back at Leona who was laying on his bed, tail flicking impatiently to get you to join him. It was a little odd that he expected you to join him but refused to let Jack and Ruggie. Maybe it had something to do with Nemean Lions and how they socially behaved. With a soft sigh, you carried Grim to the bed, keeping a fair distance from the Lion despite his scowl.

"You gonna cling to the edge of the bed like a frightened mouse, shivering in the cold, or are you going to come over here already?"

"Wha-?"

You gasped as Leona pulled you down to lay next to him, wrapping one muscled arm over your side and pulling the blankets up over you and Grim. He was fairly warm and the temperature in the dorm had dropped drastically with the sun, so you could tolerate his almost aggressive cuddling. In the distance, you could have sworn you heard the sound of rolling thunder.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au

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euniexenoblade · 3 months ago

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Choose Your Own Smutty Halloween Adventure - Prologue

"Hiiii everyone! It's me, Mordred! Breaking the fourth wall to bring you an all new fun smutty adventure! Let me welcome you to The Fucking Game!"

Curtains, that you previously never noticed on your screen, rise up to reveal a game show set. On the left side of the set there sits five yellow, cushy seats. On the right side are shackles chained to the wall, the only part of the set where the yellow striped wallpaper is disturbed. Between the two is a small wall to prevent the sides from seeing each other.

"Now, I know what you're asking, 'Mordred, what is The Fucking Game, and why the fuck are you breaking the fourth wall?!' Well, my dear reader, it's very simple, it's like the The Dating Game, except it's fucking, and you're reading it. And, it needs a host, and who better than me?"

"Oh, and did I mention it's a Halloween special? So, ya know, monsters and shit."

"Shall we meet our lovely slut I mean, bachelorette?"

Two hooded figures pull a girl out by the ankles, she seems to have been knocked out, sliding across the floor as they drag her. The hooded figures take the shackles and close them on the girl's wrists before walking away.

"Allow me to introduce you to-" Mordred turns around. The girl is unconscious on the ground. Mordred turns back to the camera. "Hmm. Hold on one second folks." Mordred walks off screen, but can be heard somewhat, "Go wake her the fuck up I have smut to write you dumbfucks!"

Two hooded figures walk back on stage, one has a stun baton. The figure lightly taps the girl with it. The girl screams, jumping awake and puts her back on the wall, cowering. The hooded figures walk off screen.

Mordred now walks back on screen. "Now! Allow me to introduce you to Delilah!"

"Where am I?! What is going on?! I want to go home!"

Mordred looks disappointed. "FINE! I'LL DO THAT TOO!" Delilah is a 30 year old trans woman from California. She's a college dropout, has had only one relationship with a cis dude and it ended badly, and now she's looking for love in all the wrong places~"

"I am?"

"Yes. You are. Today, Delilah will find true love. Or die trying I suppose, I don't know, it's not up to me. I'm just a host."

"But now, let me introduce you to the people she's gonna fuck!"

"Fuck?"

Mordred groans. "Yes, fuck, it's The Fucking Game, keep up girlie."

"Anyways, our first contestant, hailing from the forests out east, Gerold the Werewolf."

A big wolf walks out onto the stage. He stands at about 9 feet tall on two legs, covered in fur, hunched a bit, his big teeth obvious despite his snout being closed. He sits in the first yellow chair and looks into the camera and speaks, "My name is Gerold, but I go by Gere, because there are hundreds of werewolves, but there's only one Gerewolf." Crowd laughter is heard. What crowd? Who knows. "I deserve to have this girl as a personal fuck toy, because I am loyal and devoted. Though I may have a thousand victims, I'll have only one fuck toy. You'll never worry about where I am or who I'm with, I'm a werewolf, not a WHEREwolf." More crowd laughter.

The camera pans back to Mordred. "Ha ha ha isn't he a hoot? Now here's our second contestant, Lilith, the Demon Queen from Hell."

The camera pans back to the chairs, a tall woman with red skin walks onto stage. She plops into the second yellow chair, she has a black bra and black panties on, black hair to her shoulders, and big horns sticking out of her head. As she speaks, you can see her razor sharp teeth, "Hi there, I'm Lilith, and I'm a bat outta Hell." Mordred can subtly be heard saying "I don't think she knows what that phrase means...." Lilith continues, "I like long walks on the lava beach, I love to fuck, and baby, I know hell, so I have the experience to make this relationship work." The mystery crowd claps.

Once again, the focus is on Mordred. "Isn't she just lovely? A true romantic if I've ever seen one. And, now, our third contestant, Priscilla the Ghost Girl."

Back to the stage, a blue-ish, translucent being floats over to the middle chair. She looks like a cartoon ghost, big black circles for eyes, a mouth that's a line and moves to a circle shape as she talks, "Hello everyone, I'm Priscilla, the ghost with the most! I don't go out often, since I'm stuck to the house I'm haunting. But, that said, I'm a homeowner, I read a lot, and I love to stay home and give you all the attention you need." The mystery crowd can be heard going 'awww.'

"Wait she's done already?" Mordred whines before noticing the camera is back on her. "Oh, hi there, isn't she just the best?! Now, let's move on to our fourth contestant, Slosha the Slime Princess!"

Camera pans back to the chairs, and a green, moist, almost slug shaped being moves across the floor, leaving a trail the whole way. Once she gets to the fourth chair, she morphs her body into a humanoid shape, big breasts, big belly, even fake slime hair. As she sits down into the chair you can see the chair get moist through her body. "Hiiiiiiiiiii! I'm Slosha! I am the Princess of the great slime empire! I lovvvvve to eat, so you know I'm gonna have so much fun digesting you! But I love to play with my foooood, so if you become my sex toy I'll never leave you alone! And, since I'm royalty, you have to do whatever I tell you to do or I will have you executed ^_^"

Mordred speaks to the camera, "Holy fuck, isn't she just beautiful? Actual royalty on our show? That's so cool. Anyways, thank you readers for being patient, we're almost done. One final contestant, possibly the charismatic of them all, allow me to introduce you tooooo: Pumpkin!"

Back to the stage. A pumpkin falls from the roof into the last chair. It has no other discernible features. It can not speak. It is just a pumpkin. The mystery crowd goes crazy with applause.

"Isn't Pumpkin just lovely, folks? Now for the the game to truly to begin. Delilah will now pick which contestant she wants alone time with. And by pick, I mean she gets whatever you tell her she gets."

"Wait, what? I don't want this-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Mordred says in a stern tone. Delilah goes quiet.

"That's right! It's you" Mordred points at you, the person reading this, "who gets to choose who Delilah gets fucked by!" Delilah gulps. "Now, reader, it's up to you, begin the game."

Link to round one.

#smut #my writing #long post #cyosa

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arliedraws · 6 months ago

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All this anti-Remus talk is making me like him even more 😂

I love that he’s a character who is so fixated on image and how he comes off. He’s such a cold person! Detached! Won’t form close bonds! Like…his loving parents fucked him up by keeping him away from all other children until Hogwarts. I love how this plays into his character again and again and again.

I put the rest under the cut because it gets a bit tangential, but whatever, I was feeling a bit heated.

I feel like Remus doesn’t actually know how to make friends—he has let everyone come to him. James and Sirius formed their little group, and Remus has always been in awe of what friends will do FOR him. What did Remus do for his friends? Maybe Remus learns how to accept love, but he is not very good at giving it back.

It’s so interesting to me that Remus doesn’t become Harry’s go-to even after they spent hours together. Harry allows Remus to see his most vulnerable side, and Remus doesn’t reciprocate even after the truth comes out. At the very least, he could write Harry. He could visit Harry in the summer.

But I actually LOVE this about Remus. I love that he’s written as a warm, inviting sort of person when he’s actually someone who is terrified of forming close bonds. No one is allowed to see the real Lupin, and once someone has seen a part of himself he doesn’t like, he immediately detaches himself and disappears. Remus wants to appear in control of himself because he is concerned more about his image than doing the right thing. At the end of PoA, I’m sure he’s upset that he nearly killed Harry and co, obviously, but more importantly, he’s embarrassed that he lost control. If he really cared about the safety of students, he would have revealed Sirius’s disguise to Dumbledore as soon as Sirius escaped Azkaban.

The point of his character is “what you see on the surface is not necessarily what lies below.” It’s one of the most salient themes of PoA.

Anyway, it’s uncomfortable! So many people want to make Remus a “model of marginalization” - who, depending on the fanon, falls on one end of the spectrum which is “ohhhh poor disabled guy :((( he can’t do anything because he’s a pathetic baby” or “look how hot and tall and rational and intelligent he is despite his poverty/disability!!!!”

It’s SO INFANTILIZING. I don’t think Remus is a bad guy or a good guy—I think that his particularly negative character traits are a result of prejudice towards his condition, his upbringing, and his internalized prejudice towards werewolves. So I am not saying he’s a complete asshole. Obviously. My point, though, is that he has friends who support him in school, particularly James, who break the law and risk torture prison (and bodily harm from a werewolf) to support him.* And Remus…he does not do much to reciprocate that sort of love. The very least he can do for James is to check in on Harry (he doesn’t even need to say hi—just literally see that he’s ok!). James risked his life for Remus, and Remus won’t risk Dumbledore’s disapproval to reciprocate.

He continually does the LEAST for Harry. Harry has to beg him to teach him the Patronus Charm. And when Harry is clearly craving his parents’ voices as they’re dying, Remus doesn’t even offer a nugget of “ohhhh, gosh, Harry, let’s give you some good stories about your dad, ok?”

This is a cold, broken man who has convinced himself that being alone is safe because you can never be rejected. This is Remus’s greatest fear. He’s the teacher that needs to be liked but he hides behind professionalism when it suits him. His “nice guy” traits are a fucking ACT. I want people to explore more about his negative traits! He blames his condition when people get too close, and when people manage to climb his walls to try to get close to him, he pushes them away.

Chronic illness does not make you a good person—it just makes life harder. Remus accepts love and support from his friends—and yes, they SHOULD give him love and support because this is what we owe each other, but Remus also owes his friends love and support. It’ll look different from how James, Sirius, and Peter can support him, but you don’t get to just take from your friends without giving back. Your friends are not there to be your mommy. Sometimes, you’ll go through periods where your friends are holding you up and you just need to accept that they don’t resent you for it, but if you’re willing to accept help, you’d better be willing to return it later. As someone who has a few people in their life who take and take and give little in return, I can tell you, it starts to feel like your only purpose is to carry them on your shoulders. And man, it’s fucking exhausting. Sometimes I need to be carried too.

I have no idea how Remus behaved at Hogwarts regarding his friends on a day to day basis because Harry never sees evidence of this, but we see him as an adult who is unwilling to support his friend’s orphaned kid in ANY meaningful way…unless Harry begs him. In the end, Remus is still an autonomous adult and Harry is a child in need. In this situation, at the bare minimum, Remus has the power to pick up a pen and write.

So why don’t we see this more in fic? You all know I’m a Sirius stan, but I am CONSTANTLY critiquing Sirius’s relationship with masculinity. Sirius is my favorite character, and I LOVE exploring the uncomfortable parts of him—he’s cold when he perceives that he has been emasculated, even belittling Harry when he’s insulted. He’ll put himself in danger to protect Harry when all Harry really wants is for Sirius to be there for him (which Sirius can’t do in OotP). These are the bits that make me queasy—and I love exploring them!

Why not explore the ugly parts of Remus? You say you want interesting, well-rounded characters with chronic illness/disabilities/neurodivergence? Then let them be interesting. Make them complicated and embrace the icky parts of them. If you want, explore how society has created a cold, sad, wet noodle Remus and then GIVE HIM A PATH TO GROWTH. Like… if you don’t like these parts, give him scenarios so he can grow and become a better person.

Anyway, stop fucking throwing around words like “ableism” when you hear something you don’t like about a character. You don’t know the real person behind their username. Most of us here have some sort of disability/neurodivergence/chronic illness, etc, so stop fucking assuming we’re Chad Abled-Bodied or Karen Neurotypical, ffs.

It’s fucking insulting and infantilizing that we can’t discuss complexity in characters who are marginalized in their society. By excusing all of their less than cute actions, you’re essentially saying, “This is not a full human being with a full range of emotion and flaws—they are a perfect little baby who doesn’t deserve reproach, who can do whatever he wants!”

But that’s just me, I guess.

—

* (Also, side note, Moony the werewolf could have very well killed any one of them. Additionally, the theory that Moony couldn’t hurt them in Animagus form was ONLY A THEORY. It might not have worked at ALL and they risked their lives to test it.)

#I went on a rant here #I’m not anti-Remus #in fact i love him #but he’s not a great guy #probably delete later when i’m less irritated #stop dehumanzing people with chronic illness/disabilities/neurodivergence #remus lupin critical

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eightdoctor · 5 months ago

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my eda recs :) for anyone interested in getting into this series

i am prefacing this post with the note that i am an avid completionist and generally dislike telling people to skip certain books unless it's a john peel novel or placebo effect. however i understand telling people to read 74 novels is not at all accessible and i need you all to read. these books. please. please

this post is going to be long as shit i know it so i'm putting it ↓ here. books that can be skipped because theyre a bit shit will be colored red, ones that you Can Skip but are good/have some important character or plot bits in will be orange, and ones that are sooo good and necessary and the best books ever will be green. unfortunately i think a lot of the ones colored orange should be colored green but i know restraint. i can stay my hand. kind of

also i should say that i primarily read these for the characters - the plots themselves come second. so lots of my opinions come from the standpoint of which books have good characterizations. basically some of the ones that i color green would probably be skippable if any normal person were reading them but i'm insane!! and this is my list so fuck you!!!

The Eight Doctors by Terrance Dicks: ah my color trichotomy has bitten me in the ass on the first book. because truth be told i still haven't finished this one (nor have i really felt the need to yet), yet it introduces the first companion in the series, sam jones, and contains some other entertaining parts like the doctor getting caught with cocaine. as far as introductory books go it's meh

Vampire Science by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: this book. i truly can't sing my praises any louder than i already have. orman & blum took the character of the eighth doctor as portrayed by paul mcgann in a few measly minutes of screen time into a fully fleshed out, compelling and complex character. if you're a fan of the eighth doctor but aren't interested in reading all of the EDAs you have to read this one at the Very Least. it begins, as all good stories do, in a gay bar. it features vampire squirrels, the doctor with kittens, and the doctor infodumping on the beauty of science in a speech? conversation? that still touches me to this day, four years after i first read it.

The Bodysnatchers by Mark Morris: this book is Gross, and i mean that positively. mark morris held nothing back when describing how disgusting and putrid london was in the 1800s (he's primarily a horror writer, and that comes through rather clearly in this book). i genuinely enjoyed this novel a lot, but i know it's not for everyone because again, it's quite gory and disgusting

Genocide by Paul Leonard: don't you just want to see the doctor in a sun hat? being tortured for weeks on end? don't you want to examine his morality in termsof what species he thinks needs to be saved or doomed? jo grant is there

War of the Daleks by John Peel: fuck john peel all my homies hate john peel. for some reason all his books in this range contain daleks and it’s like…why. get some creativity. everyone else did. bitch

Alien Bodies by Lawrence Miles: this novel is So Good. it introduces faction paradox, the war in heaven plotline, humanoid tardises, and a couple of the most interesting & fun side characters in the whole range (homunculette and marieeee <3 cousin justineeee… aaaaaaahh). I shan’t spoil the entire conceit of the story but just know it’s. insane and fucked up and so so funny

Kursaal by Peter Anghelides: this is just a solid doctor who story, really. i wouldn’t call it imperative to the overarching plot of the novels (as tenuous as it is early on), but it’s an enjoyable enough read. it’s about an ancient race of alien werewolves underneath a theme park. what more can i say

Option Lock by Justin Richards: i recall enjoying the doctor and sam’s characterization in this one, and the story is like doctor strangelove meets, well, doctor who. it’s skippable, but i had fun reading it, and that’s really all you can ask for

Longest Day by Michael Collier: this is the start of the arc where sam gets separated from the doctor. actually the most tense and stressed i’ve been reading the edas was reading this and the next three books. it’s so dire, but it’s so so good, with incredible character moments from sam and the doctor. plus you have anstaar, nashaad with his metal legs, and some really fucked up body horror involving Time messing with people’s existences and driving ppl mad and stuff. people tend to either love this one or hate it from what i’ve seen, and i’m solidly in the former category. would definitely recommend

Legacy of the Daleks by John Peel: ughhhhhhhh… ughhhhjhhhhhh i guess you have to read this one. i guess you have to. it’s definitely an improvement on his last book but still. daleks again john? really? whateverrrrr.. some important stuff happens to susan is in this one though. and the master as well. so if you care about either of those characters you should read this i suppose

Dreamstone Moon by Paul Leonard: a general rule of the edas is paul leonard always writes excellent books (in my opinion, anyway), and this is not the exception. sam and the doctor are still separated, but they’re in the same place and keep missing each other and its like UGGHHHH!!! UGHHH!!! but you have interesting commentary on capitalism’s exploitation and effective revolutionary action and all that stuff. also aloisse is an incredible character and i love her

Seeing I by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOOD LIRD!!!!!!!!!!! kate and jon do it again, those crazy bastards. you know how every author loves torturing the shit out of eight? these guys take that and run with it in the opposite direction, asking the question what if the worst thing the doctor could go through isn’t agonizing torture, but rather just a lack of enrichment in his enclosure? what if he had to stay locked up in one building for three years and couldn’t escape for the life of him? meanwhile sam, now a refugee with no social support (as she technically shouldn’t exist in this time and location), has to deal with homelessness, and has to decide whether it’s better to have a stable, yet soulless corporate job - or do something that’s meaningful and benefits society. she’s at her best in this book for sure

Placebo Effect by Gary Russell: throws up. don’t read this because it is actually rhe worst book in the whole range and i’m not joking. sorry gary you’re a nice guy but i thought the arguments against evolution that went on for like 3 pages were extremely egregious and also plain wrong. you may look at this book and think “oh cool! Stacy and ssard from the comics are in this one!” well they’re there for like a paragraph and don’t do shit. so

Vanderdeken's Children by Christopher Bulis: really fun novel that’s pretty much the epitome of the classic doctor who question “wouldn’t that be really fucked up and crazy?” it also established the fact that the doctor told sam his real name which is really fun and awesome

The Scarlet Empress by Paul Magrs: much like paul leonard, paul magrs Never disappoints. this book is just so fucking fun. in essence, it’s a road trip story. they drive across a planet listening to abba and visiting lots of kooky places and picking up lots of wacky characters. it also deconstructs gender and self-identity and what it means to be an individual. a cyborg and a giant spider get lesbian married. aewsome 👍

The Janus Conjunction by Trevor Baxendale: i really debated on making this one skippable, i did. because while it doesn’t continue any of the established plots or themes or whatever, it does show the doctor breaking the laws of time to save his companion’s life, and that’s really cool we love that. there’s a lot of fun body horror too if you go for that sort of thing. and more giant spiders but these ones are different

Beltempest by Jim Mortimore: ok honestly? i didn’t vibe with this one. i know some people really liked it but i felt as if the characterization was Off. some wacky wild stuff happens to sam though

The Face-Eater by Simon Messingham: <-doesn’t remember much of this one cuz i was high while reading it. i think it was a solid story though?

