#blue bell hill

[stargoose-photo]

Blue Bell Hill, Kent, England, June 2024.

[2493]

[peachesofteal]

Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful. 

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow? 

Is this not your own? 

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.  

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s. 

Or an interloper. 

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons. 

The secret weighs heavily. 

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back. 

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat. 

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One. 

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother. 

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you. 

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl. 

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 10.1k

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

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

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

Part 1: Her Broken Heart {You Are Here}

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Part 3: Blue Handprints

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Part 8: The Favor

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

It was just so noisy.

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

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

Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe.

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

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

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

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

Scott laughs, “What did you expect?”

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hi,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you answer shortly.

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

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

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

“Our parents are friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You met her quickly by her locker after class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, this weekend, there’s a party.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you two… has he been…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can I say… Scott asked me.”

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

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

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

“You don’t want to come with us?”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom,” you groan, “I feel fine!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Allison! It’s for you.”

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

“Stiles?” you say confusedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you smile, “Stiles?”

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

“Could I get a ride?”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This calls for a search party.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t get out much.”

He laughed, “Then why the sudden change?”

“I felt like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because my dad is the town sheriff!”

“You’re a Stilinski?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because?”

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

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

“I thought you liked a good mystery.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope he’s okay,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Long night?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles nods, “Protective parents?”

“A little,” you smile.

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

“That’ll be a dead end.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A what?” Scott says, shooting forward.

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that where you always eat lunch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s my excuse?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “I like getting things done.”

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

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

That someone you recognize as Derek Hale.

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

“You’re Derek.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Has Allison talked about me lately?”

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

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

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

Stiles matches your stride, “What about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t get it, why?”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

“Jesus Christ, Stiles!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is Scott?”

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

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

“He went to find his mom first.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said anything about snooping?”

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

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

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

Stiles bit his tongue, folding his arms defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He left a few minutes ago.”

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

“I promise we’ll explain everything eventually.”

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

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

“What was that about?” Scott whispers.

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

“For her own good.”

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

“Did you?” you say in a quiet tone.

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

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

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

“Stiles?” you say.

She hums, “He’s one strange kid.”

“Does he call dispatch often?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

“Then what’s up?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

“Can I… Can I come up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that everything you’ve been hiding?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Scott,” you smile.

“Yeah, me and Scott.”

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

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

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

“Allison texted you?” Stiles questions.

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” you sigh, “Ask away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You outstretch a hand, “Deal.”

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

You laugh, “I did just shower.”

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

“Thanks Stilinski.”

[miguelschamp]

fearless

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader

summary: something is finally done about the lingering feelings between you and isaac

warnings: none. it’s quite literally just fluff

the bell rings dismissing you from your last class of the day. you walk out with malia by your side complaining about your teacher.

“malia, she’s just doing her job.” you chuckle

“i don’t care. she’s not making any sense when she’s explaining things and she’s the only one whose given us homework for the weekend.”

“that is true.” you mumble as you two stop at your locker

“it’s stupid.” she says rolling her eyes. she looks past you as you dig through your locker. a smirk takes over her face. “your boyfriend’s coming.”

you look up to her quickly, “what ?” she nods ahead as you turn to your left. your eyes widen as you see isaac coming toward you. “oh my god.”

“good luck.” she says. your head snaps to her. “what ? where are you going ?”

“away from here. the awkward flirting makes me nauseous.”

“wait, malia. please.” you beg

“no.” she mumbles, “isaac.”

you sigh as the boy stops beside you. he smiles lightly, “hey, malia.”

the girl hums before she walks off.

you and isaac had a little bit of a confusing relationship. you two weren’t dating, but it was obvious you liked each other. you didn’t really know what to make of it since he hadn’t asked you on a date or to be his girlfriend. it was just a little awkward whenever you two spoke to each other.

“uh, y/n ?”

your eyes shut tightly before you slowly turn to him. when your eyes open, you’re met with a smile.

“hey, isaac.” you say softly

“hey. how was your day ?” he asks

“it was good.” you nod. “uh, what about you ? how was your day ?”

“good. good.” he nods. you chuckle as you nod with him. “i actually wanted to ask you something.”

“okay.” you say as he starts digging through his bag.

“i wanted to ask if you’d wear my extra jersey to the game tonight.” he says as he pulls the jersey out. you brows raise as you look up at him.

“really ?”

“yeah.” he says scratching the back of his neck, “only if you want to though.”

of course you did.

“yes. yeah, sure.” you ramble

“okay. great.” he smiles wide as you take the jersey from him. “i’ll be sure to look out for you.”

his heart skips as you smile up at him. his blue eyes searching your face before he looks down at his feet.

•••

a couple of hours had passed and the game was starting soon. you sat in the bleachers with lydia and malia while isaac, scott, stiles, kira, and liam were out on the field.

you wore isaac’s jersey like he asked, but you put a long sleeve on under seeing as it was always cold in beacon hills. you also tied the end of his jersey around your waist since it seemed like it was huge on you.

“you know, wearing someone’s jersey basically means that you’re dating.” lydia says

“does it ?” you ask

“yeah.” lydia nods, “trust me. so many different guys have tried giving me their jerseys. it’s like showing other guys that you’re taken.”

you look down at the jersey, “oh.”

“so, he’s finally making a move.” malia says, “thank god.”

“is that bad to where you guys are hoping that we finally start dating ?”

“yes.” they both say. your mouth opens slightly as you try to respond, but you come up with nothing as the game begins.

you missed how isaac had looked into the bleachers for you. his eyes searching each row until they finally land on you. a smile instantly taking over his face at the jersey covering your body.

•••

the game was nearing the end with only a few seconds left on the clock. the teams were tied and you could see coach basically having an aneurysm on the sidelines.

you weren’t too much into sports. only going to the games because of your friends being on the team, but you were on the edge of your seat.

it’s not long before you see the boys running around on the field. your eyes looking for anyone on your school’s team to have the ball.

you gasp as the ball flies through the air and isaac catches. the students start to cheer in the stands as he runs toward the goal.

“go, isaac ! go !” you yell as the students cheer him on. unbeknownst to you, he had been listening to only your voice the entire game. so, out of everyone yelling at him and cheering him on, he only heard you.

you and the students in the bleachers stand as he gets closer to the goal. you feel your heart beat hard in your chest as the clock ticks down.

just as isaac tosses the ball toward the goal, the buzzer goes off. it’s quiet for a second before the ball goes in. isaac earned the game winning point.

the crowd erupts into cheers as the team runs over to isaac. you and lydia jumping up and down as malia cheers beside you.

a couple of people step off the bleachers into the field to celebrate with the team.

you, lydia, and malia make your way down the bleachers and onto the field. you guys spot stiles first. malia walking up and giving him a hug as you look around.

“he’s on the other side.” stiles says breathing heavily. you turn to him to see him already smiling at you.

“go get him.” lydia says tapping your arm excitedly. you chuckle at her before you make your way through the students.

isaac laughs as his team sets him down. he turns as his eyes scan the crowd for any sign of you.

“isaac !”

he turns and sees you pushing through some students trying to make your way to them. you dodge a teen running up toward a friend as he smiles at you.

as you run up to him, he holds his arms out. you two collide in a hug with your arms going around his neck and his around your waist.

he lifts you off the ground slightly causing you to laugh. he sets you down as you pull away, but don’t go far at all. your hands holding onto his arms as his stay around your waist.

“that was amazing. i’m so proud of you.” you smile

“thank you.” he says, before his eyes trail down, “you actually wore it.”

you look down before looking up at him with bright eyes. “yeah, of course. you wanted me to, right ?”

