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simp-ly-writes · 2 months ago

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OH, BABY!

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Boyfriend!Spencer Agnew x gn!Partner!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Smosh Baby #2! The sequel nobody knew they wanted or needed that finds you walking around the office with a robotic baby and leads to you and Spencer realizing that getting another cat was the best choice for now.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, established relationship, no mentions of pregnancy only wanting to have kids later, children, light swearing, domestic fluff, fluff, suggestive themes, attempt at humour.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,000~

─ · · A/N: This was so fucking cute and wholesome to write, thank you so much @itgirlcat for the wonderful idea. So much love your way! 🫶

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"You're kidding me," was all you could think to say while deadpanning towards the camera that a crew member held closely to your face. Their ominous laughter ran down your spine as all the blood drained from your face, 'I am NOT ready to be a parent.'

And next thing you knew you were being lead into a dark room, a singular bassinet laid there in wait as you took steady steps towards it. To your surprise, Tommy jumped out from seemingly nowhere as you screamed and ducked down behind the bassinet.

"Throwing your own kid in the line of fire... and I thought we couldn't get a worse parent than Angela-" Tommy began to say, spinning around the bassinet for you to see a small robotic baby staring back at you.

"Hey, I was a good fucking parent, and we all know that!" Angela yelled from across the room as the house lights came back on and you were unsure of where one bit ended and another started.

"So let me get this straight, you want me to... watch over this baby for the WHOLE day? I have work, and responsibilities-" you began to ramble, somewhat dreading the day ahead as the robotic cries started to drown your senses.

Tommy picked up the baby, giving it a kiss o the head before shoving it in your arms and showing you how it worked as you quietly nodded along. Now taking a closer look to what the infant was wearing: a small Smosh games hoodie seemingly custom made with a little pair of jeans and leather boots to match.

"OMG ITS SPENER!" you yelled out in excitement, all worry and your ability to listen to the instructions going outside the window as you placed the baby on your hip and walked straight to Spencers desk to show him apparently his new son.

─────── · ·

Turning past the kitchen/break room and into the office spaces, you walked along the faux-glass walls before reaching your boyfriend Spencers shared space with Damien and Shayne, the later two no where to be seen as Spencer sat hunched over his desk. Infamous can of Kickstart within reach and a framed picture of the two of you just to the side of it.

You remember that picture fondly when you accompanied him and his family on vacation back to Florida, touring where he went to school and grew up brought a smile back to your face. Especially the baby photos what were all across his parents' home walls, you look down to baby Spencer, silently asking them if they are ready themselves- not truly expecting an answer you clear your throat and watch as he fixes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turns around.

"Hey! How're..." Spencers sentence slowly falls off as he takes in the little person within your arms with a raised brow. Shock is raised in his eyebrows, a certain softness in his gaze as he moves to stand, greeting the robot in your arms with a soft whisper. "And who is this little guy, lookin' very handsome."

"Mhmm, I guess so..." you sass back- Spencer can only scoff in return. You try to hold in a laugh as you pass over the baby into his arms, taking in the sight with a tilt of your head and matching his earlier tone, "This is Spener, my... baby..." you are unsure of how to properly address the situation and by the sour expression of unsureness on your face has Spencer laughing wholeheartedly.

"I can't believe you cheated on me," he fakes a sob, holding the baby closer to his chest as you wrap an arm around him. "You know I could physically never, Spencer. I mean we both are still virgins!" you state towards the camera with a wink that Spencer joins and in that moment Shayne and Damien appear back from their break.

"Spener and Spener!" Damien greets with a wide smile, pulling you away from Spencers side with a hug before sitting down at his desk and Shayne does the same, not even batting an eyelash to the scene before doing a double take.

"What the fuck you guys?" Shayne states in disbelief, now at a full stand one more, only to let a sigh out in relief as he takes a step closer. "Oh, we are doing another one of these videos? Do you think you are going to be a better mom than Angela-"

"I heard that!" Angela yells from seemingly no where yet appears right behind you, wagging her finger in Shaynes space as Amanda steps out from behind her. "I hate these babies," Amanda states, looking disgustedly at the robotic creature as it gets passed around the friend circle before ending up in her arms.

Its robotic screeches happen once more as everyones gazes snap towards you and the keys swirling around in your hand. It takes you a moment to realize why everyone is staring at you before you take the baby out of Amandas arms and towards the couch behind Spencers desk and take a seat.

Pulling up the back of baby Spencers hoodie you insert one of the keys into its back, praying for it to be the right guess upon first try- it was not. Pulling it back out, irritation growing over the deafening cries as you can hear multiple people moving around their offices. Ians just behind you all, God I hope I don't get fired for this. You joke to yourself before the cries stop once more, apparently it needed a diaper change.

─────── · ·

Over the next few hours, you bring the baby into every meeting both in person and across zoom. Into the bathroom as you had to turn the face away from you, feeling utmost awkward with your fake child. And even on videos and live streams, your favourite of which was trying to make bits with it... them- in Try Not To Laugh.

Lets just say its easier said than done getting the right costume to put with a baby carrier strapped across your front. The TikTok you filmed for the main channel was doing increasingly well as comments flooded in, loving to see you with baby Spenner walking around the office and how everyone also worked with baby Spencer.

─────── · ·

Your day continues outside of the office as you and Spencer sign yourselves out of the office and decide to make a home video on your phones cameras. Taking the baby to the grocery store as you look over the various baby foods, baby Spener sitting in the cart as the actual Spencer rests his hand across your hip or the small of your back, walking with you and the cart through isles while picking up things you both actually need for your apartment.

"Babe do we need more eggs or did we grab those last week?" Spencer asks from down the isle as you look over the snack selection, now bouncing baby Spener in your arms. "No, we have some left still," you call back before pointing at the various colours and designs for the two of you.

Spencer smiles warmly, crouching down beside you both as he takes a photo and pulls some chips from the isle, placing them in the cart. "Park next?"

"I like the sound of that." And to the park the three of you go, some part of you did feel like a bad parent, holding the baby in your lap while going onto the main roads without a baby seat in the back. Yet you remind yourselves this is just for the video, not an actual baby, its just a robot.

While at the park, you take a short video of Spencer and... Spener going down the slide together. You push them lightly in the baby swing and go on the sea-saw together before taking a walk on the beach to end the day. Watching the sun set over the water you turn to look at Spencer to see him already looking down at you.

"You know... I don't think I would mind this being our future. Not anything soon... but I really like the idea of this later," Spencer comments, looking for your reaction before matching your smile as you lean to put your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist. "How about another cat for now?" You tease yet a part of you is being very serious in that moment, feeling as Spencer stills before rubbing small circles into your side with his thumb.

"What would we name them?" Spencer asks, looking down at the robotic baby in your lap that is now in nap mode... or more likely out of batteries as you both forgot to return to the office.

"Well... I do like the name Spenner-"

"Oh fuck off," Spencer whisper-shouts, yet you can hear the smile in his words as he shuffles to look at the side of your face.

"Okay, but how about Spoons or like Crash... Bandit?"

"Cyclops? Dee?-"

"-Last name twenty?"

"Read my mind babe."

─────── · ·

When you both return to the office the next day, everyone looks anxiously at the baby as you hold it up like Simba and announce. "It is out of batteries, we win these!!!" you cheer as the office claps and joins you. Courtney running over to give you a hug as Tommy takes the child finally from your hands.

"Ready to see how you did?" Tommy asks in a teasing tone, already leading you away from the group as everyone gets ready to start work for the day. The cameras are already set up in the set you started this experiment in, now literally seeing it in a new light as the crew had placed lamps around the room and a small carpet on the floor to create a more homely atmosphere.

"Did I kill it?" you question as Tommy stares at the back lights of the infant with speculation before putting back down its hoodie and placing them gently back in the bassinet. "(name)..." Tommy starts as you can already hear the dramatic sound effects being added in post-production.

"Tommy..." you tease back, leaning more closely in as he too does the same, your noses almost touching before you both pull back with a laugh. "Well, I can officially say that you did NOT in fact kill the baby, and you did better than Angela, congrats! But the bar was already on the floor-"

"I. Am. NOT. A. Bad. Parent. You take those words back Tommy!" Angela shouts once again, turning up in the most unknown of places and all you can do is laugh, loving this bit of the video before doing your outro to the camera.

"Thank you all for getting through this video, if you see a new fuzzy child on either me or Spencers instagrams in the near future... you now knew why," you laugh a bit before continuing. "So please like, subscribe, share this to all your friends and family to show them how much of a better parent you could probably be than me!"

And the camera fades to black.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Pit just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Another Smosh Baby?!

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 67k | 👎 8.36M subscribers 300k views 1 week ago it's official... click to read more

1,110 Comments

username01 (name) and spencer are couple goals. like did anyone elses heart hurt during that montage. i would sell my literal soul to have that at least once in my life, even if just for an hour or two...

↳ username88 woah okay my dude, do you want to talk about it because damn? ↳ username01 god i was really in my feels when i wrote that shit lol...

username20 Those "Angela not being a good mom" bits throughout the video were so funny. It was like something out of a horror film mixed with looney tunes logic XD

username14 24:01 That montage was giving me the UP movie scene and I was not ready to cry like that on my lunch break 😭 ughhh why must they be so perfect with one another

username54 Anyone else wondering where Tommy keeps getting all these kids from? LMAO /positive

username70 OMG (name) and Spencers new cat is so cute!!!!!

↳ username88 OMG OMG OMG, what did they end of naming she/him/them??? ↳ username70 They ended up adopting a stray, she is called Dee! (last name twenty)! ↳ username88 so cute! i am so happy for them 😭🫶 ↳ username70 me too, me too. 😭

username19 (names) change up from the start of the video is so visually poetic, the arts department and editing bay were both COOKING on this one. Chefs Kiss! 😘

username30 15:24 yeah sure... you both are virgins mhmmm.

username45 when (name) and Spencers wedding happens its going to be a civic holiday, i'm telling you this now. we all are not readddyyyy for itttt

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─ · · A/N: I wrote this surprisingly quickly- hope you all enjoyed, let me know what you want more of or if you'd like to see something different! 😄

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2

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sage-lights · 2 months ago

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could i rest here for a while?

word count: 1958 VidCon afterhours in Amanda and Angela's hotel room. (for the everyone in the amangela group chat. and especially for the kindest soul, @babychosen. ❤️‍🔥)

“Would you quit shuffling around over there? I can barely hear what’s going on in the 911 call,” Amanda chides, rolling her eyes playfully, though the flicker of frustration in her voice is mixed with a fondness she can't quite hide.

“Turn up the volume then! You’ve got a remote for a reason,” Angela fires back, her voice laced with mock annoyance.

Amanda turns on her side and looks over at the wiggling form to her left, “What are you even doing over there?”

“I’m trying to find a comfortable position to settle in.”

“You’ve sunk so far into the bed that it looks like the comforters are swallowing you whole,” comments Amanda. She leans forward to grab her phone from the nightstand between their beds and snaps a picture of Angela. In a sea of pearl white bed sheets, only Angela’s head pokes up out of the blanket.

“No, wait! No, don’t take a picture, ‘Manda!” Angela yells indignantly, thrashing slightly under the covers.

Amanda laughs at her mini tantrum, “You look like a floating head, Angie.” She turns the phone around to show Angela the photo in her camera roll.

“I look horrible in that! Oh my god, you have to delete it.”

Amanda hums in response, placing her phone back on the nightstand without deleting the picture, and directs her attention back to The First 48. She can hear Angela huffing out of frustration, and Amanda smiles to herself. On the screen, dramatic flashes of the evidence photos paired with an even more dramatic voiceover was setting the scene of the crime.

“The gruesome murder of the perfect all-american girl shook this otherwise quiet Nebraskan town. Who could’ve carried out such a horrific crime? All eyes turned to the quarterback boyfriend, the last person to see Jennifer Wiles alive.”

Amanda hears Angela snickers softly to herself and muses, “Imagine being in the voiceover booth for a job like this. Like, how many takes of this do you think they have to do?”

“Cut!” Amanda mocks, dropping her voice to a deep Southern accent, “Sorry, can we get that line again? Maybe this time, try to sound more like you’re a cop who couldn’t give less of a shit about this case. Alright, ready? Take 56, action!”

Angela repeats the voiceover, but with the strangest intonation and facial expressions known to man, causing Amanda to double over in laughter.

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound like that. It was like you were a baby learning to speak for the first time,” Amanda manages through labored breathing.

“That could be a fun game though,” muses Angela, “trying to give the worst line read ever.”

“Okay wait, I think you’re onto something!” They take turns, each read more outrageous than the last, their playful banter filling the room with warmth and joy. Eventually, after a particularly hilarious exchange that leaves them both breathless, they finally settle back into their cozy positions, the laughter slowly subsiding as they resume watching the show.

Suddenly, Angela shoots up from her slouched position and messily kicks the comforters off of herself. Before her feet are even fully situated in her hotel provided slippers, Angela is tripping over herself to get to the counter next to the TV with the coffee maker and concessions.

“What are you doing over there?” Amanda asks and then tilts her head, “Huh, feels like I was just asking you that.”

Angela rifles through the snacks, excitedly holding up a folded brown paper bag shrink wrapped plastic, “Amanda. Lehan. Canto. How good does popcorn sound right now? Every good movie night needs to have popcorn.”

Amanda raises an eyebrow skeptically, “Never once during our movie nights have you ever craved popcorn.”

“Okay, well, where the hell am I gonna find goat cheese, salami, and crackers to make a charcuterie board for us right now?” Angela rips the plastic wrapper off, crumbles it into a ball, and tosses it into the trash.

“Check the market pantry in the lobby,” shrugs Amanda.

“Ugh, too far away,” Angela sticks the unpopped kernels into the microwave and sets a timer for two minutes.

“Lazy.”

Angela sticks her tongue out at Amanda, “Yeah, and what about it?”

“You know you have to pay for that, right?” Amanda props her elbows up on her legs in front of her and rests her chin in her hands, watching Angela intently. The siren sounds of the Wiles case echoing from the shitty hotel speaks are momentarily forgotten.

“Company card, duh. Smosh can pay for it. VidCon is technically a company trip anyways.”

“I’m telling Ian and Anthony that you’re wasting their money on late night snacks. Gonna run Smosh into bankruptcy and then we’re all going to be out of jobs. All because someone wanted popcorn.”

“It’s one bag, ‘Manda, chill,” right as Angela begins to defend herself, the microwave dings. She grabs the inflated and buttery bag, but immediately drops it back onto the glass tray. Quietly, she whispers Ow, hot and opens the fridge under the desk to soothe her burnt fingertips against the cold interior walls.

“You okay?” Amanda asks, her voice softening.

“Yeah, the bag was just hotter than I expected.”

“Well, duh. It’s literally steaming because of the microwave.”

With her sufficiently iced fingers, Angela carefully carries the popcorn back over to her bed and settles back in, “Wow, and for a second I thought you were actually being nice to me.”

Now it’s Amanda’s turn to stick her tongue at Angela. Childish, she knows. But with Angela, she doesn’t feel embarrassed acting a little immature. And besides, Angela did it to her first.

Amanda sticks her hand out expectantly across the divide. Angela eyes her in disbelief, “You have the audacity to talk so much shit while I was making popcorn and now you want to ask for some? No way, go make yourself your own bag.”

“I don’t want a whole bag's worth, just, like, half a bag's worth.”

“Interesting. Splitting my bag between the two of us would mean you get half a bag of popcorn. Huh, how convenient!”

“You know what they say, sharing is caring!”

Reluctantly, Angela passes the bag over, “You’re lucky that I love you.”

Amanda slowly pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth, a smug grin spreading across her face as she savors the buttery flavor. Angela’s gaze lingers on Amanda’s lips for a moment before she shakes herself from the thought, quickly refocusing on the show.

For a while, they take turns handing the bag back and forth, sharing the snack like it’s a playful game. But as the night wears on and the light from the TV flickers dimly, the fun begins to fade. With every pass, Angela feels the weight of fatigue pulling her down, and the popcorn-sharing routine starts to feel tedious.

“Okay, I’m tired of you hogging all my popcorn,” Angela grumbles, half-heartedly glaring at Amanda. “Passing the bag back and forth is so fucking annoying.”

Amanda chuckles, “Alright, alright,” she replies, scooting over to the right side of her bed, “Here, we can share my bed instead.”

“Oh, of course. You’re making me move,” Angela says, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. She’s already climbing out of her bed, shuffling over to Amanda’s side. Curling into Amanda’s warmth is one of the few moments where Angela feels her hyperactive brain quiet down completely. It’s peaceful beside Amanda; Amanda is her peace.

“Hey, you’re the one complaining about sharing the popcorn. I’m totally okay with tossing kernels into your mouth and having you catch them, if that’s more your speed.”

“Shut up, you’re stupid,” Angela half-heartedly retorts, pulling the blankets over her and mirroring the position she was in moments before in her own bed. Amanda mimics Angela’s position, sinking down further. She wraps her left arm around Angela’s shoulders, pulling her closer into her side. Angela, a willing victim, lets herself be enveloped in Amanda’s warmth. She rests her head on Amanda’s chest, sighing.

Nestled in the ripples of the blanket between them is their joint custody bag of popcorn, like a child squished between their parents. For the first time all night, they don’t say anything to each other.

It’s so silent that Amanda can hear Angela’s even breaths. She’s sure Angela can hear how fast her heart is beating through her chest. Unconsciously, Amanda begins to stroke the length of Angela’s arm with her fingers, feeling the warmth radiate between them.

As Amanda looks down at Angela, who was now fast asleep with the arm Amanda was caressing slung over her stomach, a warmth spreads through her chest. She finds herself wanting to lean down and press a soft kiss on Angela’s forehead. But as she leans closer, hesitation creeps in. She pulls back and clears her throat, trying to forget the urge.