The Taint by Michael Collier: yayyyyyyyy fitz is hereeeee my babyboy… lots of people don’t vibe with this one but i do. because i love fitz and everything he’s in and him and the doctor are such bastards to each other in the beginning it’s great. their repartee is genuinely so entertaining and really elevates the book for me, even if the plot itself is a bit mediocre. either way even if you don’t like it you have to read it because it introduces fitz. so there

Demontage by Justin Richards: telling you to skip this one would be a disservice. because technically it Is skippable, but it has some absolutely hilarious moments that really drive home the fact that fitz is Cringe. they’re on a space casino called vega in the far future and fitz dresses in a (from everyone else's perspective) old-fashioned tuxedo. he smokes indoors and everyone gives him nasty looks because he’s in the future and no one smokes inside. he asks for his cocktails shaken not stirred and the bartender fucking hates him. and he also accidentally gets involved in an assassination plot. but i suppose if you must skip it then go ahead…

Revolution Man by Paul Leonard: mr leonard does it again. this is an excellent novel for both companions that begins with sam and the doctor engaging in leftist discourse with an anarchist and ends with the world almost ending. it happens.

Dominion by Nick Walters: you have to read this one just for the doctor’s first gay kiss. sorry i don’t make the rules. also it just features a neat concept imo and has a great moment where the doctor punches a pillow in frustration and then sadly apologizes to it

Unnatural History by Kate Orman and Jonathan Blum: this book is one that i think every doctor who fan who’s ever gotten mad about canon not making sense should be forced at gunpoint to read. it’s a novel that’s essentially one big metacommentary on doctor who canon & why it Doesn’t Matter At All, Actually; the doctor was birthed and he was loomed and both are equally true and untrue. also features the iconic paragraph calling the doctor a (verbatim) “backrub slut”, as well as wrapping up the ongoing arc with sam jones hinted at in alien bodies and a few other books in a way that’ll have you side eyeing moffat very suspiciously

Autumn Mist by David A. McIntee: this one’s pretty good and has a couple great moments (fitz calling himself james bond, for one), but is, i think, ultimately skippable unless youre a world war 2 buff

Interference Books 1 & 2 by Lawrence Miles: nothing i can say will adequately put into words what these two novels made me feel, you hear me? absolutely nothing. good fucking god. jesus christ. holy fuck.. if i sat here listsing all the important and iconic moments in these books we’d be here all shitting day and this post is already obscenely long. read these 2 books. then read them again.

The Blue Angel by Paul Magrs: ok i know i just said this but HOOOOOO..WHOA NELLY! the blue angel is easily in my top 5 edas. it literally heavily features a canon domestic au wherein the doctor is a “middle-aged gay man”. fitz says he wants to get laid by the doctor. the doctor’s mother is a mermaid. there’s off-brand spirk. someone turns into a giant squid. literally this book is so good they wrote a screenplay adaptation of it and a spinoff short story that you should also read

The Taking of Planet 5 by Simon Bucher-Jones and Mark Clapham: you’re going to be hearing this a lot from me but we Are entering the part of the series where it really takes off and gets sooo fucking good. anyway this novel is sooo fucking good and quite important to the plot and establishes stuff about the war in heaven and gallifrey so. read it. also there's ELDRITCH BEASTS!

Frontier Worlds by Peter Anghelides: i can’t tell you to skip this one because it’s so good. fitz goes by the alias frank sinatra & also talks like him for a solid portion of the book. we get excellent compassion moments. great doctor moments (including that Hot and Sexy dream he has about the tardis!) and all in all it’s a wonderful story

Parallel 59 by Stephen Cole and Natalie Dallaire: lots of stuff happens in this one, especially to fitz. by that i mean it gets referenced quite a bit later so i would recommend if you want to catch all the references. also a woman worked on this one so you already know eight is going to be written phenomenally and very sensually.

The Shadows of Avalon by Paul Cornell: rather important development happens to compassion in this book (understatement). but it’s also a really good story in general with lots of memorable bits - paul cornell wrote one EDA and did a great job and then vanished from the range. it also has the BRIGADIER and his ROMANCE with MAB the BIG BOSOMED CELTIC QUEEN so like.. read it??

The Fall of Yquatine by Nick Walters: a pretty important thing happens to compassion in this one too (another understatement). also withnail & i references galore, fitz has a bad time (has he had a Good time for the past few books? questionable!), and the doctor spends time with a gay baker/contraband parts dealer

Coldheart by Trevor Baxendale: you could skip this one but why would you even want to? it’s literally one of compassion’s best stories and has plenty of excellent doctor and companion moments. it’s just fun and engaging and an outstanding doctor who story. and, as always, fitz is effortlessly cringe as ever <3

The Space Age by Steve Lyons: this one’s just boring and kinda stupid. nothing big or important happens and you can tell steve lyons didn’t care for writing compassion at all. skip it

The Banquo Legacy by Andy Lane and Justin Richards: Big Plot Developments in this one - mostly in the beginning and end. also the only (?) mention of irving braxiatel in the whole run! it’s written from the POV of two Normal people not on the tardis so it’s interesting to see how they perceive the doctor and fitz, and how this contradicts the way they define themselves in other books where we’re privy to their internal monologue

The Ancestor Cell by Peter Anghelides and Stephen Cole: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH AAAAGHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU HFHOA8U8OIA AOUIY4P98 YT39 7UGHYIB3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this one drives me insane and there are parts of it i reread nearly every day. because i’m CRAZY. it’s a controversial novel in the doctor who fandom because of how it handles gallifrey and faction paradox lore but WHO FUCKING CARES? FATHER KREINER IS BACK BABY

The Burning by Justin Richards: this is the start of the Earth Arc, so it’s the first portrayal of the doctor stuck on earth without any of his memories. it’s a bit slow at the beginning, and as a normal doctor who story i would consider it subpar, but the characterization of the doctor really carries it i think. you see how losing his memory impacted his restraint with things such as hypnosis and Other Stuff I Shan’t Spoil

Casualties of War by Steve Emmerson: this has the first appearance of the Note, so it’s especially important for that reason. but it’s also just a neat story that has way more elements of a fantasy than a sci fi and again, seeing how the doctor acts now, stuck on earth without his memories, and juxtaposing that with how he acted before, super fun and neat

The Turing Test by Paul Leonard: if i could graft this book onto my DNA i would. i already KNEW the circumstances surrounding alan turing’s death and yet i still cried about it while reading this!! paul leonard’s portrayal of turing as both a gay and autistic man (though the latter is never explicitly stated) is INCREDIBLE and i really can’t recommend it enough just based on that. but the story itself is amazing and really delves into the doctor’s Differences and his desperation to leave earth after being stuck there for decades.

Endgame by Terrance Dicks: people really like this one and i guess i had fun with it but i just can’t really get into terrence dicks’ writing style. that being said it features the doctor listless and just so sad and depressed so you kind of have to read it. if that’s not reason enough there’s a fat gay alcoholic spy who absolutely rocks

Father Time by Lance Parkin: i hate that this is green. i hate it. i hate this fucking book. i hate lance parkin also. but this is where miranda (the doctor’s adopted daughter) is introduced so alas, you must read it and imagine a version of this book thats infinitely better in your head. sorry!

Escape Velocity by Colin Brake: this one’s mid but it’s the end of the earth arc and fitz and the doctor reunite and ANJI KAPOOR IS HERE!!!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!! so if you read this and get a lil bored just know it’s about to get so fucking good you guys

EarthWorld by Jacqueline Rayner: genuinely can’t say enough good things about this one. it’s funny. it’s angsty. it’s all in all just a really fun book. and it’s the shortest one i think so like you have no excuse to not read it

Fear Itself by Nick Wallace: this is technically a PDA because it was written after nine was announced, thereby making 8 technically a “past doctor”, but who give a shit. read this one are yoyu kidding me. read it read it read it read it READ IT. there’s a twist in it that rendered me absolutely catatonic for about a week

Vanishing Point by Stephen Cole: don’t skip this one even though it’s orange. are you listening to me? don’t fucking skip it ok!!! steve cole is the #1 fitz/eight shipper and this really shines through here. also maybe i’m just easily entertained by reasonably accurate science in my doctor who books but i liked all the genetics references

Eater of Wasps by Trevor Baxendale: trevor you sly dog you did it again. you mad bastard. not only is the storyline in this one soo gripping and also Quite horrifying but the characterization?? hoooooo boy. this is the book where “you really love him, don’t you?” “well, i like to think we’re just good friends.” comes from and so even if it was dogshit you’d have to read it just for that like cmon

The Year of Intelligent Tigers by Kate Orman: holy. fucking. shit. good grief. the doctor has a boyfriend and they go on picnics and drink chocolate martinis together. the doctor becomes a catboy for a few months. this story takes place on a colony world whose culture is predominantly centered around music, so you have the doctor playing his violin (hot). you have scientifically accurate zoology/xenobiology. you have a Mysterious lost civilization. most importantly you have fitz’s song he wrote for the doctor

The Slow Empire by Dave Stone: this one’s just FUNNY okay. dave stone has such a characteristic way of writing prose it’s just kind of a joy to read. if you get the hard copy all of the bits from a side character’s pov is written in comic sans. while some of the characterization is a bit meh and anji didn’t Really live up to her full potential in a couple scenes i’d still recommend it. there’s footnotes

Dark Progeny by Steve Emmerson: this is another one i colored orange even though i whole-heartedly recommend it.. it’s a commentary on corporate apathy and greed and how it destroys entire planets and just a really engaging story besides. not to mention we get a “fitz fitz fitz fitz fitz!” bit from 8 <3

The City of the Dead by Lloyd Rose: i can’t even talk about this oine lest i lose my mind… not joking when i say lloyd rose writes some of the best and juiciest angst in the whole series like some of the scenes in there made me feel like i was being helplessly entrapped in flowing grain for a month

Grimm Reality by Simon Bucher-Jones and Kelly Hale: i really do sound like a broken record at this point but this is another one of those books i could never say enough positive things about. there are two novels in this series that genre-hop and this is one of them. the tardis lands on a world where everything runs on logic straight out of the brother’s grimm (hence the title). there’s magic cloaks and evil stepsisters and giants, and the doctor, fitz, and anji all have their own separate adventures so it’s super interesting to see how each character deals with being in a fairytale. not only that but there are parts of the book written in the style of those old fairytales and i really do get a good kick out of gimmicky stuff like that

The Adventuress of Henrietta Street by Lawrence Miles: buckle the fuck up everyone and get out your highlighters and sticky notes because this one is so fucking dense you’ll have no choice but to annotate and take notes, sorry! it’s written in the style of a historical nonfiction which occasionally falls flat (where’s the fucking works cited, lawrence???), but the story is fucking crazy. you got arcane rituals, prostitutes doing sex magic that summon great apes, sabbath is here, the doctor is weak and sickly (always awesome), sabbath is here, the doctor gets married so he can save the earth, sabbath is here,

Mad Dogs and Englishmen by Paul Leonard: this is the petplay book featuring multicolored poodles that have human hands. need i say more?

Hope by Mark Clapham: not the best book but it’s got some pretty crucial anji moments in, and we all love love love anji so much so we’ll read mediocre novels just for her!! (but we also see the doctor struggle with only having one heart so that’s fun too)

Anachrophobia by Jonathan Morris: literally my top 3 book in the series EASY. it takes place on a planet ravaged by a time war (as in a war that fights with weapons that fuck with time. not like That time war), yet despite that particular futuristic conceit the entire atmosphere of the book feels like something out of the 40s or 50s - almost like the aesthetics of fallout, but instead of nuclear radiation it’s Time. most of the story takes place in this sealed off bunker that’s doing experiments to try and develop time travel, and while they’re successful in going back in time the guinea pigs who volunteered for the trial develop an illness that fucks up their personal timelines so bad they literally turn into clock zombies. and it’s contagious. but no one can leave because theres fucked up time outside uh oh!!! if you liked the themes of war profiteering from boom in the new season you’ll LOVE this book

Trading Futures by Lance Parkin: fuck you lance parkin i can’t stand your ass! you can’t fucking write for shit!!! i’d recommend this book if you want to see anji referred to as ‘the asian woman’ more than her actual name :) and a southeast asian character with a name that might as well have been taken right out of a book written by jk rowling. really the only good part of this book is when anji almost calls the doctor an otter-fucker

The Book of the Still by Paul Ebbs: this book is a WILD fucking ride. this book is fucking insane in the most positive of ways. paul ebbs writes an absolutely top tier eight that manages to encapsulate all the development he went through in the series as well as evoking the characterization from the 1996 movie

The Crooked World by Steve Lyons: this is the second book that does a genre-swap, but instead of fairytales this time the tardis lands on a planet dominated by saturday morning cartoon physics and logic. but the doctor & co being there begins to introduce Real Life concepts such as death and sex and swearing, so all these wacky cartoon characters who’ve spent their whole lives doing wacky cartoon things like blowing each other up with sticks of dynamite or hitting each other with big hammers suddenly find that these actions actually have very very serious consequences, which really kicks off when this story’s equivalent of tom rips off this story’s equivalent of jerry’s head, killing him instantly. idk i just watched a lot of saturday morning cartoons as a kid so seeing the parodies of wacky races and scooby doo was very enjoyable. to me

History 101 by Mags L Halliday: to put it simply this book is about leftist infighting. to put it more complexly this book is about the spanish civil war and how differing opinions and principles can alter one’s perception of history - and what happens when history actually starts being changed in accordance to these differing principles. there’s also the subplot featuring fitz’s homoerotic, yet very traumatizing, travels with a guy named sasha as they journey to guernica so they can watch it be bombed

Camera Obscura by Lloyd Rose: this is where sabbath and the doctor’s relationship really reaches it’s peak. this is The Esteemed Toxic Old Man Yaoi Novel. but also remember when i said lloyd rose writes the best angst? this holds especially true here. i won’t spoil it for you but Something Crazy Happens to the Doctor! haha. haha

Time Zero by Justine Richards: this is just quantum physics: the novel. while fitz goes on his doomed siberia expedition with the geologist boytoy george in the 19th century, the doctor investigates some strange readings in siberia like a hundred years later, and some crazy confusing hijinks ensue! the events in this book kick off the arc that’ll continue for the next few books until sometime never where the multiverse is collapsing and the doctor has to fix it. even though he doesn’t know how. ALSO TRIX INTRODUCTIONNNNNN!!!!!!!!

The Infinity Race by Simon Messingham: this one’s whatever. the sabbath characterization is wack but there are a few good moments. you think it’s going to be mostly about a cool boat race but sadly that comes secondary -_-

The Domino Effect by David Bishop: this book is ASS, both plot-wise and characterization-wise. it also just seems like the author was trying to be needlessly edgy when he developed the setting, and there are just some baffling moments where characters say and do things i frankly think they would never say

Reckless Engineering by Nick Walters: the events in this one center around a tragedy that is fucking batshit insane. the universe this takes place in features a post-apocalyptic earth. i shan’t say what this apocalypse was because finding out what happened is all apart of the fun guys. i can’t spoil everything for you

The Last Resort by Paul Leonard: what if a corporation discovered TIME TRAVEL and set up RESORTS all across human history? what if there was a mcdonalds in ancient egypt and advertisements for microsoft in the original version of the bible? also what if something just soooo fucked up happens so many times <3

Timeless by Stephen Cole: anji’s last book. sobs.

Emotional Chemistry by Simon A. Forward: idk what it was but i just didn’t really vibe with this one. it’s not awful by any means and there’s a bit of plot carried in from the last novel that continues into the next but the actions that surround it don’t really matter i think. honestly i’d just read a summary of this one and continue on

Sometime Never... by Justin Richards: the culmination of the multiverse stuff. i liked it - miranda makes a reappearance, and the fact she’s written by someone other than lance parkin is already a plus. my only qualm is i don’t really like how it handled sabbath but that’s sort of how i felt about all the books post camera obscura… sigh

Halflife by Mark Michalowski: ANOTHER EASY TOP 3. i’m simply obsessed with all of the concepts and tropes in this book, not to mention it’s where fitz’s infamous Ass Dream can be found. there’s commentary on racism, colonialism, and religion, and it also features cannibalism as a metaphor for love :D

The Tomorrow Windows by Jonathan Morris: another case of me coloring a book orange even though i think you should read it anyway. it’s positively saturated with so many interesting alien planets and creatures and societies you’d be missing out if you didn’t read this one tbh. it’s also the first novel ever to feature the ninth doctor!

The Sleep of Reason by Martin Day: this one ok. it’s another book written from the pov of an outsider and her insights into the doctor, fitz, and trix are interesting (and their characterization when they show up is outstanding!) but it feels like they’re rarely in it & this close to the end of the series i just want to see more of my guys you know...