“yeah.” he nods, “you know, i couldn’t have done it without you.”

your brows furrow, “what do you mean ?”

“i was listening for your voice.” he says. your face softens, “while i was playing. it helped me focus.”

isaac searches your face for any reaction to what he said. he doesn’t expect you to lean up and kiss him, but he definitely accepts it.

you pull away slowly. your breathing a little heavy as you look up at him. “i really like you.”

his smile widens, “i really like you too.”

you chuckle as he leans in again, kissing you softly.

[herpsandbirds]

For the blue snake query off the top of my head there's the common tree snake (Dendrelaphis punctulatus) in Queensland which has a substantial blue phase population. as well as the desert whip snake (Demansia cyanochasma) that was classified in 2023 (though i guess this one is only *half* blue haha)

Blue Snakes!

I had not seen the bllue phases of either of these snakes. This is really cool... I GUESS Demansia could be considered turquoise, thats a shade of blue(ish).

Australian or Common Tree Snake (Dendrelaphis punctulatus), family Colubridae, found in coastal regions in northern and eastern Australia

photographs: Gary Bell, Pierson Hill, & Stewart Macdonald

Desert Whip Snake (Demansia cyanochasma), family Elapidae, found in arid regions of Australia

Venomous.

Described in 2023.

photographs by Brad Marayan & Brian Bush

[lunarmoves]

a sigh leaves your lips as you lay back against the grass of a small hill, basking in the oozing warmth from the sun above. a gentle breeze glides by and causes stray strands of your hair to wave around your face. they tickle at the skin of your cheeks and forehead. there’s a certain quietude to the air, broken only by the occasional bird or rustling leaves from the gingko tree sitting at the crux of the hill. 

you could stay here for hours, you think, as you watch puffy, white clouds lazily making their way across a bright blue sky. just relaxing and enjoying one of the many things nature has to offer—a beautiful spectacle free of charge. unappreciated in these contemporary times. 

the soft jingle of bells catches your attention before a hand appears in front of your face—stark against the sky’s backdrop behind it. two metal fingers pinch something together between them. like he had plucked it right from the very hill you sat upon.

“what is this?” moon’s voice is low yet inquisitive, holding the stalk of the plant in his grasp. 

“oh!” you sit up with a little gasp of delight and turn to face him sitting cross-legged by your side. “it’s a dandelion!” 

“it does not look like one,” he says flatly as he brings it closer to his face in observation. he spins it around carefully, rotating the stem between his fingers. 

you chortle. “well, no. this one’s at the end stage of its life cycle. see the fluffy white bits? those are seeds.” 

moon’s head tilts slightly to the side, a click coming from his faceplate. “seeds?” 

“yeah, humans blow on ‘em to make a wish. it’s a superstition,” you tell him and lean back against your palms propped up behind you. 

moon hums—soft, dolce—and holds the dandelion in front of his static smile. he makes a motion like he’s taking a breath, then slouches forward slightly and spins his face around in a rather pouty manner. “no lungs.” 

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “sorry, bud.” you offer him a consoling pat on the arm and he deflates even further. drama queen. “hey, tell you what. you make your wish and i’ll blow on the dandelion. it’ll be a team effort. sound good?” 

moon makes a sound as though he’s considering your offer, but it doesn’t take him long to agree. “deal,” he says simply and holds out his hand so that the dandelion hovers before your mouth. 

you offer him a grin, and then you inhale deeply before blowing on the aging dandelion. its seeds scatter in a puffy cloud of white, taking to the sky as the wind carries them up and away in an aimless dance. moon watches them carefully as he ponders upon his wish and then—

and then moon opens his eyes. 

the daycare is dark. quiet. alight only from the artificial stars above. his gaze moves about, slowly, steadily, painting his surroundings in ruby. he sighs and it gets lost in the stale, open air. 

moon thinks about you. he thinks about the outside world with its blue sky and flimsy flowers. and he thinks about a wish, clutched deeply to his chest. a wish involving you and him together, sitting on a hill. watching clouds drift by on a summertime breeze. 

[stargoose-photo]

Kit's Coty House (megalithic burial chamber), Blue Bell Hill, Kent, England, June 2024.

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Out Of Your Comfort Zone

masterlist

note: the original ask said fantasy but i dont read fantasy at all, so i went with a silly little romance novel i loved, which i think still displays that opposite thing the anon wanted. so i hope this is okay!!

warnings: my writing while i'm high (rambling that can be disguised as descriptive writing)

word count: 1.2 k

♡ summary: During a bookstore date Y/n's taste in books gets Spencer out of his comfort zone.

♡ Spencer Reid x fem!reader

request ✓

Finally, Spencer had a weekend off, where there was no chance of a case coming in at the last minute. And it’s not like Y/n hated Spencer’s job, she knew he did a lot of good. But it was hard sometimes when they would go a few weeks without sleeping next to each other.

It was the perfect morning to their perfect day, they had just come from a local art exhibit pop-up/farmers market. It reminded Y/n of Notting Hill, of course from the movie but also from when she lived in London while studying abroad. But now the couple was off to the local bookstore, they had looked at the farmers market, but they were all travel books, the irony was not lost.

Them both loving books was what got them to the second date, their first being filled with a debate about ‘modern classics’ and what classifies them. A topic they both clearly had a lot of opinions on as it took up the whole date that they hadn’t asked all the first date questions, so they needed the second date.

Them both loving books was what got them to the second date, their first being filled with a debate about ‘modern classics’ and what classifies them. A topic they both clearly had a lot of opinions on as it took up the whole date that they hadn’t asked all the first date questions, so they needed the second date.

And though their taste in books were quite opposite, there was a small overlap that was home to Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, The Bell Jar, and many others. But that was Spencer’s main area, classics, Y/n only read the feminist classics.

So when they went to the bookshop, the two would split up until Spencer finished looking in his favourite sections, since he could read so much faster than the girl it took her about three times as long to look through the fiction section.

Spencer was making his way to her now, stopping to read the backs of a couple books that interested him, even picking one up to buy. He walked past the isles of the fiction and romance sections, finally coming to a halt at the ‘J’s where Y/n was now. She didn’t even register his presence, too wrapped up in reading the summary of the blue and yellow book in her hand.

Spencer didn’t want to startle the girl, so he walked past her, her eyes rising from the book in hand to look at who she thought was a random person just browsing the store like her, eyes lighting up when she sees it’s Spencer.

“Honey, what’d you find?” She questions, Spencer assumes it was a rhetorical question since she didn’t give him enough time before she cuts in grabbing the second book from the stack in his arms, “I was gonna suggest this one to you! A subscriber said it was really good!”

Y/n was a booktuber, when she told Spencer that he obviously had no idea what that was, but a simple explanation later and he was caught up. And after a year of dating, she finally mentioned him in a video when she was talking about ‘Normal People’ . It was one of the books they argued could be considered a modern classic on their first date. And she mentioned his taste in books and now her followers left recommendations for him in her

comments, mostly on instagram when she posted him from time to time.

“Yeah. I was really impressed with another book by this author, her description of the caste system in India and the impact it has mentally was so moving.” “I remember you reading that. I’m not good at reading those types of books, but I love when you tell me all about them.” Her soft words brought red to Spencer’s checks while he hid his hands around her waist.

Recovering from the girl’s flirting, even after a year he still reacted the same to her words, his head rose from the spot in her neck to look at the book she had been looking at when he found her.

“What did you find?” “Oh, I saw a girl say it was a good book in her review and I want to do a video on age gap books since so many people ask.” Pacing the books over to him when he signalled his hand forward for it, turning it over to read the front, ‘Part of Your Word’ by Abby Jimenez in large letters was written across the front. It wasn’t a fairly large book, it could take him maybe five minutes.

