#i NEVER skip rewrite this is is so good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

okay-j-hannah · 4 months

Text

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.”

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

339 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 4 months

Text

“And My Daddy Tells Me I Light Up His World ♡” Dad!Bsd Drabbles ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings; Line breaks between indented paragraphs mean new scenarios, girl dads, d/n- daughters name, s/n-sons name, p/t-parental title for reader

Description; a couple different scenarios, 2 for Fyodor, 1 for Dazai, 1 for Chuuya

A/n; just so u guys do know I giggle every single time I type out d/n, also also I've got a req still about dad Fyodor in my inbox but I don't know why it's so hard for me to write it 3: I'll get it out ong, im so sorry dad fyodor anon </3 consider this tribute to you 3: also next post's gonna be for the event! Had to rewrite it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

Fyodor stood in the kitchen, accompanied by his young daughter sitting at the dining table. In his hand was a letter to Nikolai, written a week ago that he had finally decided to mail. He grabs an envelope before rummaging through drawers while his daughter colors idly across the room. She peers up at him from her spot and hops out of her chair, coloring paper in hand. "what're you looking for, papa?" She asks, looking up at him with her e/c eyes, the ones that matched yours perfectly. He smiled at her and closed the drawer he was looking through. "Just a pen, malyshka. Do you know where I could find one?" He asks her, looking down at her. She nods and fetches one of the pens from her big bag of coloring supplies, digging through it for a quick second before returning to him with her arm outstretched and a glittery pink gel pen in her small hands. "This is okay, right, papa? Who's the letter going to?" He takes it appreciatively and writes out Nikolais name and address. "Uncle Kolya, and any pen you give me will do, sweetheart." He gives the pen back to her and ruffles her hair. "Oh, uncle Kolya will just love it, then! I'm pretty sure his favorite color is pink. I'm gonna color this for him so that the next time he comes over he'll have a present from me!" She says with excitement, skipping back over to her seat at the table to resume her coloring. "Oh, ofcourse, d/n." After Fyodor mailed the letter, he soon got a response from Nikolai expressing his disappointment over the letter not being fully written in pink gel pen, which was backed up by his daughter as well.

You stood in yours and your husbands bedroom, buttoning his shirt for him while he watched the numbers flicker and change on the alarm clock on your nightstand. Your daughters school was hosting a daddy-daughter dance and your daughter insisted on Fyodor taking her. He agreed obviously, but he felt unfamiliar with such things, after all, he'd never experienced a daddy-daughter dance in his childhood. You gave him a smile once you buttoned his shirt and grabbed the only tie he owned off the dresser. "You look so good, Fedya. Like a prince." You said with a smile, leaning in to kiss the corner of his lips. He hummed and guided your chin with his fingers to kiss his lips completely. "Just a prince? Not a king?" His eyes were half lidded as always and you could make out a small smile on his face. "Alright, fine, a king." You finished tying his tie for him and left it slightly loose around his neck, knowing he was never really fond of how tight they could be. "Perfect, that would make d/n our little princess." Almost as if summoned, her footsteps are heard pattering down the hallway in her cute little flats that you got for her. The dress that she wore was adorned with puffy, mesh layers on the skirt and some gemstones on the top. "Papa, are you ready to go yet? " she asks, walking over to his side and examining his outfit thoroughly and gasping excitedly. "Papa, your tie matches my dress!" She says, pointing out the same colored material. "It does." He picks her up with a smile. "Do I look pretty?" She asks, a big, toothy grin on her face. He laughs and nods.

"Absolutely, now go say goodbye to p/t." He says, putting her down onto the ground so she could hug you and bid you a goodbye. "Bye, p/t!!" She says, squeezing you quite tightly. You hug her back and kiss her head, looking down at her. "Bye, sweetheart, I love you. Oh- wait! Before you go I want a picture of you and papa." You fish your phone from your back pocket and open the camera app as she backs up and hugs her papa just as tightly as she held you. Fyodor places his hand on her back while they both smile for the photo, but wince all of a sudden as your phones flash goes off. "Oh- whoops, I forgot to turn the flash off- for real this time." They both pose again, d/n giggling at your small mistake. You snapped it and then examined it on the phone before your daughter started pleading to see it. Fyodors smile was as charming as always, both in person and in the photo, and your daughter looked absolutely adorable in her poofy dress. Once you had shown her and she was satisfied, she quickly made her way out of the room, holding the skirt of her dress by the handfuls. Fyodor laughed at her under his breath before he leaned in to kiss you once more before he left, letting his hand linger on your hip like his taste did on your lips. "Bye, Fedya, I love you, have fun." You grin, to which he lets out a sigh. "I will, I love you too, Moya Lyubov." He pulls away and follows the young girl out of the bedroom. You smiled to yourself as you heard him call from down the hallway, "Wait, malyshka, don't go out the door so fast", followed by the prompt creeking and closing of the door.

Osamu Dazai ★

No one got the memo that it was apparently 'bring your kid to work's day', but everyone had to adjust rather quickly when Dazai pulled up to the Ada with a young child on his hip, oogling at any shiny object in its sight. Kunikida was the first to ask about it. "Is this another orphan that you've decided to pick up off the streets? It's too young for a job here." Dazai rolled his eyes. "For your information, this is my son. His babysitter has come down with the flu." He clarifies, walking past everyone to his desk and sitting the one year old on his lap. The baby leans towards him and reaches for the tassels of his bolo tie, grabbing and pulling on them to his mouth. Dazai laughs and gently pulls them out of the little boys grasp. "No, s/n, you can't chew on those." His son pouts and coos out some baby nonsense, starting to look around for some other entertainment, only to find nothing that interests him. He looks up at his dad with his big brown eyes and pouts, huffing and gripping his long jacket in his chubby fists. "Papa, 'ome." He babbles, missing the comfort of yours and Dazais house and preferring to be there over the agency. "I know, s/n, believe me. I'd rather be at home than sitting here with these people." He says, sighing and shaking his head. "Just keep him from crying." Kunikida says exasperatedly while writing a report from the last case he worked on for Fukuzawa. Dazai hums in acknowledgement and turns the baby to face away from him, keeping him sat on his lap. "My boy doesn't cry, he's nothin' like those other babies." He says with a grin, grabbing a pen and wrapping his son's hand around it and helping him drag it acrossed the closest paper on Dazais desk. "Yeah, just get a feel for holding the pen and as soon as you can write on your own, daddy's never doin' his own reports again." He grins. "Your son isn't doing any paperwork for the agency until he joins. And that still doesn't mean he'll be doing yours." Kunikida says from his desk. Dazai shakes his head and lets go of his sons arm. "Ugh, whatever... Kunikida doesn't gotta know if I bring it home though." He whispers to the boy, evoking an unaware giggle. Kunikida let out a knowing huff and gave up on trying.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