After a while, Amanda can feel her eyes start to droop. She hasn’t paid much attention to this episode of The First 48 to be invested in seeing the resolution.

“Baby,” Amanda whispers. No response. She tries again a little louder, “Ang? Angela?” Still nothing.

Fuck, Amanda thinks, What do I do?

For all the times they’ve had a movie night or simply hung out at each other’s apartments, never have they stayed the night, let alone shared a bed like this. What was the protocol for something like this? Was Amanda supposed to keep trying to wake Angela up? Maybe carry her back to her bed?

Amanda hesitated, glancing at the empty bed across the room, then down at Angela, who had curled closer into her side. The thought of waking her up felt wrong—she knew her friend had been working herself to the bone between the shooting schedule of Smosh, rehearsals for the newest Starkid musical, filming days for her podcast, and whatever other creative projects Angela promised her friends she’d be a part of. It seemed like this was the first time in days that she’d actually rested.

Maybe Amanda could move to Angela’s bed. Slowly, Amanda tries to sit up and release herself from Angela’s grasp. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect as Angela holds onto Amanda even tighter, furrowing her eyebrows disappointedly.

Amanda sighed. She could move, give Angela her space, but the weight of exhaustion tugged at her, her limbs heavy with fatigue. Maybe it was fine—just for tonight.

Amanda feels around for the remote, turns off the TV, and gingerly places it on the nightstand. She’s careful not to hit Angela, and flicks the light switch off too, engulfing their room in darkness. She sank back into the pillow, carefully wrapping her arm around Angela again, her eyes fluttering shut almost instantly.

With another yawn, Amanda settles in. Before she knows it, she’s dead asleep as well, wrapping herself around Angela.

(Angela blinked, waking to a mouthful of hair that wasn’t her own. Her fingers twitched beneath something warm, and as her brain slowly caught up, she realized her hand was flat against Amanda’s stomach.

Oh, shit.

Her heart raced. She carefully glanced up, making sure Amanda was still asleep. Thankfully, she was, her features soft, her messy hair falling across her face.

Angela’s eyes lingered a moment too long—despite everything, Amanda still looked beautiful, even like this. But the panic snapped her back. Gently, she slid her hand out from under Amanda’s shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her.

Moving quickly, she rushed through her morning routine, her pulse still pounding in her ears as she fled the room. She just needed some space to think.)

(When Amanda wakes up, she immediately notices how cold the left side of the bed suddenly feels.)

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #smosh #amangela #smosh rpf #smosh fanfiction #i’m not totally happy with how it turned out but it’s an idea i’ve had for so long and seeing the group chat explode with everyone’s #fictober stories inspired me to write something again!!#posting this right before a big midterm exam too so let’s hope this brings me luck :’)

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xetlynn · 1 year ago

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Twilight- The Switch Of Daylight- Chapter One, Birthday Wishes

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[One] [Two]

Charlie and I are downstairs, getting the gifts ready right before we make our way up to go wake up Bella.

Or she’s already up we just need to give her these presents. Charlie goes up first with me behind him excited. He knocks on the door once and then enters. “Happy Birthday, Bells.” He says. “Dad, [Name] we agreed no gifts.” She tells us and I roll my eyes. “At least mines is not wrapped.” He hands her a digital camera, “Okay, this is actually kind of great. Thanks, Dad.” She grinned at it, Charlie then gives her another gift, this time it was wrapped.

“Goes with this one, from your mom. We coordinated- well, she coordinated me.” He explains and I smirk as I did hear all their phone calls. “Mines not a part of it.” I hand her mine, “Don’t open it yet.” She nods and places it next to her. She opens the gift from Mom, it’s a scrapbook. “To put your pictures in, record your senior year.” He says then pauses as he thinks for a moment. “Man, senior year. How’d you get old so fast.” He teases her. “Not that old,” Bella mutters.

“I don’t know, is that a wrinkle.” He jokes but Bella freaks out, racing over to her mirror, searching for the wrinkle. “I was kidding.” He huffs. “So not funny Dad.” She grunts.

Charlie makes his leave and I close the door behind him. “Open my gift.” I grin. “[Name]-” “I don’t want to hear it.” I cut her off, shoving the gift in her arms. I patiently wait as she opens it. There lay two silver bracelets in a box. Had two charms each on both, hers having a dark blue gem then a plate that had the words “Love you, always” engraved into it. Mine had a red gem with the same saying. She smiles and then pulls me into a hug. “I keep forgetting how cold you are now.” She laughs, stepping back and we put the bracelets on one another. “I love it, thank you.” She jingles it around and I snicker, doing it back.

“I’m glad because I had no idea what to give you. But I wanted to piss you off with a gift.” I winked, and before she could say anything back I was already out the door.

I rode my motorcycle to school, I had told Angela that I’d give her this book I owned but I kept forgetting. Pulling into the school Angela’s already jogging over to me. “You brought it?” I then let my face drop jokingly, she doesn’t know I’m joking though. “It’s okay if you forgot again-” I cut her off with my own laughter, pulling out the book from my backpack. She sighs and chuckles too, taking the book from me. “I had to.” I bump her and then stand up from my bike. Taking off my helmet and placing it on the bike. I turn back to her with a smile, fixing my hair as well.

“I miss your septum.” She suddenly says and I raise a brow. She starts to stammer as I patiently wait for her to let it out. “I mean, I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud it’s just um, you got rid of it out of nowhere it was a part of you and now it’s like an empty... Space.” I cross my arms, kind of agreeing with her. “I guess that’s true.” I shrug. I walk her to the others but not even within minutes Bella comes and they rush over to her truck like a flock of geese.

I watch as Bella forces them to take pictures on her new camera, they all have fun with it even though Angela doesn’t like pictures she joins in as well. It was cute. It ended as fast as it started though once that familiar Volvo pulls into its normal parking space. I smirk as their faces falter. “Oh good, Cullen’s here.” I hear Mike say dryly. “Yay,” Jessica adds. They walk back over to where I was. Jessica turns to me “You’re dating the other two but you’re not like obsessed with them.” If only she knew. I shrug, “Too many homophobic and judgy people for that.” They all give me a look. “You know I’m right.” I laugh, I then notice Jacob running towards my sister, Edward seems very irritated. I didn’t even realize the group went away from me as arms wrapped around my waist, lips kissing my shoulder. I take the arms, pulling the person in front of me, I already knew it was Alice. We stood there waiting for Jasper to join us.

We walk into the school together. Alice and Jasper holding hands. Alice was holding a wrapped gift in her other hand. “Do you think she will like it?” She asks me and I take an annoyed breath. “Bella doesn’t like gifts in general but she will appreciate them.” I was not annoyed with Alice, but more with my sister who acts like she doesn’t secretly like the attention she inevitably will always get on her birthday. We went to the side of the hall, I kiss Jasper’s cheek. “Hey, cowboy.” He scoffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. Ever since he told me his backstory I’ve been teasing him about being a “cowboy”. “Hi, darling.” He whispers for me to hear. I peek over to see Alice staring at us, we look slightly down at her since she is shorter than us.

I pull her into our arms, she looks up and pecks at my lips. “You know for your birthday you’re going to get spoiled, right?” She tells me in a matter-of-fact tone. “I look forward to everything you wish to give me.” I place my hands on her hips as Jasper then points out that Bella and Edward are walking through the door. As Jasper and I walk slowly Alice skips over to my sister, presenting the present. “Happy-” “Shhh” Alice hugs her, leaning over to her ear and whispering “Birthday.” Over Alice's shoulder, she makes eye contact with Jasper who offers a nod. She pulls back from Alice, trying to hide the gift. “Alice, didn’t I say no gifts?”

“You did, I didn’t. I’ve already seen you open it and guess what? You loved it!” She excitedly says. “You had a vision about my birthday.” Bella seemed annoyed but I knew she appreciates my girlfriend. “And about the green dress, you’ll be wearing to your party tonight. Great color on you.” She compliments her, also giving away the fact that she’s throwing a party for her.

“My party?”

“Please? It’ll be fun.” Alice pleads, I hold Jaspers's hand. “Can I?” He only nods and I drain his energy then focus on Bella who slumps, defeated. Only because I’m controlling her emotions. “I guess I can deal-” “Great! See ya at seven!” Alice hugs her before racing off before she can change her mind. I laugh, squeezing Jasper’s hand as a thank you. “Wait, Jasper, no fair with the mood control.” She pouts and he gives her an apologetic nod. “Wasn’t me,”

“Was me!” I called, we get dragged off by Alice leaving my sister slightly upset.

I told Charlie about the party, I was wearing this black suit that Alice requested I wear. Lately, she’s been dressing me in what style she thinks fits me best. Very fancy stuff I might add. I left on my bike to go help finish setting things up.

Getting there I was set to be with Carlisle on some things. I hold my hands behind my back pretending to act innocent. “Do you think I can change without Alice getting upset?” I ask him and he laughs shaking his head. “No, not at all.” We lean against the kitchen counter, watching Alice who is making sure everything is perfect. “I figured.” I take off the jacket to the suit though.

Bella and Edward finally make their way into the house, she’s wearing the exact dress Alice told her about in her vision. I smile, finishing up with Carlisle before heading over to Jasper, giving him a quick kiss. “What was that for?” He asks and I kiss him again. “Just wanted to,” I tell him happily. “You look amazing.” He compliments, I roll my eyes. “I never want to wear a suit again.” He laughs in response. “I’m serious.” “I know you are.” He kisses the top of my head.

Alice comes between us, taking our hands and leading us into the living room. “You two look perfect.” We lean down so she can give us both a kiss. We stand up straight and chuckle at her as she goes to get the lovebirds upstairs.

The three make their way down the steps, and Bella is immediately embraced by Esme and Carlisle. “Sorry about all this. We tried to rein Alice in.” He humors her. “Like that’s even possible. Happy Birthday, Bella.” Esme steps back with a grin on her sweet face. I notice Alice holding up a camera right as she clicks it to go off. The flash startled my sister a tiny bit. “Found it in your bag. You mind?” She asks, Bella shakes her head no as in she doesn’t mind.

“Dating an older woman. Hot.” Emmett speaks up to Edward. I hide my face in Jaspers's shoulder laughing. “What?” He asks defensively after Edward had elbowed him.

Rosalie then steps up, handing Bella a silver package. “It’s a necklace. Alice picked it out.” She walks away. Short. Not sweet. But short.

Bella finally looks over to Jasper and I. She waves and I know it’s for him, he does it back and I smile, proud of him. Alice snaps a picture of him and I then back to Bella. “Show me the love!” Edward pulls Bella into an embrace, they look deeply into one another's eyes. Another flash. “For your scrapbook. Now open your presents.” She drags the girl over to a table with a pile of gifts, a huge cake, and a stake of chine plates.

“Alice, I’m the only one who even eats.” She motions to the huge cake. “Hope your hunger. Here, this one’s from Emmett.” Everyone crowds around, I stand in front of Jasper. Bella opens it to see an empty car radio box. “Um… thanks?” She looked up, confused. “Already installed it in your truck.” He proudly states.

“Finally a decent sound system in that piece of-” “No hating on the truck. Thank you, Emmett.” Bella smiles then Alice hands her another gift. “Open mine.” Bella starts to open it then she cuts her finger on the wrapping. “Ouch, paper cut.” Blood appears and I feel Jasper tense and I get pushed aside. “No!!” I shouted as he lunges at my sister. Edward flings Bella behind him causing her to crash into the table. The plates shattered beneath her. I run over to her as Edward shoves Jasper into the wall but he ricochets off it and comes back at Bella. Emmett along with Carlisle tackles Jasper to the ground, Alice holds him whispering to him to comfort him. I groan at the scent of her blood, trying to help her. My jaw tensed.

Bella lifts her arm up and a pool of blood leaks out. I grunt, getting her to stand up. “I need to get out of here,” I say through gritted teeth. Accidentally pushing her onto Carlisle I storm out of the house. Not even moments later Emmett and Rosalie bring out Jasper.

I stare at him, draining his energy, his snarls coming to a complete stop. The two let him go and he falls to the ground as he’s losing more and more control of himself. I don’t even realize how far I am going. “[Name]! Calm down!” Alice shoves me back and I stumble back. He lays there collecting himself. “He- My sister. I am not sorry!” I rub my face, and looking back at him I notice dark circles under his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to go that far.” I bow my head down. “I forgive you, I need the night to myself and my sister though,” I tell them both, frowning at the sight. I go back inside and Edward was waiting outside of the door where Bella was getting cleaned up.

“You hurt her.” I spit out, his eyes glancing up at me. “You have brung nothing but trouble to our lives,” I tell him with sincerity. “I wouldn’t have been a monster if it was for you entering her life.” I point a finger at his chest, but he doesn’t respond. “I am angry that I now have to risk her life just from a cut.” I shove him into the wall. “You will fix this.” I furrow my eyebrows angrily at him, pushing him further into the wall right as the door opens. I step back. “I’m driving you home.” I grab her by the arm, she tries to get out of my grip but I don’t allow it.

“[Name]!” “Enough! You will go home with me and that is final, Bella!” I shout at her, “Enough with this game and risking your fucking life!” I scream, she finally drops down defeated and we step outside. All of the Cullens are watching, Rosalie is even tense from the scene. I let Bella climb in and I slam the door.

“You all think about this night. Think about how you’re putting my sister in danger.” I speak just loud enough for them to hear me and not her. “Am I clear?” I fold my arms. They only nod in response. “I will talk later.”

So this one is a little shorter than my last few but wanted to end this chapter here or else the next one would've been way too long for my liking. Also, Alice's height is 4'10 in the book so that's what I'm basing it off of. Jasper is 6'3 and I'm making [Name]'s 5'6 medium height bitch. I kind of got writer's block. Well not really, I can write the story in my notebook but I can't get it all on my computer because I get a little bored after a little bit. It takes me longer to come up with ideas when I'm typing compared to actually writing it might be weird but it's what I do.

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okay-j-hannah · 5 months ago

Text

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, character death, CPR, hospitals/surgeries, ANGSTY AS HELL

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: I may or may not be sorry for this

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Part 7: The Summer Filter {You Are Here}

Part 8: The Favor

It was the night of the dance. You were in your room sliding on sandals with thick black straps; they sparkle as you admire the inky polish on your toes. Standing in front of your long mirror, you inspect the outfit.

Still as starry and beautiful as you remember – little dazzling specks of light against a deep navy sky. The heart-shaped neckline gave your chest shape while revealing your battle scars. You didn’t feel the need to put concealer on the discoloration of them.

This was the real you.

Your hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a few curled strands framing your face. It might’ve taken you fifteen minutes, but you were finally able to put eyeliner on the way you like. Other than that, your makeup was relatively minimal.

It was time to show your parents and wait for Scott to come pick you up.

Since he wasn’t telling parents that he was banned from the dance, he was free to escort you without suspicion. Once at the dance, you’d have to find other friends to mingle with.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your dad says at the bottom of the stairs, “You look amazing.” He looks proud as your mom appears with a camera.

She snaps a picture, “Ah, you are stunning!” she takes another picture of you laughing. “I love everything about the dress.”

Your mom pulls you aside for a posed picture next to the front door before she gives you a hug. One of her hands lingers on your shoulder, her thumb grazing the edge of your 3-inch incision scar.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispers, “And so brave.”

“We’re proud of you, sweetheart,” Tom says next to his wife. “You’re right – a girl needs to go to at least one high school dance in her lifetime.”

You snicker, “Even if I am going with just friends.”

“Remember to take breaks if it feels too overwhelming,” Angela frets, “Get some water and sit down for a few minutes.”

“And you have friends and teachers there that can help you,” Tom adds, “Don’t be all stoic and pretend you’re fine.”

You wave them off as you hear a car pull into the driveway. “Don’t worry, everything will be great.”

You suddenly have an inkling of the fear Stiles must feel with his dad. Your parents don’t know about the target on your back from a bloodthirsty supernatural creature. They don’t know how in danger you actually are. And if anything were to happen, you would feel immense guilt at keeping them in the dark as they fret and worry.

Scott knocks on the door and you open it to reveal him holding three large daisy flowers. “Hello. Oh, wow…” he looks you over, “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks go pink, “Thank you, Scott. I’m loving you in a suit.” You give him a hug and he presents the flowers.

“At least one of these is from Stiles because he’s upset I didn’t give him a chance to contribute,” he laughs, “I know they’re not much, but…”

“I love them. They’re a wonderful surprise.” You take the flowers from him, and your dad takes them quietly while your mom takes a few pictures. “Mom!”

“Just a few pictures for the album,” she says, “I want you to make sure you get more with your friends tonight.”

Scott feels a little tense standing next to you, a gentle hand on your lower back as you smile. “I’ll have her back before two.”

“One,” Tom says, still holding the flowers.

“One,” Scott agrees, “We’ll send you pictures.”

Angela beams, “Perfect, have fun you two!”

The walk to the car was full of tense giggles. Scott holds the door open for you and he clambers into his seat a few moments later.

“Thank you for driving me,” you smile, “I know tonight is going to be a little stressful.”

“I’d rather drive you and make sure you’re safe than just appear on the roof somewhere,” he shrugs, his knuckles pale where they grip the steering wheel. “You are one of the main targets tonight.”

“Don’t remind me,” you say, “Stiles was still bummed when I said he couldn’t drive me.”

“He’ll get over it.”

You smile, “I’m sorry you couldn’t take Allison.”

He’s quiet for a second, “Me too. But she’s not alone either. And it would be harder for me to explain why I wanted to drive with them when I’m not allowed at the school dance.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyways,” you say, “I didn’t realize how nervous I would be.”

“About the Alpha?”

“About the dance,” you laugh, “Is that ridiculous? There’s a psycho werewolf terrorizing us and instead I’m nervous about who I’m going to dance with and how I’ll look compared to everyone else.”