The Deadstone Memorial by Trevor Baxendale: i loved the atmosphere in this one. it’s more of a ghost story with sci fi elements, and the stakes involved aren’t Bigger Than Ever like they tend to be nowadays, but instead surround the wellbeing of a family of a single mom and her two kids which i appreciate - the doctor isn’t saving the Whole Universe and World; just a family from a small town; it’s effective in getting the point across that the doctor thinks everyone’s important and worth saving

To the Slaughter by Stephen Cole: this one’s fun and goofy and steve cole wrote it solely so he could fix an error from a fourth doctor serial in which the doctor got the number of jupiter’s moons wrong. that being said the reason it’s not colored orange is because the last book of the series is written by lance parkin and i want to help you procrastinate reading his godawful prose for as long as possible. your welcome

The Gallifrey Chronicles by Lance Parkin: fuck you lance parkin

#I FINISHED IT GUYS BE PROUD OF ME #i didnt say much about gallifrey chronicles cuz i hvent read it yet but i know some of what happens in it so i can confidently say:#fuck you lance parkin #i might add onto this list with recs for various short stories also featuring the 8th doctor and his eda companions #doctor who #edas #eighth doctor #fitz kreiner #sam jones #anji kapoor #compassion #trix macmillan

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okay-j-hannah · 5 months ago

Text

Part 8: The Favor

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 2 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining and depressed, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good}, amnesia, finger picking, AGAIN ANGSTY AS HELL

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: Don't worry

100% recommend listening to rain sounds when you get to the end part where it's a thunderstorm.

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Part 8: The Favor {You Are Here}

“No, I’m sorry, who are you?” The look on your face sends a wave of hurt down Stiles. “How do you know my name?”

He’s gripping the steering wheel of the jeep, cruising with Scott and Allison in the car. Lydia had gone missing about twenty minutes ago, the police at the hospital taking witness statements and rallying an APB.

With you indisposed, the trio decide to take matters into their own hands. That doesn’t mean Stiles is free of the hurt. You really have no idea who he is.

“Alright, but if Lydia’s turning, would they actually kill her?”

Allison is fretful, “I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. Okay, all they say is, ‘We’ll talk after Kate’s funeral when the others get here.’”

“What others?” Stiles looks in the rearview mirror.

“They won’t tell me that, either.”

Stiles sighs, “Okay, your family’s got some serious communication issues to work on.” He yells at Scott whose head is out the window, “Scott, are we going the right way?”

Scott sniffs the rushing air and says, “Take the next right!”

“This is really turning into a real shit night.”

Allison is chewing on her fingers, “(Y/N) really doesn’t remember us?”

“She’s lost her memory from the last few months,” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “She remembers last summer but doesn’t remember starting her job at the hospital. That means her memory stops around October of last year.”

“God…” Allison mumbles, “Did they say if her memory would come back?”

Stiles digs his thumb into the ridges of the wheel, “They called it retrograde amnesia, and there’s a chance the memory loss could come back if they treat the underlying cause. But the cause was an anoxic brain, and they just needed to oxygenate her body to fix that. I don’t…” he slams a hand against the wheel as Scott slides back into the car. “This is what happened to…”

“Happened to…?” Allison presses, but it was Scott who answers.

“His mom,” Scott’s voice was quiet and full of sympathy. “There were days she didn’t know who Stiles was.”

Allison looks mortified, “Stiles, I am so…”

“How close are we?” Stiles cuts in, jaw set.

Scott points toward the woods, “It’s coming from that direction. We’re definitely closer – the scent is stronger.”

“There’s no way she’s a werewolf, right?” Allison says in a shaky voice, an attempt to get past the topic of you. Clearly this expedition to save Lydia was a way to distract Stiles. “You said her bite didn’t heal.”

“I know,” Scott frowns, not-so-subtly looking over at his friend to gauge the hurt he was feeling. “Maybe it was a late reaction?”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles muses, tone a little rigid, “This has got to be something else. Peter made it clear that she either turns or she’s dead.”

Scott directs the jeep further into the woods, “Maybe we should try to get ahold of Derek?”

“I’m done being on speaking terms with psychotic alpha werewolves,” Stiles goes off road into the trees and leaf-strewn ground. “I want that guy out of here by the next full moon.”

“Do you think he’ll leave town now that he’s gotten his revenge?” Allison muses, eyeing the back of Stiles’ head just as much as Scott was looking. “He avenged his sister, right?”

Scott shrugs, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to create a pack of his own.”

“And he can do that somewhere else,” Stiles scoffs, bouncing along with the jeep, “Go back to wherever he was the last six years.”

“(Y/N) wasn’t bitten, right?” Allison asks quietly.

Stiles is quick with the answer, “No, just… she was just thrown around a bit. No teeth action.”

“With all the supernatural stuff happening to us… hearing about (Y/N)’s heart problems just seems so – human, don’t you think?”

Scott gives his girlfriend a warning look, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I think her memory will…”

“Can we drop the whole (Y/N)-amnesia thing?!” Stiles grumbles.

Allison is swift in her retort, “She’s my friend too, Stiles. I’m allowed to be worried about her just as much as you!”

“Let’s not do this right now,” Scott says in a louder voice. “Lydia’s scent is coming from there.”

Stiles parks the jeep, leading the way into the moonlit forest and the house far in the distance. The Hale House. He’s still grumpy as he asks, “She came here? You sure?”

Scott stands back with Allison, hands nearly touching, “Yeah, this is where the scent leads.”

They keep walking, “Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?”

Allison shakes her head, “Not with me. I don’t think with (Y/N) either.” She talks with Scott in hushed tones, “Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek.”

“You mean, looking for an Alpha.”

“Wolves need a pack, right?” she asks, “Would she have been drawn to an Alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?”

“Yeah, we’re stronger in packs.” They watch Stiles wander around the tree line, inspecting the area as he goes. “Like literally stronger, faster, better in every way.”

They could see the breaths coming from their mouths, it was so cold. Allison pulls her beanie over her ears, “That’s the same for an Alpha?”

Scott nods as something tightens around his ankle and lifts him into the air. Allison muffles a scream and backs away, watching her boyfriend be pulled toward a tree.

Stiles makes a funny choking sound, squatting on the ground and holding a black wire between his fingers, “Sorry, buddy.”

“Stiles, next time you see a tripwire… don’t trip it.”

Allison smiles, cheeks rosy from the cold, “Let’s get….”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Scott flails in the air, waving them off, “Someone’s coming. Hide!”

The pair of them jump into action, Stiles grabbing Allison’s arm to pull her back towards the woods. No sooner had their footsteps soften on the leaves as they hide behind a tree, did a group of hunters appear from the backside of the house.

“Oh, shit,” Allison mumbles into Stiles’ shoulder, “They probably thought about Derek too.”

“I can’t hear anything they’re saying,” Stiles bemoans, “This is stupid.”

Allison clutches his arm, “It’s going to be okay.”

In a quick motion, Stiles slams his head into the tree. Considering they were already pressed into it, the hit wasn’t that hard. “Things are anything but okay.”

~~~

The boys huddle into the locker rooms as Coach yells for them. Isaac fumbles with his equipment, joining the back of the pack.

“Quicker!” Finstock yells, “Danny, put a shirt on.” The coach prattles on, “Stilinski, that means you! Let’s go, gather round. Listen up.”

Isaac searches the office wall behind Finstock, looking for you. You were always near the Coach during team meetings, usually holding an energy drink or pointing out things Finstock failed to mention to the team.

But you are nowhere to be seen.

“Police are asking for help on a missing child advisory. It’s a sick girl, roaming around, totally naked.”

Isaac remembers how the Sheriff questioned him about the same advisory that morning when he reported the strange grave robbery at the cemetery.

“Now, it’s supposed to get below 40 degrees tonight. I don’t know about you, but the last time it was that cold, and I was running around naked… I lost a testicle to exposure. Now, I don’t want the same thing happening to some innocent girl. So police are organizing search parties for tonight.” The Coach brandishes a piece of paper and Isaac can visualize the rolling of your eyes at the poor delivery of the speech.

Finstock tapes the paper to his office window, “Sign up, find the missing girl, you get an automatic ‘A’ in my classes.” He smiles at the instantaneous cheers, but Isaac is of the few standing still.

He holds his duffel bag and looks for you again. There was no way you’d let Coach give students straight A’s like that. You were his voice of reason – the only way classes came out coherently and fairly graded.

A swarm of players rush past him, but Isaac lets his eyes roam until he finds Stiles and Scott. He knew you were friendly with those two, more so than him at least. He walks over to the boys at the shower entrance.

“Um… hey…” he says awkwardly, holding the strap of his bag with two tight hands.

Scott looks taken aback, but is friendly anyways, “Hey, Isaac.”

Stiles is a little more blunt, “What do you want?”

“I uh… I wanted to ask where (Y/N) was,” he wrings his hands, “Usually she’s at these team meetings.” He notices the way Stiles looks to the ground, letting Scott speak first.

“She’s still at the hospital,” he says calmly, “She won’t be back for a while.”

Isaac knits his brow, “Oh, is she okay?” Again, he notices how Stiles scoffs at his shoes.

“Yeah,” Scott says with a lackluster tone, “She’ll be fine. Did you need her for something? We can give her a message.”

“Just… I haven’t seen her in class and – we miss her.” He has a hard time looking them in the eye, “And maybe that Coach is running rampant without her.” His lips upturn ever-so-slightly, “She’ll want to know her assisting is very much appreciated.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles cuts in front of Scott’s laughter. “I didn’t realize you and (Y/N) were close?”

Isaac wipes the smile from his face. “We’re not. Not outside of class at least.” He grinds his teeth, “She’s great. She’s always been kind to me. I’d hate if something happened and I didn’t know about it.”

That seems to appease Stiles, a flash of guilt washing over his face. “Right.”

~~~

The days seem to darken. Even with the promise of spring right around the corner, the world seems dusky, like the sun was a dimmer set low. Stiles’ lens was filtered with gray, shadowing his perspective with melancholia.

He spends his afternoons chasing the supernatural with Scott. But his nights he spends alone – quiet – in his room. He sits at his desk, spinning from side to side to look at the bulletin boards on the walls.

The one directly in front of him was all about you. He had covered it up with a blanket when you slept over that one time. A family picture and a selfie he got from your social media are pinned in the middle. Countless strings are between the picture of you and little bits of information.

A few green strings lead to fun facts like:

Watches true crime

Likes to read

Works at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital

Born in Palo Alto, California

Fireman Tom

Front Desk Westbrook

Atrioventricular canal defect

A yellow string leads from the fact about a congenital heart defect. It spreads to multiple pictures, article clippings, and website screenshots on the heart problem.

“Children born with this condition have a hole in the wall between the heart’s chambers. They also have problems with the valves that control blood flow in the heart.

Atrioventricular canal defect allows extra blood to flow to the lungs. The extra blood forces the heart to work too hard, causing the heart muscle to grow larger.”

“Ventricular tachycardia is a type of irregular heartbeat, called an arrhythmia. It starts in the lower chambers of the heart, called the ventricles. A healthy heart typically beats about 60 to 100 times a minute at rest. In ventricular tachycardia, the heart beats faster, usually 100 or more beats a minute.

Sometimes the rapid heartbeat stops the heart chambers from properly filling with blood. The heart may not be able to pump enough blood to the body. If this happens, you may feel short of breath or lightheaded. Some people lose consciousness.”

He has a red string leading to an unknown section about the 3-inch incision on your chest. After hearing you mention that it was a device inserted near your heart, he did some more research. It might have been an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator, or an ICD.

Those devices detect irregular heartbeats and deliver electric shocks to hopefully restore a regular heart rhythm.

Other blue strings lead to theories he has about why your CHD correction wasn’t permanent, as well as solutions to your persistent tachycardia.

The other side of the board has a few other green strings that lead to a picture of you, Lydia, and Allison. Another is the name ‘Andrew’ written sloppily and then crossed out repeatedly with a ballpoint pen. A few short strings lead to the various situationships in your past and some notes on their kissing techniques.

Overall, Stiles was proud of the research he had conducted on you. But staring at it wasn’t making him feel any better. He was exhausting himself over retrograde amnesia, failing to put those details on your bulletin board.

He was hoping it would correct itself before he had to.

He barely registers that his dad enters the room. “Hey, kid,” he says, void of his sheriff uniform. “How you holding up?”

Stiles shrugs and it pulls a sigh out of Noah. “Listen, I’m glad we were able to find that Martin girl tonight. We should consider that a real victory.” Stiles just nods and Noah continues, “I uh… what in god’s name is that?”

He looks over Stiles’ bulletin board. “Research,” Stiles mumbles.

Noah sounds hesitant, “Right. Um… should I be concerned about this?” He searches his son’s vacant expression, “Like, are you peeping into her windows and stealing things from her underwear drawer?”

“What?” that snaps some life into Stiles, “No! No, dad, it’s not like that. It was a little inside joke from when we first started hanging out. Then it kind of turned into me trying to figure out what her heart problem was.”

Noah looks to the side with the medical research, “You know… uh, the Westbrooks called.”

“And?” Stiles looks up with dull brown eyes.

“And the doctor says (Y/N) should be exposed to things that might trigger her memory back. Stuff that she doesn’t remember.”

Stiles bites at the inside of his cheek, “Like me?”

Noah takes a deep breath, folding his arms. The reserved Stiles before him was disconcerting. “Having you visit might help.” The Sheriff tries to find something helpful to say – his wife was always better at these things. “They’ve had Scott sit with her and she remembers the few times they ran into each other during her early hospital days; back when she was still getting surgeries.”

“I don’t know how I… how do I sit there and…” Stiles leaves his hands limp in his lap. “How am I supposed to help? Pretend that I don’t know anything about her? Act like we’re meeting for the first time?”

“Maybe,” Noah grimaces, “I’d start with keeping this bulletin board to yourself. It might scare her into getting a restraining order.”

Stiles cracks the smallest smile, “How long is she going to be at the hospital?”

“About two or three days,” the Sheriff scratches the scruff on his chin, “They’ll probably keep her from school for even longer.”

“She’ll need to keep up on homework,” Stiles sighs, “She’d hate to miss out on so many assignments.” His small smile grows, “Of course she’s already done with her end of term projects.”

Noah smiles, “Even that biology one you guys were supposed to do together?”

Stiles shrugs, “Honestly, I don’t have a clue.”

They both share a laugh before Noah beckons him, “You should go. I’ll tell Tom you’re on your way.” He looks at his son, nostalgia flooding him.

Little Stiles jumping across waiting room seats. Little Stiles following the nurses around. Little Stiles foraging for snacks in the vending machines. Little Stiles afraid to talk to his mother who didn’t recognize him.

Little Stiles that cried in the hallway while he was busy with a police dispatch.

“Hey, it’ll…” Noah tries, “… it’ll be okay.”

Stiles looks drained, but he smiles at his father’s attempt. “Thanks dad.”

It was a long drive to the hospital. It felt like the world around him was moving in slow motion. It was like his jeep was gliding on the road with no traction. It didn’t help that he let the ringing in his ears be the only source of sound.

There was a tightness in his chest that wasn’t as warm as before. It was accompanied by an anxious knot in his stomach. Hospitals were bad enough. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his mother while he sits with you.

Knots in his shoulders, he walks into the hospital with shuffling steps. He vaguely remembers running into Melissa. He barely notices how the Westbrooks dismiss themselves to grab lunch.

He’s in your doorway and watching the line of confusion grow between your brows. The look of someone meeting a stranger.

And he’s suddenly eight years old again.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he says with a growing lump in his throat.

You fidget with the blanket laying over your legs. Your eyes are uncertain, “Hello. Um… are my parents…?”

“They’re grabbing lunch,” he says, hands in his pockets, “Is it okay if I visit for a bit? The doctor said it might trigger your memory.”

You look reluctant and it pains him. “I guess it’s worth a shot,” you watch him pull a chair over, “I don’t think you told me your name before.”

He tries to swallow past the lump, “Stiles.”

“Stiles,” you say quietly, as if you had never said the name before. “Stiles what?”

“Stilinski.”

Your eyes brighten, “You’re a Stilinski?”

He snorts, “Yeah, my dad’s the sheriff.”

“Woah,” you smile, “Your dad has been to my house a few times.”

Stiles nods, reminiscent of your first conversation together searching the woods for Scott all those weeks ago. “And you’re front desk Westbrook’s daughter.”

That makes you giggle, “I like that nickname.” It grows quiet for a few seconds while you consider his deflated figure. His eyes are downcast and his hands are stuffed in his pockets; you can see his leg starting to bounce. “Are we really good friends?”

His muted brown eyes turn to your brighter ones. “Yeah, we are.”

You nod, “For how long?”

“Since January when the school came back from winter break.”

You give a side smile, “So I did manage to start public school.”

He licks his lips, “Yep. And being a medical assistant here and being a teacher’s assistant to Coach.”

“That’s amazing,” you remark, “I didn’t realize… I’ve been dreaming about doing those things for years, but the fact I did… and I don’t even remember.”

Stiles frowns deep, “You haven’t gotten any of your memory back?”

You shake your head, “I get these flashes sometimes and I can’t tell if they’re dreams or not. Like… blue spray paint on my arms.”

Stiles’ face brightens with hope, “That’s – that’s real! That’s not a dream. We had a spray paint fight when we were fixing my jeep.”

Your eyes snap to his. A strange guilty feeling enters your stomach. It was bad enough disappointing people simply because you couldn’t remember them. Seeing the hope on his face makes you fill with pressure. You two must’ve had a pretty significant friendship.

“What other things have we done together?”

Stiles takes a tight breath, “Well… we’ve had dinner together. You’re an excellent cook. We painted my jeep and took Scott to get drunk on the preserve. We did a few school projects together and hang out at lacrosse practice. I took care of you when you were sick,” he suddenly looks you right in the eye, “I was there when you broke up with Andrew.”

Your eyebrows go up, but you don’t interrupt him.

“I was there when you got those claw marks on your shoulder – and other times you felt in danger,” he swallows hard, “We went to the winter formal together.”

“I went to a school dance?” you breathe out quietly. “Was it amazing? I’ve always wanted to go to a school dance.”

Stiles rubs his suddenly clammy hands down his pants, “It was. You looked great.” At seeing the light shining in your eyes, he continues. “You wore a dress that had these sparkling stars on it. The… y-you let the scars on your chest show. You were… you looked beautiful.”

“Did we slow dance?”

“Yeah, we did,” he sighs, chest aching. “It was the only dancing you could do that didn’t mess with your heart.”

You feel a drop of insecurity enter, “How much do you know about my heart?”

“I know about the heart defect and the tachycardia,” he rubs at his face. He could really take advantage of the situation here and learn more about your condition. But as quick as the thought came, it left. He wasn’t going to manipulate you like that. “I know you had a device put in last summer.”

“And that’s it?” you ask quietly. “I didn’t tell you more?”

“You always felt like it wasn’t the right time,” he shrugs, “But I suppose you might feel differently once your memory comes back.”