After his little girl had asked him on numerous occasions for a trip to the fair, he was finally able to get some time off and go with you and her. He weaved through the crowds with her on his shoulders and his hand in yours while trying to decide on one final game for your daughter to play before you left.. "Papa, look! They have fish!" D/n exclaimed, pointing at the booth that ran the famous goldfish game that parents never want their kids to see. Not Chuuya though. He's nothin' like y'all. Chuuya didn't mind the idea of having a fish for his daughter, even if it was him who had to feed it every day and clean it's tank regularly. He smiled and looked over at you with eyes that asked you if you were in mutual agreement of letting her try to win a goldfish. You smiled back at him and nodded, noticing your daughter watching the two of you exchange your glances. "Alright sweetheart, let's go get ya one of them fish." He walks over to the stand with you, lifting her off of his shoulders while you handed the carnie a $5 bill for a basket of ten ping pong balls. Chuuya watched d/n try to toss the first five into one of the colorful mini-fishbowls and miss every single one, so he grabbed a ball and tossed it, getting it into one of them. The man running the game cheers and heads to get d/n her fish, but she ends up getting two of the last four balls in on her own, nearly shrieking in excitement. "Daddy, that means I get three fishes, right?" She excitedly asks, her hair bouncing in the pigtail style it was pulled into. "Yup, that's right." He smiles at the carnie when he hands the fish to him and mutters an appreciative thank you, patting his daughters back and telling her to do the same. "Thank you! P/t, can we get them a tank at home?" She asks, still super hyper from her triple win. You laugh and nod, holding two of the fish so Chuuya doesn't have to hold all three and your daughter if she chooses she's too tired to walk to the car. "Yeah, we'll stop at the pet store to get you a nice tank for them." You tell her, nodding for her to follow you and Chuuya grabbing her hand so she doesn't get lost. "What do you say to daddy? He got you one of those." You say with a small laugh and she looks up at her dad with big, adoring eyes. "Thank you, daddy! Ahh, I'm so excited for my fishes!" Her misunderstanding of the plural version of fish also makes you giggle a little. "You're welcome, princess. Y'gonna take real good care of them? Remind me to feed 'em every day?" He says, guiding you guys through the parked cars towards your own. "Yup! Every single morning! But what're we gonna do when I'm at school and you and p/t are working? What about their lunch?" She frowns. "Fish don't need lunch, don't worry." He reassures her and hands you the third bagged fish for a moment while buckling d/n into her seat. "Good, I don't want them to starve!" She says. Chuuya laughs under his breath and closes the backseat door, pulling out a cigarette to smoke before taking the sorta-long drive to the pet store and home. Now he had three more responsibilities, but it made his baby happy, so he really didn't mind having to take care of three more animals in addition to his original one.

A/n; yawns speed ran these, wrote Chuuyas in like,, 12 minutes, it's not proofread (js Chuuyas) but hopefully it works (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ also I'd like to come out and say ion proofread my own stuff, I have my friends do it (I love you guys MWAH)

313 notes · View notes

tomriddleslove · 9 months

Text

Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

#harry potter #slytherin #tom riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst

452 notes · View notes

blue-sadie · 10 months

Text

Misleading

Sorry this was a request but Tumblr being Tumblr I lost the post and had to rewrite it, I don't do part 3s but I made it very similar to it

Sully Family x Sibling Reader

Summary: the sullys always protect one another especially the baby (you)

Warning: platonic

Yn/3rd person pov

The adrenaline was wearing off, my panting breath was the only thing I could hear through my ringing ears, i looked through my blurry eyes up to the top of the hill which I fall down.

I was a long ways down I groaned as I slowly rose to rest on my elbows so I could see my surroundings I don't know where I am nothing looks familiar, I raised one of my hands to my forehead letting out a shakey breathe as I felt the hot crimson liquid.

"F-fuck" I cursed bringing the hand infront of my eyes, the blood dripped down my fingers I watched a drop slide down the palm of my hand.

"I'm never gonna be let out again" I muttered breathlessly and brought my hand to the communication device attached to my neck "d-dad" i sighed in pain and closed my eyes tightly.

"What's wrong yn are you hurt" his voice sounded fizzy through the radio but I could still hear the concern in his voice "I was out l-looking for stuff for mom and I I fell" I murmured and groaned as i sat up straight.

"Are you hurt my yn" mon spoke "just a little but I'll live" I said and slowly tried to stand up but lost my balance each time "where are you so we can come get you" this time it was neteyam speaking his voice somewhat panicked.

"I don't really know the last thing I know was just passed the abandoned shack where we get the nice fruit I like from" u sighed I heard faded voices through the radio probably lo'ak and kiri "ok we're on our way hold on tight".

Neteyam and jake both rushed to their ikrans and lo'ak came closely behind trying to reason with their father "dad I know where she is" he tried going to his ikran but jake stopped him "enough, go home and stay put do you understand me".

Lo'ak sighed and nodded defeatedly watching them mount their ikrans and dive into the afternoon sky, his eyes twitched debating his next move "fuck it" he muttered running to his ikran and flying out, lo'ak made sure to avoid his father and older brother in the sky using all the short cuts he knew.

Lo'ak was the first to get to me "yn" he yelled jumping off his ikran and running to my side "l-lo'ak where's dad" I felt dizzy from the loss of blood, my body trembled as he held me "close i-i think" he stammered looking towards the sky I looked up at him he differently gonna be in trouble.

He grabbed some cloth from his satchel and wrapping them around my wounds somewhat slowly the blood flow "thanks-" I was interrupted by the sound of dad's ikran "lo'ak" dad called making lo'ak cringe.

Dad and neteyam hoped off their ikrans and came towards us dad's eyes fill with anger intill he saw my wrapped wounds "good job but next time listen to me" he hissed and lo'ak nodded "let's get you home baby girl" dad turned to me, neteyam and lo'ak grabbing my sides helping me to my feet.

They brought me over to neteyams ikran and helped me on "don't fall... again" lo'ak tried to joke making me love sarcastically "funny" I muttered and groaned as neteyam settled behind me.

"Are you ok" he murmured as he wrapped his arms around me preparing to fly "just dizz-" my vision slowly turned black and my body limp "yn" his voice faded into nothing.

-Time skip-

My eyes slowly fluttered open and a pained groan left my lips as I felt a dam cloth being layed on my forehead "w-who" I whispered trying to left my hand but he clasped my hand gently keeping it down.

"You need to rest sister" his voice was low and caring as I heard water being rung out and another cloth pressed over my shoulder "neteyam" I hissed the medicine stinging my wound making him chuckle lightly "next time maybe watch where your going".

I huffed rolling my eyes "next time I'll just make you get the stuff for me you skxawng" he chuckled again shaking his head as his arm moved under my body helping me to sit up.

"Maybe next time tell me where your going so I can go hunting while you collect things ewya knows moms never letting you leave alone again"

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar pandora #avatar way of water #avatar x reader fluff #avatar fluff #avatar platonic #sully family #sully family x reader fluff #sully family x sibling reader #sully family x reader #sully family fluff #sully family platonic

404 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 1 month

Text

I am so close and yet so far from being done with The Chicken Salad War, argh. I have the entire rest of the book plotted out, and there's a little less than a quarter of it remaining to write, I think, but it's going to be an intense quarter. And then the rewrites will be a little more extensive than usual because I've basically been skipping scenes I don't want to write, which isn't a lot but isn't zero.

Anyway, have a scene where Ylias and Simon realize that attempting to make an edible sauce using davzda and harissa paste may be an error.

It took a few more minutes of scraping and blending, but in the end the warm, fragrant harissa paste was scooped out and into a bowl, and they both examined it.

"Now…davzda," he said, sounding excited and doomed at once, like someone about to attend an execution but fortunately not theirs.

"I'm wondering, should we just try to loosen it up with the raw hooch?" she asked. "Or actually make some shakshouka and stir the davzda into that?"

"I think to start, we make a sauce -- some beautiful paste, some davzda, and some broth," he said. "I will reserve some for further experiments."

She carried the bowl to the stove and set out a saucepan, spooning some of the harissa into it and then shuffling aside so he could add broth; he whisked them together cold, then added a careful pour of davzda from the ubiquitous gray-green bottle. The smell that rose from the mixture was…herbal, but it began to fade into something more pleasantly spicy as it heated.

[insert brief hold music here for a part of the scene I don't want to spoil yet]

"Now, I must begin prep for dinner, I think, while this simmers."

"Can I help?" she asked.

He blinked at her. "Oh -- it is my job and I am too accustomed to it. But..." he added, considering, "You won't go yet, will you? You must taste this sauce. And I have been accustomed to company, but not so much with Eddie now looking after the little ones."

"Can I criticize your technique?" she asked, grinning, and he laughed.

"Only in French, and I will not be gracious about it," he replied.

"I'd worry if you were," she said, stationing herself at the stove to mind the sauce while he gathered ingredients. By the time he was done assembling the meatballs, the sauce had thickened and darkened to an almost mahogany color. Simon procured some twist-bread and fetched crudite from the fridge ("I keep carrot sticks for Joan, and His Majesty will enjoy the leftover cucumber at dinner,") and she spooned some sauce out into a bowl, dipping the bread while he tried a piece of carrot.

At the first taste, he looked thoughtful, chewing the carrot and harissa sauce with a blank look on his face. Ylias, taken off-guard, coughed and nearly choked when she finally tasted it.