Scott smiles, “Those are the things you should be worried about. And you really do look amazing – I don’t think you have to worry about that one.”

The drive there feels quick with nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your heart rate is elevated, but you focus to keep a handle on it.

Ironically, the front of the school is decorated with stars, just like your dress. Blue and white balloons stand like statues on either side of the front doors while projections and strands of light wind around railings and stairs. You’re dazzled as you watch hordes of students make their way inside.

Scott looks guilty as he says, “I can’t be seen on the grounds.”

“I know,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt, “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Good luck trying to get in,” you laugh.

Crossing the parking lot was like a never-ending runway. You feel many eyes on you, whispers being said about your scars or your outfit, you weren’t sure. You suddenly wish you brought a purse so at least there’d be something for your hands to hold. Right now they were clenching and unclenching at your sides.

Your heart was starting to beat a little faster as you near the entry table. All these eyes, dozens of people, loud music and strobing lights, and…

“(Y/N)!”

You whip around to see Stiles tripping over the sidewalk curb. He has on a crinkled suit with a black plaid tie. He looks rosy as he straightens himself in front of you, “I, uh… woah.” His eyes are stuck on you – your dress, your chest, your face. His mouth hangs open; he is completely speechless.

You pull him into a hug, “You look handsome in a suit.”

He giggles awkwardly, still choking on words as he looks you up and down. “I – I um… you look…” He looks into your eyes, very warm and sincere when he says, “You look beautiful.”

You try to hide your smile, “See, that’s why we don’t invite boys to go dress shopping. Their reactions are so much better at the dance.”

He shakes his head, acknowledging your rightness, and extending his elbow. “Might I escort you inside?”

“Sure,” you smile, holding onto the crook of his arm.

The inside of the gym was loud and boisterous. Hanging chandeliers and blankets of shimmery star fabric hang from the ceiling. Lights of pink and purple fly around the room, complimenting the live band in the back center.

Your hand tightens around Stiles’ arm, and he stops instantly.

“Too loud?”

You try to take a deep breath, “I just need a second to adjust.”

“Let’s sit down then,” he guides you to one of the round tables and pulls a chair out for you. “I’ll get you a drink,” he says as he tucks you in.

You smile your thanks, trying to relax enough to breathe steadily. You take the time to look for friends around the room. It didn’t take long to find Jackson huddled with Danny and other lacrosse players. He was pouring something clear from a glass bottle into the punch cups. You roll your eyes – well he was coping in his own unique way.

You continue to people watch, seeing your classmates and the dates they came with. Behind you is Scott hiding next to the bleachers. You pinpoint where Coach is and decide that there’s enough distance between the two.

Allison comes sulkily to your table, sitting down and groaning, “I told you I had a feeling Jackson would be a shit date.”

“He’s not in the mood, is he?” you grimace, watching him across the gym drinking straight from the glass bottle. “We could report him.”

“Let him be stupid,” she sighs, leaning back in the folding chair, “He’ll regret it enough in the morning.”

You grab her hand and squeeze, “Did you see that Scott is here?”

Her eyes light up, “I saw him sneaking in through the roof.”

“A flair for the dramatic,” you huff, “I bet you anything he’ll try to dance with you even with Finstock watching.”

“If not, we can just dance together,” she laughs, “As long as I get to lead.”

You hold up your hands, “Whatever you say.” You nod your head across the gym, “Did you see Lydia and Ben?”

Lydia was aggressively dancing with Ben Manley, the pair of them treating the school dance like a nightclub. Allison shakes her head, “She’s trying to get over Jackson.”

“She can’t hide that she’s hurt forever,” you say, “Jackson isn’t going to care that she’s grinding on some other guy at a dance.”

“We’ll be there for her when she needs it.”

Stiles reappears with two cups of punch, “Oh, hi Allison. You look nice.” He hands you a cup.

“Are you sure these aren’t spiked?” you say comically, “Jackson has been passing around the bottle.”

“Of course he has,” Stiles grumbles, “You okay, Allison?”

“We’re waiting for Scott to make his move,” she says. But a loud commotion in the crowd has caught your attention, “Or maybe he is right now?”

You hear Coach yelling a few things in the center of the crowd that you can’t make out. The audience and band go quiet for a second as he yells for everyone to keep dancing. The band picks up with a soft slow dance song and Scott appears a little out of breath but smiling from ear to ear.

“How did you manage that?” you ask.

He only has eyes for Allison as she says, “Yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Scott looks like a lovestruck puppy as Allison drags him onto the dance floor. You smile after them, happy that they’re reconciling. You don’t even notice how long Stiles has been looking at you until he asks:

“How’s your heart?”

“Still a little elevated,” you sigh, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods, looking afraid and hopeful when he asks, “Do you wanna dance?”

You turn to him with warm eyes. You are completely endeared by him again. “Sure.”

His smile comes on quick and fast, standing and letting his chair topple to the ground. You accept his outstretched hand, laughing, and follow him to the dance floor. It was full of couples slowly dancing with their arms wrapped around each other.

The quieter music and lack of raving students was easier on your nerves. Stiles was timid in how he puts his hands on your waist, waiting for you to make the deciding move.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and force him to stoop so you can reach, he finally sinks into you. His head rests beside yours, pulling you close by the waist and swaying to match the rhythm.

You have to tilt your head up so you weren’t smothered into his shoulder. “This is better.”

His fingers twitch on your sides, “Slow dancing?”

“It’s less chaotic,” you agree, “It feels… safer. For my heart.”

He leans his head into yours, “I’m glad you still came, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You put a hand up his neck, grazing the edge of his hairline, “Let’s just forget all the werewolf business tonight.”

“We can until something happens,” he agrees, “I just… I like holding you like this.”

Your brow puckers, face shadowed by pink and purple light. Something warm enters your chest and dribbles to your stomach. “What else?”

Stiles grips your sides, “I like… being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.”

Nervous butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, teasing your lungs with their wingbeats. “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.” You giggle and it eggs him on, “Like a lot a lot.”

You smile and shake your head, “I think I’m a little late to the game. Everyone seems to know that but me.”

His expression starts to dip. He wants to hear a similar confession from you. But you don’t have a real answer yet. “You’re not surprised?”

“I think I’ve been in denial,” you say, still swaying to the music but getting lost in the motion. It was making you feel dizzy. The decorations on the gym walls were blurring behind Stiles’ head. “I think I…”

Stiles looks like he’s on the edge of desperation. His cheeks are flushed with oncoming embarrassment, and you can see the hurt behind his eyes. You move a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat there, “I think I feel… faint.” And your head falls to his chest, still conscious but on the verge of passing out.

Stiles holds you tightly to him, still swaying despite your limp legs, “I’ve got you.” He holds you up by the waist, a hand going for your neck to check your pulse. “I got you – I won’t let you fall.”

You dance like this for the remainder of the song, you breathing in his sweet woodsy smell and grounding yourself in his hold. He carries you gently, running his free hand in soft patterns along your back and arms. It was incredibly soothing and if your head wasn’t pounding like you were about to faint, you would’ve fallen asleep.

The song ends and you’re still swaying with Stiles. It takes everything in him not to force a word out of you. It was killing him waiting for you to speak.

You were in the throes of dissecting your feelings. How did you feel about Stiles? You remember the sleepover. The blue handprints on the car battery. The fries in the hospital cafeteria. The mac and cheese with the Sheriff. The suit jacket searching the woods. The garden trellis and rocks thrown on the tulips. The peachy light of your room and Ollie asleep between you two. The way he bandaged your shoulder. The panic in his voice from the video store call. The hugs when you cried. The truth about his mother. The gas station candy in the parking lot. The lessons in kissing.

You feel warm all over, blood still trickling to your legs and leaving your head heavy with cotton. You finally push him away, “I need to sit down.”

He’s compliant, “Okay,” guiding you by the hand and waist to the round tables. “Um… I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want to find a place to lie down?”

You put a hand to your temples, shading your eyes, “Let’s try the drink first.”

He swallows hard. His question about if you reciprocate any feelings for him left in the air. It’s eating him alive. But he leaves to navigate the boisterous dancing crowd to find the punch bowl and maybe something for you to snack on.

You’re left in your sticky feelings about Stiles. You had promised yourself no serious relationships. It would hurt less when you inevitably had to leave them. Therefore, there had to be no serious feelings.

But what you felt around Stiles. It was safe and warm and natural. And after the kissing in the jeep? Puzzle pieces were falling into place everywhere.

It was going to be dangerous liking him back. You would have to be honest with him about your prognosis. You would have to tell him why it wouldn’t work. It would cause him more grief than joy.

You pinch the bridge of your nose – would you allow yourself to like Stiles back?

Your phone in your dress pocket dings with a message from Lydia.

“I can’t find Jackson.”

You whip your head around to find Ben Manley sulking on the bleachers. Of course Lydia couldn’t let Jackson go. She still cares about him.

“He was crazy drunk last I saw him,” you reply, “He might’ve left to blow off some steam.”

“I’ll check the lacrosse field,” she says.

You feel a tinge of panic, “No, you shouldn’t go out there alone. Come back and we’ll think of something together.”

Lydia doesn’t reply and you feel that panic grow. She was on her way to being the most vulnerable pack member tonight. You stand up and will the shakiness from your drained limbs. Scott and Allison are still dancing, Jackson is missing, and Stiles is swarmed with thirsty students at the refreshments.

You were wasting time trying to get backup. If Lydia had at least one more person with her, she’d be safer.

You are quick to leave the gym and find a path to the lacrosse field. All the stadium lights are on and call to you like lighthouse beacons. You decide sending a text to both Scott and Stiles was the safe course of action.

“Lydia ran off to the field. No time. I’m going to get her.”

The grass was damp and uneven. You were grateful for wearing sandals beneath the long dress. Even more grateful when you notice a limp figure on the ground and another towering over her.

“Lydia?!” you cry, running for the pair in the center of the field.

There was blood painting her pale skin, a horrible contrast in the stadium light. Peter Hale was crouched over her, a trickle of blood running from his lips.

“Ah, (Y/N),” he says with his sinister smile, “I was wondering who would show up. Turns out it was the masterpiece coming to the rescue.” He stands and wipes at his lip, “Now, gauging the relationship between pack members, I do believe you are the more invaluable one.”

He speaks with a calm tone, but the blood on his face and the hunting nature of his eyes was unsettling. Your bare arms erupt in goosebumps, and you watch him take a sniff in your direction.

He grins, “Your fear is delicious.”

“Others are coming,” you squeak, blood pumping in your ears. Your eyes keep flickering to Lydia, searching for her chest moving with air. “A fight will break out.”

“We don’t want that on your special night,” he says in a terrifying coo, “I just need to find Derek.”

Your face scrunches, “And how would we know the answer to that?”

“One of you does,” he smirks, “And I’m going to make sure there is plenty of incentive.” He walks over Lydia and in your direction.

In a split second Peter is swiping at you, sending you flying to the ground in a mass of shimmering blue fabric. A thrill of pain like nothing else explodes in your side and you know his claws are out.

You gasp in pain, too sharp to cry out.

“I can hear the unevenness of your heart,” he growls, fangs lengthening in his mouth, “I can smell the sickly symptoms of death.” He bows to take hold of your neck, the tips of his claws digging into the soft skin there, “Let me speed up the process.”

And he lifts you into the air, his nails sinking further into you. This time you cry out, hitting him pathetically with your arms. He throws you back into the ground and pins you beneath his body. His jaws are inches from your jugular when a frantic voice screams across the field.

“(Y/N)!”

Peter lifts his head and watches as Stiles sprints across the grass like his life depends on it. He slides the last few feet, getting on your level. His hand rises to touch you, but Peter growls at him – protective of his prey.

“Don’t kill her,” Stiles says in a shaky voice. His eyes stay on you, avoiding the gaze of the Alpha. “Please.”

Peter hums, “I might find it in me to spare her; if you tell me how to find Derek.”

Stiles stammers, “What?”

A clawed hand grips into your already damaged side and a sharp cry of pain comes out of you. “Tell me how to find Derek Hale.”

Stiles is losing control of his breathing, digging his fingers into the grass to stop himself from getting killed. “I don’t know that. How would I know that? Leave her alone!”

Peter removes his claws, each dipped in the dark red of your blood. “You’re the clever one, aren’t you? And deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth or I will rip her apart.”

You feel weak and faint as Peter trails his fingers along your bare skin. Tears are streaming from your eyes and into your hair. The tears to your side are searing with pain; with every breath you’re hurting.

One of your ribs must be broken.

Stiles was panicking, unsure of how to help you. “Okay, look… I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Derek, I think he knew he was gonna be caught.”

“By the Argents?” Peter was staring at him with a hunters mark.

Stiles struggles to look between him and you bleeding on the ground. “Yeah, and when they were shot, he and Scotty… I think he took Scott’s phone.” You wince in pain and he pounds a fist into the grass.

“Why?” Peter asks lowly.

“They all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if it’s still on… you can find him.”

“Then lets go.”

Stiles is still frantic, fingers in the grass and tears of frustration burning his eyes. You were writhing on the ground in clear agony.

“No, I’m not just letting you leave them here.”

“You don’t have a choice Stiles; you’re coming with me.” Peter bends down to fish in your dress pocket, producing your cell phone, “Here ‘Lydia is hurt on the field,’ happy now? Sent it to a friend chat.”

“What about (Y/N)?”

Peter searches his pockets for a handkerchief, “She’ll be coming with us.” He wipes superiorly at his chin. Stiles begs from his place on the ground.

“You can’t drag her around with us! She’s bleeding out; she needs a doctor!”

“Then I suggest you don’t waste my time trying to find Derek,” he straightens his leather coat, “Because the longer you take… the longer she suffers.”

“She has a bad heart,” Stiles pleads, those frustration tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Any more stress could kill her.”

Peter squats beside you, making you whimper. “Then don’t cause her any more stress by fighting me.” He sinks his claws under your arm and drags you effortlessly across the field.

You cry out in pain, your legs too weak to flail. Blood leaves a trail behind you, Stiles scrambling to his feet, “Stop it! That’s hurting her too much. Her heart will give out before we find Derek – and there goes my incentive.” He yells the last part, “I won’t care after that!”

Peter grumbles and wraps his arms around your waist and legs, carrying you the rest of the way to Stiles’ jeep. You’re placed in the back, panting and hissing with pain as Peter and Stiles sit in the front.

You try to think of a way to prolong your consciousness. You gather the extra fabric from your dress and apply pressure to your side. The punctures to your neck and arm are less of a concern. At least he didn’t bite you.

“I forget how long it takes for humans to heal,” Peter huffs a laugh, “You’d be perfectly fine by now if you were a werewolf, (Y/N).”

Stiles sets his face as he drives away from the school. He keeps checking his rearview mirror to see how you’re coping.

You elevate your legs, take deep breaths, and keep pressure on your largest wound.

“Don’t feel bad,” Peter says, “If Lydia lives, she’ll become a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.”

Lydia had been bitten, you realize horribly.

“Yeah,” Stiles says sarcastically, “And once a month she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear people apart.”

“Oh, the bite isn’t so bad,” Peter laughs, “It might actually save (Y/N)’s life if she can’t surpass her own wounds.” He directs Stiles to a parking garage further into town, “I could grant her a bite.”

“And make her a raging monster every month? No, thank you.”

Peter smiles wickedly, “Not even to save her life?”

It was quiet after that, the jeep making its way into the hospital parking garage and to a certain level. They park near a small gray car and leave you there.

The wounds to your side were pulsating with rhythmic pain and heat. Blood continues to soak through the fabric you keep bunching over it. You can hear Stiles being frantic and you can’t imagine how he must be feeling.

The longer he takes the more you suffer.

He was probably going out of his mind with worry. But you know instantly that you would forgive him for however long it’ll take to appease Peter.

There’s a loud bang and the back of the jeep is torn open. You tumble out at the momentum, crashing to the asphalt in a painful heap. You gasp at the cascading amounts of aching hurt.

Peter grips you by the hair and lifts you from the ground effortlessly. You scream, bundles of bloody fabric leaving your hands to claw at Peter’s hand.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don’t make me persuade you.”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles yells, “Put her down!”

You sob on the asphalt, the effort to breathe between cries is putting strain on your heart. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a limbo between pain and unconsciousness. Stiles began to frantically type on a laptop. You couldn’t understand what they were saying.

The hurt was too loud.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp.

Peter goes to stand over you, urging Stiles to focus on the computer, “I’d suggest typing faster there, Stiles.”

“God. Fuck. Shit. God. Damn,” Stiles keeps messing up the keys and needing to refresh, meanwhile hearing you gasp for air behind him. “Wait! Here, look… they’re keeping him… at the Hale House.”

Peter gives you a good kick to the back as he steps over you, “Not at it. Under it. I know exactly where that is.” His ears perk up, “And I’m not the only one. Give me your keys.”

Stiles is practically bouncing on his toes to get to your struggling figure. “Careful, she grinds in second.” But his keys are returned bent and unusable. “What… how am I supposed to get her to the front of the hospital?!”

“You have a cell phone,” he says, “Now, because you did me a favor, Stiles. I’m going to offer this only once… do you want me to give her the bite?”

“The what?” Stiles is unable to focus with you quieting behind him.

“Does she want the bite?” Peter asks more clearly, “This is her one chance to get a cure all for her wounds. Of course it might kill her either way, but… that’s a risk you’d have to take.”

Stiles is at a loss, quiet as he considers. “No. She wouldn’t want that.”

“Very well,” Peter slides into his car without another word.

Stiles’ dress shoes squeak as he reaches your side, ignoring the way Peter speeds out of the parking garage. He kneels at your head, terrified that your lips were going purple. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, “(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?”