Y/n was now turned to read more titles, stopping at any that caught her eye. All the while, Spencer was stood of to the side reading. It had actually only taken the man four minutes when he checked his watch. Proud of himself, he looks up to see that his girlfriend was apparently watching him, for how long, he didn’t know.

With a smile on his face, he asks, “What?” “Spencer. Did you just read my book? Before I even bought it?” She replied with a hand going to her hip and a jokey tone. “Well, first of all, you aren’t buying it bec-” “Why was it bad?”

Y/n often spoke before thinking, causing her to cut off people, Spencer was used to it he thought it was cute and she always made it her mission to not interrupt when he was really passionate about a topic.

“Because, I’m buying.” “Hon, no you bought last time.” “I don’t mind.” “I do.”

Spencer moved on from this conversation, they both know how it will end. Spencer will in fact pay, Y/n will say he didn’t have to, Spencer would say he doesn’t mind, she’ll say she does mind, and they repeat it when they pay for lunch after the bookshop.

“But I did read it.” “Don’t spoil, but what did you think?” She had watched a couple booktok reviews on it so she knew it was a little spicy, something she knew Spencer didn’t read a lot of, if ever.

“I think it was good. I liked how they talked about family relationships and verbal abuse in relationships, I think it was done well and it brought a lot more sense of realism. And I liked the leads, I relate to Daniel more than I thought, his dedication to making things work.. I won’t spoil it for you but- um yeah. And I liked the setting.”

His words sent a loving smile to rest on the girl’s face, she loved nothing more than to hear Spencer talk. His voice was deep yet not at the same time, and his mannerisms were adorable to her. And hearing him actually read and enjoy a book from the romance section that was written in the last few decades, was a big step for him. He didn’t even know about Twilight when they met.

“I’m glad you like it.” She said, truthfully, “I’ll be sure to mention that in my video.” “You don’t have to.” “You just don’t want Penny to see the video and by extension Derek.”

Their conversation continued while they waited in line, holding each other's hand while Y/n looks up to speak. They were interrupted when it was then their turn, Spencer paying like he said he would, and again at lunch, much to the girl’s disapproval.

“You don’t have to pay.” “I don’t mind.” “I do.”

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring my bell, part 5

part 4

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, there’s plot now, in the smut, mdni 🔞

Eddie is surprised when he walks up to his dealing table and sees Chrissy Cunningham waiting in her cheer uniform. He considers turning around then and there, not wanting to risk her jock boyfriend coming to look for her and going all feral on him and bashing his face in. But he really needs to save his money, so turning down a paying customer isn’t something he can do.

He considers walking again when she startles so badly, but mostly he’s worried about her. She’s got blockers on, so he can’t scent much from her, but the tension in her shoulders tells him enough. The girl needs weed, or some xannies. All Eddie’s got on him is weed though, so it’ll have to do.

She’s still so jumpy, so Eddie hams it up, trips over himself to get her to laugh because laughter is easy. He shifts enough that the guitar pick he wears around his neck sneaks out from his collar.

Chrissy’s been fiddling with her own necklace—a padlock, just like Steve’s—and she asks, “What’s that one mean?” and then turning beet red. “Sorry, I just- You’ve always had the rings, didn’t think necklaces were your thing.”

“They’re not. But… Easy to keep a pick handy.” He pulls the chain forward, revealing the pendant it came with, the guitar pick a convenient excuse. Chrissy’s eyes go wide at the little anatomical heart, pierced with an arrow, and Eddie grins. “Gift from the prettiest omega I know.”

“Oh…” She shrinks in on herself again, and he knows he has to get her laughing.

“Second I scented him, thwp!” He clutches dramatically at his chest, mimes being shot through the heart and falls off the bench. Eddie pops back up. “It’s like he just gets me, about everything.” He tucks the necklace away, swings his legs back around the bench, and pulls out his lunchbox, offering her a discount on the already jacked up price for an ounce.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” Chrissy asks, glancing over her shoulder again, like she’s being watched.

“Not with me. Possession is 9/10s of the law or whatever, so best not to have anything too hard on me. And really, you should start with the weed.”

She nods, blue eyes so big in her face. “But, what if it isn’t enough?”

He pulls out a pen, writes down his number on her hand. “It’s spring break, so you can’t drop a note in my locker. Gimme a call, and I’ll see what I can rustle up.” He knows he’s got some Special K squirreled away, for in case Steve gets one of his bad migraines and he wants to sleep through it. “Or check the medicine cabinet—see if your mom’s got a secret Xanax script. One of those will melt your worries.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.” She smiles, and it looks real enough. She pushes herself up to standing.

“So do you want the weed?” Eddie joggles the baggie in front of her.

“Right, sorry! Yes, I do.” She reaches into the band of her skirt and pulls out a couple fives, trading him for the weed.

Eddie schools his face when he takes them from her. “Pleasure doing business. I hope it helps.”

“Me too.”

He watches her leave, the bills sitting close enough to her skin and sweat that they stink with her scent. Eddie thinks it’s vaguely fruity, but it’s too covered over in acrid fear that he isn’t sure at all.

💍💘🐽

Eddie sees Steve across the parking lot, the basketball game getting out the same time as Hellfire, and he has to clench his fist to keep from waving. He wants to run to him, kiss him, sweep him into his arms and deposit him safely into his van so they can drive home together.

Instead, he bids the guys goodnight and drives to Forest Hills alone. He beats Steve by more than 20 minutes, since he has to give Robin a ride home. Which means Eddie can do a modicum of cleaning, including rearranging the blankets and pillows on his bed to be a little more nest-like for Steve’s comfort.

Steve doesn’t knock, just comes straight in, and Eddie races to him. “Hey, Puppy, how’d the game go?” he asks, kissing him hello, waiting for an answer before going total horndog on him.

“Lucas scored the game-winning basket, so please have the guys congratulate him next week.” Steve has already complained about Eddie’s refusal to hold the game for Lucas, even took away his pussy privileges for a week until he’d groveled and explained how he had the entire year planned out, he couldn’t skip a week since he was finally graduating. This campaign was his baby!

And Steve liked the sound of Eddie graduating, so he was willing to forgive this one discretion.

“Of course, Stevie. And Erica held her own. You should be proud of your youngest.” He grins wide, and Steve fondly rolls his eyes.

“Please stop talking about the twerps like I birthed them.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He sinks down to his knees, puts himself level with Steve’s crotch. “Want a pup of your own,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cradle Steve’s belly, “Right here.”

Eddie smells it when Steve slicks his pants, his sweetness sickly with his desperation for that little dream.

“Want you to shut up and fuck me already,” Steve moans, gripping Eddie by the collar and pulling him to his feet. He’s sloppy as he kisses him, and Eddie purrs.

He loves Steve and Steve loves him, and they both see their future together. He’s really getting sick of waiting for that future to start. But at least he gets to take Steve to bed right now.

🍃🍃🍃

The next morning, the basketball team wakes up in the shell of Benny’s Burgers. There’s blood and black on the ceiling, and Chrissy Cunningham’s broken body on the floor. It takes nearly an hour for the boys to stop screaming long enough to call the police.

Part 6

[moonlightkitties]

Christmas/Winter Themes Prompts

These are the fics I will be writing every day up in December until Christmas! Most of them are fluff but I have a few angst ones I'm going to write. I'm so excited to write these!

First Snowfall of the Year (Sean MacGuire x Reader) - Celebrating the first snowfall of the year in your new homestead, you and Sean sleep in and spend some time with each other.