"Oh, no, oh dear," she said, taking a long sip of water while he grinned, still chewing. "It's...so earthy."

"The flavoring in the alcohol, I think," he said, finally swallowing and rinsing his own mouth out. "The oil in the chilis brings out the mushroom in the davzda."

"Ugh, but the worst part," she managed. "That's awful. It's not even bitter, really, not like davzda is, it's just...almost cloying."

"Yes, but..." he considered, eyes narrowed. "There is good flavor there too, just not in balance."

She tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, chasing stray hints of the sauce, then braced herself and took another, smaller taste.

"You can almost get to it," she agreed, considering more deeply. "I never bother with mushrooms in shakshouka because they're just texture at that point, the flavor's too delicate for the spice. But maybe...if you could just cut the flavor a bit."

"Less davzda?"

"Defeats the point, but maybe. Or..." she considered. "There's a lot of tomato coming through, but it's the acid. Do you think a sweet note would help, or would that just make it worse?"

"Make this worse?" he asked, amused, but he was already reaching for a jar on the counter. "The family likes muscovado in their coffee," he said, using the little spoon in the jar to lift out a mound of golden-brown sugar. "Yes?"

She gestured for him to give it a try; he added a few spoonfuls and then stirred it with the whisk again. The sauce darkened further, but when they tasted it this time, the horror had receded.

"Oh, that's...actually nice," she said. "Salty-sweet. You could even use molasses -- or a sherry if you wanted."

"Yes. Very good," he agreed, and then he leaned in and kissed her.

It surprised them both, she could tell; she didn't pull away -- he was a very good kisser -- but when he leaned back, he looked startled by what he'd done.

"Ah, perhaps inappropriate," he said. "Only -- I like this very much, this experimentation. With the sauce," he added in a stammer. "Although, of course -- "

She held up a finger and he fell silent, looking relieved.

"I like it too," she said. "A little warning next time, maybe."

#shivadhverse

109 notes · View notes

stevesxyellowxsweater · 6 months

Text

Will you still love me tomorrow?

PAIRING: king!Steve Harrington x virgin!Reader WC:3k CW:Minors do not interact!! Very little plot, No use of y/n, reader has female body parts, also wears a dress and is called good girl, p in v, oral (both m and f, fingering (f receiving), losing virginity, cream pie, cum tasting, asshole Steve, mentions of sadness, mentions of a bet, mentions of Billy, doesn't end happy. SUMMARY: After your third date with King!Steve, you find yourself in his bed. AUTHOR NOTES: This is a rewrite of a fic I started on here but stopped, the smut was too good to go to waste. 💜Enjoy, please remember reblogs are strongly encouraged! Thank you to @cafekitsune for the amazing banners as always!

His fingertips felt like fire, as they ran down your arms. You hadn't expected the night to end like this, it was your third date you'd promised yourself it was too early. But now you were in his room, your body hot because of each touch and kisses that King Steve placed on your skin. His lips ran over your neck, causing a strangled whimper to leave your lips. “Does my girl like that?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he heard your noises. He’d craved this since he first clapped eyes on you in that little thigh-length summer dress, at the start of April.

The courting had been a long process for Steve, frustration mostly because you'd knocked him back again and again. He was the King, every girl wanted to be the Queen. But not you, you didn't want that it seemed and it left him feeling incredibly frustrated. You'd only given in and agreed to date him when he stood up on the table in the cafeteria, yelled your name across the room and asked you out. So many eyes on you at that moment, you felt like you were going to throw up. It was one of those high school cliche moments, everyone waiting for your answer.

How could you say no to him, then?

“Yes.” You finally managed to say to him, a strangled moan. You did like that, you liked his lips on your neck a lot. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, you clenched your legs together, nervousness bubbling inside of you. His hand moved to the flimsy strap on your dress and pulled it down agonizingly slowly. “Steve...” You whispered as he touched your zip. Did you want this, you'd never before and if you did would not make you just another one of his conquests?

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked gently, looking you in the eyes. There was a sincerity to the look on his face, that made your heart skip a beat. He seemed to be taking into account that this was your first time and didn’t want to force you if you didn't want to. It made your heart flutter, he was so sweet and charming it's no wonder you found yourself falling for him.

You realise he's still waiting for your reply, you'd been too busy studying his handsome face. “What was the question again?” You asked gently. “Do you want me to stop?” Steve asked as he cupped your face. “No, it's not that. I just haven't done this before.” You admitted, your cheeks burning.

You couldn't help but feel embarrassed having to admit that you were a virgin but deep down you knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. As long as it was the right partner, that was all that mattered. Steve had been wonderful on the three dates you'd been on together, you'd never had so much fun as you were having with him. You didn't think Steve was as nice and kind as he had been, he was even pretty romantic. He had you eating out of the palm of his hand

“It's okay, I'll guide you.” His words helped you relax, as did the kiss he planted on your jaw a moment later. His thumb ran over your cheek while he cupped your face in his large hand. Gently Steve pressed against you, guiding you down onto his pillows as his lips met yours. You were surrounded by his scent, instantly as your head touched the pillows. “I promise I'll be gentle.” He whispered before he pulled his shirt off.

Lying in his bed, you found yourself struggling to believe that you and Steve Harrington were going to have sex. Biting your lip gently, you watched as he tossed his shirt to the ground. Your eyes raked over his body, looking at the Adonis above you. “Do you like what you see?” He asked as he noticed your eyes running over him hungrily like a piece of meat.

“Very much so.” He grinned, moving his hands around you to pull down your dress zip.

Your dress hit the floor, the same time your hips landed back on the bed, Steve watched you, sucking in a breath at the sight of you in your lace lingerie. Taking your hand, he pulled you up and looked you in the eyes. “I know you're nervous, I am too. I've not liked anyone the way I like you, not ever.” He whispered.

“I like you too.” You replied, causing him to smile. Becoming a little braver, your free hand moved to touch him through his jeans. A hum left his lips, and you found yourself desperate to hear more of it. Desperate to make him moan for you, to hear noises that you were the cause of.

Letting go of his hand, you worked on his jeans needing to see more of him. Finally, you were able to pull them off -taking his boxers too- and found yourself staring, mouth agape. You stared at his large cock, unsure how he'd ever fit inside you. “Suck it.” Steve husked, as he watched you staring at his naked body.

Taking hold of his shaft, you looked at how big his thick cock looked in your hand. You could hardly get your hand around it. Steve lets out a small moan as he watches you slowly lean down and take him in your mouth.

You start slow, shy almost. Letting the tip into your mouth, your tongue washing over the masterpiece before you. As you inch him further into your mouth, you can't help but glance up, seeing his head leaning back and his hand running through his hair as he lets out a small groan.

Looking back down to the task at hand, you take him slightly deeper, feeling his shaft on your tongue. Your hand grips hold of him, holding what you cannot fit. Your tongue glides up the shaft as our head slowly starts bobbing up and down, taking him further each time. “That's it, baby girl, just like that.” He uttered humming once more.

As you move your head up, you taste the salty liquid of precum. A small moan leaves your lips as you focus on his hole wanting to taste it as much as possible. You feel his hand slipping into your hair and starting to grip tightly as he pushes you back down needing to be further in your mouth. “Such a good girl.” He moaned. “Who would've thought you're not as sweet and innocent as people thought.” He told you as Steve started to fuck your mouth, his cock moving faster seeing just how much of him you could take.

You try to keep yourself relaxed, but it's hard having his cock so deep in your mouth. You're desperate to impress him as well as pleasure him. But then he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, leaving you to whine. “It's okay baby, I just don't want to spill my load in your mouth.” He assured you. His hands found your hips easily and he pulled you down on top of him, his lips crashing against yours as his hands fiddled with your bra and underwear desperate to see the treats that lay under them. As he got them off, he rolled you over onto your back, throwing the items to the ground.

Nestling himself between your legs, he looked down at you. “You're so beautiful.” He told you as his fingers brushed over your cheek. You couldn't help but feel hot under his touch, a small shy smile on your face. He was going to be your first, he was going to make you feel things you'd never felt.