Your eyes barely flutter open before closing again, unable to breathe. He puts his head to your chest, one hand on your neck, searching for a pulse. Your heart was giving out.

“No,” he says, “No way. Not today. You’re not supposed to faint when you’re not breathing.” He pulls out his phone and puts 911 on speaker. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” He brushes the hair out of your face, revealing road rash from where you fell from the trunk.

911 instructs him to start CPR and wait for personnel to pick you up. Being in the hospital parking garage meant that help would be there soon. Stiles has his hands over the scars on your chest, smeared with blood from your side. He tries to keep his arms straight as he attempts to pump life back into your body.

He gives you a kiss of life, two breaths that would hopefully keep oxygen moving throughout your body. This was not how he envisioned your next kiss. Your lips were lifeless and soft. They were still purple.

You couldn’t die now – not when he still needs to apologize. Not when it would be his fault for not getting you help sooner.

Not when he had just confessed having feelings for you.

~~~

Stiles sits in the hospital hallway, legs bouncing and arms shaking with the movement as he leans on them. His head is bowed as the Sheriff comes speeding towards him.

“You know what?” Noah says as he approaches, “It’s good that we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna kill you!” He speaks firmly, “It has been a madhouse trying to find all you kids.”

Stiles finally looks up and the Sheriff stills.

His son is red-faced from crying. He rubs at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Is she going to be okay?”

The Sheriff looks behind them at Lydia, “They don’t know, partially because they don’t know what happened.”

“No… I mean, is (Y/N) going to be okay?”

Noah looks at the sorrow in his sons face. “You haven’t gotten an update?”

“No,” Stiles says in despair, “She went back there not breathing and I don’t know if they’ve gotten her back!”

“Listen,” Noah sits beside him, resting a hand on his back, “Let’s handle what we can control first. Now, these girls were attacked by the same thing, right? Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them?”

Stiles licks his lips, hesitant in the truth. He still needs to protect his dad. “No,” he says, “No, I have no idea.”

“But why was (Y/N) with you and Lydia with Jackson?”

“(Y/N) was dragged off the field by whatever attacked them,” Stiles lies through his teeth, “We split up to protect them both. (Y/N) was closer to my jeep.”

Noah clenches his jaw, unsure of how to help his son. “And she was still breathing when you made your way over here?”

“It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot,” Stiles mutters. He runs his hands over the short length of his hair. “God, dad… what if I was too late?”

The Sheriff looks disheartened. “You did everything you could.”

The wait was agony. Agony that only gets worse as Chris Argent comes to interrogate him and Jackson. He’s barely able to keep it together long enough to help create some Molotov cocktails. He instructs Jackson to take them to the Hale House and help.

Your parents appear a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Angela cries, as red in the face as Stiles was half an hour ago. “Have they said anything?”

“No,” he says, “I’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour.”

Tom runs for the nurses station, “Maybe they’ll give her parents the news.” Angela follows with Stiles on her heels.

A nurse was trying to calm Tom down, “Sir, I understand – let me call into the OR and check.” She makes a call to a different part of the hospital and speaks quietly.

Stiles stays a foot away, not wanting to intrude but needing to hear the news just as badly. Angela was stifling sobs as Tom holds her close to him.

“Okay,” the nurse replies, placing the phone back on the receiver. “She’s currently in surgery.”

“So she’s breathing,” Stiles says loudly.

“Yes,” the nurse continues, “The lacerations to her side are being stitched and some were deep enough to puncture the abdominal wall. There’s been lots of damage and blood loss. So far so good, though,” she consoles. “She did come into the ER not breathing and spent a lot of time without oxygen. But they were able to restart her heart.”

Angela continues to sob into Tom as he says, “Thank you. Please tell the doctor her parents are here waiting for updates.”

They walk back to the waiting room, sitting on the hard cushioned seats. Stiles was slow to follow them, unsure of how to be included in their fretful waiting. It was his fault you were kept from help for so long.

“Stiles,” Angela says, her voice thick with emotion. “Your dad said you were with her when it happened.”

He scratches the back of his head, afraid to look them in the eyes. “I found her after the attack. I tried to get her here as quick as I could.” He licks his lips, “She… she couldn’t breathe as we parked.”

Tears continue to leave Angela’s eyes, “Her heart?”

“It just… gave out,” Stiles breathes, upset that he felt like crying again. “I g-gave her CPR… in the parking lot um – while the doctors came for us.”

Tom is getting teary too as he listens. He leans his elbows on his knees and covers his face. Angela looks horribly between being grateful and being resigned. Like she knew this would be her daughter’s fate, but glad you weren’t alone.

“Thank you for helping her, Stiles,” she pats the seat beside her and he sits. “She wouldn’t have made it to surgery without you.”

He gives her a painful smile. Yes, he got you to the hospital. But he could’ve gotten you here in better shape.

She puts a hand on his arm and rubs soothing circles with her thumb. The burning in Stiles’ eyes was quickly making them water again. He sniffs and leans into his hands like Tom. Angela moves her hand to his back, rubbing the expanse between his shoulders.

They sit like that for another hour before a doctor appears, “Westbrook?”

The trio stand eagerly.

“How is she?” Tom asks. He hadn’t said a word the entire hour.

“She’s stable,” the doctor says calmly. “We were able to repair the lacerations to her side and a few punctures elsewhere. We did have to restart her heart once at her arrival and once during the surgery.”

Angela swallows hard, eyes red but out of tears, “Can we see her?”

“They’re setting her up in a room now. Give it another twenty minutes.” He looks uncomfortable as he prepares himself to say something more. “(Y/N) went without oxygen for over five minutes. When the brain goes without oxygen for that long it results in the death of brain cells. We call it an anoxic brain injury.”

“What does that mean?” Tom crosses his arms, “What would that do to her?”

The doctor clears his throat, “We won’t know for sure until she wakes up. She may be comatose for a few hours or a few days. She may experience some coordination issues, communication problems, amnesia, or other impairments.”

“Oh my god,” Angela whispers, covering her mouth, “Could all that be permanent?”

“It depends on the severity of her brain injury. All minor impairments can be corrected over time,” he gives them all his reassurances.

Not soon after your parents were called back into your room. Stiles stays behind, bouncing his legs and waiting for something – anything – to happen. Everyone he loves is in some kind of danger and he has no idea where they all are.

He’s trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chairs when Scott and Allison appear. They’re holding hands and running into the waiting room.

“How are Lydia and (Y/N)?” Allison asks.

Stiles slides off the chairs and awkwardly straightens himself. “Lydia is going to be okay,” he nods to the middle room with windows, “Her wounds…”

Scott squeezes Allison’s hand. “Allison knows. She knows everything.”

“Alrighty then,” Stiles hums, “She was bit, but the bite hasn’t fully healed, and she isn’t dead so… whatever that means.”

“And (Y/N)?” Scott asks, looking at every sign that his best friend has been crying.

Stiles swallows, “I don’t know. Her heart gave out and she went without oxygen for a long time.” He licks his lips, rubbing hard at his eyes, “The surgery went well, but we don’t know how bad her brain damage will be until she wakes up.”

Allison, already having lost much that night, was exhausted by the news. She leans into Scott who holds her tightly. Stiles watches it with a pang in his chest.

They talk about the events of the night. How the cocktails Jackson brought weakened the Alpha and Derek delivered the final killing blow. He was now the Alpha. Kate was dead and the Sheriff was at the crime scene. It was a distraction that Stiles was grateful for. It made the time pass quicker than just stewing in his own guilt.

“If it weren’t for you I think Peter would’ve killed a lot more,” Scott says as a way to cheer his friend.

“Jackson’s the one who delivered,” he replies.

Allison looks worried at the obvious disregard of his contribution. “Stiles… you have been a hero tonight.” She shakes her head, “A lot of people are alive because you helped.”

“At what cost,” he mumbles, thinking of your brain injury. “I don’t know.”

“How about we go home,” Scott suggests, “You need some sleep and the Westbrooks would call with updates.”

“No,” Stiles chews on his lips, “I’m not leaving until she wakes up.”

Scott looks at his friend seriously, “Are you sure? That could be a long time.”

“I’m sure,” he waves them off, “I’ll wait for my dad.”

They leave with plans that sound a lot like ‘rooftop cuddling,’ and Stiles is again left to wonder the ‘what ifs’ of the night. What would have happened if he had never left your side to get that drink? What if he hadn’t found Scott’s location in time? What were you going to say about his confession of feelings?

It hurt too much to think.

~~~

Sheriff Stilinski had spent the majority of the night managing the crime scene at the Hale House. The bodies of Kate Argent and Peter Hale were removed, and the property was taped off while forensics worked.

It was nearly daybreak when he left to pass out on his living room couch.

Several hours later he awoke for a finger of whiskey and a sandwich. He was just layering the turkey and cheese when he yelled for Stiles to come down for a talk.

When there was no reply, the sheriff went searching the house, turkey in hand. Stiles was nowhere to be seen.

“Damnit,” he curses, “That complete…” He searches for his phone, dialing and forgetting about his sandwich. “Tom?”

“Yeah, Sheriff, is everything okay?”

“Fine, fine. I just can’t find Stiles. Is he still at the hospital?”

There’s a pause where Tom has a breathy laugh, “Yeah, the kid’s still here.”

“Thank god,” Noah sighs, “I’m sorry, Tom – has he been pestering you guys?”

“No, he’s… well he’s actually just been stuck in the waiting room this whole time.” Tom sounds exhausted. “The times I’ve gone out for drinks he’s been there waiting for an update. I just tell him (Y/N)’s still comatose.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Noah rubs at his eyes, “She still hasn’t woken up yet?”

“Not at all,” Tom swallows, “Not even a twitch.”

The sheriff searches for his keys, “Well, I’ll come grab my son. He needs a shower and some sleep at least.”

“Sure, and Sheriff, we would call you if she woke up,” Tom adds softly, “I know she… she cares about you and Stiles.”

An unexpected twinge of sadness envelopes him, “Thank you, Tom. She’s a special girl.” He clears his throat, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

It takes him another twenty minutes to get to the hospital. On the right floor, he finds Stiles slumped in a hard cushioned chair with his feet propped on a coffee table. He has several magazines open and covering him like makeshift blankets.

His face looks swollen from frequent tears and his eyes look irritated from wiping at them so much. Noah looks at him with a quickly softening heart. The last time he had seen his son cry this much at a hospital…

“Stiles…”

The boy turns his eyes to his father, hidden beneath the blanket of magazines.

“Read anything good?”

He gives a half-hearted smile, “No, but this Victory magazine is actually thick enough to help retain my body warmth.”

“I see you’ve found ways to entertain yourself.”

“I got tired of being stuck in my thoughts,” he sighs, scratching at his head. “You should see the towels the nurses let me fold.”

Noah’s eyebrows raise, “Man, you must’ve been really bored. Did you not sleep at all?”

Stiles shakes his head, “I was afraid of missing when she woke up.”

“And how’s the Martin girl?”

Stiles shrugs, “She’s been able to get up and down with some help. But she’s been sleeping a lot. Her parents are taking turns sitting with her. You know… tension with the divorce.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can,” Stiles says, shifting until a few magazines fell to the floor. “I can’t sleep knowing that (Y/N) could still be seriously hurt.”

“And she could be seriously fine.”

Stiles scoffs, “And it’d be all my fault.”

“Hey,” the sheriff goes to sit by his son, knocking a few magazines off his chest. “None of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with the attack.”

“… but I could’ve kept them inside the school. I could’ve stopped them before anything bad happened.”

Sadness creeps into the sheriff, “Let’s get you home. You need to get cleaned up and have a rest.”

“No,” Stiles was quick to reply, “I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay.”

“The doc said it could be days, Stiles. You’re not going to be able to stay awake for days.”

“I can try.”

Noah stands, “No. You’re going to come home for a few hours. I’m gonna be honest, son, you look terrible. And I know you don’t want your little reunion with (Y/N) to be memorable because you smell like musty teenager and look like you’ve got a head cold.” He waits for a few seconds while Stiles pouts like a child. “After you get some sleep I’ll let you stay at the hospital as long as you want.”

A silent battle rages between the two. It takes only one more nudge for Stiles to stand from his uncomfortable chair. “Stiles, you’re not the only one who’s worried about her,” the sheriff gives him another look of concern.

“You have to wake me if I sleep through a call from the Westbrooks.”

“Deal,” Noah claps a hand around his son, leading him to the front doors. “God, do you even own a deodorant stick?”

Stiles jabs his father in the side, “And an antiperspirant spray, jackass.”

Noah slaps the back of his head, “You need to actually use them for them to work, smart alec.”

The entire car ride back has Stiles nodding off against the window. There’s a wet, foggy mark where his mouth rests open. He stumbles into the house and starts stripping as he climbs the stairs.

Noah follows and gathers the clothes, catching the bent ring of keys as they fall from a pocket. It makes him sigh, memories of his wife handling those same jeep keys… then he saw the random sets that had to belong to places Stiles shouldn’t be.

A key to the police station, to the school, to a few neighbor houses.

He would arrange to have the proper keys fixed, and the others confiscated.

Stiles stands in the shower for longer than usual. He lets the hot water run down his head and work at the knots in his shoulders. He feels cramped from being stuck in an uncomfortable hospital chair for nearly twelve hours.

It takes the thought of seeing you again to make him scrub himself clean. His father was right, he wants you to see him fresh and sane. And right now he was anything but.

It feels good to be in a pair of pajama pants and a simple black shirt. He collapses on his bed without much thought. He was more desperate for sleep than he realized.

He drifts into dreams – dreams that he will hold onto in the days to come.

~~~

He walks along the path of a lake, grand berry bushes grow wildly there. Large, tart blackberries and deep, rich blueberries bloom along the leaves. Bushels of ripe berries are everywhere, halfway picked with plenty more to go. He picks a handful of plump raspberries and delights in their sweetness.

The trees overhead protect him from the sun, welcoming him with their shimmering leaves and singing birds. The berries leave sticky sweet juice on his fingers, each delicious as he sucks on them.

Ahead is the path leading to the boardwalk atop the lake. He grins as the summer sunshine appears to warm his skin. He admires the shiny red strawberries growing in twisted strands near the picnic tables. A cutting board is laden with freshly cut lemons and red berries – a pitcher containing sour pink lemonade beside them.

All the colors seem brighter, like a summer filter overlay everything. Stiles picks up an already prepared glass, ice cubes clinking and submerged in the pink drink. After a sip he promptly eats a few cut strawberries, smelling them with an air of familiarity.

He loves the smell of strawberries and summer fruits.

In an open cooler beside the table, half-buried in chunks of melting ice, are bright orange creamsicles and bubbly sodas. A candy tray holds caramel chocolate, sugary peach rings, and sticky gummy worms.

He was quick to sample everything, his attention catching something floating in the lake. A girl was lounging in a large nectarine orange floatie, sunglasses on her face and sunscreen on her shoulders.

Stiles smiles wide, running for the boardwalk. It was all so vibrant and warm. The red of the berries, the lemon yellow, bright orange creamies, shimmering green trees, sparkling pink lemonade, and the brilliant blue of the lake water.

It smelt of sugar and sun warmed earth and fresh berries. It smelt like (Y/N).

He stops on the edge of the boardwalk, shading his eyes to see you lounging in the floatie. “(Y/N)!” he calls to you.

You look up at him, cheeks peachy pink from the sun, “Stiles?” You sit up, swimsuit beautiful with lavender purples and sage stems. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “But I’m glad to see you.”

You float closer to the boardwalk, moving the sunglasses to your hair. “Do you even own a swimsuit?”

He laughs, “Probably buried beneath a few camp shirts.”

“Figures,” you smile, lifting a hand bangled in rose gold, “Help me up?”

He swallows, “Yeah, sure.” He bows to take a hold of your hand, but there’s resistance. You yank on his arm and manage to flop him onto your floatie. He flails as you try to balance the giant inflatable.

It makes you laugh to see him so frantic, “You’re going to tip us!” He lands on you, your hands wrapping around him in a fit of giggles.

He holds onto your sun warmed skin, pulling you too close to the edge. Side heavy, the floatie tips over with a scream from your lips. A splash makes the water ripple as you tread to the surface, spluttering water.

“I told you to calm down,” you laugh, splashing at Stiles.

He splutters more, making ridiculous faces as he wipes the lake water from his eyes. “It was getting hot anyways.” He splashes at you next, causing you to squeal with laughter.

The splash battle was short and intense, Stiles mimicking his favorite water benders in sending waves your way. You dive for the ladder at the boardwalk, scaling it to make a quick getaway.

Stiles curses, following your dripping figure. “Get back here!” he runs across the boardwalk to meet you at the picnic table.

You are eating a plump strawberry, tossing one at his head for good measure. He ducks and gives you a sly smile, opening his mouth like a target. You promptly aim a large berry, laughing hysterically as he jumps and catches it in his mouth.

Both his arms go in the air, triumphant, “Did you see that?” he cries between loud chews. He runs to you, tickled by your laughter. He wraps you up in his arms and soaks you in.

This is you. You remind him of summertime. The vibrant colors of life. The sweet berries that grow wild. The sun that warms whatever it touches. The water cooling sunburnt skin.

The orange cream and peachy sugar.

He spins you once and sets you down, still inches from you. The pair of you are laughing like summer will never end.

Then you lock eyes.

The laughter dies slower, smiles never leaving your faces. But your eyes are entirely too warm to be just mirth. He’s looking at you like the sun itself. He was embracing the embodiment of color and sweetness and warmth.

He looks down to your berry stained lips.

With one second of hesitance he leans down to your mouth. He devours the sticky sweetness of your berry lips. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like it was the one and only time he’d be able to kiss you.

You respond with holding his face, fingertips digging into his cheeks. His hands drift down your sides to the backs of your thighs. In an upward motion he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

A sigh of surprise escapes you, taller than him momentarily so you have to angle his face up to yours. He groans in delight as he carries you to the picnic table. He sets you on top of it, moving his hands to your thighs, searching for that moan of satisfaction from your mouth.

He nips at your lips, loving every sound you make. He nuzzles into your neck, finding that sweet spot to kiss. He has to pull back to take a breath.

You look tired. Your lips are purplish-blue. His brow knits. “(Y/N) you’re…” He lifts a hand to your chin and finds that it’s coated in bright blood. Brighter than those red berries. “Oh my god!” He pulls back to see a fresh wound to your side, soaking the lavender swimsuit in rich blood. “Oh my god, (Y/N) – what do I…”

Your chest stutters and choking sounds come from your throat. A strained redness enters your eyes as you reach for him, puncture marks along your neck. Stiles is frantic at your absence of words, “What’s happening?” he yells, “What did I do?”

You fall back onto the table, dull lemonade spilling and mixing with your bright blood. Berries and lemons roll to the ground. You choke and flail as Stiles cries his panic.

And he sits straight up in bed, sheets tangled between his legs and pillows on the floor. He’s sweating and cold, the sun setting outside as he scrambles for breath. He throws his legs over and bows over his knees.