You brush your hair away, “I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

A sadness creeps into him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I hate seeing the disappointment,” you gesture to his slumped figure, “I really am trying.”

“I believe you,” Stiles says with a little more vigor.

Your eyes are a little wide as you say, “My mom told me you were the one to find me and bring me here.”

Stiles bows his head, visions of your bloodied figure going purple from the lack of oxygen. “Like I said… it’s not your fault.”

“And you’re saying it’s yours?” It was an honest question, but you said it with such sarcasm that it takes you aback to see the seriousness on his face. He really believes it was his fault. “From what I hear, you saved me Stiles.”

“Not all of you,” he winces a smile, leaning back in the chair, “If I had been sooner… maybe your heart wouldn’t have given out in the parking garage.”

“You don’t know that,” you say quietly. You may not recognize the boy, but it upset you to think he was blaming himself for your condition. “Regardless of whatever retort you can think of… you brought me to help. If you hadn’t done that then I would’ve been dead for sure.”

He doesn’t see the point in arguing with a version of you that doesn’t even know him. “Maybe. How has your heart been since being here?”

“Fine,” you say quickly, “I’m ready to get back home.”

“Ollie misses you,” he smirks.

You gush, “Oh my god, you know Oliver! He’s my handsome little man.”

“That he is…” Stiles laughs, “Very handsome.” He plays with his fingers, leg still bouncing from the rising anxiety in his stomach. “Is this helping with your amnesia at all?”

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, “I’m not sure. Nothing has come to me yet. But I do like talking to you.” You have a sweet smile on your face, “You mentioned I was dating someone named Andrew?”

“Just for like two weeks,” he says hotly.

You don’t notice, “I told myself I wouldn’t ser…”

“…seriously date anyone,” Stiles finishes, “That’s why you broke up. He was looking for something long term with you.”

Curious, you tilt your head to the side. “Was he cute?”

Stiles snorts, “Well… I guess. You had a crush on him.” He tries to stop his leg bouncing, “You have good taste too, he’s a good guy.”

“Is that why we went to the dance together?” you wonder, “Because I broke up with Andrew?”

“Technically we both went stag,” he says with a faux smile. A forced smile to keep you at ease. “But it was important to you to have the full experience – so I asked.”

You sigh, leaning against your pillows in thought, “You don’t realize how lucky you are to live such an average teenage life.” Stiles holds back his sarcastic laugh. What you said was so ironic. “I spent a lot of my life dreaming about the little things – silly things – like high school dances and playing sports and learning to drive.”

“Wait…” Stiles leans forward, “You don’t know how to drive?”

“No, I do,” you say defensively, “I have a license, technically.” You slump a little further, “But medically I’m not allowed to drive. The potential for fainting is a big red flag for driving. I don’t want to cause any accidents because my heart decided to give out on the road.”

Stiles has a wary smile on his face. “That’s okay, I drive you everywhere.”

“Is that with the jeep you mentioned?”

“Yep, my pride and joy,” he says, “It was my mom’s. She called him Roscoe.”

You remember how the Sheriff lost his wife. Something your parents told you after a few visits from him. You remember feeling sad that someone had died. Now you realize how sad it would be for a child to lose their mom as well.

“And we fixed him up one time?” You want to hear him talk more.

“Yeah, we put a new hood on him,” Stiles sighs out a smile. “You kept poking fun at how… how much duct tape and spray paint I have for him.”

You have a sweet smile on your face, “You want the car to last, I get it. Probably will be just duct tape by the time you turn him in.”

“Oh no,” Stiles waves his hands, “I’m going to keep this jeep for the rest of my life, even if it runs down. I’ll import custom parts to keep him fixed, I don’t care. I just need to find a way to make enough money to.”

You giggle and it strikes Stiles.

“What sort of job would that be?”

“I don’t know, maybe like an FBI agent or something.”

“FBI…” you nod, impressed, “That’d be cool.”

Stiles swallows, unsure of how to keep a conversation going with you. That was a feeling he wasn’t used to. It was so easy to talk to you before. He hates the awkward edge he feels brimming his smile.

“What about you?”

“Another one of those silly things I dream about,” you say sadly, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

His brow knits, “Spitball some ideas for me.”

You laugh again, “Maybe… a writer. Or maybe I’d open a cat rescue. Even better, what if I opened a cat café where you could read and buy books and pet cats.” The more you talk, the easier it was to spill your dreams. “I could be a nurse one day. Maybe work under a cardiothoracic surgeon. I could also just be a stay-at-home mom.”

Stiles feels that achy warmth in his chest more and more. “You want a family?”

“Of course,” you say as if it were the easiest decision in the world. “I always hated being an only child. It made being stuck at home so much worse. I’d want a bunch of kids.”

“How much is a bunch?”

You smirk, “I don’t know, like ten maybe.”

“Ten!?” Stiles jerks in his chair and it makes you laugh louder than before.

You wave a hand, “I’m kidding. I think four might be my max.”

Stiles wipes at his brow comically and your following giggle keeps that ache pulsing in his chest. “I think all those ideas are great. I think I’d even read a book written by you.”

“Are you not a big book reader?” you ask.

He winces, “If it’s not for research I don’t usually partake.”

“That’s a shame. There’s some really good fiction out there,” you smile. But there’s a sudden shift in your expression. “Have we had this conversation before?”

Stiles feels a tug at his heart, “No, actually. We don’t talk about the future much. Usually it’s whatever has happened in the past before we met – or what our friends are up to.”

You nod, a little reassured. “I would hate it if you just pretended like you didn’t already know this stuff about me.”

“When it comes to you, (Y/N),” he says confidently, “I’d say I’m scarily unfiltered. I say things to you that I don’t to anyone else. I don’t think I could pretend.” Even with his feelings for you – they came out in the littlest of ways without him voicing them directly.

That puts the smile back on your face, “It makes me sad not remembering you. It sounds like we got along really well.”

“We did,” he says quickly, “We do.”

You pull at the edge of your cotton blanket, “Our friends seem nice too – Allison and Lydia.”

“Nice might be a little kind for Lydia,” Stiles laughs, “Maybe a faux cold-hearted rich bitch is more appropriate.” He feels proud to rouse a look of shock on your face, “She’s all talk at school, but she has a good heart and is super smart. Just don’t get on her bad side.”

You chuckle, “And Scott sat with me a couple times. He looks different than what I remembered.”

“It’s been almost six months from where you memory ends,” he says, “That makes sense to me.”

“Do you…” you falter, “Do you think I will remember eventually?”

God, I hope so, he thinks. “I think you’ll get a few things back,” he says honestly, “I don’t know about everything. Amnesia is stupid like that.”

You frown, “Will you still – hang out with me?”

“Of course,” he says instantly, “If you want to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know it’s probably overwhelming.”

“It is,” you push back your hair again, “But I still want to try.”

~~~

The next week is full of anxiety. With spring right around the corner, March appears with sunny days and average temperatures. The promise of rain was on the way. It was nearing the next full moon and Stiles was full to the brim with nerves.

You still hadn’t come back to school, and he was finding it hard to come visit you. Meanwhile he and Scott try to tackle school one day at a time. Scott finds ways to see Allison while the overly watchful eyes of her grandfather become an increasing pressure.

The old man, Gerard, was still living at the Argent residence after his daughter’s funeral. His presence brought a newfound fear to the group.

He was the one at your door when you heard it knock.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he says with a smile. “I’m Mr. Argent, the new principal at Beacon Hill High.”

You blink a few times before awkwardly saying, “Right, um… hello.”

He raises his eyebrows, “May I come in?”

You look behind your shoulder for a moment before muttering, “Sure, we can sit here.” You gesture to the sitting room with the piano just beside the door. The older man nods his thanks and finds a seat in a comfy armchair.

You follow and sit on the loveseat opposite him. “How can I help you?”

“I’m just checking in on your progress since leaving the hospital. Many of your teachers have asked about you returning. I understand you experienced some memory loss the night of the school dance.”

“Yes,” you say, sitting on your hands, “I don’t remember any of it.”

He leans his elbows on his knees, looking at you seriously, “And you haven’t regained anything?”

“I get these flashes sometimes,” you mutter, looking towards the carpet beneath your toes. “But those seem like dreams to me. I don’t recognize them.” At his persistent look, you elaborate, “Like visiting the mall or a lacrosse field or the woods.”

He nods, “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any intention of returning to public school?”

You swallow hard, “Well, um… seeing as I don’t remember any of it – I think it would be hard to pick up where I left off.”

“Our staff is willing to accommodate to your situation,” he finally leans back, “We’ll give you special permission to use more resources and have extension time on all assignments. We want to make sure you’re comfortable in returning.”

“That’s good to know,” you say, noticing Oliver enter the sitting room. He jumps onto the couch with you, “I’ll need to talk to my parents about it.”

Gerard gives another strange smile, “Of course. Are you getting any of your course work from friends at least?”

You grimace – does he mean the friends you don’t remember? “I’ve had a few homework things dropped off.”

“Some from my granddaughter, I believe,” he chuckles, “She’s always had a good heart, that one.”

“Who is your granddaughter?”

“Allison Argent,” he says.

You widen your eyes, “Oh, yes – Allison. She’s been helping me with some assignments. I didn’t realize her grandfather was the principal.”

“Like I said, my position is relatively new.” He claps his hands together, “Please reach out to the office if you plan on returning full time.”

Meanwhile, in the middle of town, Stiles and Allison are at a hardware store looking for something to help Scott with the upcoming full moon. Allison was intent on being involved this month, her first full moon since learning the truth of it all.

“You used handcuffs last time?”

“On the radiator, yeah,” Stiles grumbles, looking at the shelves stocked with tools. “And he still got out and almost killed (Y/N).”

Allison gasps softly, “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. If Derek hadn’t shown up, I think he would’ve…” he stops at the end of the aisle, “We need something that won’t break as easily. Heavy duty.”

“Like… chains?”

Stiles waggles a finger at her, “I like your thinking.” He checks the signs above each aisle for what they need. “We can chain him up somewhere until the moon sets.”

She follows, her intentions on more than just helping Scott with the full moon. “(Y/N)’s told me you haven’t been visiting her.”

It’s like she can see the tension knot in his shoulders. His sneakers squeak on the tile floor, “And you have been?”

“I’ve been helping her keep up to date on our school assignments.” She watches the hunch develop in his posture. It was like he was deflating before her eyes, “Don’t you remember the doctor said exposing her to things she…”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says a little more coldly than before. “It’s just that…” He spots the chains and goes for them.

How does he tell Allison that seeing you might finally break his already tearing heart? He’s sure seeing the look in your eyes again – the polite look someone gives a stranger – would kill him. How does he explain the pain he feels knowing you don’t remember a single memorable thing you’ve done together? It was a new kind of rejection.

He prefers daydreaming about the you that knows him. The you that he feels more deeply about than anyone else before. The you that he now searches for in his sleep. It was now his favorite time of day.

Sleep meant he could dream about you. He could see you there, smelling of sparkling strawberries by the lake – looking like a sun warmed burst of color. He yearned for that peachy summer filter your presence brought to his life.

His days were dull without you. Like the world resorted to turning the brightness down because its sun had disappeared.

“I’ve been…”

“… distracting yourself?” Allison offers.

He grips a coiled pile of chains and pulls them over his shoulder, “Maybe. The full moon kind of takes priority the next couple of days.”

“Do you think (Y/N)’s in danger?”

“Not if this idea works,” he grumbles under the weight of the metal links. They walk towards the registers. “And with you helping it might make things easier.”

Allison pulls out some cash so they can split the cost. “First searching for Lydia, then looking into a new beta werewolf, now making plans for the full moon… you’re going to run out of distractions eventually.”

I’ll just sleep then, he thinks. You’ll be waiting for him there.

“Let’s tackle this first,” he says.

Allison sighs her frustration. “I wish there was a way we could just… reach in and pull the memories out, you know? Make her remember.”

Stiles drops the full weight of the chains on his foot, and he curses loudly, “Ah, fuck!” He bounces on his unhurt foot, panting as he has a stroke of brilliance.

Maybe there was a way to force your memories to the surface.

~~~

Scott is lying on your living room floor, Ollie hiding upstairs from the doggish presence. You’re sitting cross legged on the couch ottoman, listening to his woes.

“So you think the principal became the principal to spy on your secret relationship with Allison?”

“No, there’s got to be more to it than that,” Scott grumbles, arms splayed to either side. “He’s looking for something more. The Argents are… very loyal to their ideals. Once they set their minds to something – they accomplish it no matter what.”

“And by becoming principal, Mr. Argent is trying to accomplish… total domination over teenagers?”

Scott sighs out a laugh, sitting up, “Maybe. I’m sorry – I’m venting too much. It’s got to be super confusing for you.”

You shrug, “Just a little. I’m starting to piece things together.” You start to pick at your nails, a nervous habit you’ve been more partial to since the hospital. “Allison has been a big help. I think Lydia is still recovering from the attack, more than me at least.”

“And Stiles?”

You frown, “I haven’t seen him.”

Scott matches your frown, “He’s taken it pretty hard.”

“I thought as much,” you pick at your cuticles, “Why do you think that is?”

Sensing the touchy subject, Scott looks to the ground. “We all deal with hard stuff in our own way.”

“But he told me he still wanted to see me,” you say confusedly, “Even if I didn’t remember everything.”

“I think he holds a lot of guilt for the memory loss,” Scott defends, “He uh… he cares a lot.”

“I sort of got that from his last visit,” you wince, “I guess I wouldn’t want to be reminded of something I consider a failure.”

Scott furrows his brow, “You being alive isn’t a failure, (Y/N).”

“My amnesia is, though,” you sigh, “But it’s got me thinking… maybe there’s more to why he thinks of it as a failure.”

“What do you mean?”

You swallow, “I don’t know. It’s hard trying to figure this whole thing out. It’s like I’m trying to give a summary on a book I never read.”

“We’ve done that plenty of times in English class,” Scott smiles warily.

You chuckle at the joke. “I mean, I’m seeing the end of the movie without any plot. I don’t know what to make of anything I see. I hear of all these things I did, and it just feels like I’m out of the loop. I’m being told about someone I don’t even know.”

Scott nods at your words, happy to be your confidant. “It sounds hard.”

“And even with that, everyone is making an effort to stay connected to me. Everyone I don’t remember. Allison does homework with me, you vent to me about Allison, the hospital has put my work schedule on hold, the high school is making accommodations, even Lydia has texted me.” You grimace as you pull at the skin around your nail. Part of a cuticle tears away, “So why hasn’t Stiles? Why is he different?”

Scott bites his tongue. “This whole thing might mean something a little different for him.”

“In what way?”

“Just you,” he swallows, “You mean something different to him.”

“You mean, because he was the one who saved my life?”

Scott clenches his jaw, “Yeah, something like that.”

You suck on your finger. It stings where you tore the cuticle away. You taste blood on your tongue.

“We should do something,” Scott decides, “We should get the friends together and hang out.”

“And do what?” you ask, standing to find a band-aid.

Scott follows you to the hallway closet, “You have a firepit in the backyard. Maybe we roast some marshmallows?”

“You don’t think it might rain?” you wrap a plain brown band-aid around your finger. It almost surprises you to see two other fingers with the same bandage around the nail. “It’s been cloudy all week.”

“No, I think we’ve got a few more days before the weather gets real bad,” Scott waves a hand at you, “Would your parents be okay with it?”

“Sure,” you shrug, “My mom would probably be thrilled.”

Scott is already texting on his phone, “Perfect. I’ll let everyone know – do you have firewood?”

“Are you kidding?” you laugh, “My dad keeps the shed fully stocked. Marshmallows and everything.”

“It looks like Lydia is going to be at her dads place tonight,” Scott grimaces at his phone, “But Allison is available.”

You watch the dopey lovestruck smile grow on his face, “Won’t it… won’t it be terribly awkward for everyone? You guys have history to talk about while I… I don’t remember meeting any of you.”

Scott shifts his face into a serious expression, “That doesn’t mean we don’t want to still hang out with you.”

You fist your bandaged fingers into the pockets of your sweats. “I guess I can see it as a chance to get to know you guys better.”

“We could play like truth and dare, or answer get to know you questions,” Scott chuckles.

The next half hour has you creating a s’more station outside while Scott brings over a pile of firewood. He’s just exploring the depths of the shed when Allison appears, the sunset illuminating her in flattering light.

“Hey!” you say, glad to see her again, “I was just laying out the chocolate.”

Allison gives you a hug, eyeing her secret boyfriend carrying an armful of wood from the shed. “Perfect. Let me help with the camping chairs.” She hops over to kiss Scott before taking the covers off the chairs.

“Have you talked with Lydia recently?” you help move the seating around the firepit, “She was a little frazzled the last time I saw her.”

“She was a little shy coming back to school,” Allison admits, “But Lydia has always exuded a kind of confidence, even if she doesn’t especially feel it. The whole school was gawking at her, and she strut down the hallway like nothing happened.”

You nod, a smile of gratitude on your face, “I’m glad.” You notice how Allison deliberately set the chairs in two pairs across from each other, on either side of the firepit. She plans to sit by Scott, and across the fire, you sit by Stiles. “Is Stiles for sure coming?”

“He told me he would,” Scott throws a few more logs on their pile, “Just that he’d be late.”

As Scott was making a tent of wood in the firepit, a grumbling engine could be heard pulling in front of the house. You sit in your chair, matching cream colored sweatshirt and sweatpants on. You even had a green and blue flannel on over the sweatshirt for an added layer of warmth. It was something you just found in your closet.

Stiles appears walking around the house, hands in his pockets. His lips are in a thin line as he waves a hand in hello.

“How are you, Stiles?” Allison asks, ever the polite one.

He shrugs, eyes flitting between the remaining seats. He knows his best friend will want to sit beside his girlfriend. “I’m alright.”

Your eyebrows knit. Stiles doesn’t look very alright. He looks like he could collapse from exhaustion at any second.

“Hey, grab me some of that kindling, would you?” Scott says, kneeling beside the firepit and crumpling old newspapers into flammable balls.

Stiles leans down for a box of splintered wood and shaved bark. He gives the pieces for Scott to create a nest in the heart of the pit.

You fold your arms as the sun fully sets and the stars become more visible across the indigo sky. You observe the wrinkled nature of Stiles’ clothes – the dark rings beneath his eyes. He looks a little worse for wear.