His thumb ran over your lips once more before he moved down between your legs, he began to kiss your thighs, biting and sucking on them. Your hand moved to his and gripped his hair. “Steve!” She moaned as your body arched toward him. “I'm going to taste you.” The king whispered against your thigh. Nodding gently you looked at him as he moved toward your sweet sex.

You watched him, watched as he licked from your wet folds up to your clit then back again. Whimpers instantly began to fall from your lips, but soon turned to moans as he settled himself on your clit and pushed a finger inside. Your hand tugged on his now messy locks as he worked his magic with his tongue. “Steve, oh god!” You cried out feeling him smirking as he pumped his finger in, needing to stretch you out so you could take him.

“You're going to take me so well.” He told you between licks and sucks of your bean. His second finger slowly slipped inside of you causing you to gasp, the sting of the feeling of both of his thick fingers inside you caused you to suck in a breath. He began to pump them inside of you, pushing deeper as he licked and sucked on your clit.

Being so inexperienced, and feeling your whole body on fire, it didn't take him long to bring you to the brink. Your stomach twisted and turned in knots, your free hand gripped hard to the sheets below as a flood of pleasure washed over you. “Steve!” You moaned out, his fingers and tongue working faster to bring you to your climax.

Your hips bucked up toward his mouth, your body shook with the force of his skills between your legs. He worked you through it. It was almost cliche to say that fireworks set off in your head. Feeling him press a kiss against your cut, he slowly sat back and licked his fingers clean as he did. His eyes remained on you the whole time, a smirk on his face.

“You taste amazing.”

Leaning down, he kissed your jaw softly. Anticipation hung in the air as you both knew what was coming next. Your hand moved to touch his cheek as you began to kiss, hunger caused the air to become thicker. His hand rested on your neck as he nestled between your legs.

The kiss was a first in itself, he held onto you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You could taste yourself and it made your stomach twist. You let out a small moan, desperate for more. You barely broke away to breathe only needing a moment to suck in a breath or let it out. He pulled back slowly making you whine.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he moved his hand to touch your cheek.

“Yeah.” You answered in hardly a whisper. His eyes stayed on yours as he moved his hand to line himself up with your entrance. Your body felt almost like it was shaking still, you weren't sure if it was still because of the orgasm or what was going to happen next. But you could feel the nerves bubbling in your stomach as you moved your hands to take hold of his shoulders.

Slowly, Steve pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. A gasp fell from your lips. He slowly pushed himself all the way inside you. You'd never felt this full before, never felt a feeling like this. You could feel yourself stretching around him, making adjustments for him. The sting of taking him slowly began to ease.

“You're so tight.” He moaned looking in your eyes with a lopsided smile. You smiled back, you could get used to this, used to the way it felt as your naked bodies pressed together as his cock twitched inside of you as he gave you that moment you needed to adjust to him.

His lips pressed against your neck, sucking gently as he began to thrust inside of you. Your hands gripped hold of his back, your nails pressing into his flesh. “Good girl, taking me so well,” Steve uttered against your skin. Steve's hand ran down your body to your leg, pushing it up and lifting it over his shoulder.

“Oh god!” You cried out as he thrust in deeper. He pulled back from your neck and looked down at you, the smirk back on his face. “Who is making you feel this good?” He asked his tone full of lust and desire. “You, Steve.” He pressed his lips to yours almost like a reward for you saying his name.

“You like that, you dirty girl,” Steve uttered, biting your lip as he watched the look on your face as he thrust inside of you. You moaned as he went further inside of you, you felt him hitting the right spot and it took everything inside you not to come at that moment. “Yes!” You cried out as each thrust bottomed out inside of you. Your nails dug in hard to his back, causing the king of Hawkins High to cry out loudly. “Do you like that?” You questioned starting to become a little more confident.

He didn't answer, he just nodded his head as he moved his hand to stroke your cheek. His thumb moved down and into your mouth, you instantly started to suck on it as it passed your lips. “Good girl.” He whispered, biting his lip between his teeth.

You couldn't help but stare up at his face, looking at the way his hair bounced, watching the way his jaw went tight, or the desire in his eyes, the light Sheen of sweat on his brow. He took his hand from your mouth and moved it down to your breast, his hand kneading it like it was dough.

Your eyes started to close, getting lost in the pleasure. But his hand moved from the breast and grabbed your chin. “Keep looking at me baby.” He ordered, thrusting hard inside of you almost like a punishment. His hand moved back to your breast, this time rubbing and tweaking your nipple once your eyes were open.

“Steve!” You gasped, your body arched wanting to feel him deeper inside of you. Dropping your leg, he moved his hand either side of you in the bed and started to thrust harder. The bed began to move under the two of you, whining and creaking nearly as loud as you were.

“I'm close.” You announced and he seemingly smirked.

“So am I.” He told you. “Am I okay to...?” You nodded gently unable to speak as his thrusts became harder, and caused a loud moan to leave you.

“Yes!” You cried out. Your orgasm hit you a moment later, you couldn't help but let out a loud groan. Your body arching, and your hands held him tightly. “Steve!” His name came out of your lips in a moan, your body starting to shake as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck!” Steve uttered with a thrust, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you filling you with his seed. Causing another moan out of your pretty mouth, as you felt the ropes of cum painting your walls.

He thrust inside of you a couple more times, making sure he was empty before he pulled out and looked down at you. “Look at you, such a mess,” Steve smirked as he reached down and pushed his cum back inside of you, causing your body to twitch and throb at the feel of him.

Moving up the bed, he lay beside you and pushed his fingers into your mouth. “See how we taste together.” He ordered you. Licking and sucking his fingers, he smirked softly. “Such a good girl.” He whispered watching you clean his fingers. “So good.”

Pulling them from you he smirked softly and lay back his arm resting behind his head as he basked in the post-sex glow. It was then it felt like it all changed. He didn't hug you, he didn't speak to you, he just lay there catching his breath and smiling to himself. Looking down at him, you swallowed hard asking if you should lay down beside him. Or was he done with you? You'd given him what he wanted and he became almost cold.

“Are you going to stay for a while?” His words broke you out of your thoughts. “Or have you got to be going?” Steve asked you, causing you to question if he was throwing you out or not. “Do you want me to go?” You asked awkwardly. You knew the answer, it was obvious and it made your chest ache. Steve shrugged his shoulders, laying there naked as the day he was born.

“Well I'm pretty tired, but you can stay if you want.” Looking away from him you bit your lip and shook your head. “My curfew is soon, so I'll leave you to sleep.” You said gently. Steve sat up and pressed his lips to your shoulder. “I'll call you, okay?” He whispered gently against your skin. “I look forward to it.” You whispered glancing over at him before he lay back down leaving you to dress and see yourself out.

Stepping out into the cool night air, you glanced back at his house as you bit down on your lip. You tried to tell yourself that he was going to call you, that he'd be on the phone tomorrow asking you out again. But he didn't even offer to drive you home, you hoped you were wrong and that you hadn't just been used. He was going to call, he had to call.

By Sunday night, he still hadn't called you.

By Monday you saw his arm slung around a cheerleader flirting like crazy.

By Wednesday you found out he had a bet with Tommy H to bed you.

By Friday you had slapped him in front of the whole school.

And by the following Friday Steve was bubbling with jealousy as he watched Billy Hargrove flirt with you and he realised he'd truly fucked up.

Mutual tags: @yourfavoritewitchbitch @darleenjade @teen--marvel @southerngothicchic @wroteclassicaly @mrprettywhenhecries @msbillyhargrove @bunnyhargrove @keerysfolklore @littlexdeaths @undead-supernova @thecreelhouse @hi-im-peanut-butter-pretzels

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs are much appreciated 💜💜

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #king!steve harrington one shot #Reader x Steve Harrington #You x Steve harrington #Fem!reader x Steve Harrington #Virgin!reader x Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington oneshot #steve Harrington fanfic #steve Harrington fanfiction #steve Harrington fic #shml

148 notes · View notes

theyapper0 · 2 months

Text

So the Finale huh? How'd you like it? I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did making it!!! I kept the ending of S1 the same with Winner!Pen with just one small detail....