~~~

With no word from the Westbrooks, Stiles finds himself wandering the neighborhoods until he finds your house. He looks longingly at your window, dark as it was with the recent sunset, he could just make out the cat staring back at him.

“Oliver,” he whispers, finding something else to distract himself with. He goes for the front door, hoping that in the commotion of getting to the hospital, your parents left it unlocked. He was right.

The cat was there to greet him, mewling loudly and rubbing his head against Stiles’ legs.

“You hungry, little buddy?” he closes the door and makes his way to the kitchen. Inside the pantry he finds a container of dry food shaped like little fish. “I would think (Y/N) made you gourmet cat food.”

Ollie stands on his back legs and stretches his front paws up Stiles’ leg. It was super cute. “I guess maybe just for special occasions, huh?” he sighs, taking a scoop and pouring it in the food bowl by the back door.

The cat purrs and flicks his floofy tail as Stiles sits at the dining table to watch him. It must’ve been ten minutes when the front door opens again.

There was Melissa and Scott, holding keys and a duffel bag embroidered with the hospital logo.

“Oh! Stiles, what are you doing here?”

“Um, I… well, I knew Ollie needed to be fed.”

Scott shuts the door while Melissa continues to look discontented, “Who’s Ollie?”

“The cat,” Stiles gestures to the fluffy animal, “(Y/N) would kill me if he went without food for this long.”

“You broke into the house to feed the cat?” Scott smirks, hands in his pockets.

Stiles lifts his arms, “No! The door was unlocked.”

Melissa laughs, “Still strange, Stiles. You still entered without permission.” She walks to the stairs with the duffel bag; Scott makes his way to the dining table.

“What are you guys doing here?” Stiles asks in a low voice.

Scott slumps into a chair, “The Westbrooks need clothes and stuff, so mom volunteered to pack a bag.”

Stiles crinkles his brow, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Maybe,” he wipes a hand up and catches the gelled back fringe, “I’m trying something new.”

“I didn’t realize you had a forehead,” Stiles smirks.

Scott mumbles a retort. “I thought you were going to camp out at the hospital.”

“I was until my dad decided to drag my ass out,” he grumbles, “But there hasn’t been any news that she’s awake, so…” He plays with the hem of his shirt, feeling a little empty of conversation. “How are you and Allison?”

“Great,” Scott smiles an idiot smile, “Until her dad hunted us down and nearly killed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Stiles grimaces, “After everything that’s just happened?”

Scott shrugs, “I’m still a werewolf, I guess. He let me live, but I have to stay away from Allison.” His smile grows more subtle, eyes on the floor, “At least, I have to pretend to.”

“Great plan, Scott. Let’s remember how this guy hunts and murders the supernatural for a living. He has a literal collection of the best weapons money could buy, with – let me add – special werewolf ammunition that can work around your little healing superpower.”

“Yeah, but I still get to see Allison.”

Stiles slumps a little further down his chair, Oliver snacking on his dinner in the background. “You’re impossible.”

“I could say the same about you,” Scott retorts, “You’re just as hopeless.”

“You know I told her how I feel about her…” Stiles speaks quietly, avoiding his friends gaze.

Scott measures the rhythm of his friends heart, “And?”

“And she got faint…”

“Made her weak at the knees, did you?”

“And she ran off to be attacked by the Alpha.”

“Ouch,” Scott hisses, “No return confession?”

Stiles clears his throat, “There wasn’t time for her to.”

“Then I guess there’s still a chance that she does,” Scott says softly, “It could be the first thing she says when she wakes up.”

Melissa comes down the stairs with a heavy duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries. She huffs at the boys, “You two coming?”

“Back to the hospital?” Stiles asks, standing quickly.

“Yeah, we’re going to drop off the supplies and maybe grab a late dinner.”

“Count me in,” he replies, scratching Ollie behind the ears in goodbye.

~~~

Stiles had been wandering the hospital hallways all night, refusing any sleeping aide from Melissa as she left. She’d be back for her day shift in a couple hours.

In a pathetic attempt to see you, he creeps past the night nurse to stand awkwardly at your window. The blinds are drawn and he wails silently, upset that it’s been so long since he last saw you.

He falls to the ground and slumps against the wall. Past the point of tears, he just melts into the floor. Until he hears a sneaker against the tile.

His eyes fly to the door to see Angela standing there with dark circles under her eyes. “Hello, Stiles.”

He clambers to his feet, rubbing his shaved hair flat against his head, “H-Hi front desk Westbrook.”

She smiles at that, “Have you been here the whole day?” she leans against the door frame as if she were hiding whatever was inside.

“No, my dad made me go home for a nap.”

“That’s good,” she says, “Um… Tom is asleep on the couch, but if you want to see her…”

“Yes, please!” he says entirely too loud.

She shushes him, “Again – her dad is asleep. Let’s try not to wake him; it’s the first sleep he’s gotten since the accident.”

Stiles nods vigorously, straightening his jacket and pulling on his hoodie strings. “Yep, I got you. Roger that.”

She refrains from rolling her eyes, endeared by him much like her daughter was at times. “She hasn’t moved an inch, but if you hold her hand long enough I swear she squeezes back.”

They step into the darkened room, only a lamp in the corner providing some light on the machines at work. You lay stone cold on the hospital bed. Dressed in a white gown and layered beneath a scratchy cotton blanket, you would look asleep if it weren’t for the numerous machines tracking your vitals.

Stiles goes into shock for a second, standing rigid by the door while Angela goes for her usual chair by the couch. She gestures for him to move, afraid speaking would wake her snoring husband.

With shuffling steps, Stiles makes for the chair beside your bed. Many stickers were on your chest, each connected to wires that lead to a machine. A thin yellow tube goes into your nose and is taped at your cheek. A monitor is attached to your index finger and the back of your hand has an IV stuck there.

He can see little stiches beneath your chin where Peter stuck his claws, and he knew your side was heavily bandaged with surgical tape. The right side of your face, the side that fell onto the asphalt as you tumbled out of the trunk, had road rash. Bloody scrapes were at your forehead and on that cheekbone. They were both covered with a shiny ointment.

“You can sit down,” Angela whispers, nodding to the chair, “She won’t bite.”

Stiles gives her a stiff smile, sitting in the chair. It was much more plush than the ones in the waiting room. He scoots closer to your bed and ponders your face. You look peaceful – not at all how you looked right before losing the ability to breathe.

It was making his dry eyes burn. Your lips weren’t purple anymore. They had the soft pink color he saw in his dreams.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he says softly. It put a lump in his throat “I – I’m… god…” He bows his head and finds that the warmth that usually took hold of him when he saw you… it ached and burned in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He reaches for your left hand, closest to him. It was free of wires and tubes, but it had hospital tags around your wrist. Your fingers are cold, and he wraps both his hands around them.

Angela tries to mind her own business, pulling a book from the side table to read. Or at least give her eyes something to look at.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles continues, he holds the mess of hands to his mouth, “I’m sorry for everything.” He tries to compose himself, tired of crying. “Um… don’t worry I fed Oliver before I came over.”

He misses the smile that Angela has on her face.

“And I’m pretty sure he deserves some fancy gourmet fish cake for the trouble,” Stiles deflects, rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hand. “He was worried sick about… about not eating.”

Angela huffs a laugh behind her book.

“That’s why dogs are better, you know. They freak out when their owner is sick. Cats just freak out when they can’t find their next meal.” He tries to swallow past the lump, “I was… I was freaking out there for a second.”

His fingers become light and lazy like they were the night on the preserve when you got drunk. “I felt hopeless again, seeing you like that.” He sniffles and clears his throat, “Which would make it super awesome if you would wake up soon,” he laughs sadly, “Please wake up soon. Please be alright.”

He holds your hand for another half hour, searching for that squeeze that Angela mentioned. Until Tom stirs on the couch and Stiles stands abruptly, suddenly afraid of his intrusion on a family matter.

He waves goodbye to a saddened Angela before returning to his hallway wandering. He walks and walks until the shift changes and the sun begins to rise again. His eyes feel dry and droopy, like he was in need of another emergency nap.

He slumps against the nurses station as Melissa appears in her scrubs, “You hanging in there, kiddo?” She rubs across his shoulders and he groans. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

“I napped all afternoon,” he says into the station counter, “(Y/N) still isn’t awake.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” she sympathizes, “She’s a part of my rounds today. I’ll make sure to give you updates, alright?”

He gives her a silly smile where his face was squashed into the counter, “Thanks, McCall.”

He wanders until he finds the gift shop open. There he buys a foil balloon covered in smiley faces and says, ‘Get well!’ It stays tied to his wrist as he makes his way back to the waiting room by your door.

Getting as comfortable as he could across three hospital chairs, he starts to fall asleep. It only takes five minutes for him to be lightly snoring, chair arms digging into his shoulders and lower back.

He fidgets there, balloon bobbing above him as he fights the stiffness of the chairs. He’s so exhausted that it doesn’t even wake him from the dreams he was diving into. Dreams similar to the summer day at the lake with you.

Ones where he got to hold you and kiss you again.

Melissa checks your chart by the door before sneaking a look at the snoozing boy.

“Oh, just like that. No, no – you first,” he mumbles, “Me first?” he drools in his sleep.

Melissa shakes her head and smiles, returning the chart and being startled by Tom walking out of your room. “Oh, Mr. Westbrook, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Melissa. And it’s Tom, please.” He stretches his arms, looking at the same thing she was moments ago. Stiles is stretched out across the chairs making kissing noises at the thin air. “Has he been here all night?”

“He’s been here all weekend,” Melissa folds her arms.

“That’s… concerning.”

Melissa pats his arm, “He’s one of the good ones.”

“You sure about that?” Tom winces at the dream kissing, “He seems like a load of trouble.”

“Oh, he’s plenty that,” Melissa laughs, “But he’s got a good heart. He cares a lot about your (Y/N).”

Tom folds his arms, “Speaking of which, she was twitching a bit in her sleep just an hour ago. Would you mind checking on her? See if she wakes to some stimulus or something.”

“Of course,” Melissa says, following his lead into your patient room.

Stiles wakes as the custodial service empties a garbage can by his head. Rudely woken at a really good part in his dream, he groggily smacks the balloon tied to his wrist. It floats back to hit him in the face and he falls out of the hospital chairs.

“Oh my god!” a muffled voice yells from your patient room.

Stiles flies to his feet, throat bobbing as he listens for something else. “(Y/N)?” He walks to your windows, blinds open now that the sun was out. His knees wobble at seeing your eyes open and mouth smiling.

He jumps to the door, creaking it open slowly as to not disturb the sudden commotion inside.

“Okay, lets run through basics,” Melissa says, “Cover one eye for me.” She measures your sight, dilating pupils, and your depth perception. “So far so good. Lift both arms for me and smile.” She checks for any signs of one sided weakness, but you pass with flying colors.

“Is she fine?” Angela holds onto her husband, “Is anything wrong?”

“Okay, (Y/N) – I need you to wiggle your toes. Good. And can you feel this?” Melissa checks for any numbness in your extremities. “Perfect. Now can you repeat this for me? Sally sells seashells…”

You lick your lips, “Sally sells seashells.”

“Amazing,” Melissa claps. There wasn’t an immediate speech impediment. “Alright, now tell me your name.”

“(Y/N) Westbrook.”

She nods, “And do you have any pets?”

“I have a gray cat named Oliver.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Palo Alto,” you say, still with confusion in your brow. “What’s going on?”

Melissa holds up her hands, “We’re just checking for any brain injuries. What surgery did you get last summer?”

“I had a device put near my heart,” you point to the 3-inch incision on your chest. “What the hell?” You move your left sleeve to look at the claw marks on your shoulder.

“And where do you go to school?” Melissa asks.

You shake your head, touching the scars, “Um… I go to school at home, I guess. I’m homeschooled.”

The room goes silent.

Melissa tries to maintain the calm, “(Y/N), do you know why you’re in the hospital?”

“I’m assuming because of this,” you point at the claw marks, “Cause I have no idea where they came from.” You scoff and find a hitch in your chest – a pain in your side, “Or maybe there’s another thing by my ribs. That actually hurts a lot.”

“Oh my god, she doesn’t remember,” Angela whispers, terrified.

Tom rubs a hand down her arm, “Just give them a minute.”

“Do you know who these people are?” Melissa points to your parents.

It makes you laugh, “Yeah, that’s my mom and dad.”

“And what about me?”

You lick your lips again, “You’re Melissa McCall. You always help when I’m in the hospital.”

She looks stiff, contemplating the next move. She looks behind her to see Stiles standing frozen at the door, balloon stuck behind him. Melissa grabs him by the sleeve and drags him into your view, “Do you know who this is?”

Stiles gives an awkward wave, balloon bouncing along with his hand. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You squint your eyes, a frown growing, “No, I’m sorry, who are you?” You miss the way the room steels over with fright. “How do you know my name?”

~~~

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

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

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saintslewis · 1 year ago

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❝ it’s the soul that needs a surgery ❞

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!fem reader

summary: you’ve never felt a shared pain worse than what Abu Dhabi have given you and Lewis.

warnings: this entire drabble is based on AD21, cuss words, lots of crying, mean words said by mean people, slight…everything atp.

saint’s notes: feeling a bit sad after watching a Lewis edit where he still smiles even after AD21 and still stays positive and that just breaks my heart so i’ve decided to break yours 🫵🏽

taglist: @thisismeracing (thank you love), @flowerchild-96 (for your kindness)

The heat in Jeddah was unbearable and everyone seemed to be affected by it but chose to continue with whatever they were busy. As media followed you to the buzzing Mercedes garage, you took out your phone to inform your husband that you’ve arrived and will be waiting for him with Angela.

Your confidence had reached an all time high from the moment you landed in Abu Dhabi. It was a day of the champion spirit to float around the Hamilton household once again, a day for Lewis to win his 8th World Championship and for him to continue his legacy as the greatest driver that Formula One has ever seen. You refused to think anything negative about this race but something in the back of your head kept itching to argue your positive feelings about it. He had hyped himself up for today and you joined him, knowing that everything would go well.

Spotting your father in law, Anthony, standing outside the garage made you sigh of relief, knowing you could safely offload your thoughts to someone who most likely had the same thoughts as you in concern for your husband. “Hey Anthony.” You greeted as you walked up to him with his arms ready to envelop you in a hug. “Y/n! How are you feeling? It’s quite hot here, isn’t it?” He commented, looking over at the busy pit lane.

“I’m feeling confident. Surprised there’s no ice cream station around.” You joked and he flashed a smile. “Oh, there is, in the paddock club. Made sure to check for you.” Anthony smiled and you could only flash a smile back. “Hey, don’t stress about it, Y/n. Everything will be okay, even if he doesn’t get it and that’s a very big if.” He assured and you took a breath in, not wanting to seem negative. “The Red Bull’s are the ones stressing me because they’re just everywhere but like you said, I shouldn’t stress. Now, would you like some ice cream?” You asked and he nodded. “Need a little pick me up. I’ll be here when you get back.” Anthony responded and walked back into the garage.

By the time you had arrived to the paddock, it had been quite full so it was clear that the paddock club would be as full with many different people from all around the world. You waved to whoever seemed to want your attention, stopping to take pictures with fans or sign autographs all while having your airpods in, a habit you gladly took from Lewis. You knew people would talk about you, what you’re wearing, what you say and being quiet, just like your husband, has helped you a ton in terms of not taking your words out of context. Did SkySports F1 always have close ups of you during races just to see your reaction to anything? Yes but you never engaged unless it was to a smile or a wink to the camera.

Entering the paddock club with two of your security personnel, your long blonde braids swiftly followed behind you and it caught the attention of many, especially a woman who never really liked you or your husband. “Oh my! Y/n! Hi!” The shrill voice behind you had exclaimed to you, hearing their heeled footsteps come close to you. “Kelly, hello.” You smiled but anyone around you could see that the smile never reached your eyes. “Just came over to see your hair and wow, what a statement!” She giggled and she reached her hand out and inched her hand closer and closer to your braids but you moved away as quickly as you could. “Always have something to say.” You muttered to yourself as you turned towards the makeshift ice cream parlour.

“Also wanted to say good luck for today with Red Bull and Mercedes being head to head, y’know? Speaking of your hair, I saw a couple of hair ties that reminded of the two of you-”

“Okay Kelly! Just…stop commenting on our hair, our jewellery or just anything that involves my husband and I.” You sighed out. The look on her face was of shock and disbelief that you would even dare to speak up to her. You flicked your braids behind you and grabbed the two cups of ice cream after paying. Walking out of there in a quick pace, you kept your face neutral and made your way to the Mercedes garage with no one bothering you.