“This is my first fire of the season,” Allison says, crossing her legs and admiring how Scott sets the kindling aflame, “I love having campfires.”

“Me too,” Scott says warmly, standing to go sit beside his girlfriend, “I’m a fiend for toasted marshmallows.”

“I like them a little on the burnt side,” she says in reply, enjoying how he easily slips his fingers between hers.

Stiles stands as the kindling burns more brightly, sending plumes of smoke into the air. His eyes find your form tightly wrapped in your chair. There’s a flicker of something sad in his gaze – guilt, pity, pain?

He walks around the pit and sits in the camping chair beside you. It was more like he collapsed in the chair, the legs scraping on the stones littering the ground.

“What about you?” you ask timidly.

Stiles looks at you with tired eyes, “Sorry?”

“How do you like your marshmallows roasted?”

His eyes are still sad, but something quirks in his lips, “Golden brown – although that’s dangerously close to burnt and that happens more often than I care to admit.”

“I don’t have patience for roasting marshmallows,” you say begrudgingly, “They’re never exactly what I want. I eat them too fast.”

Stiles swallows hard, moving his limbs slowly as if any faster would give him a headache. He spears two marshmallows on the end of a roasting stick. “And if you had patience for marshmallows – what would they look like?”

“I like them golden too,” you smile, “A little or a lot is fine with me. I just don’t like them burnt.”

“It gives them flavor!” Allison defies, “And it’s fun blowing them out when they catch fire.”

“Until they melt right off the stick,” Scott laughs, “And they burn in the pit like Anakin near the lava pools.”

You giggle, a strange flash of a dream crossing your mind. Yourself wearing a star wars t-shirt with a blue and green flannel. The same flannel you have on now. Was it a dream… or a memory? Was it like the strange memory of blue spray paint on your arms?

There was something stirring in your stomach. You could mistake it for anxiety or the painful churning of your insides – but something was trying to pry itself out of you. Watching Stiles rotate the roasting stick against the firepit was sending waves of familiarity through you.

The campfire reminds you of Stiles in a way. He reminds you of autumn and woods and campfire smoke. It makes you think of fallen leaves and flashlights and flannels.

Just as you remind Stiles of summertime – he reminds you of autumn.

“Did you hear about Isaac’s dad?” Allison suddenly speaks.

Scott sighs, “Yeah, he was taken out of lacrosse practice today to talk to the police.”

“I don’t think he has a strong case of his innocence,” Stiles mumbles.

“What happened to Isaac’s dad?” you ask, unsure of who Isaac even was.

Scott clears his throat, checking his marshmallow by pinching the soft white fluff. “He was murdered.”

Something cold and steely takes ahold of your limbs, “Oh my god, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it happened during the last rainstorm,” Scott continues, “I think they suspect Isaac.”

“Why would he kill his own father?” you ask with a slanted brow.

Allison prepares some graham crackers and chocolate, “I don’t think they had a very good relationship.”

“You could say that,” Stiles scratches at his neck, “Seeing as he comes to school with new bruises weekly.”

A small gasp escapes you, “That’s awful…”

“You’ve actually helped Isaac with it before,” Stiles says, “You’ve taken him to your house and cleaned him up after a fight.”

You find it hard to swallow, “I’m glad someone did. Has there ever been an investigation at the house for child abuse?”

“Not that I know of,” Stiles sighs, “Isaac has never wanted any trouble.”

“That doesn’t make any of it okay,” you say more to yourself, “Is he still being questioned?”

“I think my dad might take him into the station tomorrow for further questioning,” Stiles says.

You tilt your head towards him, “As in, Isaac is going to be arrested?”

“I’m not sure,” Stiles says quietly, “I wouldn’t be surprised seeing as he’s their biggest suspect with a damning motive.”

You don’t realize your fingers are searching for more tender skin to pick at around your nails. Scott puts his toasted marshmallow on a prepared cracker and proceeds to set another on fire. Allison giggles as she smashes one s’more down.

“I haven’t seen Isaac,” you say quizzically.

Scott presents the marshmallow aflame on his roasting stick for Allison to blow it out. “He’s been asking about you though.”

Stiles removes his marshmallows from the fire as well. “He says Coach has been unreliable and chaotic since you’ve left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Because I’m his TA?”

“He may be your superior, but that man is hopeless without you,” Scott laughs, “I honestly don’t know how Coach has kept his job as long as he has.”

Stiles is preparing two s’mores beside you, layering a graham cracker and chocolate with golden brown marshmallows. You are picking at your unbandaged fingers terribly.

Scott and Allison are preoccupied with feeding each other sticky s’mores while you stare into the dancing flames of the fire. You wince at a sharp pain. Looking down you see your fingers have pried a sliver of skin from around a nail. It stings being exposed to the nighttime air and a blossom of blood speckles the tender skin beneath.

A large hand enters your vision – long fingers reaching for yours. He pulls your injured hand away and inspects the bandages on your fingertips. He places a readymade s’more in your palm. “What’s happened to Isaac isn’t your fault,” he says quietly, “Neither is Coach being manic – that’s nothing new.”

You watch his hand pull away, fisting in his lap as if regretful to touch you without your permission.

Taking a deep breath, you look at the perfectly cooked s’more, “Man, there weren’t even coals yet,” you say with mustered warmth. “This looks amazing.”

You catch him staring at your smile. The tiredness is evident in his look, but the fondness that warms his eyes is undeniable. He holds his hands together like he fears they’ll move for you if he didn’t.

The gooey marshmallow sticks to the sides of your face as you eat. It’s exactly how you like it, and you can’t help giggling at the sticky sweetness melting on the chocolate.

Stiles is watching you with something sad and sweet in his face.

“Thank you,” you say, cracker crumbs littering your lips. “You didn’t have to make me one.”

“I wanted to,” he says in return. “I wanted to see if that marshmallow would stay on the cracker or not.”

You snort with a full mouth. Bits of sticky fluff are on most of your fingers and stuck to your cheeks. You flick your fingers, seeing how some of the marshmallow was gripping the fraying fibers of your band aids.

“Oh, shoot,” you shake a hand free of crumbs. “I’ll be right back.”

As you rise from your chair, Stiles grips the arms of his – like he was about to stand with you. His eyes follow you all the way to the back door.

Scott clears his throat loudly and Allison nibbles the marshmallow from her fingers.

“What?” Stiles questions, still on the edge of his seat.

Scott wiggles his eyebrows, “You know what.”

Allison licks her lips and nods toward the house, “Take the chance.”

“Ah… god.” Stiles slips out of the chair, tripping on his way to the house. He opens the door and spies you starting to open new band aids at the kitchen counter.

“Oh!” you say sharply, “Hey – everything okay?”

“Um…” his throat was suddenly very dry, “I just – wanted to see if you needed help.” He walks to the counter and sees the pile of marshmallow coated band aids. “I know it can be hard to… wrap those on your fingers by yourself.”

You feel shy, hesitant to display your fingers, “That… that’d be nice, thank you.”

He ignores how your hands shake, unwrapping a band aid and picking a finger with raw skin around the fingernail. Some were scabbed over, and others were still wet with exposed, tender skin.

He’s soft in how he holds your hand, gently wrapping the band aid. “I’ve never seen you pick at your fingers before.”

“Me neither,” you say quietly, “I guess it’s just a new nervous habit.”

“What was making you nervous?” he asks just as quietly. He keeps his gaze on your hands, his own oddly cold against yours.

It leaves you free to look at his face without fear. You never noticed how thick his eyelashes were. You suspect they frame his bronze eyes well, especially when they were well rested. He also has a constellation of moles across his face.

You were tracing them with your eyes as you say, “I guess I was feeling guilty again for losing my memory. It sounds like people need me… the old me.”

I need you, Stiles thinks, upset at how the guilt was presenting itself in you. “But none of it is your fault.”

“That doesn’t stop the fact that lots of problems would be solved if I could just remember.”

“I’m sorry,” he says with hidden emotion, “I… I could’ve… if I had just stayed with you…”

Your brows knit as he applies a third bandage. “It’s not your fault either, Stiles. We’re both doing the best that we can.”

He clenches his jaw, “Maybe we should put band aids on all your fingers so you’re not tempted.”

You snort, “Thank you for helping me.”

Stiles smiles and again you’re struck by another one of his features. Stiles is cute, you think, he’s really cute. “You’re welcome,” he says.

He holds your hands for a second before lifting them to his lips. He kisses each of your bandages in a chaste, silly way. “Make-it-better kisses,” he says almost dreamily – remembering a past memory, “Your specialty.”

You’re stuck on the way his mouth hovered over each of your fingers. “You learned well, apparently.”

“You’re basically cured,” he smiles again, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Make-it-better kisses are a medical miracle, so they say.”

You nod slowly, “Maybe I just need a couple more of those to get my memory back.”

Stiles’ eyes blow wide, “Oh… oh my god – that’s not what I… I didn’t mean to insinuate – I mean, not that I’d be upset to do… ah, shit, I’m messing this up.”

Giggles are falling out of you faster than Stiles is running his mouth. “Stiles, I was meaning a forehead kiss. Help fix my brain.”

He lets out a loud sigh, “Of course – of course that’s what you meant.” He’s jerky and hesitant and terribly endearing as he leans over to place an awkward kiss to your temple.

~~~

The jeep stops with a jolt in front of the sheriff’s station. Through the blinds Stiles and Derek see a woman behind the counter.

Somewhere in the holding cells is Isaac, being held on suspicion of his father’s murder.

“Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office,” Stiles says. He grits his teeth, “The problem is getting past front desk Westbrook.”

It was Angela on duty, filling out her part on police reports behind the counter.

“I’ll distract her,” Derek says nonchalantly.

Stiles freaks, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he grabs Derek’s leather jacket, “You? You’re not going in there.”

Derek looks at the hand on his jacket like it might be his next snack.

“I’m taking my hand off,” Stiles says quickly. “That is Angela Westbrook in there – you can’t just ‘distract her.’” He uses air quotation marks.

“Sure, I can.”

“She’s married!”

Derek shrugs, “And I’m charming.”

“You’re a criminal!”

“I was exonerated.”

Stiles licks his lips, “You’re still a person of interest, and trust me, Westbrook is the last person you want to mess with. She almost always hangs up when I try to call the station.”

“That’s because you’re a hyperactive, overexaggerated teenage boy and I’m…” he adjusts his collar, “A handsome innocent person of interest that looks really good in leather.”

The look of acceptance in Stiles’ face was laughable. He couldn’t deny any of those points. “Fine. Try and charm her and see what happens.”

They wait as another police officer appears to talk to Angela, looking like they were about to head home for the night. It’s the opportunity Stiles needs to talk to Derek about one more tiny favor.

“So with me helping with this whole Isaac fiasco… I was thinking maybe you could do something for me.”

Derek whips his head over, “Excuse me?”

“A favor for a favor.”

“You know I could just walk in, knock everyone out, and break into that lockbox, right? I don’t actually need you.”

Stiles lifts his hands in protest, “You do if you want to remain an innocent person of interest!”

Derek stares him down uncomfortably, “What favor?”

~~~

The new spring rain was finally here, starting with a light sprinkle. You are on the couch, your favorite forest green blanket over your socked feet. Oliver is snuggled on your lap, enjoying the way your stomach rocked him back and forth with your breaths.

Angela sits with you, warming her hands on a mug of tea she brewed for you. “Chamomile and lavender,” she says.

You sigh, “Good for stress.” You give her a knowing look, paired with a smile.

“And sleep,” she says, “I’ll probably pass out in about ten minutes.” She laughs and then clears her throat, “You know, there was something super strange that happened at the station the other day.”

“What was it?” you ask, excited that your mom wanted to share about her workdays again. She had been worried about putting stress on your heart by telling you those stories.

She looks worried now, “It was a little chaotic.”

“Please, mom,” you say, “We haven’t just talked in a while.”

Angela seems to agree, taking a big gulp of her tea. “Well, we had a boy in holding for a murder – no, I won’t tell you who. And Derek Hale came in to talk to me.”

“Hale,” you mutter, “Wasn’t that the name of the family whose house…”

“Burned down, yes,” Angela says, “And while he was there, the boy broke out of holding and an officer I’ve never seen before was knocked out on the ground.” She shakes her head, “I have no idea how any of that happened on my watch. The poor officer had an arrow in his leg and everything.”

“Oh my god, from what?” you ask with pursed lips.

Angela shrugs her shoulders, “The Sheriff is looking into it, but I’m not sure. His son was by the holding cells when he got there.”

“That Stiles guy?”

She nods, suddenly looking at you with warmth – a question in her eyes. “That’s right. He’s a good kid. A strange one, but good.”

“Did you…” you start to say, “Did Stiles and I hang out a lot?”

Angela swallows, “You did. He thought we couldn’t hear all the times he climbed the garden trellis,” she smirks, “But your father and I aren’t that dumb.”

You scoff in surprise, “He climbed the front of the house?”

“A couple times,” she replies, finishing her tea, “He’s not exactly the most graceful person. It’s easy to hear him struggle up the vines and fall through your window.”

You laugh, “And you never thought to stop it?”

“Your dad considered it,” she says, pausing to hear the rain fall heavier on the roof. “But we knew you kids were fine. He might be a bit of a troublemaker, but I know he wouldn’t do anything to put you intentionally in harm’s way.”

Squinting your eyes, you suddenly gasp, “Oh my god, you approve of him, don’t you?”

Angela shrugs again, “Maybe.”

“You’ve never liked any boys I’ve brought over.”

“I think your dad still needs a little convincing,” she says, “But Stiles will win him over eventually.”

“I didn’t realize…” you say, flinching as thunder crashes overhead.

Angela shivers, “Well, that’s my cue for a nap.” She stands and stretches, “Warm tea, cozy bed, and rain in the background? Don’t expect me to wake up anytime soon.”

You laugh, “I’ll be here reading. Thank you for the tea, mom.”

“No problem, sweetie. I wish I could start on that garden, but the recommended time frame is the end of April,” she rolls her eyes, “My herbs are suffering in their little pots!”

You smile as she retreats up the stairs. The rain was really coming down now, pelting the roof like a hail of bullets. You always loved the sound of rain. Maybe it was the cliché book reader in you, but the weather gave the perfect conditions for a reading session.

Ollie sleeps soundly on your lap as you pick up your latest read. It was strange coming home to see a bookmark in a book you didn’t remember. It still sits on your nightstand, hopefully to be picked up again should your memories return.

In the meantime, you begin to read a new fantasy trilogy.

The rain and thunder continue for another half hour, Oliver choosing to sleep on an overturned pillow beside you. He snuggles his face into his fluffy tail as you read. You were just starting to feel sleep tugging at your eyelids when a firm knock came on the front door.

You close your book, apprehensive as the last time someone knocked on the door, the new principal sat you down to question your current whereabouts.

But you find that it was someone new. A tall handsome man with light eyes stands on the porch, sprinkled with rain.

He wipes the water dripping into his eyes, “Hey, (Y/N).” He looks up at the ceiling as if listening for something, “Can I come in?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you ask, shocked that this handsome man knew you by name.

“I’m Derek,” he says, pushing his way in and standing beside the piano.

You follow by quietly closing the door, afraid to wake your mom. One of the men involved in the strange chaos that happened at the police station was currently in the sitting room.

“Like Derek Hale, Derek?”

“You remember me?” he asks with confusion in his brow.

You fold your arms, “I remember your name on one of my mom’s police reports years ago. About a house fire.”

He clamps his mouth shut and nods. “Listen, Stiles and Isaac have been talking about you – asking me for favors.”

You remember your friends talking about an Isaac. “Okay?”

“I told them it might not even work, but alphas are usually the ones best apt to do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, arms tightly wound and your feet rooted to the spot. You are starting to get a pit in your stomach. Thunder is roiling outside.

“Just… jog your memory a little bit.” He takes a step forward and you suddenly find the ability to move backward as far as the room would let you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say quickly, “I don’t even know you!”

Derek holds up his hands, “You need to calm down. Your heart is stuttering all over the place.”

“Yeah, it does that,” you say angrily, fear overtaking you, “Especially when strangers threaten to do something to jog my memory.”

“It’s just some minor memory manipulation,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really done it to extract memories out of someone else before, but it can be done.” He approaches your body pressed against the wall, “You need to hold still though – I don’t want to damage your spinal cord.”

You gape your mouth, “What the hell do you mean!?”

He takes ahold of your neck and you’re on the brink of a scream when he covers your mouth with his other hand. “I need you to stand still.” And he sinks his claws into the back of your neck.

You flinch and gasp behind his hand. Something sharp punctures the nape of your neck, heat trickling down from the top of your head to your spine. You feel a strange twinge of electricity and it makes you shiver.

A picture was filling your mind, crisp and warm as you close your eyes to see it better.

It was you in a pale yellow dress, bows in your hair, and your hand held tightly in Tom’s fingers. Judging by how you had to crane your neck to see his tall figure, you had to be about four years old.

Another warm image appears: dirty carrots being pulled from smelly earth. Your mom claps her soil stained gloves, proud of the garden you planted together. Little you was just as excited, taking a bite out of the carrot and grimacing at the gritty taste of dirt.

One memory flows in, a tinge of cold on the edge of this one. Like you found a cold spot in a pool of water. You were finishing a homework page your mom made on algebraic equations. A bitterness was in your chest at not being able to do it in an actual school.

Your mom appears to place a stapled packet of papers in front of you. You curiously pull the first page towards you and the top reads: ‘Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital – Job Application.’ You squeal and launch yourself into a hug with your mom.

The next memory that tries to surface isn’t as warm as the others. And it doesn’t flow in as easily. You start to get a headache as a cold image swims into view. A jeep driving through the woods.

“I don’t get out much.”

He laughs, “Then why the sudden change?”

“I felt like it.”

“Woman of many words,” he smirks.

You flinch, the memory crumbling into something new – just as cold and difficult to resurface as the other one. A movie was playing in the background and a steaming meal was on plates in front of you.

He was describing a different meal to you, “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you say, moving your plate, “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

He laughs, “That’s what it was! When I was little the only thing I would eat was kraft mac and cheese with chicken nuggets. She was determined to make me a better version.”