HIS DESIGN OBVIOUSLY!!!!

I like to think that (in this rewrite), the Winners in Heaven all look human/what they looked like when they were alive, the only mortals who's appearance change are the Sinners in Hell to look more monstrous/inhuman as like, another sorta of vain punishment

BUT!!!! A Sinner-Turned-Winner!!! (Who I MAY be calling a Glimmer) (And a Winner-Turned-Sinner would be a Dimmer. Still work shopping the names BUT I LIKE THOSE BC THEYRE SO FUNNY TO ME!!!!! LMK WHAT YOU THINK!!). They would retain SOME physical attributes from when they were a Sinner, so for Pentious' case, wmhr would be human but with a few snake qualities :)

AND MOLLY!!! Ok I have a lot of thoughts about Molly..... I'll put it under the cut in case you wanna skip

So first off, HOW COME ANTHONY AND THEIR BROTHER JOHNATHAN HAVE COOL DRUG NICKNAMES AND SHE DOESN'T???? WHY IS HER NAME JUST MOLLY (as in her drug name is also her actual name)????

I think Molly should be her nickname (like Anthony's is Angel Dust) and her actual name is Marcella (a beautiful Italian name)

Like what I wrote in the notes of the drawing, I think she was as big of a part of their crime family as Anthony was, BUT after Anthony died (in a gang shoot out, ty to @aestheticallypleasinggalaxy for coming up w/ his cause of death, love that idea), it made her sorta open her eyes and realize, "oh wow, im gonna die just like my twin, and doing what?? Petty fucking crime?? NO THANKS!!!!"

So she left the family FOR GOOD and never looked back. This drastic in life, this REBELLION against bad, and her whole life after that is what got her a place in Heaven.

Also she pulls Emily SUE ME OK???? I think they're CUTE TOGETHER

I saw fanart for them ONCE and I never forgot it,,,,

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesigns #molly hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #sir pentious #winner sir pentious #my art #emily x molly #emolly #mollyem #hazbin motel

77 notes · View notes

phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole · 2 months

Note

Reader gets kidnapped by a psycho unsub, while being on the field, it has Spencer completely crushed. He hasn’t slept, showered, ate..etc since reader has been gone. He’s been up for countless hours trying to find reader. Morgan recommends Spencer to go home and rest, & he would contact him when they got a new lead on reader. Spencer refuses and it causes the two men to argue… let it have a happy ending!! Pure fluff in the end!!

A/n: I absolutely love this request, sorry for making you submit it again lol. This is the first fanfic I've done in 4-5 years so it might be a little shit.

English isn't my first language, so be nice ppl

It had been nearly 48 hours since you were taken, and the chance of the team finding you alive were almost none. Still, Spencer was trying everything he could to find you, and he was exhausted. He refused to eat, sleep and he hadn't even showered since the team had arrived.

Though you and Spencer weren't together, everyone could see the tension between the two of you. And now that you were gone, Spencer was going crazy. He needed you, your smile, the way you could calm him no matter what. He had to get you back.

To make everything worse, it was his fault. Well, it really wasn't, but he blamed himself. He shouldn't have let you go alone, it wasn't safe.

"Hey kid," Derek's voice shook Spencer from his thoughts. "Why don't you go back to the hotel for a bit, take a shower, maybe get something to eat?" Spencer shook his head, eyes darting back to the board he had be staring at for hours.

"C'mon, you need to get some rest, we'll never find her if-" Spencer quickly cut him off, "If what? I don't see you trying to find her, at least I'm trying. What are you doing? Huh!?"

"We wouldn't even be looking for her if you hadn't let her go off on her own. And now you can barely stay awake. You need to go, I will let you know if we have any leads but right now your head isn't in the game." Derek didn't intend on being so harsh but it seemed to be the only way to get through to him.

Just as Spencer was about to leave Derek got a call. It was Garcia.

"Her phone is back online, I sent the address to your phones, it looks to be an old wearhouse."

*lil bit of a time skip because I'm not really good at transitional scenes sometimes but like only the duration of the car ride*

Spencer was out of his seat before the car had evn stopped, rushing inside without any plan. As he turned the corner of a long corridor he saw you, and the unsub on the floor with a bullet between his eyes. He was quick to run to you and wrap his arms around you.

"God, I thought you might have died o-or I don't know," Spencer could barely even form a proper sentence. Before you could respond he placed his hand on the back of your head and pulled you into a kiss. As he pulled away he continued rambling on about how worried he was and that he was sorry,

"Spencer, it's okay. I'm okay, he didn't hurt me like he did the others. I think my leg might be broken, I'll have to get someone to take care of me while that heals,"

"I can do that, I'll take care of you, if-" he paused for a moment, "if you'd like me yo." You giggle at how flustered he was, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up.

"I wouldn't want anyone but you Spencer"

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/n: I know it's not very good and maybe I'll rewrite it in the future but I hope this is what you wanted. Please give me some tips on anything if you think something is wrong. Once again, I know the grammar may not be so good but I'm working on that ❤️

#spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid #Spencer #Reid #Spence #Spencer X reader #Spencer Reid fluff

53 notes · View notes

enbyobeyme · 1 year

Text

MC Becomes A Child But Angst

Prompt: Mc becomes a child again, but they did not have a good childhood to begin with...

AN: This is also an old work of mine that I'm reposting before I delete my old blog, may be a bit dated. I may rewrite this. Takes place in OG game

TWs: Mentions of Child Abuse, Scars, ect. GN per usual. Cringe writing

Vague Edgy Intro For Background.

You remember it since you were young. The live vivisections performed on you, the practice of fusing angels and demons to create your “God”. You were sadly the perfect catalyst for their experiments.

You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, atrocities that show the worst side of man, the lowest point that mortals could hit. Cults were draining. Worship after worship, recruitment after recruitment, experiment after experiment. You had demon and angel prisoners that you befriended in the cult before they were dragged away and eventually killed or turned into some beast...

You grew sick of it- that’s why you ran. How you managed to fight off or completely avoid the Silent Hill-esque monsters but... You did. From that day on you hid any marks, stitches, scars, or tattoos on your body were hidden. You did everything to hide your past, getting rid of any tracker on you, even trying to drain yourself of any demon or angel blood they injected you with.

You weren’t going to be turned into any ‘God” any time soon. To think, that poor angel Lilith had her grave robbed for the blood that now runs through your veins… Despicable.

I can’t imagine how your MC felt to have been summoned by demons? There was at least some level of fear or anxiety, no? Either way, let’s skip past that. You don’t know how, but some type of spell has been cast onto you, turning you into a kid. The same fragile kid from all those years ago. It wasn’t as happy as the brothers hoped for.

Lucifer

Your eyes were dull as you sat in the corner, you didn’t look at anything but the floor like you were waiting for instructions. Your body shivered and you looked so broken. “MC? Are you okay?” No response, not even a glance at him. It was unnerving, to say the least.

He was by your side in an instant once he heard the news. The way you backed away from him warily though didn’t throw him off, at first, he was a stranger to you after all. It wasn’t until he got back to his office to work while looking after you.

You seemed to have something in your hands that you hid even more as he approached. You looked over at him miserably and started to shake more. You never talked much about any parents or any childhood memories- you often skipped over conversions where Asmodeus badgered you for pictures of your young self. Is this why?

His heart hurts a bit as he puts the pieces together. He notices your grip on whatever is in your hands, loosening, he leans in trying to see what it is. Lucifer is taken aback when you hold out a small rusted knife towards him, it was blunt and old, and shaking in your grip.

“P-Please, get away from me, You’re going to hurt me too! They’re going to hurt you!” Lucifer kneeled down showing his hands to you before offering one to you. “I’m not going to hurt you, please come with me…” You shook, eventually putting the blade away. Lucifer reached out slowly to cup your cheek.

You were soon on his lap as he worked. He noticed that you looked over at the stack of papers, grabbing the sheet he was finished with you added it to the right pile. “How do you know to do paperwork?” “I had to earn food by helping out with chores.” He frowned at that.