Snowball Fight (Micah Bell x Reader) - After doing all your chores and just wanting to rest, Micah ruins it by throwing a freezing cold snowball at your face.

O' Christmas Tree (John Marston x Reader) - John is struggling to put the Christmas tree up while you sort through decorations.

Snowy Horse Ride (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - After a long day of chores, you and Arthur relax by taking the horses out in a cozy snowy ride.

Snowstorm Cuddles (Charles Smith x Reader) - After getting stranded in a snow storm while on a hunting trip, you and Charles share body heat to help warm up.

Christmas Movie Marathon (Michael De Santa x Reader) - Having nothing to do, you and Michael spend the day watching every Christmas movie you find.

Gingerbread Houses (Trevor Philips x Reader) - After getting gingerbread houses for both you and Trevor, you get home and ask him to make one with you. Trevor being Trevor, makes it into a competition and gets frustrated when the icing doesn't keep the walls up.

Christmas Cookies (Wade Hebert x Reader) - You and Wade make Christmas cookies and get flour everywhere.

Peppermint Mochas (Dave Norton x Reader) - Wanting to spoil your older, exhausted husband, you surprise him by making peppermint mochas.

Christmas Lights (Steve Haines x Reader) - You force Steve to take you to go look at Christmas lights.

Pretty Kitty (Lenny Summers x Reader) - You and Lenny find a cat in the snow and take it home.

My Big Strong Man (Bill Williamson x Reader) - You watch Bill chop firewood from the porch of your home.

Mistletoe (Dutch Van der Linde x Reader) - Going to a Christmas party at the Marstons place seemed fine and dandy, until Dutch tries everything he can to get you under the mistletoe.

It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas (Michael De Santa x Reader) - Michael hasn't been spending a lot of time with you now that he makes movies. Feeling bored, you take the Christmas decorations down from the attic and start decorating.

Northern Lights (Charles Smith x Reader) - Celebrating your first Christmas in Canada, Charles takes you to see the northern lights.

Winter Blues (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - When Mary shows up, unannounced, at your and Arthur's snow covered homestead, what should have been a happy December day, turns into an anxious one as you wonder if Arthur still loves her.

Ice Fishing (Kieran Duffy x Reader) - It's your first time ice fishing with Kieran and he makes sure he has everything before the long weekend.

Christmas Dinner (Dutch Van der Linde x Reader) - You and Dutch go to your parents for Christmas dinner and he hits it off with your father.

Ice Skating (Jack Marston x Reader) - You and Jack have been dating for a few months now, when it starts snowing and the lake has been frozen over, you convince him to ice skate.

Sledding (Kieran Duffy x Reader) - After buying a sled for the kids, you and Kieran spend the entire day pulling them around and pushing them down hills.

The Fat Man (Trevor Philips x Reader) - Ever since he was a child, Trevor Philips was scared of Santa. When you and him have children, he swore he wasn't going to introduce them to "the fat man." After pouting and begging him to let you do Santa with them, he reluctantly agreed.

Twas a night before Christmas (Lenny Summers x Reader) - Lenny reads "A night before Christmas" to your kids.

Sick on Christmas (Orville Swanson x Reader) - It's Christmas morning, and instead of opening presents like you wanted to, you're stuck in bed battling a really bad cold with Orville to help you.

Christmas Eve (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - After putting the kids to bed and putting the rest of the presents under the tree, you and Arthur slow dance in the living room.

Surprise! (Bill Williamson x Reader) - Bill has been weird all week, very giddy and anxious for Christmas day. When it comes, he brings out the one thing you have been wanting for YEARS; a blue merle border collie.

[lunchboxpoems]

LIFE ON EARTH

The odds are we should never have been born.

Not one of us. Not one in 400 trillion to be

exact. Only one among the 250 million

released in a flood of semen that glides

like a glassine limousine filled with tadpoles

of possible people, one of whom may

or may not be you, a being made of water

and blood, a creature with eyeballs and limbs

that end in fists, a you with all your particular

perfumes, the chords of your sinewy legs

singing as they form, your organs humming

and buzzing with new life, moonbeams

lighting up your brain’s gray coils,

the exquisite hills of your face, the human

toy your mother longs for, your father

yearns to hold, the unmistakable you

who will take your first breath, your first

step, bang a copper pot with a wooden spoon,

trace the lichen growing on a boulder you climb

to see the wild expanse of a field, the one

whose heart will yield to the yellow forsythia

named after William Forsyth—not the American

actor with piercing blue eyes, but the Scottish

botanist who discovered the buttery bells

on a highland hillside blooming

to beat the band, zigzagging down

an unknown Scottish slope. And those

are only a few of the things 

you will one day know, slowly chipping away

at your ignorance and doubt, you

who were born from ashes and will return

to ash. When you think you might be

through with this body and soul, look down

at an anthill or up at the stars, remember

your gambler chances, the bounty 

of good luck you were born for.

DORIANNE LAUX

[skellseerwriting]

Pirates and Prejudice (and Dragons)

James Hook x GN! Dragon Rider!Reader Part 4

Part 1

Reader is disabled (prosthetic foot) and I am not disabled, so if anyone who’s reading this is please let me know if anything is written weirdly or wrongly

Word Count: 2,970

Warnings: mentions of different prosthetics, mention of scars, reader is momentarily self deprecating about their face, Hook (consensually) takes off reader’s prosthetic, brief panic from others, romantic tension

Summary: Hook gives reader a look into his life as a pirate

What do you mean you’re ‘going to take me on an adventure?!’”

Hook let out a free laugh as you approached him at the gate. His eyes glittered something mischievous.

“That’s something you’ll have wait for.” He teased.

You made a fake annoyed face, hoping to have gotten some answers after mulling over all day what he could have possibly meant. He lifted his head in laughter again, eyes closed and elbows up with the back of his hand to his face; an open gesture of being comfortable with you. How could he be so annoying, yet so endearing?

“Well,” He wiped a tear from his eye, gesturing to the path in front of the both of you. “Care to find out?”

You didn’t know whether to be surprised or not at “finding out” that the adventure was at Auradon’s main harbor.

Merlin’s Academy was built extremely close, thank goodness, otherwise you would have never made the trek. The whole time, Hook pulled you along by your hand, barely allowing you to keep up with him. He seemed way too excited to take you on this “adventure”, so you couldn’t help but let his eagerness infect you. It wasn’t until you actually tripped that he slowed down enough for you to pace along next to him.

He didn’t let go of your hand, however.

You tried not to think on that too much.

Arriving at the edge of the busy town, you stood on higher hills and took in the sight.

Yellow houses with blue-tiled roofs were irregularly placed in the area, slowly descending into the the docks that spread along the coast, the widest part of it all. Birds that you presumed to be seagulls called out in the skies, accompanied by the dings of bells far away. A distance farther in the water that sparkled in the sun sat a decent-sized island. It all smelled like fish, you realized with a smile. It smelled like home.

When you deal with giant lizards with even larger appetites, it can be hard hunting enough meat. Due to the land’s lakes, fish was an easier sustenance to obtain. The whole place didn’t smell like this, but the dragon pens and the area during mealtimes certainly did.

Making your way through the bustling town, you dodged and weaved through people trying to make their way somewhere. At one point your hands got pulled apart, so with a giggled “no!” you both instantly tried to reattach them.

The stench of fish got even stronger once you arrived at the docks. Some of it looked brand new, while the particular boards you stood on creaked and groaned.

Placing his hands hands on your shoulders from behind, he finally gave you a splinter of an answer.

“My ship is here today.” He had a boat?

“Which one is it?” You asked, turning your head to look at him behind you. He made a funny look.

“Guess.”