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” he says quietly, “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

Pain pulses in your temples as floods of memories try to pry through your vision. It was like trying to yank sharp rocks through a rubber hose. But the next memory appears with a slight warmth.

Your chest was fluttering with desperate breaths.

“And what do you feel?” he asks.

“My heartbeat,” you say, tightening your fingers around his, “Your hand. And the cracking spray paint.” It was getting easier to breathe as you open your eyes to look at him.

You can see your initials drawn on his cheek with blue paint. He looks concerned as his thumb starts to rub along the inside of your knee.

Stiles, you think. That’s Stiles!

A burst of freedom surges through your head – like a lock being broken. You start to remember everything in between these colder memories. They start to warm with recognition.

Stiles is rambling, “… and I wasn’t sure how you felt about me being close when you weren’t in some kind of distress from your heart because so far the only times I’ve touched you has been when you were about to faint or your heart is racing or you just went through a traumatic ordeal, and seeing as being drunk and having a breakup bonfire with your friends is none of those things… I thought maybe you’d be mad at me for, you know… touching you.”

You smile as he gets even more adorably endearing, “I’m not mad, Stiles.”

He still looks ashamed, whispering, “Okay.”

“I would tell you if I didn’t like how you were touching me.”

He whips his head to you, his throat bobbing.

Your eyes start to prickle with tears. How did you not realize how much this boy was into you? The signs were all there.

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already soothed by his woodsy honey scent. You breathe it in deeply, loving how he apologizes as he gets under the sheets. You relish in his awkward avoidance of your limbs, “It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling like avoiding your gaze would save him from the heat encompassing his heart. It was making his cheeks burn.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

He bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Tears are filling your eyeline, a drop racing down your cheek as the distant, cold memories are fully back in focus. The pain in your head was growing, but it was worth it to remember all this. The fact you didn’t notice Stiles’ feelings sooner was putting a pool of guilt in your stomach. The poor boy was being so terribly obvious now that you saw the scenes again in your mind’s eye.

He smells like candy, you think.

Your lips fall into an easy pattern. He moves his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you kiss.

He hums deep in his throat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there too.

“Is this good?”

You laugh with your eyes still closed, tears actively falling down your face. It was good, you remember. So good you actually have a crisis in thinking you might’ve made a mistake. You were in denial of any feelings you had for him.

Even when Allison and Lydia questioned you before the dance.

Your mind swims to the desired memory that you had forgotten. Projected stars fill the space as the band plays a soft song. You hold onto Stiles in a beautiful starry dress. You’re hidden from him as you’re pressed together, swaying to the music.

You wonder if that’s part of the reason you two have courage to talk. Neither of you were looking.

“What else?” you ask with a puckered brow. A warmth you now know to be likeness enters your chest.

He grips your sides, “I like… being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.”

You laugh, “You’ve said that before.”

He smiles, “I like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing you’re smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.” He pulls away to see proof of that smile. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.”

Your cheeks start to feel itchy with salty tears, a quiet sob making your breath stutter.

“Like a lot a lot.”

Before watching the aftermath of that dance play out in your mind, you force yourself to the present. Claws rip out of your neck, and you wince, wiping at the tears that had dripped down your chin.

“How…” you sniffle, “How did you do that?”

Derek looks serious, searching for side effects in your crying, “It’s just something werewolves can do.”

“Never heard of that one before.” You cover another sniffle with a laugh, “Thank you,” you say, “Thank you.” You jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s frozen for about three seconds before placing his hands gingerly on your back, “You’re welcome.”

You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but it’s the perfect height to hide your face in his chest, “He was so devastated when I didn’t remember.” You recall Stiles when he first saw you in the hospital, “He has to be so upset.”

“He’s miserable,” Derek says gruffly, pulling you away. “I need you to fix him. I didn’t think he was capable of being any more annoying.”

Your smile suddenly drops, “I never got the chance to tell him.” Your hands fly to your hair, completely ignoring the pain still pulsating in your temples. “I went to find Lydia before I…”

Derek raises his eyebrows, “Before you…”

You look at him with red eyes, “Derek this is so important. I need a ride. Please!”

~~~

The rain is in full force behind you, providing a backdrop to your panting silhouette. Just traveling from Derek’s car has you soaked in rainwater. The sleek black car drifts away under the cover of thunder.

You’re shaking terribly, water dripping from your hairline and down your face. The porch at least gives you some cover while you wait. It was ridiculous. You left the house in such a hurry, you hadn’t thought to change.

You wear comfy sage green pajamas, matching with little white daisies on them. A sunflower yellow knitted cardigan lays wet and heavy over your shoulders. One sleeve is dangling further down your arm than the other.

Anxiously you check that the police cruiser is absent from the driveway. Then you hear the door creak open.

Stiles is there in dark blue loungewear himself. It brings out the purple circles under his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” the dull expression in his face suddenly changes to one of deep concern, “What are you doing here? Did you walk in the rain?” He’s reaching for your cardigan, wishing to pull you into the shelter.

But he hesitates – not knowing if it was okay to touch you so forwardly. Not knowing if you’d find it a violation that a near stranger lays his hands on you.

It breaks your heart.

“I need to talk to you.”

He blinks, hand falling to his side, “Yeah, of course.” He opens the door further and ushers you in. “You must be freezing.” He jumps to find a towel to cover your shivering figure.

You’re pulling the wet cardigan off when he returns with a giant fluffy towel. He sees the straps of your pajama top and immediately averts his eyes, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. He rubs up and down your arms for about two seconds before catching himself again.

He takes three steps back, rubbing at his face harshly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You aren’t sure if the tears ever stopped since regaining your memories; it was too hard to discern what was from the rain and what was from you. But you look at Stiles now with a deep warmth in your chest.

It was so large and so warm it was constricting your lungs. Looking at him was making it hard to breathe. “Are you not sleeping?”

He clenches his jaw, “I try to sleep as much as possible. It’s probably not very restful sleep,” he runs a hand over his shaved head, “But… it’s nice to dream.”

You want to touch his face, touch the circles beneath his eyes. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. I completely forgot and then there just wasn’t any time to.” You hold the towel around your shoulders, taking a few steps toward him.

He looks scared, his throat bobbing as you approach.

“That night at the dance,” you start, “We were on the dance floor, and you were saying such wonderful things.” You shiver, “And I was afraid to admit the things I was feeling.”

Stiles’ eyes were growing wide. Wide and desperate. They were silently pleading with you. The very air surrounding you two seemed to be sucked out. A hitch is in your chest as you continue:

“I never got the chance to tell you… how I feel.”

His eyes were growing warm, tears lining his bottom lashes, “(Y/N)…”

“I like you too, Stiles,” you say with a proud smile. “I like you a lot.”

You watch the breath leave his lungs – like his chest had collapsed. He’s screwing up his face like he’s trying not to cry, but a tear falls anyway. “Really?”

You give a breathy laugh, voice choking on the emotion in your throat. “Really.” And you let the towel drop from your shoulders, launching yourself forward to crash your lips against his.

He stumbles back and grips your waist for support.

You stand in the entryway, holding his face and kissing him deeply. You tilt your head and make the kiss deeper; he follows a second behind you, still recovering. He’s shaking just as much as you are now.

Goosebumps erupt on your bare arms, and you pull away to look at him. Tears are smeared on both your cheeks.

“You remember?” he whispers softly, moving his hands to hold your face.

You run your hands down to his chest, “There’s this little trick with a werewolf and my spinal cord,” you shrug, unable to stop smiling. “It pulled everything back for me.”

He’s still trying not to cry, twisting his lips, “Thank god,” he gasps a sob. “Thank you god.” He pulls you in for another kiss, soft and tender this time. He wipes away the wet strands of hair framing your face.

You take a deep breath, tracing a finger up his chin to the soft skin beneath his eyes, “You really need to sleep.”

“I do,” he licks his lips, eyelashes sticking together with tears, “Just to see you.”

You take ahold of his wrists near your face, “You need real sleep.” You tug on his hands and lead the way upstairs. The rain continues to fall, accompanied by rumbling thunder. It gives you something to listen to as you enter Stiles’ bedroom.

You take a quick peek at the disarray: clothes strewn about the floor, old books open and stacked precariously on scrap paper, lacrosse equipment dirty with soil and grass piled in the hallway. The bed is scrambled like he was kicking in his sleep.

Pushing him to sit down on the mattress, you turn to move toward the dresser, but his hand clamps down on yours.

“Where are you going?”

You look back at the instant terror that envelops his face. “I’m just going to change out of my wet clothes.” You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’ll be right back.”

At the dresser, you find a pair of plaid pajama pants and a shirt with a Doctor Who logo. In the hallway bathroom you change and comb through your hair. You’re hanging your wet clothes on the shower rod when you hear stuttered breaths coming from Stiles’ bedroom.

In a few quick steps you’re back in the room and see Stiles struggling to maintain his breathing. His eyes are still wet with tears and he’s holding his chest like it hurt. His head snaps to you when you enter, and a micro change happens in his expression – the smallest amount of relief.

You’re at his side in an instant, running your hands over his chest and to his face, “Stiles, it’s okay. I’m here and I remember. This isn’t a dream. We’re okay – I’m here.”

He nods his head, but still struggles to draw breath. He is fully panicking.

You grab the covers and pull them over you, crawling onto the bed and laying yourself over his body. Like a weighted blanket. You take deep breaths and hope he can mimic the feeling as he feels it against his torso.

One of his hands goes to your back, holding you to him. With his other, you intertwine your fingers. You pull your hands under your chin, giving them a kiss. With your head nestled into his chest, your free hand raises to be up by his pillow. You’re able to reach his short hair, running your fingers over his head in a soothing motion.

A tangle of limbs, your body holding his down, he starts to calm. He holds onto you like his life depends on it. Like if he lets go you’ll float back into his restless dreams.

It feels like hours later you both fall asleep, holding each other.

And it was the best sleep either of you have had in weeks.

~~~

Research Websites

Atrioventricular Canal Defect

Ventricular Tachycardia

Implantable Cardioverter-defibrillators (ICDs)

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael

#okayjhannah #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #fandomfantasia

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stereksimp · 6 months ago

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Time travel fix it, but Stiles sends Derek back with the last of his magic as he dies.

*Stiles lays, bleeding out in his arms, and as he coughs up blood, he rasps out*

Stiles: Fix it, Der....please

*There is a bright flash of blue light blinds him as Stiles takes his last breath, and a buzzing grows in his ears before they pop. When he can see again, he is crouched in front of Laura's half a body.*

Derek: What....what's happening. STILES!!!!

*He runs to Stiles' house. Thankfully, the Sheriff is not home, but the jeep is there. He listens for a bit to calm down, but what he hears confuses him more.*

Stiles: Oh my god. Scott was bitten by a werewolf. Werewolves are real. Oh god, how do I tell him.

*Derek jumps up to his window and smoothly slips inside.*

Derek: Stiles I need your help.

*Stiles yelps and flails falling out of his chair. Somehow, managing to land upside down. From his position on his floor he looks up at Derek.*

Stiles: What the hell are you doing in my room? *He scrambles to get up pointing at Derek.* How do you know my name? Nevermind sheriff's kid of course you know my name. But why are you here? Wait you said you need my help. Why do you need my help? Holy shit you're Derek Hale! When did you come back to Beacon Hills?

Derek: I think I traveled back in time.

*Stiles stalls out for a second with his mouth hanging open.*

Stiles: *eyes widening* How do you know?

Derek: Well you just said Scott was bitten by a werewolf and that happened like 3 years ago for me.

Stiles: You know about werewolves. You're a werewolf aren't you. Did you bite Scott?

Derek: Yes, yes, no, but I do know who bit him.

*He smells excitement rolling off Stiles and he can see a million questions forming before his smile drops.*

Stiles: Were your whole family 'wolves?

Derek: *not knowing where this was going and mildly confused* yes.

*Stiles immediatly runs over and pulls him into a big hug. He stands stock still unsure what to do.*

Stiles: *with his face buried in his chest* I am so sorry.

Derek: What why are you sorry?

*Stiles pulls away and begins pacing.*

Stiles: Because your whole family burned alive and I always thought that the investigation was suspiciously closed fast so I stole the case file a few years ago and I figured out that your family was targeted but I could never figure out why or who called the hit. Your whole family being werewolves gives me the why. People are cruel to people that are different and I can't see that being any different if you are not fully human. I mean since I figured out that Scott was bitten I have been doing research into werewolves for the last *He glances at the clock* 4 hours and I have found a lot of stuff which includes a few sites with chats about killing werewolves and the bigoted things that I read there kinda made me queasy.

Derek: Stiles breathe.

*Stiles takes a huge breath and looks over at Derek.*

Stiles: What do you need my help with?

Derek: I knew you were smart but damn.

*Derek proceeds to to tell him everything he knows

#derek x stiles #eternal sterek #stiles stilinksi #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #derek hale #sterek fic #teen wolf fic #teen wolf headcanon #stiles is a genius #derek has no chill #derek deserves nice things #stiles is a nice thing

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sundrop-writes · 6 months ago

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(Un)Intimidated

Derek Hale x POTSie!GN!Reader Blurb

Word Count: 600

Sundrop's Main Masterlist

Warnings: the reader is gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; mentions of the reader having a 'girly' room (elements of pink and having stuffed animals); the reader has POTS - it is the main 'plot' of the fic (Derek can hear the reader's heartbeat). This is mostly just very self indulgent fluff.

A/N: So - again, I am on hiatus. But self indulgent fic ideas are getting to me. If you follow my main blog then you saw this one coming. Originally, my idea was to write something about Derek listening to the reader's heartbeat and catching them before they faint, but this fic is what happened when I started typing. Maybe I will write the other idea sometime, idk. Also, shoutout to the fact that I was writing this while having chest pains due to POTS. Wild

...

You had been assigned to ‘babysit’ Derek.

What a glamorous role: sitting in your bedroom with a man on the run from the law (only because Scott had publicly (wrongfully) accused him of murder).

When you first met Derek Hale, you had been intimidated by him. It was impossible not to be. He was more than six feet tall and impossibly broad - a giant wall of muscle that could have ripped you apart in seconds if he wanted to. But soon, you came to realize that he was… softer than other people gave him credit for. He had lost his entire family, and he was alone in the world. Of course he protected himself from that loneliness with bitterness and anger. But you saw glimpses of something else beneath.

Especially now, when he was sitting in your bedroom on your pink beanbag chair, among a pile of stuffed animals, reading a YA romance novel that you had given him to entertain himself - he was almost… cute.

He let out a gentle huff, seemingly frustrated, and you wondered if he had gotten caught up in the plot of the book - which would have been entirely amusing.

“You okay?” You asked, putting down the pen you had been using to doodle with in your journal, giving him your full attention. “I can get us a snack or something if-”

“Look, I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

“What?” You gaped, wondering if you had misheard him.

“I said: I’m sorry.” He repeated himself, slowly and a bit louder.

Unfortunately this confused you even further.

“What for?” You asked, moving to the edge of your bed and putting your feet on the floor, directing even more of your attention toward him.

“I know Scott and Stiles are making you stay with me, but you don’t have to stay here if you’re going to be… scared.” He explained slowly, quietly, choosing his words carefully. “I know I’m not exactly the friendliest person-”

“‘Scared’?” You repeated his own words back to him, unsure of what he meant. “Why do you think I’m scared?”

“Your heart has been racing for the past hour - ever since I arrived.” He explained. “I know you must be afraid of me-”

You let out a gentle laugh, shaking your head.

It was Derek’s turn to be confused now.

“I - I forgot that werewolves can do that.” You told him, putting a hand to your chest and feeling your own rapid heartbeat. “Scott told me, but…” You trailed off, and then you switched to a different line of thought completely.

“I’m not scared of you.” You announced, entirely firm.

With your heart thumping at the exact same rapid pace, Derek couldn’t tell if this was a lie or not.

“But-” He tried to argue, and you cut him off.

“I have a medical condition.” You explained.

He looked at you with curiosity, and you continued.

“It’s called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It means that my entire nervous system is whack - and my heart speeds up or slows down when it’s not supposed to. Because the part of my brain that controls my heart rate is… broken. It also causes me to faint. Way too often.”

Derek hated to hear you speak of yourself as ‘broken’, because he saw you as such a kind, perfect person. But he chose not to say anything about it.

A hint of sadness, pity, drifted across Derek’s features - anybody else would have missed it, but since meeting him, you had focused on seeing beneath the surface of his bruteness, and you had started picking up on everything more than the toughness he projected.

“Do you… need to go to a hospital?” He asked, concerned about the fact that your heart had been racing for more than an hour now.

“No.” You assured him. “It’s like this all the time. I just need a lot of water - and rest.”

He nodded.

“So - you’re not afraid of me?” He confirmed gently.

“No.” You nodded. “You’re really not that scary.”

You flopped back onto the bed in order to lay down, but you didn’t miss the tiny uptick at the corner of his mouth - the small flash of a smile that he gave you at these words.

#sundrop writes #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you

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multiversediaries · 2 years ago

Text

enough.

klaus mikaelson x reader

summary: caroline has always been the one everyone prefers and chooses over you. how dare you think klaus would be any different?

warnings: small angst!!!

part count: 2/2

a/n: hi! sorry it took me a while for me to write the second part, but i really hope you guys enjoy it!!! i loved the plot for this, but i truly had the biggest writers block on it, hence the long hiatus :3 but i’m officially back~ please enjoy and take care of me again in the future ^-^

part one

you hugged yourself, as you walked back home from the convenience store near your home. it was a chilly night. mystic falls has always been a cold city, but lately, for you, there hasn’t been a warm day. not ever since your break up with klaus mikaelson.

thinking of klaus was painful, as you remembered that night at the ball. the night you caught him lovingly staring into caroline’s eyes, and kissing her. you both ultimately broke up. well, you decided to call things off. you just couldn’t forgive his betrayal. he knew. caroline has always been a worry in your life. from past relationships to your career, everything was a competition and you always lost. klaus was no exception. it seemed klaus and caroline had actually became a couple after your break up. it was heartbreaking to say the least.

“y/n, please wait just a second. listen to me, dear.” klaus asked desperately, his eyes slowly but surely watering at the realization of what was happening. you held your suitcase close to you, your hand tightening around the handle, trying your hardest not to give in to klaus anymore.

“let me go.” you repeated once again, not daring to meet his eyes anymore.