”Your parents made you work?” “I don’t think I have parents. The leaders said they made me. It all clicked at that moment. “You were- you are in a cult?” You nodded, going back to organizing papers. It was silent for a moment. “You’re a nice demon. I hope they don’t hurt you too.” “Oh? What do you mean?” “A lot of demons or angels that get summoned get hurt. Sometimes, they’re dissected, and I have to help.” Lucifer couldn’t help but hold you a bit tighter. He felt awful for what you were implying.

He tried to ask you directly about the cult, but all he got were soft ‘sorry I can’t tell you that, I’ll get hurt’s’ in response. Dinner soon came, you refused to go out to the table without panicking, and trying to pull away from Lucifer if he tried to walk you there, so he brought food to you. Your eyes lit up as if you couldn’t believe that you were allowed food, you wolfed it down before anyone can take it from you. Afterward, he was able to walk you to your room to rest. “Wait, Mr. Lucifer, before you go” Lucifer looked back as your small child self waddles up to him to hug him. “Thank you, I don’t want you to leave me alone again.” He offered to sleep with you, you nodded profusely.

In the morning, you were grown again. Lucifer asked if you remembered anything from your kid self. You were silent before nodding. “Don’t mention any of it, to anyone. I’ve already dealt with and accepted it.” Lucifer nodded. This will be your little secret.

Mammon

When he heard Solomon shout in surprise during your magic practice, he knew something was up because that bitch never made noise. When he entered the room he saw a small child pointing a blade at the sorcerer. “Where’s MC?! Are they okay?!” “That IS MC. They messed up the spell and got turned into a kid”

You backed up, pointing the blade in front of you, “H-how do you know me.” It came out more like a statement than a question. You overheard the white-haired man, ‘Solomon’ Excuse himself along the lines of ‘Oops, I have to be somewhere’ for some reason this felt familiar. And that is how you got stuck with Mammon.

It took him a bit to convince you to put down the boxcutter, and you only did because you can sense the dumbassery off this guy and you could read him like a book, it would be able to tell when he would want to hurt you. You hid the boxcutter.

Mammon seemed to be on the phone with someone named ‘Lucifer’ you kept your distance. You heard all kinds of stories about the Seven Deadly. For someone in the cult to be named after them, or for a poor demon that was summoned and called by the sin they were strongly associated with was someone important. Important people tended to be the cruelest.

Mammon didn’t know what to do with a kid. Kids like the outdoors, right? Maybe he can get you some icecream? He noticed immediately that you dragged behind even as he offered you ice cream. You were a strange kid for sure.

At the ice cream store you just looked down. “Don’t you want anything?” you shook your head, it’s a trick, a trap, no one would be this kind to you. Mammon could tell something was up, you seemed so scared and hollow, just looking down at the ground. Mammon put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to shrink away. Sometimes he would’ve done the same when he knows he pissed off Lucifer. Were you okay?

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, come on, I got a coupon for a free ice cream anyway!” He didn’t but it might make you feel better. You felt like you had no choice, and zone out, when you zoned back in, there was an ice cream cone dripping onto your hand as you walked through the Devildom. A rare sweet treat that might be taken from you, you quickly lick it up, not knowing when an opportunity for food will present itself to you.

Mammon seemed nice, he talked to you and he even let you go up to an actual playground. You weren’t used to seeing a lot of kids together, especially so happy. It took a bit of Mammon coaxing you into trying to go down the slide. It was… fun. You asked Mammon to play with you.

After what seemed like an hour you both went home, for the first time in a while, you smiled. You were in Mammon’s room looking at all the shiny things in his room. “Thank you, Mammon,” you seemed to speak at a high level than other kids your age, Mammon noted, “I’m not really allowed to go outside.” Mammon frowned and asked, “Why not?” “The robed guys said people might see my marks and get me in trouble. And there was a big forest with all types of monsters.”

Robed guys, monsters? “Err, uhh. What kind of mark?” “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” “I promise.” You slowly pulled up a small part on the side of your shirt, exposing a long surgery scar going up your stomach, and a brand of sorts next to it. Mammon was taken aback. He pulled you close and examines you, on your chest were even more scars, some more brands it seemed like. You freaked out at him grabbing you and started kicking and crying. “Let me go! Let me go”

The box cutter from earlier came out of your pocket, into your hand, Mammon narrowly avoided it, catching your arm. “Woah woah woah! Chill, kid!” You dropped the box cutter and Mammon pulled you in for a hug. You were unfamiliar with it, but it felt nice.

You ended up falling asleep on Mammon. He wanted you to change back ASAP. There was a lot of things he wanted to ask you.

Leviathan

When you were transformed into a child, you just saw a white-haired man around a bunch of magic things and weird sigils. He looks like he was wearing a robe too, bad news. You looked around for something, anything that could help defend you, you usually always had a pocket knife on you and you felt in your pocket. Grabbing it, you knew it would a bad thing to fight, so you ran.

This house was big and had a lot of hiding spots, you ran up the stairs, knife in hand, sneaking around. Where was there to hide, you heard music from one place, chatting from the next, you saw an open door, peeking in, there appeared to be no one, it was definitely someone’s room though. Covered in strange aquariums and many odd… mini statues everywhere.

It was at least something to work with though, lots of things were in here. You closed and locked the door, barricading it with everything you could. There had to be something in here that’s useful, a key, a weapon, even some vents that may lead outside. Maybe the aquarium leads somewhere you can swim to. You began your search.

You opened every possible thing you can open, there had to be something, anything to help you, knocking over statue after statue, book after book. All you found were sewing needles and thread. You pocketed them, good for stitches. Soon you heard knocking at the door and some ramming into it. “What the hell?! Who locked my door. MAMMON YOU BETTER NOT BE IN THERE I’LL KILL YOU!”

Oh no. Oh no. No, nononono. You had a small pocket knife and NEEDLES. That wouldn’t be enough for a fight. Maybe you can hide in the pile of soft human-shaped pillows and sneak attack him? There was nowhere else to hide, you dived in. The door broke open, you held your breath and gazed at the intruder through the plushes. A demon. You know a demon when you see one. You hope he doesn’t recognize your smell. “Mammon! Where are you?! Ugh, you trashed my room! I KNOW you’re in here!”

You started to run out of breath, and let out the smallest exhale. A normal human could not have heard, but a demon could. “Found you.” Levi started to sift through the plushies. Now or never, the door was still open. You leaped out trying to make it towards the door. You were too slow, Levi leaped forward, shutting the door. You kicked at his ankle pointing your knife to him. “Leave me alone! Get away, demon! I’ll hurt you!” Your voice was raspy and you started to sob, swinging at Levi.

The commotion was heard by the other brothers, already informed about what happened by Solomon, the door opened, which squished you between the wall. Levi picked you up like an aggressive cat as you continued to kick and scream. “I-if you hurt me, the cult would never forgive you! They’ll hurt you too! Just put me down and I’ll leave you alone. Please!!!” You were handed to Satan, who actually understood how to console a child from his reading habits.

They were discussing something, you didn’t care. They were all outside Levi’s room. You couldn’t run anywhere but there. You bit Satan’s hand, making him drop you, as you book it back into the pile of plushies. Hidden once more, you can only hope they would leave alone. They did, kind of. Maybe they were waiting for you to come back out? It was hard to tell. You were hungry. Maybe there were some crunchy bugs in here- or maybe that tank had something in it. A goldfish. It was something.

Right as you came out of the plushie pile, Levi came back in. You ran back in and shook. “I don’t taste good! Leave me alone!!” Levi would have laughed if you didn’t sound so terrified and he couldn’t hear your stomach rumble. Levi crept in. This was his room after all. He searched around his shelves for something. “Hey, are you hungry, I have some Ruri-Chan crackers. Come on out.”