Bringing your hand to your chin in thought, you browsed the large array of boats. Some were new, some were old, some small and some ginormous. You pointed at a tiny dingy.

“Is it that one?”

Shaking his head, he exasperatedly went “Do you really think I’d be caught dead in that? Try again.”

Deciding to continue messing with him, you brought your finger to one covered head to toe in mildew, seaweed, and rot. It looked like it had been anchored there longer than you’d been alive.

Getting a bit fed up, Hook reached his arm over yours to grab you hand and swivel it somewhere else. It landed in front of what could only be described as a very grand, very beautiful ship.

The sides of it gleamed of a dark, rich wood, with rails at the top highlighted in red; Mahogany? Windows near the back sported inlaid, diamond-shaped glass of a spectrum of colors that dazzled, leaving you to wonder how it looked inside when the light shined through. Multiple mast poles held up cream sails that flowed slowly in the wind, promising freedom. To top everything off was a small, dark flag with what appeared to be a skull on it, set high in the sky.

You were in awe.

Hook sucked in a worried breath through his teeth.

“Well, what do you think?”

You turned to look at him, struggling to even think of what to say about the absolute piece of art you had just witnessed.

“It’s beautiful.” You managed to get out.

“Really?” He beamed.

“Yeah!” You nodded.

“Well all right then. Let’s go meet the crew!”

“‘The crew’?”

After he led you to the massive boat, your confusion was quickly dispersed. Once he helped you climb up the rope ladder (you were well experienced with ropes, you told him, so it was no struggle), cheers instantly erupted on the deck. It was packed with men of all ages; some as young as you, to some old enough to be your grandfather. All appeared to have a variety of backgrounds; no two men looked alike. The one thing tying them all together was their shared lifestyle as pirates. They swarmed Hook, clapping him on the back and barking out all sorts of questions of well-being.

“What new treasure have you’ve gotten in my absence lads?” He asked them, before being bombarded with various tales of chases and running from authorities. As they all essentially shouted over each other for his attention, you could just see in his eyes how happy he was to be with them.

It was kind of shocking, if you were being honest. How did a boy like that come to relationships like these?

Once things died down a tad -Hook’s grin still splitting his face, along with those little crow’s feet- he gestured towards you.

“Men! This is my classmate and friend! Make sure you’re kind and welcoming!”

Right after that, many of them started to surround you. You began to feel a little overwhelmed, only more so by the fact that Hook had called you his friend. Looking at these men who started prodding you with questions, you noticed a similarity.

The balding one in front of you wore a black eyepatch on his left. The young one next to you had a simple, small hook on his right hand. Behind him, another man stood on a wooden peg-leg. And to your delight, one with beautiful features proudly wore nicks and scars all over his face and arms.

These people, you realized. These people are like me. James doesn’t pity me, he understands me.

Before even attempting to answer anything they had asked, Hook pulled you away with a “that’s enough questions” and brought you to a barrel to sit on. Next to him stood a jolly-looking man with white hair covered by a red bandana.

“This is Mr. Smee.” He explained. “Smee is my first mate.”

You looked at the middle-aged man before looking back to the young man in front of you.

“…You’re the captain?”

Hook nodded.

“But how? You’re one of the youngest people here?”

He must have found something about your confusion amusing, because he let the expression on his face show without restraint. Then, it faded into something more solemn.

“Smee used to be first mate to my father; former captain of the Jolly Roger.” He said slowly. “Then I took on the title a couple years ago when…” he trailed off.

Oh.

You reached for his arm.

“James, I’m sorry for your loss.”

His glum countenance immediately turned into one of amusement, eyebrows high and lips pursed.

“Oh, he’s not dead. He’s retired, in Fiji.”

You gawked a little. “Oh.”

“I inherited the title from him, but the crew’s been without me this past year while I’ve attended Merlin Academy. Smee here’s been keeping them in check for me.

“Oh! Before I forget…” Hook’s eyes lit up before bringing his attention to one of the many containers that were strewn about the place. He pried open a crate lid with his hook before lifting something out of it in his other hand. After approaching you closely and sitting in front of your feet, he held out a wooden peg leg.

“May I?” Was all he said, and you noticed his eyes held that secret feeling you were coming closer and closer to putting a name on.

“Yes. Please.”

Leaning forward, Hook began a slow, yet warm and soothing process. He cuffed your pant leg up enough to uncover the base of your prosthetic, followed by touching the piece with his hands. He froze, looking into your eyes with a silent question. After you nodded, he proceeded again, gently undoing the straps and slowly taking it off before handing your foot -with the shoe still on- to Smee.

You felt slightly uneasy having a piece of yourself with someone you didn’t know, but since Hook trusted him so much, you decided to do so as well. After that, Hook was very swift with the rest of the job, finishing it moments later.

“Now you’re a real pirate.” He stood up, offering his hand out to you.

“I like the sound of that.” You responded, taking his offer and getting up off of the barrel.

The second you put weight on your left foot, your footing gave out and you tripped right into Hook. He instantly caught you, arms wrapped around you securely, promising safety.

“Easy there.” He cooed. “Can’t have you ruining that pretty face of yours.”

You blinked at him, trying to will the blood not to rush to your face at his compliment. “But my face is already ruined.”

Gingerly, he brought a thumb to your cheek, rubbing it against a rather thick scar.

“No,” he hummed, his eyes anywhere but yours. “The lines that adorn your face are a beautiful map, telling me of your journey in life and who you are as a person. Except I don’t need to follow it to find a buried treasure.”

Pulling away from him a bit -and totally not out of embarrassment- you said you wanted to get some walking practice in. With an “of course”, Hook took your hand once again and led you around the deck; providing little tips and tricks on how to handle the narrow point of the wooden leg. It was even harder with the slight rocking of the boat, but to your delight, you got the hang of it right away. And hey, if you stumbled a few more times, needing Hook to grab you by the waist to hold you steady, who’s to say it was intentional?

For a little while you both hung out on the deck, spending time with the other men there and listening to new and interesting stories they had to tell; real adventures. You were positive that everything Hook had done with you today was nowhere half as interesting as the things he had probably done, but you considered it an adventure nonetheless since it was something exciting you had never experienced before.

Everything was lively and jolly as the wind carried up your spirits and your hair, gifting you the scent of salt. While continuing to hear with eager interest to the impossibly outlandish tales the oldest men had to offer about their travels, Hook eventually nudged you and motioned with his head towards the set of doors beneath the higher deck.

Following him, he led you to a room filled with wonders and things of otherworldly beauty. Silk cloth strung from the ceiling, many with little beads that could cling against each other. The walls were covered with extravagant paintings and mounted heads of mythical creatures. Filling up the room were different kinds of furniture that had gems, jewelry, and apparel sitting on or hanging from every visible inch. Near the back wall sat a garnished heavy desk in front of what you recognized to be one of those beautiful colored windows. The sun had neared dusk and sent the perfect warm rays through it, setting many things in the office alight and glittering like a dragon’s den. Tiny pieces of rainbow blipped around the room, coming from the dangling necklaces that moved to the sway of the boat.

“This is beautiful, James.” You told him for the second time that day, carefully reaching out and touching a necklace chain made out of what you could only presume to be gold. “I don’t see how you could ever leave this room. All the artwork in the world couldn’t compare. It must have taken a lifetime to acquire it all.”

“You’re right, it is hard to leave.” He told you, grabbing something near him out of the corner of your eye. Then, he grinned, adding “But then I’d never get to feel the ocean breeze on my face or the sun on my skin. The rush of adrenaline as I make yet another daring escape. That’s what I live for. Freedom.“

“That’s what I live for too.” You said absentmindedly as you meandered and ran your fingers through various goods. “That’s why I fly.”