Giving Anthony his ice cream up in a hurry, he observed your face and immediately directed you to where Lewis was, his drivers room. Knocking on his door, you heard a ‘come in’ and entered, seeing him seated with his race suit around his waist and his airpods in just like you. He faced you and his face lit up at the sight of you. “Hey, love. You look so beautiful.” He complimented you and you smiled but it didn’t quite reach your eyes once again. “Let me guess. Someone criticising your looks?” He guessed and you could only nod at him before crashing into his chest and him hugging you right back, feeling the warmth of him envelop you.

“It’s not even about that because people always have something to say. It’s a specific sloth’s girlfriend that’s pissing me off.” Lewis squeezed you within the hug. “Don’t call him that.” You could hear the laugh creeping up but he chose not to. “It’s not me, it’s the internet. She tried to touch my hair then said some shit about hair ties and you know I could beat a bitch up and then she was on some “good luck” type shit-”

“Y/n.” Lewis called out and held your face in your hands. “They want you to stoop down to their level then drag your name all over. Everything will be fine, especially today. As long as I have you and my family beside, I already feel like I have won.” He smiled and gave you a peck before looking into your eyes. “You’re so corny but so sweet, Sir.” You said, fluttering your eyelashes at him and he chuckled while looking to the side.

“You are a dangerous woman, Mrs Hamilton.”

The silence around the Mercedes garage was unsettling once the drivers got to the last two laps of the race. Lewis and Max were head to head with the Red Bull going suspiciously faster. You stood next to Toto and Anthony, tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at the person who’s eyes were piercing into you. There were multiple cameras around you so you couldn’t see clearly at whoever was staring at you. Looking back at the screen, all your hope poured out to Lewis, praying to whoever was listening that he should win.

Your heart seemed to stop at the very moment the world saw Verstappen cross the finish line and hearing the cheers of the Red Bull garage not too far from you. A few groans spewed out of a few engineers as they began to get ready for Lewis to come back after the podium celebration. It seemed as if the cameras came close to you as a single tear slipped out of your left eye, face stoic as ever. You blocked out everything that happened around you. Toto becoming angry, Anthony urging you to come with him to see Lewis, your phone continuously buzzing but all you could do was stare at the screen as you watched Lewis park the car and his helmet dropped down as you saw people cheering behind his car.

Your throat felt closed up and goosebumps run through your body. You felt nauseous but chose to keep it down, knowing you would not be able to even breathe when you see him. You walked out of the garage only to see other drivers coming out of their garages and Lando and Sebastian walking towards the Mercedes garage, mainly towards you.

“Seb..” You muttered out and you could see the pity coming from them but they were trying to make it not seem like they were pitying you. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” You uttered as you waved them off in shock, walking towards the podium celebrations where Lewis’ face was on the screen and you tried your level best to keep it in.

Eventually standing with Anthony at the entrance of the garage, there he was, walking towards the two of you. Lewis hugged his father first whilst giving him encouraging words and you see a few tears escape his eyes and that broke you. Your own tears started to fall and Lewis could hear you despite all the noise. He looked at you once and brought you to his chest for you to sob all your feelings out.

“I’m so sorry.” You cried and he just held you, your arms around his waist. “Everything will be fine, princess. I’ll be okay.” He said as he helped you calm down, rubbing your back. You lifted your head off his chest and looked up into his sad, beautiful eyes. “I love you so much. You’re a champion to me.” You tried to smile at him and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you so much more.” He said, not caring about the world seeing you console each other.

present day

Your sunglasses were perched on your nose as you leaned onto the railing of the Mercedes hospitality in Austria. The race was going terrible for the drivers who weren’t Max Verstappen. Penalties were being handed out left right and centre and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. An hour after the race, you watched how Lewis and Lando interacted in the media pen and how there was no bad blood between them.

“It always shocks me when you and Lewis still keep a positive energy around you even when it feels like the worlds against you.” You heard Susie’s voice as she walked up behind you. “As Selena Gomez said, you kill them with kindness. Us being positive makes people really mad on the internet but everything will work out soon.” You smiled to her as you took off your shades and put them in your handbag.

“And he will get his 8th World Championship title very soon, i can feel it.” You added with a wink which made Susie smile and you looked back at Lewis on the screen to see with a big smile as he bid goodbye to the interviewer.

#lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #x black reader #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #saintslewis

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shesmore-shoebill · 5 months ago

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I needed to clip the full 3 minutes here to really capture the full emotional roller coaster of Chanse and Arasha being very pleased and proud that they finally got Grace and Trip to open up and talk about their problems, only to IMMEDIATELY descend into horror and dismay over being asked to leave (without even getting into the bedroom!!!)

Just the immediate tone shift from "This is good." "Wow, breakthrough, Trip 😌" *satisfied wine holding* into "WAIT." "LET ME STAY." "PLEASE." "I NEED THIS. I DONT KNOW WHO I AM." "LET'S TALK ABOUT MY UPBRINGING! :(" "KISS HER. KISS HER. KISS HER." ......... "damn we won that." *high fives*

And then Angela's little offscreen "You guys are kissing???" before she appears on camera.

#smosh #angela giarratana #chanse mccrary #arasha lalani #smosh games livestream #charasha #facade #smosh games #truly such a great moment from the screen #arasha's dramatic delivery of her lines had me wheezing

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mvltiwritez1 · 7 months ago

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Culinary Genius - Angela Giarratana x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: during a two truths one lie video, Y/n reveals a truth that no one in the office knew.

WARNING(S): light swearing

DISCLAIMER: the truths and lie for Y/n may not be true to you but just imagine. Also not really romance, just a cute scenario.

————————————————————————

Y/n sat across from Angela with the last card in her hand. Angela had guessed each of her lies right and she guessed all of Angela's lies right but she knew that this last round would stump her.

"My first statement is; 'I once broke my wrist doing parkour' Shayne style, second; 'I have read 100 books since January and it is now May' and the last one is; 'I am considered a really good cook'" Y/n read off the options written on the card, a soft smile on her face as she looked back at her. Angela narrowed her eyes at the woman, thinking of a question.

"When did you break your wrist?" She asked, leaning forward. Y/n looked up to remember when.

"I broke it when I was about thirteen/fourteen. I was with a couple of friends and we just liked jumping around on stuff and one time I fell off of a playground structure and completely broke my wrist" She replied, holding up the wrist that went through the trauma. Angela looked at her wrist and nodded, thinking of another question. Murmurs commenced behind them from Amanda, Courtney, and Arasha but Y/n wasn't paying attention to them. She was waiting for another question.

"You're a reader so the 100 books isn't that hard to believe. And of course, I've never heard anyone talk about your cooking skills. I think it would've come up" Angela thought aloud and Y/n tilted her head innocently.

"I think you're lying about the 'good cook' thing. It definitely would've come up" Angela continued and Y/n raised her eyebrows slightly and brought her head back upright.

"Is that your final answer?" Y/n asked and Angela nodded, confident from her correct guessing the other rounds. She even went to get her gun but Y/n quickly reached for hers and shot at her first, causing Angela to gasp and look up at Y/n in surprise. She grinned widely at Angela and set the gun down, as well as her.

"What?! You're a 'really good' cook?!" Angela put air quotes over 'really good'. Y/n nodded, chuckling slightly. Angela looked at the camera and then at the gallery, seeing different surprised looks on the others' faces.

"No one knew but I learned a lot about cooking all my life. Family recipes, techniques for different cooking styles. Some people who have tried my cooking have told me I'm 'really good' it's not just a self title" Y/n scratched at the back of her neck nervously.

"That's crazy. You need to show me your skills soon" Angela chuckled. Y/n shrugged.

"I'm down" She replied, Angela smiled.

"Aweeee it's a little date" Amanda said in a baby voice and everyone laughed.

"Wait. What was the lie?" Angela asked and Y/n went to answer her question.

——

When they were done filming, Y/n's shirt had somewhat dried but she still brought another shirt to change into so she went to her bag at her desk and got the shirt so she could change in the gender neutral bathroom.

She was looking at her phone as she walked towards the bathroom, she collided with someone but quickly caught them before they could both fall. Y/n dropped her phone accidentally but focused her eyes and found Angela in her arms, flustered. Y/n smiled and helped her get back to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention" Angela blushed, picking up a bag off of the floor. It was probably a change of clothes as well. Y/n picked up her phone and held her new shirt tighter in her hand, checking the screen.

"It's no problem, I shouldn't have been on my phone" Y/n chuckled and put her phone in her pocket before looking back at Angela.

"Well I'll see you later" the brunette said, recovering from being caught. She left and Y/n continued on her route to the bathroom, having an idea.

——

The work day was done and Y/n set her bag on the hook near the door, taking her laptop out of the bag. She set it down on her couch before immediately going back out to bring her groceries into her apartment.

She had decided to make one of her signature grilled sandwiches, simple but did the job. She thought back to the time that she and Angela had lunch and the brunette ordered a plain grilled cheese. Y/n wanted to make it the way she usually did which was normally with sourdough bread, compound butter - to add an acidity and extra flavour to the bread - and sliced marble cheese. She wouldn't make Angela's until lunch the next day but she blended the butter with parsley, lemon juice, and a little bit of red wine vinegar. Y/n also put the butter in a container, ready to take to the office tomorrow.

Dinner for her was just one of those sandwiches since they were quite easy to make. Y/n changed out of her work clothes and brought up Angela's contact on her phone.

Y/n<3: Hey I just want to say, don't bring lunch tomorrow. Or buy it, ok? Also meet me in the kitchen at lunch.

Angela shortly replied,

Ange: ok...why?

Y/n<3: Can't tell you, it's a surprise ;)

Ange: lol alrighty then

Angela probably thought Y/n was crazy but she decided to go along with it.

——

Angela got done filming a Smosh Games video and Amanda walked up to her, a smile on her face.

"Lunch?" Amanda asked, seemingly knowing the answer.

"Sorry 'Manda, Y/n told me not to get anything for lunch and meet her in the kitchen and I said I would." Angela looked apologetic, Amanda smirked and raised her eyebrows.

"She's going to cook for you. She kept her word" Angela actually had forgotten what they'd filmed the previous day. It was close to the end of the week so that was bound to happen. Her eyes widened and Amanda chuckled.

"Enjoy Ange" Amanda said and went up to Courtney, striking a conversation with them.

Angela walked to the kitchen and saw Y/n in there, setting some things up. Angela smiled softly and walked in, causing Y/n to look up.

"Hey! You must've been wondering why I asked you not to get lunch or bring one" Y/n leaned against the counter, her uncovered arms holding her up as she looked at the slightly shorter woman.

"Well I think I know why now" Angela chuckled and approached the island in the kitchen, looking at the ingredients.

"What are you making?" She asked and Y/n smiled back at her.

"I'm glad you asked, I'm making a grilled cheese" Y/n said confidently and Angela snickered.

"Hey, don't disrespect my sandwich game baby" Y/n stood up fully and reached for the sourdough. Angela blushed at the pet name but cleared her throat to calm herself.

Y/n took the butter container and a butter knife and spread the butter on the pieces of bread, parsley in with the butter as well. Angela looked in confusion.

"What's that?" She knew how to cook, pretty well actually but she hadn't expected something other than butter.

"It's compound butter. Usually people use this stuff for enhancing the flavour in meats, vegetables, and even baked goods but I use it for sandwiches sometimes" Y/n explained and walked over to the pan on the stove with a plate of ingredients. Angela nodded, watching the process in interest.

"Is there anything extra you want on it? Or just cheese" Y/n asked, placing one of the pieces of buttered bread in the pan as well as the cheese.

"No thank you" She smiled. She kind of felt like a child but was excited about trying whatever Y/n cooked. Y/n smiled and nodded, putting the top piece of bread on the sandwich, closing it off. She turned the stove on and turned around to face Angela.

"You know you really didn't have to do this." Angela continued, her back leaning against the kitchen island. Y/n shrugged her shoulders.

"I said I would cook for you and this was an easy way to do so. Though it's a bit of a bummer it's not fancy" Y/n joked at that last bit. She then turned around and checked the bottom of the sandwich, it was a perfect golden brown so she flipped it over to cook the other side.

"Dude, you're literally making me a sandwich for lunch because you said you could cook. It doesn't have to be fancy. It didn't even have to happen" Angela said, stepping closer to Y/n. She stood beside her at the stove and looked at the sandwich, it looked amazing already.

"It's almost done" Y/n looked at Angela before pressing down on the sandwich to fully cook the other side and make sure the cheese is melted.

Soon enough, Y/n checked the other side and turned the stove off once she saw the golden brown colour on the bread. She then plated it and gave it to Angela.

"Your lunch Madam" Y/n put on a terrible English accent and Angela laughed as she grabbed the plate.

"Aren't you going to have one? Because I can wait" Angela asked and Y/n smiled at the respectful nature of Angela when it came to this.

"I already made one this morning so let's go sit" Y/n replied, dropping the accent. She would go back and wash everything she used after being done with lunch.

They both walked out and sat in the seating area. Angela let it cool off while Y/n opened her lunch bag, pulling out a sandwich cut into triangles.

They both took a bite at the same time. Flavour bursted in Angela's mouth and she made a noise in surprise. Y/n watched her and gauged her reaction to be positive. Angela took another bite as Amanda and Courtney sat at their table.

"Hey guys. What did you make?" Amanda asked, sitting down with a salad.

"I made a grilled cheese for her" Y/n replied and Courtney's eyebrows rose.

"Oh! Is Y/n's cooking skills as good as she says?" Courtney asked Angela. The brunette hadn't said anything yet but she looked up at them, a closed smile on her face. She nodded enthusiastically and Y/n blushed.

"Now I'm wishing I didn't get a salad" Amanda joked, winking at Y/n, Y/n and Courtney laughed.

"Honestly that sandwich smells really good. And I'm not usually a sandwich girlie" Courtney said, patting Y/n on the back softly.

"Thank you thank you. They're my specialty" Y/n flipped her hair jokingly as Angela finished off the sandwich.

"Good?" Y/n asked.

"So good. Holy shit Y/n, why did you hide this skill from us?" Angela asked and Y/n chuckled.

"Well I didn't hide it per se. I just never brought it up" Y/n smiled cheekily.

#angela giarratana #fanfic #angela giarratana x reader #oneshot #smosh #writing #angela giarratana x fem reader #writers block

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chiefdirector · 11 months ago

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Conversing | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

Damian Barrett moved the coins in his hands, rattling them back and forth as he waited for the seconds as they passed. He had been instructed to call at exactly 17:47, not a second sooner or late. He was to say a few words and hang-up. The call had to be short, and from a payphone. The Instructions had been very clear, he had no margin for error.

He looked down to his cracked watch for the third time this minute, he only had 30 more seconds. His heart was pounding in his chest, so much so he could hear every thump after thump after thump. Taking a deep breath, he counted a few more seconds before slotting the coins, one by one, into the payphone and dialling the number he had memorised weeks ago.

He listened as the phone rang once, twice, three times before the recipient answered. “Hello, Damian. I am so glad to hear from you, and at the correct time too. Good boy.”

“I was arrested earlier, one of the cops, some girl detective or whatever, recognised my snake.” He said gruffly, trying to keep his voice quiet in such a public setting.

“And…?” The voice rang out, satisfied at the report so far.

“She seemed thrown off by it. Then they let me go, no charge.”

The voice laughed softly, so much so Damian wasn’t sure he had heard it. “Excellent. You did well.”

“Is that all you wanted from me? Are we even yet?” He snapped.

Damian had been in business with the person behind the voice for a while. He had never seen their face or even learnt their first name. He was desperate one day when his phone rang, he took the offer, forever debiting himself to the faceless voice.

“Not quite,” The voice said before pausing for a moment. Damian nearly hung up the phone when they began to speak again. “Although, if you want to pay off some more of that debt, I have another job for you, relatively easy.”

“Easy?” He snapped, “Nothing is easy with you! I’ve just been arrested, and youre saying whatever comes next is easy.”

“Calm yourself, or I won’t be so nice next time. You’ve seen what happens when I decide that I want someone gone. It’s why I enlisted you of course. Besides, a child could do this job.”

Damian leant his head back, cursing everything he could think of. “Fine. What is it.”

“I need you to mail me something…”

----------

The payphone was found destroyed in the morning, the machine was smashed to bits. Local CCTV placed a hooded man waiting there for nearly half hour before taking a short phone call.

It didn't take long for the case to wind up on Detective Bradford’s desk. Opening the file, her eyes cast down to the images captured by the surveillance camera. It was a little blurred, but once she focussed into the details, it was unmissable. A snake tattoo with bright red eyes.

Swiftly, she grabbed the file and images, weaving throughout the bull pen to Lopez’s desk. It took some restraint not to slam it down.

“Hey, I think we were right to be concerned about Barret.” She opened the file again, letting Angela look inside, “This wasn't long after he left here.”

Lopez picked up the file, flipping through the pages as (Y/N) had done only a few moments prior. “I think we need to go to Grey, this should be added to the reports. But that phone is smashed, you do know that we will have no record of anything dialled from there? It’s another loose end.”

“Yeah, I know, but it is something, more than we had at least.”

“It’s something to watch out for.”

----------

The crinkled paper felt familiarly rough under her fingers as she ran them along the pages. Ideally she wouldn’t have had to read books in such disrepair but you do not get many luxuries in prison, so she would take what she could get. Placing the book down, the prisoner sighed, laying down in her bed.

She didn’t need a clock to know what the time was, she had spent years observing the routines of the days and the movements of the guards. She could practically tell what they ate for lunch at this point. It was a simple way to keep her mind occupied, death row wasn’t full of mental stimulation after all. She knew that in less than four minutes a guard, most likely Donovan, would be coming round with mail that had been pre read and searched for any kind of threat.