Nothing. They were sealed, sealed food was usually safe, you stuck out your hand, expecting him to toss it. You let out a noise of displeasure as he approached. He froze. Levi isn’t good with kids. He placed the pack down near the pile. He was too tired for this, he just wanted to play his Waifu games…

You grabbed the crackers pulling them into the pile and started to feast as Levi gamed. Levi hated the silence with you eating. Usually, you both would talk as you game, this felt wrong that he was ignoring you. Occasionally, as he played, he would talk to you. “This character kinda sucks, their DPS output is trash but they look so cute.”

After a while, you snuck out of the pile, slowly approaching him, and sitting next to him to watch the pretty colors on screen. Levi noticed and handed over a controller. “Want to play?” You hesitantly took it, as he told you what to do. You spent most night playing games until you passed out. In the morning, you didn’t mention anything from the day before. Shushing the demon if he mentioned anything.

Satan

He felt a spell fail. He knows that was never a good thing. He should check on you, you are always dragged into these things. He wasn’t expecting to see a mini-you having a standoff, boxcutter in hand with Solomon who’s clothing seemed to be ripped up from where you tried to protect yourself. You looked so serious.

“What the fuck is going on?” Solomon explained. Great, a de-aging spell. He would have to figure this out. Satan sighed and told Solomon to leave. You never talked about being a kid, sometimes excusing it when anything about it was brought up. As you saw the sorcerer leave and the demon try and calm you down, you pieced it together that he won’t hurt you. For now.

That’s how you ended up in his room surrounded by books. You backed up in the corner keeping your eyes on Satan as he tore up his bookshelves looking for something to reverse this. You watched from afar.

You decided to look around his stuff yourself. Lots of weird demon shit to start with. Most you recognized. You picked up an old tome with a seal that you’ve seen a million times, instinctually, you broke the seal and opened it. Usually, these tomes have something of importance in it. “Don’t touch that!” You dropped it immediately and cowered, expecting to be hit.

Satan froze seeing you cover your head, guilt rising. He noticed that the tome no longer had that damned seal he couldn’t break. How did you…? Satan rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, MC, I was scared.” You didn’t seem convinced and just looked away.

Satan decided to change the subject. “How did you break the seal on this, hmm?” “I… I know that book.” “You know the book?” “Yeah, the leaders always put those seals on their tomes to protect what’s inside. Only other cultists can open it…” Satan took a glance inside, it mainly detailed a lot of illustrations and descriptions of demons, angels, captives… surgeries… ungodly experiments…

So you grew up in a cult? It must have been awful. Satan tries to change the subject for your sake, you must not want to talk about it. He lit a small, harmless flame in the shape of a small kitty and watched your eyes lit up. “Hey, want to help me out with some magic?” You nodded, shyly.

You were now in his lap, both drawing kittens and look at small photobooks of cats while he also read book after book, looking for some type of spell to reverse it. He glanced over to your drawings as they started to lean into darker territory. Drawings of cats turned into sacrifices of animals. The number 777 was drawn everywhere.

t was the same number as the mark on the back of your neck-wait. Mark on the back of your neck… He glanced at your neck, gently brushing your hair back to show the mark. 777. Huh… He looked back at the spellbook. Finally, a spell to reverse this shit.

A few minutes later, you were back. You and Satan stared at each other, no words were spoken as you went to go grab that damned book from the shelf. You sat next to Satan and skimmed through it, photo after photo, article after article. You see a good chunk of the book titled “The Experiment of Subject 777”

You tore out that chunk, ripping it up and throwing it in the fireplace, handing the rest of the book back to Satan. ”Burn it. Read it. I don’t care…”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus was thrown aback when Solomon called him, telling him what just happened. He zoned out at “Mc is now a baby!” and he was excited to see how cute you looked. He heard something along the lines of you’ll change back in a few hours.

Asmo didn’t care, he snagged you, cradled you, and carried you off into his room. He didn’t even realize the state you were in, afraid and once again covered in the old scars on your body from your childhood returned. He went off to his room putting you down and immediately going to the closet all while saying how much fun the two of you would have.

The smile dropped when he turned around and saw a poor broken child covered in scars of all kinds, surgery scars across the chest, what seemed like self-harm ones on your legs, and that doesn’t even mention the bruises. He remembered asking if you had any pictures from when you were a kid and how uncomfortable you seemed. He can recognize abuse easily.

“Oh, sweetie…” The demon invited you into his arms hugging you and rubbing your back. For some reason the kindness in his voice made you cry. You held onto him as he pats you back. “Come on sweetie, let it all out…”

After what seemed like forever, you had no more tears to cry. Asmodeus knew what could make you feel better. He started to get out some self-care stuff. Showed you facemasks, lip masks, lotions, creams.

He even got out some cucumbers to put over your eyes. You were completely spoiled. It was nice to actually be cared about. After a bit of coaxing, Asmodeus asked to see some of the scars on your body, there is a possibility that you could be injured.

Asmo felt sick. Surgery scars across your chest and stomach, brands across your back and collarbones. It was sickening how someone could do this to a child. Asmo has connections. He recognized the brands all across your body from the cult you were in.

He has seen their members raid the parties he was in, how they walked off with a bunch of intoxicated demons, or snag them using hooks into their wings and forcing them away. He’s heard of the torture demons had endured. Blood experiments. Fusion. The creation of a ‘god’. You were forced to be in there huh?

Asmodeus know that it is not a topic you would want to talk about. He decided that instead, you both should keep your mind off of it. Maybe a few hours of body-positive selfies and watching drama shows and doing makeup will keep your mind off of it.

Beelzebub + Belphegor

Belphegor was asleep as you and Solomon performed spells. He was woken up by a scream followed by crying. Anyway long story short, he ended telling Solomon to fuck off while pulling you away from him. He was too tired to try and ask how to undo the speel so he just went over to his twin’s shared room.

Beel saw a tiny child you and his eyes lit up at the sight of a child. It disappeared quickly when you fucking sucker-punched Belphie and gave him a swift kick into his gut. “Damn demon, get away from me. What are you doing?! Are you trying to die?!”

Belphie dropped you and you already prepared to fight, your body was telling you to scream- run away, get out. You stood your ground. You glared at them. The demons were both shocked. Beel approached you, grabbing you in one swift motion. You squirmed and thrashed. Nothing.

Beel saw the hatred in your eyes along with the hurt. Beel also noticed the brands across your body, he dropped you out of shock, before he caught you again. “Belphegor… Look” Belphegor had never seen his twin look so sad. He went over and looked at what Beelzebub was pointing at. A large cult brand covered your body.

That cult was linked to various disappearances around the Devildom. It has been around for ages as well. He had seen firsthand what they could do- hell Belphegor remembers how they tried to kidnap him when he was an angel. An angel.

Beel remembered the meeting with Diavolo discussing the disappearances and even massacres of their fellow demons. Seeing how they branded a child at such a young age. His stomach churned at the idea of your childhood.

They were snapped out of their thoughts when you smacked your head back into Beels, making him drop you on the floor. You pushed yourself under one of the beds, away from the twins. They couldn’t squeeze their whole body under here and their arms would never reach.

Belphegor lied down and kept trying to reach for you with an ‘ugh, come here brat’. You kept away. At some point, you fell asleep from all the adrenaline leaving your body. You woke up a bit later in someone’s arms. You overhead a conversation with another person.

“This spell should wear off soon, I’ll watch over-” “No, I got them.” Your eyes fluttered open and were met with the below view of Beel’s chin. He held you protectively and walked back to his room alongside Belphegor. Belphegor made eye contact with you.

“Hi…” “...Hey. Gonna kick me again, little-” “Belphie. Leave them alone.” Belphie scowled as Beel set you down on his twin’s bed. You sat up and shyed away. “...Thank you… for not hurting me.” Beel frowned and the overwhelming urge to crush you in a hug overwhelmed him, but he knew it would scare you.

Beel sat beside you, offering a snack, on your other side, Belphegor lied down and turned on the TV. You got to watch some DemonTV. As time went off your belly was full and Belphegor was a comfortable pillow for you. You all fell asleep in a sandwich.