“We’re the same in that way. Although, most of this was acquired by my father. But steadily, I’m making it my own.” He moved in front of you and revealed the item he snatched. It was a necklace with a leather string; not nearly as dazzling as everything else in the glittery and shimmery room. At the end, however, laid a single, dark pearl encased in twisted silver wire.

“This was my first addition.” He began, forehead nearly touching yours as you both looked down at it. “I was eight. Nearly drowned getting that oyster.”

You moved your palm under his so you could feel the pearl with your thumb. Your breaths started to mix together.

“It must be really special to you.”

“It is.” He said honestly, then slowly tilts his hand so the necklace landed in your palm. “Which is why I want you to have it.”

You quickly scanned his eyes but found no hints of guilt or regret. You wanted to refuse, but you knew he would never take no for an answer. Instead, you let yourself feel honored at such a gift.

“Thank you.”

You wanted to return the favor, but you didn’t have anything to give him. On the other hand… your brain thought dangerously, and before you could take a second to question the idea, you leaned forward to reward him with a tender kiss on the cheek. His skin felt so soft, and it smelt like the ocean.

Hook gasped.

He gripped your arm tightly, and before you could wonder if it was for a good or bad reason, he tilted his head towards you; aiming for your lips.

A loud thud, along with what sounded like wood splintering, occurred above you. Shouting arrived after it. Hook pulled away, and with a look of annoyance and fear, ran out of the room to figure out what it was. You followed right after, trying to ignore the flustered feelings welling up in your stomach.

As soon as you reached the deck, it was instantly clear what had caused those sounds. The wood splintering came from several crates that seemed (thankfully) empty, and what so happened to make those sounds was a giant, winged lizard.

“Beastie!” You cried, launching yourself towards her. She was snarling and growling at the pirates around her pointing weapons at her, who were terrified out of their wits at seeing a dragon for the first time.

She near instantly calmed down upon feeling your hands on her snout and neck. Mouth closed and heckles lowered, she made a deep purring sound.

“It’s okay,” you told her reassuringly. “It’s okay.” Then, you turned around to the others. “It’s okay,” you declared loudly. “Beastie’s my dragon. She must’ve tracked me here, and likely thought I was in danger. Please put down your weapons; I promise she won’t harm you!”

This seemed to put the mean at ease a bit, but they mostly only lowered their weapons.

“Do it!” Hook shouted, although not unkindly. “Or are you going to question a trained dragon rider?”

Hearing the command straight from their captain seemed to put them into motion, as they followed suit right after that.

“Is this her?” Hook asked, slowly approaching with his arms up. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature.” He added in awe.

Beastie prickled a bit, but with Hook’s behavior and compliment, she allowed him to come closer. You took his wrist and placed it against the warm scales.

“Wow.” He breathed.

“Yeah.” You said. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

He nodded absentmindedly. You sucked in a breath, still reeling internally over what had just happened -or didn’t happen- in Hook’s office.

“I have to head back now, James.” He looked at you with sorrowful eyes. “It’s getting late.”

“Right.” He said sadly, glancing down at the floor.

He had Smee bring your foot over as you hopped on Beastie. While your brain screamed at you all the reasons you should stay, he took off the (your?) peg leg and replaced it with its true counterpart. He looked at you like he was about to beg you to not go, to beg you to be with him just a little bit longer. But you knew it was getting late, and he knew that too.

Bringing the pearl necklace quickly over your head to rest at your collar bone, you gave Hook one last look of that secret feeling before flying back to Merlin’s Academy; way too far from the boy you fell in love with.

James hook was like you in too many ways to be healthy. So, you decided then and there that you were going to give him a taste of your freedom.

Part 5

Taglist

@lesbpotmurdocklokistan

[lowcountry-gothic]

“Old Tom Bombadil,” by Bear McCreary & Rufus Wainwright, from The Rings of Power: Season 2 Original Series Soundtrack.

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together! Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water! O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter! O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after! O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter! Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter! O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water! O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter! O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after! O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter! O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water! O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter! O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after! O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter! Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow...

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You" - EREN/READER - REVERSE ISEKAI (part 5)

reverse isekai, time travel, memory loss

post canon (ish)

reader/eren

word count: 2450

<- PART 4 | PART 6 ->

*****

When Eren was fifteen he didn’t know much about love.

He did know that he had a fierce desire to protect. To save. To help, not just his friends, but all of humanity regain the freedom taken from them by the titans.

He also knew that Mikasa’s hair was very soft.

That her eyes were pretty.

That her skin looked warm.

That her lips, often hidden under the red scarf he had wrapped around her when they were children, distracted him from conversation more times than he could count.

But there was never time. 

The more they learned about the world- and the more Eren learned about himself in turn- the more that their lack of time became obvious to him.

He told himself it was for the better than he never told her how he felt. That he never properly answered her question:

“What am I to you, Eren?” She asked him the night when they stood on the hill just outside of Liberio.  What am I? She was everything to him, is what he wanted to say; but- “you’re family,” is what he said instead.

Because he knew, Eren knew, that in that lifetime they would never have enough time to be together.

So, when he woke up in a new lifetime, his first thought was that maybe-... maybe this was his chance. 

But, when he opened his eyes,

it wasn’t Mikasa that he saw…

…when he opened his eyes,

all he saw was you.

*****

5 Years Ago

“I think I get why these men are on here.” You told your coworker, Mina, as the two of you leaned against the counter, your phone between you as you idly flipped through Hinge casting judgment on every man you saw.

“Why’s that?” Mina asked.

“Well, here’s my theory.” Tired of the mindless scrolling, you slide your phone into your back pocket and grab a marker from the lip of the register. You uncap it and begin doodling on a cup. “Men on dating apps are there because they give off such ick that they can’t meet women in person without setting off alarm bells, so apps are their only option.”

Mina shrugged. “Okay, so why are the women on there?”

“I dunno,” you replied with a snort, “why does anyone go to a zoo?”

“That’s kinda judgmental.” A customer, who appeared seemingly out of thin air, says at the counter.

“Jesus christ-” You jump and the sharpie in your hand goes flying toward him at a perfect angle to run a black streak straight across his shirt.

“Oh my god!” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes widen. “I’m so, so, so sorry! Um- uh-” You glance around for a microfiber cloth (which normally makes your skin crawl to touch, but you can’t think about that right now). You quickly run the microfiber (ew) cloth under the sink. “Here!” You reach across the counter to press it to the front of his shirt. “Maybe it’ll um-” It does nothing. “Uh…” You try again. “O-Okay just…” That’s when you finally look up at him.

You figured you looked pretty pathetic, leaning over the counter and uselessly dabbing his shirt to get permanent marker out of polyester (spoiler alert: that doesn’t work and it never will).

So you’re pathetic.

And he’s gorgeous. 

The universe must have it out for you. Seriously have it out for you because- …holy shit. 

The first thing you notice are his eyes. A stunning composition that reminds you of the night sky on a full moon- swirling blues and greens beautifully illuminated with flecks of golden stars. 

And then his messy-on-purpose brown hair, half tied up in a bun with a few tasteful strands falling against his forehead.

His flawless skin.

His sharp cheekbones.

His adorable nose and-

And his smile.

Woah.

It’s a real “knees weak, arms spaghetti” moment for you ((made even more embarrassing by the fact that the first thing you think is “knees weak, arms spaghetti” but that’s where your mind goes and you’ll keep that secret with you until the day you die)).

“I don’t think that’s working.” He tells you as he gently grabs your wrist and guides your hand away. 