They couldn’t be blamed, if anything she found it adorable. Their pathetic attempts to stop her communicating with the outside world. The prison should have known about her contraband phone and stationary, she did make it far too obvious after all. But then again, if someone doesn’t want to see something, it has a slight habit of not being noticeable.

Two minutes.

She could tell by the sound of the cart entering the corridor. It was a creaky old thing, one of the wheels tended to spin away from the others, making an awful screech when it was turned. It was a shame the prison was too cheap for a can of WD-40. It would’ve made her predictions a tad more challenging.

Thirty seconds.

She sat up again, straightening out the bright orange prison uniform she wore. She had always taken pride in her appearance and the uniform made no dent in that. Power was exerted from looks, and she would be damned if she didn’t keep a firm hold of the power.

Ten seconds.

Slowly she stood up, stretching her arms out, waiting for the door hatch to open

Five seconds...

…four…

…three…

…two

The hatch slammed open, a parcel of torn open letters shoved through. As she had predicted, the voice of guard Donovan rang out before the hatch slammed shut again. “Rosalind Dyer, mail call.”

Chapter 18 | Chapter 20

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @agentred27 @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #bottom of the river #chiefdirector

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pumpkinsy0 · 5 months ago

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Why are you watching me your posts are always relevant to my situation..

Anyway

Sylvia and Angela headcanons?

yea i actually watch everyone who interacts w me i place lil cameras on them, hope u dont mind!!

BUT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR AOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT HCS FOR THEM FOR THE LONGEST TIME WOOO LETS GO ONE ANGELA AND SYLVIA HCS POST COMING RIGHT UP🤵🏽‍♀️🍮

•angela sees sylvia as like the fun aunt or better yet, older sister, shes the only girl in her world and she doesnt have any girl friends and gere comes dally w sylvia

•it works bc sylvias always wanted a lil sister!!

•tim has an odd feeling about their relationship, he doesnt want sylvia around angela bc lord know what shes teaching the girl but i think tim understands that angel needs a female guidance somewhere, cause their mother sure as hell aint it

•curly actually doesnt mind, guaranteed he thinks its weird that its dallys on and off again gf so maybe he questions it a tad, cause like whag could they possibly have to say to each other, but who is he to judge, angelas alright so hes alright

•i keep forgetting that i hc sylvia as haitian too so let me make it clear that angela would find sylvia speaking kreyòl to her very comforting, its not the best bc she wasnt born in haiti but angela doesn't care, as long as sylvia keeps calling her “zanj” she’ll be fine

•a good chunk of angelas stuff is actually from sylvia, partially hand me downs, partially clothes she bought for her

•i think a lot of ppl judge them and thats a good reason of why they gravitate towards each other, nobody else rlly gets it but them

•ik they rant to each other about their love lives, or rlly just their lives in general, them shits is a MESS they need an outsiders perspective to tell them if theyre going crazy, and look as much as they love each other, they wont always tell the other what they wanna hear, theyre very upfront ppl

•however they would butt heads from time to time, as i said, theyre like sisters, its only natrual

•i truly cannot explain this to u, but them having a heart to heart kinda reminds me of its raining somewhere else from undertale

•when dally comes over w sylvia, sylvia is usually upstairs w angela until dally calls her down or is kicked out

•they kiss each others cheeks everytime they see each other

#angela shepard #sylvia the outsiders #tim shepard #curly shepard #dallas winston

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littlerosetrove · 8 months ago

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Overall another great episode I’d say! ✌️

My initial Spoiler Thoughts for 7x2 in no particular order.

Hen has some clear biases to assess and work on. She was, well, dismissive and judgemental of the drunk (and drugged?) guy. She’s gotta stay neutral no matter the person, especially while on scene. Oh ohhhh I wonder if this will be an arc that Hen goes on this season? Just overall her becoming a better firefighter/captain?

Poor Norman. His wife cheated on him? That’s rough my guy. And… I’m not sure he’s gonna make it. =/

That's the cruise doctor? Uhhh I think they need someone with more expertise and frankly more of a spine. Bruh.

That hostage situation was surprisingly short. Hm…. I’m kinda wondering if this season had, say, 18 episodes if they would have spread out this whole cruise ship story to 4 episodes instead of 3. Idk, I’ll have to wait to see how episode 3 goes, but *shrugs* I don’t think I’d be mad if it all had been stretched out a bit for extra drama.

The snake white guy said “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m not a bad person.” I need more time to think and articulate this but… Actions speak louder than words. Dude was selfish, dabbling in something that brought great harm to others while, sure, not meaning for the harm to happen. He’d been ready to dip. He only gets points for saving our 911 parents. 😩

Please. That’s so cute that Maddie and Chimney share everything and gossip together. Sure they’ll keep your secret! …..but that secret is also safe with their partner. <3

Frank, you did okay this time. But be prepared for an influx once Athena and Bobby are back, and not just from them. Are you listening, Buck? He needs to go back to therapy anyway. But like, Bobby is in danger and that’s going to effect Buck. Please please let the show circle back around to the fact that Buck greatly fears losing Bobby, his dad.

Buck and Eddie sharing one brain cell when trying to explain themselves. <3

Maddie has clearly been with Chimney for a long time with her joke of “did you lose a boat?” 😆

Idk when Bobby is in captain mode he's so??????? Yeah.

Ahhhh! The camera shot of Bobbys’ hand covering Athena’s to help her save everyone. 😩 These two are so ride or die oh my godddddd.

Shit, yeah Peter and Angela got my crying a bit with their “love confession” talk.

I spotted some bloopers. In 1-2 moments Peter’s hair was almost dry, then it wasn’t. They had to film that scene in the bulge (whatever that room was called) for a while or something.

Maddie knows Spanish?? I mean, I guess she probably learned it in high school, and maybe was able to keep it up being a nurse and then a 911 dispatcher. Good on her because I took 2 years of Spanish in high school, didn’t keep it up, and remember maybe 1% of what I learned.

HOLY SHIT THAT CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!! Literally Athena’s worst fears come to life. 🙃🙃🙃

OKAY. BUT. If the fuck-massive cruise ship was fully turned over, HOW does anyone in the life boats survive? Did they somehow make it far enough away to not get tossed like a freaking toy???? Suspension of disbelief I guess!! 🤙

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #my thoughts

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lamuradex · 22 days ago

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Novella November: Day 7

@novella-november One Week Update!

A week already. And yet it feels like it should be longer.

Anyway, wordcount.

My Current Wordcount: 15,882

Alright, that's more than I expected. I've only just realised I've passed the half way point. I'll say, the TrackBear leaderboard is acting as quite the motivator. That line graph. I'm getting a little competitive.

Whatever, I'm enjoying myself. And it's a good distraction from certain world politics going on... More importantly, this is just a story I've wanted to write for ages, Ninth Realm, and I love having a good excuse to write with a challenge like this!

AND, as I did back in September for 40K in 42 Days, I'm gonna start posting large-ish snippets of what I've been writing with each update.

So, snippet time.

This snippet is an early pivotal moment in the story, where Angela is finally given a voice... literally. She's been mute up until now and has had some trouble communicating, with only a vague grasp of sign language and some written words.

Snippet below the cut!

Elsewhere in the building, Angela, as was now her name, was sat in a cell. The door was open, unlocked, and the bed given fresh linens. It honestly was just a barely decorated bedroom with a solid door and a camera in the corner. One of them, Hunter, had promised to switch the camera off.

She sat back on the bed, alone with her thoughts. She often was. Unable to speak, socialising was a rarity. But these seemed like good people, the friendly Pheobe, her nervous looking paramour, big kind Hunter, stern Mike, the man Reggie who she hadn’t really met yet… and then that pleasant doctor. Simon. Polite and caring. It was a long time since someone had properly cared. She wasn’t even sure how long.

Her dour thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. It waited, clearly expecting a response, but Angela didn’t have a method of answering. The visitor eventually worked this out, and opened the door, Pheobe popping her head in.

“Hi. Sorry, forgot you couldn’t answer. How are you settling in?”

Angela gave a thumbs up. There was nothing to complain about, really.

“Cool. I just wanted to come down and check on you. Also, I thought I’d bring you some clothes.” She produced a pile from behind her back. “Those bandages look a little chilly, you know? I’ve got nothing again the au naturel look, but I thought you’d like the option. Just some of Jess’s old things that she never wears. She prefers to make a statement with her clothes, as you likely saw. I think she’s also a bit bigger than you, so you might need a belt, but it’ll do for now. So… enjoy.” She put down the clothes and stepped back.

Angela accepted them with a genuine smile. She had no trouble with the au naturel look either, but now that she mentioned it, it was a little cold in here. And she did generally prefer to wear clothes.

“Also… there was something else,” Pheobe said a little more hesitantly. “I don’t know if this is stupid or not, but I made you something.”

Angela curved an eyebrow curiously. Pheobe produced something from a pocket, a small device on a strap.

“I know you can sign and everything, but I’m not a great translator. Simon taught me some last year, but most if it’s fallen right back out of my brain. But I saw the way you communicated using my phone, and Simon said you did the same with his tablet. Something to do with you… emitting emotions, like how I felt yours. So, I just thought…”

She handed the device over, which Angela took carefully.

“It’s basically just a speaker attached to a small computer. Repurposed an old phone with text to speech. I can’t guarantee it’s perfect, but it should work, and it might mean you can communicate without us looking at you or over a radio. And that’ll make Mike happy, if we’re working with you for the time being.”

Angela held up the little device. It was as described, just a little speaker grill on a box on a strap. She tested the strap for its strength.

“I was thinking you could put in on an arm or-”

Angela placed the strip across her neck, laying the box across the front of her throat.

“Or wear it as a choker. That’s cool too. It’s like a voice box!” she realised.

Angela clasped it at the back, and swallowed to make sure it wasn’t in the way. She nodded once it was comfortable.

“It should be able to communicate just like the phone.”

Angela sat straight, focused, and tried to focus her thoughts. To speak without moving her lips. To speak with-

“BZzztt… SPEAK WITHOUT-” the device blurted. Angela stopped. “I CAN… I can speak,” she said through the box, concentrating and lowering the volume. The voice was flat and monotonous, and just vaguely female, but it was a voice. She concentrated again. “I can speak,” she repeated, trying to fluctuate the tone. It barely shifted.

“There you go!” Pheobe said excitedly. “That doesn’t, like, hurt or anything?”

“It’s a little DIFFICULT,” the box suddenly yelled. Angela pulled her new voice back. “It takes effort. But thank you.” She said in her new flat monotone.

Pheobe was beaming. “It’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, Phay-o-be.” She paused, hearing the wrong sound come out. “Phay-o… Phay-o…”

“Maybe I can tweak it a little. Tighten up the text to speech.”

“Phay… Phee… Phee-Be… Pheobe. Thank you, Pheobe,” she said finally, genuinely aglow with gratitude, even if her new voice didn’t show it. “This is wonderful.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble. I’ll leave you to work out how to use it. See you in the morning, Angela.”

“GoodNIGHT Pheobe,” Angela returned, managing regain control of her volume.

“See you in the morning,” Pheobe repeated, and headed back upstairs.

Angela sat on her bed, cross legged, thinking of all the words she could say. She picked out some that seemed the most important.

“Hello. My name is Angela. What is your name?”

And into the night, she continued to practice with her new gift.

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #lamura dex writes!#NinthRealmStory #novella november #I'm not going to stop at 30K #I'm gonna keep writing until this month is over

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rabbiteclair · 2 years ago

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after I mentioned it last night multiple people expressed interest in my thoughts on Lobotomy Corp so here we go.

(cut for various minor spoilers)

This is the kind of game where my friends who've already beaten it are gathered around me like a pack of hyenas watching a wounded gazelle, asking me questions like "so, what do you think of this character?" and then huddling up to whisper amongst themselves, presumably eagerly waiting for me to hit the scene where, I dunno, Hod vivisects and eats a baby while looking directly into the camera or whatever.

People really looked at what happened to the word Sephirot(h) and went 'listen, we're just getting started' huh.

If Hod wants to eat a baby though, I think that's her right. I wanna hug Hod.

Netzach can have one too. A hug, I mean. Eating a baby would probably just make him more depressed.

Yesod is in the 'fucked up, but I can see how he got there' tier. If the game gave me true managerial oversight, I'd make Netzach share half his drugs with Yesod. I think it'd be good for both of them.

Malkuth is kinda scary, but I like her anyway.

Angela is just scary and at this point I'm 90% sure that there's some 'the PC is [important thing here] and she is fucking with your memory/perception to hide it' stuff going on. If I had to guess, that blank is 'actually B' or 'actually A', but I'm going on pretty scant and indirect clues so far.

This game is going to be forever warring with Arknights in my mind for the rights to define the word 'Enkephalin.'

Judging by my friends, I've had pretty horrible luck so far, including the game skipping me directly from Teth to Waw and then giving me some of the roughest Waws to boot. I only got He ones later.

As of last night I'm currently around day 20 and getting ready to make my first rewind back to day 1, because hoo boy am I not prepared for Alephs.

I was dreading rewinding, because I am very attached to my pro super agents Max and Yum-Yum, and then I realized. I also have the fucking... iron maiden thing. The one that you can only use/research by letting it murder people. The one that I haven't researched at all, because I don't have people to feed to it. But if I'm rewinding anyway... Thanks for your hard work, everyone, I'm just gonna need you to leave your gear at home today, form a queue, and step through this door one at a time. Don't mind the screams.

I might still spare Max and Yum-Yum though. Go free, my friends. I have no quarrel with you. Try not to get blood on your shoes, there's gonna be a lot of it.

One Sin, Fragment of the Universe, and Scorched Girl are my friends.

The first time Meat Lantern escaped I went 'okay, I don't know what this guy is capable of, so let's round up everyone I have and send them in to pummel it with their best weapons.' It killed literally every agent except like two who had guns, in one gigantic bloodsplosion. I've discovered some ways for Meat Lantern to kill people that my friends didn't know was possible.

Old Lady, Child of the Galaxy, and Naked Nest aren't friends exactly, but they're generally well-behaved energy-printing machines. My friends insist that Naked Nest isn't, but my kid Max has that thing locked down. (Sorry again if I do torture you to death in an electronic iron maiden, Max.) Every Zayin I haven't mentioned basically falls in this category, except they don't actually make meaningful levels of energy at this point.

FUCK Alriune, all my homies hate Alriune.

CENSORED is pointedly not my friend, but it's so funny that I can't dislike it. To a lesser extent this also includes Grave of Cherry Blossoms, because every time it's gone off, it's killed some clerk while I watch and go 'eh, this is fine.'

#lobotomy corp

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wafflesinthe504 · 2 years ago

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The Rookie 5x16 Thoughts

Spoilers for The Rookie 5x16 below. If you've watched the episode or don't care about spoilers, please enjoy!

The official Valentine's Day episode has finally arrived!! I loved that each and every couple was given their own time to shine and small storylines throughout the episode. From Chenford to Wopez, to NyJa, and of course Jailey everyone had their own arguments/disagreements that were of course finished by the end of the episode and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Everyone having to deal with the craziest and most dangerous Valentine's Day yet.

Sidenote to all of the couples I also really enjoyed finally seeing Celina start develop her own arc separate from her training as a cop. I was happy to finally understand why her mother hadn't left the house in so long and I just really appreciate how much we've seen Celina's character grow so far. I'm really interested to see how her story plays out and can't wait to learn more about what really happened to her sister and if Celina (and her mom) are able to get the closure that they need.

Also I wish that this episode wasn't a body cam episode. While I think that using the bodycams can be a cool technique I don't think that this technique goes well for episodes that are supposed to be very character centric. This is because the shots that can be used are more limited since where the cameras are placed technically have to make since and because the cameras themselves are static. It doesn't help that due to the cameras field of view it sometimes makes it hard to figure out where in the scene I'm supposed to be focused on. The bodycam as the cameras should really only be used like once a season.

The Chenford cold open was so much fun. From Lucy and Tim sleeping together and Tim just cuddled into Lucy (so cute and soft), to seeing Lucy immediately jumping into action when she realizes that something is wrong with her one of her old UC pals and Tim jumping in with her to back her up just in case (they're just so in sync and I love it). I really enjoyed getting that glimpse of seeing Lucy back in UC. I really hope we see more of her doing UC operations even if they're just short-term ones. My guess is that we probably won't see Lucy go full UC until Celina is done with her Rookie period so that they have someone to pair Aaron up with for patrol.

Noah and Lucy's banter was so fun to watch along with Tim's reaction to it. I really want to know where the HotPants joke came from. Like what happened that Lucy got the nickname HotPants. Here's hoping we get some insight into Lucy's time at UC school. Also, how much does Noah know about Tim for him to be like 'oh that Bradford.' Our girl loves this mac so much she probably couldn't stop talking about him to her UC friends.

I wonder how Tim felt when he saw/ heard Lucy act as a UC for that short period of time and then later on when Noah brought up the idea of becoming full time UC because of how good she is at it. The audience and Tim know just how good of a UC Lucy is and I think its going to be interesting to see if Lucy does end up becoming a full-time UC and if she does how that would affect their relationship.

Continuing on into the show I was really excited to see Lucy and Tim riding together again. I thought that once Tim moved divisions that we wouldn't see them riding together again, but I'm happy to be proven wrong.

Angela teasing Tim about finally having a date for Valentine's Day.

Of course everyone could see from a mile away that Tim and Lucy's argument would be about Lucy going behind Tim's back to help him get the metro position. I appreciate that the writers didn't feel the need to try to blow the whole argument out of proportion in an attempt to raise the stakes of their relationship. I'm satisfied with how the argument was handled and how they made up at the end.

The introductory Wopez scene in this episode was so good. Both of them being out sync with each other showing just how much everything that's happening is weighing on them. I enjoyed the gag of the extra security being a woman instead of a man and seeing Angela's reaction. I loved when Wesley called Angela and she accidentally tells him about the gas and then she sees the bodyguard in the background holding Jack and she just hangs up the phone.