“y/n, please.” klaus pleaded. “i’m sorry. i truly am. i never intended for this to happen.” he said, his hand trying to hold yours, but you pulled away again. apologies meant nothing. you had nothing else to say. you were done. your relationship was done.

“darling, please, just—” klaus pleaded yet again, his hands now laid on your soaked cheeks. the nickname tugging at your broken heart. a few tears left your eyes in pure anger and betrayal.

“no!” you raised your voice, your throat aching as you continued. “you kissed her!” you said, as you forcefully removed his hands from you. klaus stared, sorrow in his eyes, shaking his head.

“y/n—”

“do you love her?”

“what?” klaus asked, taken back by the sudden question. you wiped your teary eyes and spoke again.

“answer me. do you love her?” you asked once again, terrified of the answer. but needing the response.

“please..” klaus begged, not daring to respond. but you knew the answer. after all, who were you next to the caroline forbes?

you nodded in response, understanding. you weren’t her. you would never be as special as her. who were you to think you could be appreciated and loved? how naive. you sniffled, placing a few strands of your hair behind your ear, ready to walk out of his life for good. klaus looked for your eyes, worried about you, and about the hurt he has caused you. but you never met his eyes. you completely ignored his existence, and left.

you shivered gently, as warm air left your mouth. you held the grocery bag, that contained a few snacks, headache pills and a bottle of wine, to continue to drown your sorrows in. you were over him. you swore you were. but from time to time, you couldn’t help but hurt. you have never loved anyone the way you loved klaus. not matt nor tyler. no one ever came close, not that it mattered anymore.

the streets were empty, probably due to all the werewolves and vampire attacks in the city. this was no surprise to you, you were used to it. werewolves and vampires just didn’t scare you anymore. who would even try to lay a hand on you? you were klaus mikaelson’s ex girlfriend, and a close friend of the mikaelson family. the brothers and rebekah had been taking great care of you. they knew more than anybody what happened between you two, and understood your need for space. kol and elijah were very fond of you. rebekah believed they were in love with you, often joking about another love triangle. the mikaelson family has helped you so much through all of this. it has been a year. you healed, but you never wanted to see caroline or klaus ever again.

you pouted a bit, as you realized how quite far the store was from your place. you wanted to be home already. times like this is when you wished to be a vampire. the speed would really help you right now. you smirked at your dumb thoughts as you fixed your airpod, continuing your walk home. you took out your phone, wanting to skip a song, when you heard a familiar voice call out for you.

“y/n?” the voice asked, making you almost freeze in your tracks. please don’t let this be who you thought it was.

your eyes looked up from your phone screen and met his. your past lover’s eyes. the eyes of the man you so desperately loved, but you felt nothing but sadness for. you took a deep breath as you took a look at him. he looked good. healthy.

“it’s—” klaus started, before looking down at the watch in his wrist, his eyes full of worry and confusion. “it’s two am, love… why are you wandering around so late at night?” klaus asked gently, scared to anger you, or sadden you, but so worried about you.

it was very late already. it had been dangerous around town. he knew you were an easy target to hurt him. you were human, and had no protection around you. klaus lived in constant fear of waking up with the news of your death or kidnapping done by his many enemies. you tilted your head at his soft tone. you sighed softly, shrugging your shoulder.

“it’s alright. just needed something from the store down the road.” you replied, signaling at the plastic bag in your hand. he tilted his head in utter confusion, why wouldn’t you wait until morning? regardless he nodded slowly.

“i see…but why must you walk all alone at this time of night? it’s been dangerous lately.” klaus said, you furrowed your eyebrows and and looked up at him. he sounded so genuinely worried and you couldn’t understand why.

“why do you care, niklaus?” you asked, your tone tired. klaus looked into your kind eyes, and felt a rush of sadness wash over him, as he remembered his time with you.

the truth is… caroline wasn’t you. she really wasn’t, and klaus despised it. caroline was kind, but not as kind and selfless as you. she was loving, but he didn’t feel as alive with her as he did with you. she could offer him eternity, but he realized he would prefer spending a limited lifespan by your side. it wasn’t that you were caroline, it was that caroline just wasn’t you.

“i just— you do know i care so deeply about you, right? i just wanted to check up on you.” klaus half lied, he just missed you. he missed you like crazy and it was eating him alive. the big, bad original vampire was nothing with you. you chucked under your breath, not wanting to offer him a reply to his cheap excuse.

“let me walk you home, won’t you?” klaus continued, real concern in his voice, and you heard it. you bit your lip, hesitating.

“i beg. i just want to be certain that you got home safe and sound.” klaus said softly, as you started fidgeting with your hands. you sighed, nodding your head after a few minutes of hesitating. he seemed so genuinely worried, a little company wouldn’t hurt anyone after all.

it was silent most of the time. you wanted to ask. how everything was with caroline, but why would you want to hurt yourself even more? why would you care? so you didn’t ask. and wouldn’t even talk if he didn’t start a conversation first. klaus could feel his heart breaking as the silence broke out yet again. you always had something to say, something to tell him, but now you were dead silent. it pained him.

“i miss you.” klaus finally confessed, your heart stopping at his sudden words. for the first time, you looked at him, in utter shock. but klaus continued looking upfront, terrified to meet your expression. after a few minutes of thinking, you spoke up.

“you don’t get to do that.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. he nodded in agreement, biting his red lips. you were right. he has no right to even miss you at all. he was the one who caused this.

“i acknowledge that, believe me.” klaus said, a sigh leaving his lips mid sentence. you could sense the honesty in his voice. “i just wanted to tell you.” you nodded, your eyes now locked towards the floor you both walked on.

“caroline…” klaus continued, the mention of her name felt like a knife to the chest. you swallowed your hurt and continued to listen to klaus mikaelson pour his heart out for you. “she’s lovely. she’s sweet, delightful and kind…” klaus said, every one of his words deepening your wound.

“but she’s just not… you.” klaus said, stopping his walking and turning to face you. “i realized how big of a mistake i made. i knew of your past with her, and i still did it, and i want to apologize.” klaus spoke, as you listened.

“in this past year, i have done nothing but miss and love you.” klaus confessed and you felt your skin turn pale. “you are the one made for me, y/n. and i was incredibly foolish for even doubting it.”

“klaus..”

“please— let me finish.” klaus begged, his strong, big hands reaching over to hold yours. “she’s not you. she is just not the woman i am so desperately in love with. she is absolutely no one and nothing next to you. and i feel so miserable for adding onto your pain, and self doubt.” klaus continued.

“klaus—” you tried saying once again, only to be interrupted.

“i was wrong.” klaus whispered softly, his right hand now resting on your soft cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “my biggest mistake to day is hurting you.” klaus confessed, his eyes slowly watering, to your surprise. you heart was being shaken by his broken expression, the way his eyes were filled with pure regret and sadness, and how his mouth frowned at you. it took everything in you to not wrap your arms around him and console who used to be your gentle hybrid. after a while of staring into each other’s eyes, klaus spoke up again.

“would you please give me another chance to redeem myself? let me make this right, my love, please.” klaus finished, his eyes full of sincerity. the nickname he used to always endearingly call you taking your breath away instantly.

you stood in the middle of the street, with the man of your life holding you, and pleading to have you back. you bit your lip, holding back the tears that threatened to run down your cheeks. he wanted you back? he realized he was wrong? he regrets everything? you don’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry.

you wanted to give in, and be his again. you adored him. you were sure he was the love of your life. but could you even trust him anymore? after everything he put you through? after all the turmoil, heartbreak and self distrust you felt for yourself? he was part of the cause of your low self-esteem, and lack of self confidence. the person who used to be the main reason for your confidence and self love, was now the reason of your infinite sadness and self loathing.

“i can’t…” you started, your hands rushing over to remove his from your body. klaus looked at you, shocked by your actions. “i won’t go back to you, klaus.” you replied gently. even if he broke your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn’t want to hurt him. he mattered to you. the only way you were going to hurt him was by not going back to him, and letting caroline have him. that would be your revenge for everything she has put you through. letting her believe the man she wanted most loved her, when in fact, he adored you.

“darling…”

“no, niklaus.” you said gently, shaking your head. “you and caroline are perfect for each other, can’t you see?” you said, his heart tightening at your words.

“you’ve hurt me enough. how sure can i be that you won’t change your mind like you did before?” you asked, and klaus shook his head, refusing. his hands ran to your cheeks again, his forehead now resting in yours, eyes closed as he begged you. klaus mikaelson was begging you. a mere human.

“i will never. i will never commit the same mistake as before, my beloved.” klaus whispered to you, his voice breaking. you fought your tears, breaking the contact between you two.

“and what if you do? what if this happens again? i won’t put myself through this again, klaus. i deserve better.” you said, finally putting yourself first. you mattered, before anyone else. even before the man you loved.

“i just can’t find it in me to trust you again.” you said, taking a few steps back, ready to continue walking home, and leave all this behind. you wanted to start over and regain the love you once had for yourself. klaus stared at you, as tears now ran down his cheek. it took everything in you to not kiss him and forgive him in that instant.

“then please.” klaus spoke again, raising his voice, so you could hear as you walked away from him. “please keep your heart open for me.” klaus spoke for the last time, desperation in his voice. a smile creeped up in your lips, as you continued walking him.

—

taglist <3

@filternini @mjpark15 @regulus-black-223048 @vickymendes30 @angelinevalentine89 @arcticseasemeseeds @jorjakal1905 @xoxo-shy @kissforvoid @kindaslightlyacidic @wrxting

#tvd #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson masterlist #the originals angst

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crymyeyesout1 · 10 months ago

Text

Little Mate

this is part three

Part one / Part Two

poly!marauders

Summary: The marauders are all in a poly relationship with each other and Lily when they all individually become interested in a shy hufflepuff in their year. What about this little hufflepuff makes them all feel complete? Will she return their affections?

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of smut, lots of fluff, very shy oc, mentions of child abuse, swearing, kind of a soulmate au but only really for Remus. let me know if there are any more

✩₊˚.⋆✩⋆⁺₊✩

As soon as Lily set her hand on the compartment door it slid open hard, Remus had almost taken the compartment door off its hinges but Moony didn’t care. His eyes immediately searched for his newest mate and found her curled up in James’ arms hiding her face in his chest trying desperately to make herself appear smaller so no one would notice her set on THE James Potter’s hip as if she were a small child. Moony melted at his tiny girl but he growled in annoyance that she was not in his arms.

Swiftly taking her from James and cradling her in his own arms this time however acting as if she were an actual baby. Which of course she was, she was Moony’s mate therefore Remus’ baby girl.He rocked her gently as she let out a small whimper and again kept her eyes closed and pushed her face into his chest something inside her wanted to stay in this position forever.

“Mate mine” Moony said in a deep voice and leaned down to press a soft kiss on the side of her forehead. The combination of his words and actions had Abigail confused and finally tore her face from the large boy’s chest. Dull and dark blue eyes met bright piercing yellow ones and let’s just say if Remus hadn’t been holding as tight as he was she would be on the floor with how harshly she jumped, having no idea human eyes could be that color.

Sensing her stress Moony sat down bringing Abby’s small frame to straddle his lap and pushed her head into his shoulder and gently began to pet her hair.

“My mate, My baby” he chanted before finally giving Remus control of the shared mindspace. Moony was far beyond content with his current situation, his mate was finally in his arms so he could relax. Light brown eyes replaced the bright yellow.

“Hey baby, will you look at me?” he questioned his small mate that rested in his lap. She did as she was asked and was just brought more confusion when their eyes met once again.

“y-your eyes they they changed colors” she stated softly, a swirling mix of anxiety, embarrassment and confusion flooded her mind.

“Yeah they do that sometimes, little mate, but it’s okay you're here with me now and no one will ever hurt you,” He replied trying to ease the anxiety that was coming off of her in waves.

“M-mate?” Abby asked, struggling to get out of the grip he had on her waist. Was this just another man trying to control her life? Was he just like her uncle? Did he want exactly what her uncle wanted, Abby shivered at the thought, she didn’t think she could handle more of that.

“Yes little one, all of us are Remus’ mates” Lily interjected in an attempt to calm the growingly distressed girl.

“I-I don’t understand, l-let me go!” Abby pleaded with the four others in the compartment. But the grip on her waist remained firm even as Remus took one hand off and pulled it up to her chin forcing her to look into his eyes once more.

“I would rather not tell you this but it's better for you to know now rather than later. Little mate, I am a werewolf, and werewolves all have mates, usually just one of two but in our case I have four, you baby are my last mate.” Remus explained mentally preparing himself for your inevitable rejection. He expected you to be angry, to yell, to cry, but what he most certainly did not expect was for her to just keep staring at him and just responding with a small “oh” as realization dawned.

“That’s why you're all y’know?” She asked, looking at all of them.

“Together? Yes” Lily responded as Sirius responded as well “Fucking? Yes”

“Sirius stop it”

“What? She is more than welcome to join!”

“You're embarrassing her!” Lily and Sirius argued. As Abby’s cheeks just continued to get more and more red. All eyes were on her as she let out the smallest of whimpers at the yelling. It always brought back memories of her at home with her uncle, where all of his time went yelling and screaming at her along with other things she had forbidden herself to speak about.

“Stop arguing you are scaring my baby” James yelled at his loves. Just causing Abby to hide herself in Remus’ chest once again but this time strictly to hide the tears forming in her eyes, unable to stop them from flowing down her cheeks.

“Enough!” Remus hissed at his mates “She’s crying” Sirius sprang to his feet and pulled your face from Remus carefully cradling it in his palms. His ring clad fingers leaving a cold sensation of your warm cheeks as his soft thumbs brushed the tears from them.

“Baby doll” he huffed sadly “s’it the yelling?” only receiving a nod in return as you tried to pull your face from his large hands.

“Don’t like it” she mumbled, not really wanting to admit that she was scared of something as silly as yelling to Sirius freaking Black.

“Shh that's okay, now we know not to yell” He reassured her softly, but his attention caught on her full pouty lips.

“Just wanna try something and If you don’t like it you tell me alright?” He asked and you hummed in agreement, all of your attention now on him as he softly pressed their lips together. Abby froze, Sirius Black was kissing her in front of all his partners. Sensing her obvious discomfort Remus whispered “s’its okay” in her ear allowing her to melt into the kiss. Sirius’ lips were soft against hers but the kiss was firm as he deepened it, his tongue swiping against her bottom lip in a silent question for access. Abby did not grant it though , she had no idea she was supposed to though having never kissed anyone before. Sirius took this as a challenge and slightly nipped her bottom lip with his teeth eliciting a gasp from the small girl. Taking this opportunity Sirius slipped his tongue inside her mouth and began to explore only to be pulled away by a hand in his hair tugging him back, he knew it was Remus by the size of it and that only he or Lily would do that.

Remus didn’t know whether to be annoyed or turned on by the sight directly in front of his face. Annoyed because Sirius should have known that he wanted to be Abby’s first kiss, and turned on because for fucks sake two of his mates were making out literally right in front of his face. He cleared his throat as he pulled Sirius from his smaller mate, any more watching this and he would be able to control the blood rushing south. He didn’t want Abby to have to feel that as he knew by her words and actions that she was inexperienced and knew that his raging hard cock pressing against your clothed core would be too overwhelming.

“Remmy, come onnn!” The black haired boy complained to his boyfriend.

“No that’s enough, see she’s tired” Remus responded but it was weird Abby didn’t feel tired but almost as if on cue she yawned.

“Lily and I have to attend the prefects meeting as well” He told the group then turned to Abby and told her “You just rest little mate we’ll be back when you wake” as he pressed a loving kiss to her hairline and passed you to James and Lily repeated his actions and told the three of you to “be good” but Abby could tell it was more directed at the boys than it was her. She yawned again and fell into a nice nap and James began to rub her back gently.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added): @chockymilksworld @thoughtfulpandamentality @sydneyle @persephonesalvatore @hcqwxrtss123 @hermionelove @liv2post @fanficlover03 @kxnnxy @noodlesareokah

#poly!marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius and remus #lily evans #james potter #jily

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gamerwoo · 3 months ago

Text

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Two)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff, mentions that reader moved to korea, if i missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 1,953

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

Previous | Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

“So am I your captive or what?”

Chan paused, looking up from his food, “What?”

You looked back at him, still chewing a mouthful of food, sitting criss-cross on his bed while he ate on the bed opposite yours, “Are you holding me hostage here until I… I don’t know, do whatever I’m supposed to do? Succumb to Stockholm syndrome or something?”

It was the next morning when Chan knocked on your door once again, and he didn’t actually expect you to open the door for him. You looked back at him with no expression, just blinking as he stared back in surprise. He was frozen seeing you cooperating even a little bit.

Strange werewolf hunter, was all he could think.

He had told you breakfast was about to be ready, but then you scowled and stated you weren’t going downstairs to eat with the pack. Were you holding a grudge against the two members of his pack that you’d scuffled with? Well, yeah. They both hurt you pretty badly – especially that Seungmin guy. If you had a chance, you’d give him a piece of your mind.

So a few minutes later, Chan returned with two plates of food and with a grin, said he was going to eat with you upstairs. So that’s what you were doing. And, again, he was shocked you were letting him keep you company. You were…oddly nice for a werewolf hunter – or supposed werewolf hunter.

“There’s no Stockholm syndrome if you’re not captive,” he chuckled with a shrug. “I guess…yeah, you could leave if you wanted.”

You were surprised by his answer, freezing mid-bite and just staring at him for a moment. He stared back, raising his eyebrows for your response.

“You’re not gonna force me into being your mate…?” you quizzed slowly, surprised that he was telling you that you had the option to leave.

“I mean, you and I both know I’m a hell of a lot stronger than this door. If I wanted to do anything to you, I could’ve by now, but you survived a night here. Woke up safe and sound,” he pointed out. “Besides…you could probably kill me if you wanted to.”

While that was true, you didn’t know if he could sense you didn’t have any plans to do so – at least not to Chan. You had started out as a hunter, but after fleeing to Korea, your father started training you and your brother to hunt werewolves specifically. And while you might’ve been really good at most parts of the training, it didn’t mean you liked what you were doing. But you wouldn’t let your father or brother know that.

“I don’t really have any weapons that could subdue a werewolf, though,” you reminded him.

“Well maybe if someone didn’t try to pull a knife on one of my pack,” he cocked his head and gave you a pointed smile.