“Yeah um-” You clear your throat and drop the cloth to the counter, quickly standing back on the floor as your cheeks burn pink and you nervously look over his ruined shirt. “I really am sorry I could um- I could buy you a new one?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It’s old anyway.”

But it doesn’t look old.

Still, you’re too embarrassed to question him.

“Free coffee?” You offer instead.

He smiles again and you refuse to think about knees and spaghetti for the second time.

“Alright, “he laughs, “free coffee sounds good.”

Dammit.

Knees and spaghetti it is.

*****

He’s back the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

You think that maybe he’s new in the area and just happens to be the type of guy who likes a consistent schedule, if anything that makes you respect him; but sometimes you wishfully hope it’s because of… something else.

“If you ruin my shirt again, will this one be free too?” He jokes on the fourth visit as you had him a semi-sweet iced coffee.

“Yeah, but you have to sneak up on me or it’s not authentic.” You tease back.

*****

You learn things about him every time he comes in.

First, it’s his name: Eren.

Eren.

And god, now that you know it you spend a stupid amount of time pausing on those ‘roll for the first letter of your soul mate’s name’ tiktoks. At least you have the decency to not post them (except for that one time you accidentally did).

You find out he’s also attending university. That he’s an English major but school is making him lose motivation to write.

You find out his favourite colour is red.

That he’s never lived anywhere but the city.

That his friends are more important to him than anything, and he’s known them for most of his life. 

And then, a month after you meet, you find out something else…

“So,” you say, five minutes to closing as you wipe down the counter and Eren finishes off a donut you’d given him for free instead of throwing out. He has a habit of showing up when you’re closing. You aren’t sure if it’s because he has a night class or if he just likes the free pastries. Or maybe there’s a completely different reason entirely.

“So…?” He asks, when you don’t finish the thought (you’d gotten distracted by the way he was licking icing off his fingers).

You clear your throat and look down at the counter. “Why was I being judgmental?”

“Oh, because not everyone that’s in a frat is just there for the parties. My friend Reiner says he-”

“No not about that,” although maybe your opinions on frat boys are based on a stereotype and that’s deserving of its own conversation entirely, “I mean about the dating app thing.”

“What dating app thing?” He asks as his eyebrows momentarily tighten together with a scowl. It’s an expression he wears a lot and it always makes you laugh.

“The first thing you said to me!” You exclaim. “Mina and I were talking about dating apps and you said I was being judgmental. Honestly, I feel like it was the worst first impression ever.”

“Nah, the bad impression part was when you were feeling me up like three seconds later.”

“I-” Your cheeks burn bright red. “I was not feeling you up!”

Eren throws his head back and laughs.

You toss your microfiber (ew) towel at him and it lands smack in the middle of his face. 

Eren’s still snickering as he leans down to pick it up from the floor. “I said you were being judgmental because you were.”

“Elaborate, please.”

“Well,” he stands back up, cloth now in hand, “there are some genuine people on dating apps just looking for connections.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, but it’s all- it’s so fake. How many times can I repeat the same: ‘Hi, how are you.’ ‘I’m good, how are you’ ‘Good. What do you do for work?’ ‘I work at this shitty café and there’s a regular that’s constantly patronizing me to try to get free food. What about you?’.” You let out a short sigh. “If people actually want to get to know each other, they should-”

Your rant comes to a quick end when Eren stops in front of you.

He’s closer than he normally stands, so you immediately notice the flecks of gold in his eyes. The last time you were this close to him, you’d been frantically rubbing sharpie out of his shirt but now-

Now you’re- you’re just standing there…

Just close.

So close that you might have forgotten how to breathe.

“Some people have to meet that way.” He says, softer than normal, but maybe it’s just because you’re close enough that he doesn’t have to speak loudly to be heard.

“...huh?”

Eren snickers. Your heart hammers. He keeps talking: “Some people,” he elaborates, “have trouble getting dates any other way.”

“Wh-” You clear your throat as it constricts, “Why’s that?”

For the first time, you see him blush.

You notice the confidence he normally wears come crashing down.

He looks away.

“Because some people are… pretty shit at asking people out.”

You jump as the cloth he’d picked up meets your hand.

And this time, it’s not even because of the gross sensation of microfiber.

*****

Eren gets over it, apparently, because 6 days later he shows up at your work right before close.

“No free muffins today, sorry.” You immediately tell him.

“It’s fine.” He replies and you can’t help but notice the way he awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, completely avoiding your eyes as he does it.

“Um… Eren?”

“Yep?”

You snicker. “Are you ok-”

“Do you wanna go out?”

Your breath catches. “...what?”

“With me. Now. Or- Or in like five minutes when you’re off. Unless you have to stay late tonight because the place is a mess. I can wait around though. Or we can go another day I just-”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“I-...” Eren sighs, but he finds a way to smile through his embarrassment. “Don’t laugh you’ll-... you’ll hurt my ego.”

So you don’t laugh.

Instead, you say yes.

*****

You have a casual first date, just dinner at a local pub.

Your second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth date (although you start losing count towards the end) pass just as casually.

It’s comfortable. Relaxing. There’s no overly awkward tension between the two of you and you slip into a natural rhythm.

Your first kiss is in the park on campus.

You bring him day-old donuts any chance you get.

You meet his best friends and they quickly become your best friends too.

A year passes, you say “I love you”.

Another year passes, you both graduate.

By the third year you’re dating, you move in together.

By the fourth, you can’t imagine life without him.

And by the fifth year you’re dating, you have a feeling that it’s for life.

“Think he’ll propose?” Mikasa’s staticky voice comes through the speaker of your phone. You press said phone harder against your ear out of the embarrassment that Eren might somehow hear you from the kitchen. 

“I- I dunno. Maybe.” You answer, nervously nibbling your bottom lip as you watch your boyfriend from over the back of the couch. He’s in the kitchen making dinner. Shirtless, because he’s an idiot that doesn’t care about getting hot chicken oil on his chest.

‘Sluts can’t get third-degree burns, babe.’ He always tells you.

‘Then commit to the bit and lose the pants too.’ You always joke back.

He doesn’t, for the record. Apparently, he’s okay with hot oil on his tiddies, but his dick and balls are a different story.

“Would you say yes?” Mikasa’s voice cuts through your thoughts. 

You let out a short laugh. “Obviously.”

“Maybe he’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Pfft, that’d be tacky. Tomorrow is Niccolo’s big day, not ours.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.” You can hear Mikasa’s yawn through the phone.

“You sound exhausted,” you tell her, “don’t you have to get up early to catch your flight?”

“Yeah, but my hotel is lonely.”

You laugh. “Wanna talk to Eren before bed?”

“Sure. He’ll get mad if I don’t.”

You pull the phone away from your ear. “Eren!” You hold out the phone to him. “Mikasa wants to say goodnight.”

“Can you come stir?” He asks.

You pull yourself off the couch and step up to him in the kitchen, trading him your phone for the spatula. 

He kisses your cheek before pressing the phone to his ear.

“Okay, so did you see the new episode?” He asks as he walks into the living room. “NO FUCKING WAY YOU DID NOT CALL IT!!”

You roll your eyes as the two of them start their passionate back and forth about the latest episode of whatever show they’re both watching.

*****

That night, after a plate of spaghetti, a shared bottle of wine, and a decent amount of time doing R-rated activities that start in the living room but finish in the bedroom; you end up with your arms around Eren’s waist and your face buried between his bare shoulders.

He likes to be the little spoon, even though he’ll deny it to your friends.

But you don’t mind. It means you can pinch his nipples if he says something sassy before falling asleep.

You smile and nuzzle your face into his back.

He smells like Eren.