Wesley really was out here just trying to make the best of Valentine's Day and it just wasn't in the cards for them.

That ending though with them receiving that messed up gift from Elijah Stone was a good cliffhanger and a good lead into next week's crossover.

I really hope for next week's crossover that it actually acts as a true crossover and not just one character from each show just showing up for like a minute before disappearing.

Bonus: Everyone's reaction to the bodyguard. Both Celina and Grey telling Angela to get that woman out of her house and away from Wesley while Aaron is just over here trying to find a date for Valentine's Day was just so funny. Moments like this where the whole crew is interacting with each other are always great to watch.

I always love and appreciate when we get to see Nyla and James together they are such a great couple. I was surprised that we got to see as much of them together as we did this episode. Their argument about the creepy bear cam that James' mom had gotten for Leah was probably the most realistic argument that we saw. I could see both parties sides but, I really like the moment with Nyla and Aaron where Aaron helped Nyla see why James' mom wanted access to the link and how that realization helped Nyla at the end helped her James come to a compromise that worked in the favor of everyone.

I hope we get to see an arc for them in the future where they sort of get to be the put at the forefront of the story for a little while. I just really want to see more of them and their family.

Wopez has been getting a lot of attention so, I hope that NyJa get their time to shine as well.

And finally, Jailey. Of course, their first official fight is on Valentine's Day. I was quite relieved that they weren't left out of the couples who were having issues and we got to see them not being some amazing perfect couple.

As soon as John took that phone from Bailey I already knew that that was going to be the start of their argument. One might think for someone who has been married before that doing that is like an instant argument starter.

Even though I enjoyed their argument and seeing how it was resolved it would have been nice to see some other indications of Bailey not being able to ask for help and why John felt it was necessary to take matters in his own hands. We know that John is absolutely the type of person to constantly want to fix a person's problem, but it would have been nice to see Bailey's inability to ask for help. As I've probably said before even though these two are supposed to be the main couple of the show they generally get little meaningful character and relationship development that makes us as the audience really care about them.

______________________________________________________________

Bonus: Little addition about the plot itself I think that the character and relationships this episode were truly the standout feature and since it was such a character driven episode I think that it would have benefitted from choosing one case to focus on. I think if just one of the cases were chosen for this episode it would have only helped to create different character dynamics and we would have been able to continue to focus on the issues that the characters were facing in their relationship.

With everything that happened in the previous episode and what's going to be happening in the next episodes it was quite easy to tell that this was more a filler episode than anything and it wouldn't have hurt to just lean into that and let the characters shine even more.

______________________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed. If you want come chat with me in the comments about anything The Rookie related.

Until next time have a good day or night!

#the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #chenford #john nolan #bailey nune #nyla harper #james murray #wesley evers #angela lopez #wopez

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months ago

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People Like Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!SWAT!sniper!reader

Summary: Mid-Wilshire officers need assistance, so your SWAT team joins them to diffuse a hostage situation. As a result, Lucy learns that Tim has a girlfriend.

Warnings: hostage situation, this is early seasons but I added Nyla bc I love her, fluff, crossover, some grumpy!Tim

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Can you see me now?”

“Street,” you sigh into your radio. “Why are you whispering? You’re 46 yards away, it’s not like I’m going to locate you by sonar.”

“So, you’re saying you couldn’t shoot me from here?”

“Considering your big head is square in my sights, no, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“My head is not big!”

“Are you two done?” Hondo asks tiredly.

“Depends,” you answer with a smile. “Why are you asking?”

“20 Squad,” Hicks calls over the radio. “Mid-Wilshire division just requested tactical support. There’s a hostage situation at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, corner of Wilshire and Fairfax.”

“Let’s roll!” Hondo commands.

You stand from your position and ignore Street’s static murmur of “That’s where you were” as you return your long-range precision sniper to its case.

“I need my AR-10,” you request as you approach the SWAT parking lot.

“Loaded in Black Betty,” Luca yells from the driver’s seat.

“You’re the best, Luca!”

“I know.”

“Officer Lopez?” Hondo inquires as you exit Black Betty at the corner of Ogden Street and Wilshire Boulevard.

“Thanks for coming,” she answers. “We’ve got an active shooter and at least fifteen known hostages. Our shooter, Wayne Ritter, entered the building, toured the exhibits, then disarmed a security guard and started making demands.”

“How long ago?” Deacon asks.

“About an hour. We’ve had a hostage negotiator on the phone with him several times but he’s not making any progress.”

“Has he fired any shots?”

“At least three. We’re not sure if anyone is injured.”

“You’ve got officers on the east side of the building by the urban light display,” you point out. “You think he’s going to use that exit?”

“Just trying to cover our bases,” another woman answers. “I’m Officer Harper, I work with UCs, just assisting the detectives on this one. Ritter’s a prime suspect in a carjacking turned homicide a few miles from here.”

“There are three sets of doors on the north side of the building. Open into a fenced area that backs up to Fairfax,” Tan says, looking at a virtual map.

“Can he get to the underground parking from there?” Luca asks.

“If he hops the fence, yeah.”

“We’ve got officers blocking off the parking area,” Angela explains. “And three groups waiting on Fairfax, including my rookie. If he leaves, we’ve got him.”

“We’re just more worried about what he’ll do to get out,” Nyla adds.

You look around the immediate area as Deacon gets more information about the employees, security guard, and the operating cameras inside the museum. When Hondo notices your furrowed brows, he steps toward you.

“What are you thinkin’?”

“Three doors at the back into a fenced area is a terrible choice. A few doors and an emergency exit to the east trap you with a bunch of cops. The building’s probably locked down, so he can’t get to parking from inside,” you list off. “If he hasn’t tried to leave, it means he’s looked. There’s only a few windows in the building.”

“You want to find him.”

You nod and point toward the intersection of Wilshire and Fairfax. “There’s windows on this side, facing south. If I can locate him, I can take him down.”

“We can’t get you close enough,” Harper interjects. “We’ve got deadly force authorization, but we can’t risk putting you anywhere near his eyeline."

You smile at her concerns, and Street steps back.

“Can he see 433 feet above street level?” you challenge.

“145 yards?” Luca asks incredulously.

“The AR-10 shoots up to 600.”

“It’s not about the gun,” Deacon adds.

You turn toward Hondo, hoping he has more faith in you than the rest of your team.

“She can do it,” Street argues.

Lopez watches you and Hondo, and Nyla raises her phone to her ear.

“5900 Wilshire Boulevard,” she says. “31-stories?... Yes, sir…” She ends the call and tells Hondo, “SBE officials are allowing us to use the building as we need.”

Hondo sighs and shakes his head. “You’re lucky I trust you.” He smiles as he adds, “That we all trust you. Get up there and find this guy.”

You nod and then pull your AR-10 onto your back and run down Wilshire Boulevard to enter the skyscraper.

“Hopefully he actually has a big head,” Street calls after you.

A shot rings from the museum, and Angela raises her radio to ask, “Bradford? Where’d that shot come from?”

Tim and Lucy duck behind a concrete art installment east of the museum as a shot echoes off the smooth surfaces surrounding them.

“Bradford? Where’d that shot come from?” Angela asks.

“Northeast corner,” he answers. “Chen and I are south of the gate.”

“SWAT team’s here and we’ve got a sniper getting in position. Any sign of our hostages?”

Tim moves to the end of the abstract wave he’s using as cover but can’t see anything through the dark windows of the door closest to him.

“Nope. Nolan’s in the garage. Interior access can’t be far from where that shot came from.”

“Nolan?” Harper calls. “What’s your status?”

“All clear down here. The doors haven’t opened. We’re holding a few civilians on the far east wall. The shot was above us,” Nolan explains. “Probably not far from the south entrances.”

“Can somebody get a thermal reading?” Nyla asks loudly.

“Walls are too thick from this direction,” an officer answers. “Airship One is two minutes out, going to try to get a shot from the roof.”

“Send us in,” Hondo suggests. “We’ve got thermal scanners, if we can get to a window or door, we can find this guy.”

“Harper, Lopez!” someone calls from the mobile control center. “Grey’s on the phone with Ritter!”

Hondo follows Angela and Nyla into the trailer, where Sergeant Grey has a call on speaker.

“I understand, Wayne. We’re working on getting that for you. But I need to know that everyone inside is okay. We heard a shot, and you aren’t trusting me enough to tell me what happened.”

“‘Cause nothing happened!” Wayne snaps.

“Okay,” Grey concedes, turning to look at Angela. “Then can you tell me how many people are with you? We’ll need to help them, too.”

“They don’t matter!”

Someone screams in the background, a sound laced with fear. Wade shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Twenty minutes,” Wayne demands. “Or there will be one less person for you to help.”

“Mr. Ritter!”

The line beeps, and Wade slams the button to silence the ended call. “He is progressing and if we don’t get some eyes in there quickly, we’re going to be cleaning up a slaughter instead of recovering hostages.”

Hondo raises his hand to his ear, and the Mid-Wilshire officers watch as he smiles.

“I might be able to help with that,” he says.

When you finally reach the thirty-first floor, your adrenaline is pumping, but your breathing is slow and even. You had to stop three well-dressed businessmen from getting on the elevator with you. One even had the nerve to flirt with you until he saw the gun at your back. So, when you finally step out onto the roof, you sigh in relief. At the northwest corner, you lower to one knee and raise your handheld scope, which shows distance, wind direction, wind speed, and crosswinds.

“Perfect,” you murmur.

After you raise your gun to your shoulder, you lean toward your dominant side and use the ultra-clear scope to look into the southern windows. You move your steadying hand to your radio, propping the gun against the concrete pillar before you, and switch your radio on.

“Hondo, I’m in position,” you alert. “Got eyes in the back windows.”

“10-4,” he replies. “I’m with Mid-Wilshire’s watch commander. If you get a shot, take it.”

“Can I get a physical description of our guy?” you request. “I’d rather not pull an accidental Jack Traven and shoot a hostage.”

“Right here,” Grey offers as he pulls up Wayne Ritter’s record on a laptop. “Security cameras are showing him in dark blue jeans, a white or yellow button-down shirt, and a new mustache.”

Hondo raises his phone and takes a picture of the screen, then speaks to you as he types. “I’m sending you a picture. 5’10”, dark hair, wearing dark blue jeans, a light button-down, and he’s got a mustache now.”

“New look for a new crime?” you joke.

“New attempt, at least,” Hondo agrees. “Deacon and Street are moving to the east side to assist, and Luca and Tan are taking Black Betty to 6th and Fairfax in case he tries to run.”

“Hondo, is anyone covering the west side of the building? If he finds a way to bail that direction, he can get to Orange and disappear.”

“You have someone on the west side?” Hondo asks the people in the trailer with him.

“All units,” Wade radios. “Who’s covering the west side?”

“Bradford and Chen,” Lucy answers. “There’s only one egress route, but it’s locked.”

“Don’t try to open doors, Chen!”

“I didn’t! I can see the lock.”

Wade shakes his hand and gestures to the radio in a there’s your answer motion. Hondo smiles knowingly and relays the information to you.

“Is there exterior roof access?” you ask.

“Not that we know of.”

“Hondo, I’ve got movement,” you alert, shifting your weight as you prepare to shoot.

“Movement at the northside doors, too,” Street calls.

“Eyes on several subjects on north side,” a Mid-Wilshire officer notifies.

“He’s planning a roach light,” you and Tim Bradford radio simultaneously.

“Roach-light?” Nyla asks.

“When you turn on a light, roaches run in different directions and you can’t pick out any particular one,” Hondo explains. “I thought our girl was the only one that used that nasty analogy, but I guess she’s infecting your people with it, too.”

“That’s not the only thing she’s teaching him,” Angela points out. “He’s learning some manners, too.”

“Who?” Nyla asks.

“Focus,” Wade encourages.

Hondo switches his radio from his earpiece to the small speaker attached to his vest as officers continue alerting Grey, Lopez, and Bishop of movement in the museum. He shakes his head and prepares to call out for you just before you radio.

“Eyes on Ritter. I’ve got a shot.”

Wade nods, and Hondo commands, “Take it.”

You exhale as you squeeze the trigger. After your shoulder jerks back slightly, you reposition yourself to watch the impact. The bullet hisses through the air for only a second, and then the glass of the center window shatters before Wayne Ritter hits the ground.

“Suspect down,” you radio. “Code 4 here.”

“All units, Ritter is down,” Wade alerts. “Repeat, Ritter is down. Move in for hostage recovery.”

“Street, Deacon, move in on southern windows,” Hondo says as he exits the police trailer.

While you watch through your scope, he meets your team and, with Street, covers Deacon while he climbs through the broken window and kneels to secure Mr. Ritter.

“Nice shot,” Deacon applauds, looking up toward the roof you’re waiting on.

“Thanks, Deac,” you answer. “Hey, Street, that’s how you get someone down while making sure they can still pay for their crimes on this side of the grave.”

“Say that to my face,” he retorts.

“I am. You just can’t see me.”

“Hondo,” Street begins.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this. Get this guy to transport so we can help with recovery. Deac, on me.”

As Street pulls the injured shooter toward a waiting police cruiser, you lift your rifle and return to the roof access door. The trip down is faster than it was going up, and you walk toward a group of officers gathering the hostages outside of the museum.

“Who’s that?” Lucy asks as you walk to Nolan’s side.

“How can I help?” you offer before she gets an answer. “My team is clearing the upper levels.”

Nyla calls your name, jogging toward you. “Ritter didn’t have the gun on him, and he’s saying that he had his own plus the one he lifted from the guard.”

“I’ll find them,” you reply. “I’ll let my team know so they can keep an eye out too.”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers.

You nod and step away with him as Nolan joins you. Lucy watches you go, completely enamored by you and your skills.

“Who is that?” she repeats.

“The SWAT sniper?” Angela clarifies. “That’s Bradford’s girlfriend.”

Lucy’s jaw drops as her eyes widen. “She is Bradford’s what?”

“Your TO didn’t share that? Shocking.”

“Is there really a sniper here?” Jackson asks excitedly. “The one time I agree to go somewhere without my TO, I miss a sniper.”

“Not just a sniper,” Lucy explains. “Bradford’s sniper girlfriend.”

“Well, duh, she’s the best sniper in LA county.”

Lucy throws her arms up and asks, “Did everyone know except me?”

“Bishop knows too,” Jackson adds to mess with Lucy.

“As much as I’m not enjoying all this TO-rookie talk, I’ve more cases to work,” Nyla interrupts. “It was kind of nice to meet you all.”

“See you around!” Angela calls.

“You sound sure of that.”

“Call it a hunch, partner.”

Nyla waves off Angela’s teasing tone and turns toward an unmarked car. As Lucy continues asking questions about how someone like you ended up with someone like Tim, you search the museum for the weapons Ritter left behind in his attempt to flee.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just storm in and save the day,” you tell Tim as you circle an art display.

“Last time I did that, you threatened to shoot me,” he points out.

“Because you need to stop putting your life in danger when there are better options.”

“You mean like calling you?”

You smile at Tim over the top of the ceramic statue and shake your head. He raises his brows and prepares to speak before Nolan clears his throat.

“I found a gun,” he states when you look over. “I’m sure it can wait, though.”

“Where, boot?” Tim snaps.

You look at him to communicate a silent warning to be nice.

“Behind the plaster self-portrait over here. Looks like a standard issue private security piece,” Nolan answers.

You follow Tim to the wall and nod as you look at the weapon. While you tell Hondo, Tim tells Grey. In less than five minutes, you locate the other gun and regroup with your team outside the museum. Several officers thank you for your assistance or applaud your clean shot, and you ignore Street’s dramatic and sarcastic fawning over you.

“Oh, you shot that unarmed man so well! Will you please sign my face?” he asks, clasping his hands together as he raises his voice.

“Uh, excuse me?” someone asks, looking between you and Street. “Is it true that you’re dating Officer Bradford?”

“You must be Lucy,” you realize, offering your name and hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I swear none of it is true.”

You lean toward her and whisper, “Tim’s not as hard on you when you’re not around, just so you know.”

“Why are you dating him?” she blurts out. “You’re so different, so nice, and he’s so… Tim.”

“People like us tend to find each other on accident,” you explain. “I got lucky with Tim.”

“What Officer Chen is trying to ask is why you’re dating a cop that is nowhere near as talented or cool as you,” Hondo offers, smiling at something over your shoulder.

“Is she asking that?” Tim muses behind you. “That’s interesting.”

“Honestly, it’s a fair question,” Lucy admits, shrugging.

“Why do you seem so surprised?” you wonder aloud.

“I’m shocked! I thought he was single, for one, but you’re amazing! You can do anything!”

“Or date anyone,” Street adds. “Hondo has been trying to make her see that for years.”

Hondo shakes his head, looking at Tim as he promises, “I have not.”

“Now that we’ve established she’s too good and talented for me, Chen, maybe we should get back to work,” Tim announces.

“Why bother?” you tease. “I already did all the heavy lifting.”

Hondo’s phone chimes, and he sighs before he says, “We gotta roll.”

“I’ll see you tonight?” you ask Tim.

He nods and doesn’t complain when you step toward him and kiss his cheek.

“Don’t be too hard on Chen,” you whisper.

“She’ll be busy spearheading your fan club,” he grumbles. “Or starting a petition for you to dump me.”

“People like us work, Tim. That’s why we’re so great together.” You step back and smile as you call, “Nice to meet you, Lucy.”

“You, too!”

After you get into Black Betty and close the door, Lucy and Tim stand side-by-side and watch until the lights disappear between buildings.

Lucy sighs. “I want to be her when I grow up.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d planned that far ahead.”

“Maybe I will start that petition now.”

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