“Nobody got hurt,” you scoffed, going back to your breakfast.

“There would’ve been a round two in my kitchen if I didn’t catch you before you jumped Minho,” he stated.

Okay, maybe he was right. However, the question of if you’d win that fight or not was definitely debatable considering you only had that tiny pocket knife as your weapon. Among…other reasons. But again, you were unsure if he knew that. He must’ve. He probably didn’t sense any werewolf hunter with you in the house, which was actually embarrassing on your part.

You were just grateful your father and brother lacked the senses that werewolves had.

As you settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate, your mind began to wander as it tended to do since ending up in this situation. And there was a lot to think about considering Chan was a werewolf, and you were a werewolf hunter who had…very strange circumstances.

Despite the fact you were training to be his sworn enemy, Chan didn’t seem to care. It was like he completely disregarded whatever instincts he had, and had given into the mating pull already. How he managed to just let go without a care, you weren’t sure. Your favorite answer was that Chan was just crazy and didn’t know how to be careful. But you figured it was because of how strong the pull was. Because if what the hunters taught you was correct about the strength of the pull, it would lead a person to do some very crazy and dangerous things…

But you were crazy, too, weren’t you? Because you hadn’t threatened him, tried to harm him, or even tried to run away once. You stayed in his bed when you woke up that morning and just thought. You didn’t try to sneak out or scream for help. You were letting this werewolf hold you captive, but he wasn’t even holding you captive. You were just staying at your own will at this point while his arms stayed wide open, giving you an out.

Yes, both of you were crazy. But maybe you were crazier than he was because the pull wasn’t even as strong for you as it was for him.

So, to at least keep a shred of your pride, you broke the silence and said, “Don’t think that this means I trust you now. I only wanted sustenance.”

“Of course,” he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, hunter.”

“Your alpha must be angry with you,” you mused, putting a little less food into your mouth this time. “You’re a stupid wolf for imprinting on a– werewolf hunter.”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you hesitated with your words for a split second, the sentence almost flowing seamlessly but not quite as you tacked the ‘werewolf’ on at the last second.

But he didn’t seem to, scoffing with amusement by your comment, but he didn’t say why. Instead, he sat back in the chair like he was becoming more relaxed around you, especially now that your stomach had quieted.

“You’re one to talk. You let a wolf into your room when you have no weapons or defense. I even locked you in here and you didn’t complain once,” he pointed out. “I haven’t even heard you screaming for help up here.”

Your mouth opened, but silence followed instead. You almost gave yourself away, stopping before it was almost too late.

You realized Chan reminded you of him. Actually, the whole scenario did. You weren't sure you liked that, feeling your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What’s up?” Chan wondered, noticed you staring into space with your mouth open.

Your mouth snapped shut and you quickly shook your head, “Nothing.”

You were becoming too soft around him so quickly. You were getting too comfortable without realizing, and you knew it was because of the mating pull. Suddenly, you could hear your brother and father’s voices in your head.

All werewolves are bad, _____, your father spat in your face during your very first werewolf hunter lesson, Even if you think you know them, they’re evil, horrible creatures! If you don’t kill them first, they’ll turn on you eventually.

But that memory made you think of another…

It’s your fault this happened, Nolan had scoffed at you once after one of your training sessions. You weren’t very good back then because, frankly, you didn’t want to be good, and your brother was pissed at you for not putting your heart in it, If it wasn't for you, we’d still be home and everyone would be happy and alive. Then you act like you don’t even want to make things right? I should shoot you myself, you fucking traitor.

You set the food down and shoved it away from you.

“I think you should go,” you stated coldly.

Chan suddenly sat up straighter, confusion on his face at how you suddenly seemed to just flip a switch, “What?”

“Get out,” you told him, looking across the room at him, dead in the eyes.

“I– What? Wait, was it what I said?” he asked quickly with a twinge of hurt in his eyes that you definitely noticed as he stood from the bed. “_____, I didn’t mean–”

You stood from the bed and pointed at the door, “You just had to feed me. I’m fed. Go. Away.”

Chan stood as well and walked over to where you stood in the middle of the room. Without thinking, he reached out to hold your hand, “_____–”

Immediately, your instincts kicked in. You quickly turned on your heel, keeping his hand in yours while reaching for his arm with the other, holding it over your shoulder. Then you pulled and bent over, throwing the werewolf over your body until he landed with a loud thud on the hardwood.

He didn’t even seem hurt. He just stared up at you in shock. He even seemed…a bit impressed. You’d just flipped him with ease.

You were shocked yourself. Some part of you felt...bad.

But now you could hear multiple sets of feet running up the stairs, and you knew you were in for it if his pack saw that you flipped him on his back. You harmed him. You were a threat to them now. Obviously you couldn’t fight all of them, so you just wanted to keep them all away from you.

“You have five seconds to get out of my room,” you told him, sounding more panicked than menacing.

Instead, he gave you a defeated look and pushed himself off the floor before going over to the bedroom door and unlocking it. He didn’t even look behind him as he left, but you heard the whine come from his chest.

Once the door was closed and you had locked it once again, you waited until you heard the commotion of the pack retreat back down the stairs. Then you sat back down on Chan’s bed and let out a deep sigh. Why did it have to be you? You were going through enough with conflicting ideals that went against what your family wanted you to feel. Now whatever higher power out there had to make it worse and force you to have feelings for a werewolf? Why did you have to be stuck being his mate? Why you? Why you?

You decided you needed to escape. The thought sent a twinge of pain to your heart that reminded you–

You shook the thought from your head, blinking rapidly to fight back tears as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Leaving was the only option for either of you to be safe. You wouldn’t tell Chan you wanted to keep him safe, but you knew you felt it and you had to act on it. The alternative was both of you getting killed, and probably even his pack. That wasn’t something you could let happen.

You glanced at the window that was perfectly centered between Chan's bed and Felix's. You stood and went to examine it, seeing a tree not too far from the window. You could probably jump to it and then climb down. Maybe while the pack was asleep.

You’d leave that night, you decided. You felt bad, thinking about leaving without any explanation. Maybe you could find a way to get some paper and a pen or something to leave a note?

No. If there was any evidence that you felt bad leaving…

As much as it hurt, you had to do it. You had to do a lot of other things in your life that hurt, anyway, so this was no different. Suck it up and carry on like always.

You were a strong werewolf hunter, after all. You had a reputation to live up to.

»»————-　　————-««

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rippersz · 2 years ago

Text

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕

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A Larissa Weems x F!Reader oneshot (for now) - Normie Reader experiences a very sudden heat for whatever reason and oh good lord Larissa is just so hot how can anyone expect you to work under these conditions… (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, Shapeshifting Advantages, All that Jazz) (Larissa is just mentioned/imagined in this.) Am I sorry? Meh.

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There was just something in her that lit something in you.

A fire the likes of which you’d never encountered before. As though a flame was constantly flicked on beneath your heart, causing it to race, causing it to pound, causing it to bring the blood from your limbs up to your cheeks; painting you in a deep blush. Making you dizzy. Making you ache. Making you feel a type of delicious never-ending burn that seemed to spark the very moment you saw her.

Her.

Oh, her.

The same woman that made you realize that you wanted to become heavily acquainted with Lust and all of the friendly benefits it could offer. The very catalyst to your panic and your flush and the shake in your hands as you pressed yourself up against the wall of your shower and imagined it was her doing it instead. Oh how her hands would feel… how her touch would mold… how her teeth would graze and nibble and bite and gnash in ways that sent you spiraling. The muscles in her biceps flexing as she interlocked your hands and forced your arms up over your head, holding you to the chilled tile, making you shiver even if the water was hot.

It felt like the word ‘Please’ was on the very tip of your tongue whenever you passed her in the hall. ‘Please,’ you wanted to murmur to her one day, ‘Please, put me out of my misery and ruin me before I explode.’ Because that’s what it felt like, didn’t it? The strange pull in your bones, crawling up through your veins, invading your mind, it felt like you were being stretched taut and that no amount of self-assured pleasure could help release your tormented body. Explosion, at that point then, was imminent. And dangerous. You could barely concentrate on classes; you could barely pay attention to another person; you could barely think about anything other than her fingers… and her tongue… and those deep bottomless sapphire eyes - staring straight into your soul as you fell apart beneath her.

Some part of you told you that you were going through heat. That the very desperate natural human basic need for pleasure was just that - something a person experienced from time to time. Something that werewolves and cats and animals felt whenever that season came around. But you were a ‘normie’. You’d never felt that before… until Larissa Weems, of course. Until you sat down in a staff meeting one day and peered down at her painted nails and long tapered fingers and delicate hands, woven with blue veins and a wicked strength you’d never seen, and wondered what her index and middle finger would taste like when resting on your tongue. The thought still brought redness to your cheeks and drool to the inside of your mouth. It was just so terribly depraved. So desperate. So needy in a way that you wanted her to say- to tell you- to whisper in your ear while you whimpered into the warm skin of her shoulder.

‘Look at you… such a silly little thing… trembling all for me…’

All for you. All for her. All for Larissa, at all times, no matter what.

You knew that people were starting to worry about you and your actions - especially Larissa herself. She was your boss after all, she was supposed to pick up on any behavioral changes, and you had definitely changed. Without even knowing, you became far more introverted and spent more time alone than you ever had before. Though then again, most of that time was dedicated to taking care of the relentless throb between your thighs. Honestly, sometimes it got so strong that it interrupted your entire day and you had to find some way to ease the strange pangs before they got out of hand.

And you’d been doing a good job. Really, you had. You’d been taking the necessary moments to rid yourself of the feeling for at least a few hours before it came back - and that was enough. It was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it began to hurt.

Until you realized that yes, indeed, you were somehow going through heat - and there was no one there to help you with it.

–

‘Good morning Larissa,

I just wanted to email you with a quick update and say that I, unfortunately, have fallen quite ill. I don’t think I’m equipped enough to handle my classes, and I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Knowing this would get worse, I already printed out lesson plans and activities for my students. They’re all on my desk in my classroom.

Thank you - hopefully I get over this soon.

Y/N’

A quick email. That was good. You didn’t specify timing but that was fine. Your ‘heat’, for lack of a better word, had already been happening for about three weeks. If you were correct in your research, it wouldn’t be too much longer - perhaps a week or so more. Though in the long run, it would be a bigger pain in the ass than you expected. Already, your room smelled of sex and was so stuffy that you had to keep a window open constantly. And to get rid of the scent, you resorted to wall plug-ins and incense; they were the best you could think of on the fly. The rest of the issue - such as the air being far too hot - could only be remedied with a lack of clothing and many cold showers.

You supposed that was the best blessing during your time of strife- having an ensuite all to yourself. Staff were given the option to live on campus or live near Jericho, but you decided that ease of access was more important than living utterly alone. And, another plus that allowed you to let out a sigh of relief from time to time, was the fact that the teacher’s wing was very far from the students’. So any of the werewolves that wandered the halls wouldn’t smell you - as long as you stayed in your room. Thus, the email. And the isolation. And the constant worry that often came as an after-thought during your moments of… reprieve.

Even then, you truly felt you were going mad.

Tears often leaked from the corners of your eyes at night when you twisted around in bed, trying (and failing) to keep your hands from wandering about your body. You’d never experienced the phrase ‘instinctive’ to such an extent until that span of time where your searching fingers tip-tapped their way down the soft skin of your rounded tummy and found themselves drawing circles around your clit without thinking. Because it was all done without thinking. Even thinking was done without thinking.

Most of the time, your head was filled with thoughts of your boss. It was always Larissa. It was always Larissa and it was always her tall figure dwarfing your own, pushing you into a state of submission that you wanted to fall into anyway. She wouldn’t even have to try very hard - she wouldn’t even have to bend you over her lap and spank you red unless you came without her permission and she wouldn’t even- she-

‘Y/N,

I’m very sorry to hear you’ve fallen ill; please don’t worry about your classes as I can provide a substitute immediately. That being said, take as much time as you need to recover. I’ll stop by later today to chat briefly about the form you can fill out for an extended absence. Thank you for letting me know and I sincerely hope you feel better soon.

Larissa W.’

The ping of the email distracted you for a moment.

Good- that was good- your classes would be covered and you were ‘off the hook’. Great. Take as much time as you need mhm mhm… blah blah blah… stop by later today… mh-

Wait.

Wait, what?

You blinked, stared down at the lit up screen of your phone, and then blinked again.

She was… stopping… by? Later? On that day? When the clench in your abdomen was so strong that you were descending into sniffling sobs every two seconds? On that day, when you had just reached the point in which your fingers- the four you managed to fit and utilize- no longer got rid of the ache? On that day, when you were cursing yourself for never buying a fucking sex toy just for the Hell of it?

In your defense, you didn’t think you were ever going to descend into a spontaneous excruciating heat at any point in your life- but it didn’t really matter anyway.

Because whether you liked it or not, Larissa Weems, your boss, the headmistress of the Nevermore Academy for Outcasts, the main event of your wet dreams and sexual fantasies was going to stop by your room for a ‘brief chat’... and you hadn’t been clothed for three days. And your legs were trembling all the time. And the insides of your soft thighs were coated in slick constantly. And your skin was always overheated and sensitive and your voice was hoarse due to the amount of muffled screaming you pressed into the fabric of your pillow and your bed was very much unmade and your room smelled like a 24 hour sex dungeon and the blush on your cheeks had only increased tenfold by the time you sat up in your unmade bed, winced, and let out a whine.

Oh why had the Gods cursed you so?

Why had they placed a hex on your little human body and filled it with a libido that could only match the ferocity of dragons? Why did they force a potion of lust down your throat and place you in front of Larissa Weems and make you look at her with eyes of dark desire? Why did they place the image of her sloping hips and long legs and thick thighs in your mind and poison you with dreams that followed you into the waking world?

Why did you want her so badly?

Why did you yearn for her touch and why did you want her smell enveloping your body and why- oh god why- did you want to kiss her so often? Why did you want her to take care of you? Why did you want her of all people! to take you to bed and make you see stars? Why did you want red lipstick covering your skin and why did you want your face between her thighs and why did you want to feel her come apart beneath you? Why did she drive you wild? Why did she force you into a state of fluster that you could only pull yourself out of when you were alone?

Why did she plague you?

“I can’t do this…,” you suddenly confessed to no one in particular as you let out a sigh.

The fire had dulled to a simmer long enough for you to stand and slowly make your way to the bathroom.

Pain experienced during heat, you came to find, was far different than any other pain. It was like you felt empty - utterly disgustingly empty - and your body hated that. It rebelled. It made your abdomen, your fucking womb, feel hot. And after the heat, it began to ache. Like you were sitting on the edge of an orgasm and you needed that extra push- that extra kiss- that extra lick of praise- to send you tipping off the edge into an ocean of bliss…. But you couldn’t have it. The push, the kiss, the praise wasn’t there. Nor was the thrust of strong hips, or the scratch of fingernails, or the hissed growl of dominance in your ear. None of it. And your body knew that, so it made you clench and unclench constantly; and it punished you for your negligence and made your clit extra sensitive and your nipples hard and eager to be teased and your skin- oh your poor skin- was practically begging for someone to touch it. To mark it. To hold it and squeeze it and bite it and make it theirs.

Make it hers.

Goodness, you were pathetic. The fog that fell over your mind whenever you thought of Larissa was so hypnotizing that once your thoughts got going, they couldn’t stop.

‘Think of her,’ the strange lustful monster within you hissed, ‘Think of her and all of the sinful things she could do to you. Think of her hands pulling your hair, think of her warm thighs straddling your waist, think of her tongue running itself along your neck… and down your chest… and lower and lower… lower… pooling with drool and letting it drip-drop onto your cunt… licking at your clit…’

A whimper slipped past your lips as soon as you stepped into the water of your shower.

The heat was both soothing and torturous, doing you no favors as it instantly glazed the top of your mind; normally you’d prefer to make it cold to put a damper on your libido, but the need to get off yet again overpowered any lingerings of common sense.

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, there was no common sense during ‘heat’. At all. You figured that out rather quickly when, on the fourth day of wanting to be fucked mercilessly, you began entertaining thoughts of breeding. Of course you didn’t want a child. But the thought… the thought… of such warmth in you… filling what was always so painfully empty… of someone- of her- holding you down and breeding you full, growling that you were to be hers forever, was something that had you cumming in under five minutes. You simply couldn’t help it. And ever since that thought, it was as though you crossed into the dark side. All kinds of kinks and experiments filtered into your horny little brain, and all you could do to keep yourself from going crazy was to keep orgasming until your fingers could barely move.

It was the worst experience of your life…

…when you weren’t sitting on the built-in shower stool and thrusting three fingers into yourself, imagining Larissa watching you from beyond the glass. It was terrible except for when you pictured her telling you to go faster, to slow down, to take your fingers out completely and spread your folds wide so she could coo over how cute you looked when your cunt ached for her touch. It was maddening while you weren’t fantasizing about her stepping into the shower with you- all 6 feet, 3 inches of her- and threading her perfect hand in your hair and pressing you to her venus mound and making you kiss it until you came around your own fingers. Then making you stick your tongue out and look up at her as she slowly rolled her hips, coating you in a taste you knew you’d never ever get tired of.

Maybe even… oh god… maybe even shifting that part of herself and surprising you by sliding the head of her cock into your mouth and making you worship her until you forgot your own name. Running your eager tongue along the hot veins… peering up through your eyelashes as she slowly- slowly- craned her head back and let out a deep bone-shaking groan… Unable to help herself as she pushed you down just a bit more, slowly making that ‘pretty mouth of yours’ (as she called it) take as much of her as it could.

“There… yes, right there darling…” You could practically hear her words, as if she were with you, while your eyes rolled back and your other hand came up to rub furiously as your clit.

Unfortunately, even as you sat there and felt the prickling wave of heat wash over your body, clenching tightly around your own fingers while you orgasmed, you knew that it wouldn’t be enough. You knew that the water running down your face was mixed with frustrated tears. You knew that no climax you reached all by yourself would ever be able to properly satiate your body and every thing it was feeling. After all, a ‘normie’ was not supposed to experience ‘heat’ - and your mind was already so close to breaking all by itself.

It was just a shame that Larissa wasn’t there to snap it in half for you.

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This was just a quick exercise - I want to better my smut writing abilities. New updates soon and all that. Any thoughts on a Part 2? - Ripley x

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