Nothing distinct about it that you can put a name to.

It’s just Eren and you love it.

You smile as you think about how perfect your life is. Your career is going well, you have an apartment with an amazing view, and you’re dating the love of your life. 

You wouldn’t change a single thing.

“I love you.” You mumble before placing a kiss on Eren’s shoulder.

“...that’s so fucking gay…” He mumbles back.

He yelps when you pinch his nipple, but afterward, he laughs.

Afterwards, he grabs your hand in his (mostly to keep his nipples safe from continued attacks) and pulls it up to his lips.

He kisses the back of your hand firmly.

Then softly.

Then firmly again.

“Love you too,” Eren tells you.

And the lights don’t need to be on for you to know that he’s smiling. 

You just know he is, because you’re smiling too. 

[hunnysnoops]

South Park Music HCs

What music I think the South Park characters would listen to.

Stan ✰ Kyle ✰ Kenny ✰ Cartman ✰ Wendy ✰ Bebe ✰ Heidi ✰ Tweek ✰ Craig ✰ Butters

With Spotify links!

Stan Marsh

Artists:

Radio Head

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Crywank

She Wants Revenge

System Of a Down

Slipknot

The Front Bottoms

Favourite Songs:

Atoma- Dark Tranquillity

Smokey Eyes- Lincoln

F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X- The Fall of Troy

Mr Grieves- Pixies

Misc:

Generally angsty

Gets embarrassed of his taste when he’s put on aux

He probably likes 90s dad rock

Whenever Stan listens to ‘System of a Down’ Cartman calls him ‘Syndrome of a Down’

Likes The Front Bottoms purely because he relates

Kyle Broflovski

Artists:

Dan Mangan

The Cure

Echo & the Bunnyman

Blur

Weezer

Billy Idol

Favourite Songs:

I Love You- Fontaines D.C.

Troubled Mind- Dan Mangan

The Killing Moon- Echo & the Bunnymen

Jumping Someone Else’s Train- The Cure

Candy- Paolo Nutini

Misc:

Cartman calls him a virgin for listening to Weezer

If he’s playing his music around you, he’ll sneak glances at you to see if you like it

Definitely has a poster for The Cure in his bedroom

Refuses to use Bluetooth headphones

Kenny McCormick

Artists:

Eminem

Outkast

Ini Kamoze

Car Seat Headrest

Cypress Hill

Limp Bizkit

Green Day

Favourite Songs:

Hits from the Bong- Cypress Hill

Sexy Drug- Falling in Reverse

Deadlines (Hostile)- Car Seat Headrest

Take A Look Around- Limp Bizkit

Misc:

Watches clips of Woodstock 99 on YouTube

Plays his music so loud that it spills through his headphones and gets weird looks for it

Listens to Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter with his little sister

Eric Cartman

Kanye West

T-Pain

Lady Gaga (we all saw this coming)

Rihanna

Black Eyed Peas

Oliver Tree

Pitbull

Favourite Songs:

Church- T-Pain, Teddy Verseti

Meet Me Halfway- Black Eyed Peas

I Can’t Stop- Will Smith

Bury Me Alive- Oliver Tree

Happiness is a Butterfly- Lana Del Rey

Misc:

Strikes me as the type of guy who doesn’t really listen to music

Unironically likes Oliver Tree (His music and him as a person)

Rips on everyone for their music but won’t tell them who he listens to

Lip syncs to Wiz Khalifa while flexing in the mirror

Listens to T-Pain and Will Smith to make him feel tough

Prefers podcasts

Wendy Testaburger

Artists:

The Shins

Gwen Stefani

Hozier

Grizzly Bear

Nelly Furtado

Olivia Rodrigo

Elliot Smith

Favourite Songs:

Swan Upon Leda- Hozier

Lacy- Olivia Rodrigo

Stand By Me- Ben E.King

Vienna- Billy Joel

Pocketful of Sunshine- Natasha Bedingfield

Misc:

Thunder makes her think of stan so she skips it

Relates to Vienna and probably got a small tattoo for it after she graduated

Probably has an eclectic taste and loves 2010s pop

Lets everyone else play their music while she’s driving and never complains

Stares at her ceiling and listens to Elliot Smith when she’s sad

Gets ready listening to y2k pop songs

Bebe Stevens

Artists:

Jungle

Wild Belle

Dominic Fike

Kesha

Avril Lavigne

Justin Bieber (baby era)

MGMT

Favourite Songs:

Feet Don’t Fail Me Now- Joy Crookes

Back On 74- Jungle

Memory Box- Peter Cat Recording Co.

Keep You- Wild Belle

Beauty And A Beat- Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj

Ur So Gay- Katy Perry

Misc:

Hates sad music, she’ll force herself to listen to USHER during a breakdown

Picky about her music, if someone plays a song she doesn’t like she’ll definitely skip it or complain until someone else does

Mentioned she liked Justin Bieber and then got in an argument with Cartman because of it

Never lets Clyde near the speaker

Screams Ur So Gay at the top of her lungs when it comes on

Heidi Turner

Artists:

Jack Johnson

Syd Matters

Daughter

Fleet Foxes

Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Noah Kahan

Of Monsters and Men

Favourite Songs:

Open Season- High Highs

To All of You- Syd Matters

Two Weeks- Grizzly Bear

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson

Sisyphus- Andrew Bird

Blue Ridge Mountains- Fleet Foxes

Misc:

Loves going for walks while she listens to music

Sends you songs that remind her of you

Listens to every song you send her and tells you what she likes about it

Hums when she has her headphones in without realising

Her and all of her friends love Noah Kahan

Tweek Tweak

Artists:

Billie Holiday

Billie Marten

Johann Sebastian Bach

Claude Debussy

Ludwig van Beethoven

Foals

Connie Francis

Favourite Songs:

Who’s Sorry Now- Connie Francis

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Minor- Johann Sebastian Bach

Méditation from Thaïs- Jules Massenet

Bad Apple- Billie Marten

The Lark Ascending- Ralph Vaughan Williams

Misc:

I actually think he would hater Hyper-Pop

Prefers slow/classical/instrumental songs

Listens to a lot of white noise, really specific ones like ‘Heavy Rain in Autumn Fairy Forest 9 hours’

Musical prodigy, plays piano and cello

Craig Tucker

Artists:

Nirvana

Hole

No Doubt

Foo Fighters

Pulp

Arcade Fire

Jeff Buckley

Favourite Songs:

Common People- Pulp

Malmo- Mook

Forget Her- Jeff Buckley

The Pretender-Foo Fighters

Dumb- Nirvana

Misc:

Made one playlist in eighth grade and never listens to anything else

Thinks Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain

Hates TikTok music, like genuinely.

Somewhat of a gatekeeper

Butters Stotch

Artists:

She & Him

Blonde

Kate Bush

Dolly Parton

Regina Spector

The La’s

The Mama’s and the Papa’s

Favourite Songs:

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine- Lou Rawls

In the Summertime- Mungo Jerry

Hey, Lucky Lady- Dolly Parton

The Tide is High- Blondie

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She & Him

Don’t Let The Good Life Pass You By- Cass Elliot

Clay Pigeons- Michael Cera

Misc:

Songs absentmindedly all the time, annoys the hell out of everyone

Quotes the songs he listens to

Developed choreography in middle school and still remembers it

Asks people if they’ve heard a super popular song that’s all over the radio and social media out of genuine curiosity

Anyways, that’s all I got for now. Re log or comment what you think they’d listen to bc I’m genuinely curious, thanks for reading!

Also it literally took hours to add all of those Spotify links so I hope you got something out of this! they wouldn’t let me add more than 100 :/