When you woke up, you were back to normal, no more brands, no more scars. The twins looked over at you, you can tell that they pitied you to an extent. You know that they’re worried about you too. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

991 notes · View notes

moonstruck-poet · 11 months

Text

Rewrite The Stars

Pairing - Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary - The story of how you two manage to unravel the complexities that concern a relationship based on the song 'Rewrite The Stars'

Hope you'll enjoy it!!!

You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide. You know you want me, so don't keep saying our hands are tied.

Kaz Brekker, you muttered under your breath and kicked a small stone with as much strength as you could muster, ignoring the sharp pain that followed.

He really was impossible that one. Tested your patience to such a level that you were almost considering giving up.

Almost.

But you weren't known as the never giving up person for nothing. You would try to make him see sense.

You halted in your path towards the Crow Club to analyse your thoughts which were a hundred percent occupied by that young boy whom everyone called Dirtyhands.

He had you completely charmed, as could be observed since he was the one running rent free through your mind at all times when you weren't risking your life for the same man.

So taking a deep breath and resting your hand on your holster, you entered your home with a poker face and scanned everything to see that all was going on smoothly.

"All good here?" You questioned Rotty and downed a shot of whiskey, scrunching your nose at the bitter after taste.

"Everything under control ma'am, got a lotta good pigeons," he grinned and your lips twitched sideways.

"What's up, Jes?" You asked the gunslinger who was sitting on one of the stools near the bar, twirling his pistol in his hand.

"Nothing, I'm bored. Need some action," he groaned and stretched upwards.

"Of course you do," you laughed softly. "Where are the others?"

"Off doing saints know what".

"Kaz still ain't budging?" He asked suddenly, his tone a little gentler.

"No," you said shortly and clenched your jaw. Suddenly not wanting to thing about him.

Jesper sighed loudly, "He is one of the most idiotic person I know. He doesn't even seem to realise he's missing out on the best thing that's happened to him".

You smiled at that, it was a small one but nevertheless a smile after all.

"If I wasn't so unbelievably enamoured by messy haired guys who are quite a shot at chemistry, I would've gone for you honestly".

"I'm flattered, Fahey".

"But seriously tho, love. What's his reason for denying you, huh?"

"Kaz thinks we're not good together," you answered abruptly.

"Not good together my ass," he rolled his eyes in utter annoyance. "You deserve so much better than him. I don't understand how you even managed to fall for him".

"Falling for him wasn't falling at all, Jes. It was like walking into a house and just knowing that you're home," you whispered.

And there he was, the hindrance to your concentration, the object of your continuous staring, Kaz Brekker.

He took off his hat, revealing his rather well defined featured that seemed to be sculpted with a help of a knife.

Your eyes took his figure in. Those all black clothes with that unmistakable cane was his entire persona that he had built for himself.

Your gaze softened at the sight of his messed up hair, the few strands that had fallen on his pale forehead making your heart skip a tiny beat.

"You really love him don't you?" You snapped from your staring at Jesper's question."I guess I do," you answered, eyes following him as he walked towards you with what you assumed to be another one of those tasks that he always gave you, just because of the amount of trust he had.

===============================

You claim it's not in the cards and fate is pulling you miles away and out of a reach from me. But you're hearing my heart so who can stop me if I decide, it's on my destiny?

"Fucking hell this idiot of a man," you groaned and ran frantically towards the mount of wounded people.

You had indeed raided one of the most well protected safe of the most dangerous person and there were bound to be major consequences.

Your heart dropped after seeing Wylan lying near a building wreckage and you sprinted despite the throbbing pain in your calf and ignoring the blood flowing down one side of your head and torso.

"Hey," you whispered, getting down to your knees and shaking the boy. "Wylan, come on. I need you, come on wake up," phrases fell from your lips absently.

And he did wake up and you felt as though your feet were back again on solid ground. He woke up, immediately clutching his head and looked around, eyes squinting. "Where are the others?" he said hoarsely.

"Everybody is fine, everyone except for Kaz and we're all looking for him," you murmured, the relief fading away for panic to seize control of your weak heart again.

He immediately noticed your tensed posture and really looked at you, succeeding in reading your internal turmoil.

"Up you get," he suddenly said in an authoritative voice. "We're gonna go and find Kaz right now," he got up and held out his arm for you to grasp.

You simply stared before shaking yourself off and following his lead, glad to have someone to listen to instead of following your stupid thoughts all alone.

The fear in both you and Wylan seemed to increase tenfold after witnessing gruesome scenes all around you. But you both swallowed it harshly and kept a determined spirit, him more than you actually.

Because naturally your heart always seemed to lose its stone cold interior upon the mention of a specific someone.

"Saints," Wylan suddenly came to an abrupt halt and his eyes widened as he pointed to the shed of a shop that was almost on the verge on collapsing entirely. And underneath all of that rubble was Kaz.

"Oh god," was all that escaped your lips and you didn't think before running towards him, not even noticing a large chunk of the ceiling falling om your shoulder.

"Kaz," you said, leaning down in front of him. Your throat burned at his terrible state. His hair completely dishevelled, numerous cuts and blood stains littering his body, eyes half closed as he gazed ahead endlessly.

"Kaz!" You said again and Wylan softly patted his shoulder, accidentally touching his bare skin where the shirt was torn and in the process jolting awake the unconscious boy.

"Good gracious," you prayed and stepped back after seeing the anxiety on his face. "Kaz you have to let me, or you're going to die you bastard," you frowned but waited and turned towards Wylan, "Will you go and tell the others that we've found him? They'll be there at our decided headquarters, just inform them quickly please and get Nina as soon as you can," you instructed and he set off instantly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and clenched your jaw hard before moving closer and putting one hand behind his shoulders, your heart shattering a little at his sharp intake of breath. "I'm so sorry but I have to do this," you said with a rather broken voice and picked him up.

Halfway through the route he let out a loud groan and you almost dropped him but then steadied yourself and halted.

"What's wrong, Kaz?"

His eyes were scrunched up in pain and it was then that you noticed the bullet which was wedged on the side of his chest and you froze at the sight.

"No no no," your muscles seemed rooted to the spot and the only thought runnung through your mind was that he was going to die. Kaz Brekker was going to die.

"Shit," you muttered and hastened your pace, struggling slightly under the weight of his rather heavy body but you did manage to reach the secret meeting place just in time.

"NINA!" You yelled and placed him on the nearest couch. "NINA!"

She was out in a second, all others following close behind and breathing in sharply at the sight of their leader beaten up so badly.

"Th- There's a bullet through his s- side," you said, panting as suddenly there was a lack of oxygen in the air. "There's a bullet Nina! Quick come on you gotta get it out. You have t- to get it out, quick!"

"Wylan," Nina gestured with her eyes and he understood, gently taking you by the shoulders and pulling you away.

"No! What're you doing?! Wylan stop it!"

"He's going to be okay, let me clean up your wounds too".

"I'm fine! But he's not! He needs me okay? I- I can't leave him lying there like that! I can't- I can't-" you broke off and gulped. Your eyes tearing up as you let yourself be pulled away from him.

But tell me, how is one supposed to survive when their lifeline itself is im danger?

You were sitting in one of the rooms all alone, looking out of the window absentmindedly. Wylan had graciously cleaned and bandaged all your injuries amd you didn't even have the heart to say a simple thanks to him.

Inej had dropped by a few minutes ago with a small plate of food and you hadn't bothered to appreciate her with a small nod.

All that rang through your mind was Nina's conversation with Matthias that you had accidentally overheard.

"There were not one but two bullets, Matthias. And they were the poisonous kind, the ones that work on paralysing and slowly killing the body of the victim. He's taken quite a hit that one".

He's taken quite a hit that one...

A lump welled up in your throat as you mulled over every incident when you were on the brink of losing him forever.

Once when you two were fourteen, once when you were sixteen and now at the very tender age of seventeen, Kaz was slipping through your grasp again.

Fate was constantly pulling you apart, making you go as far as possible from each other but it had been enough now, you simply couldn't handle it.

You swallowed down the burning sensation and went quietly towards the room where Kaz was fighting for his life. Your breath got caught upon seeing his rather peaceful face. No furrowed eyebrows, not a crease on his forehead, he seemed very much at ease.

You took a seat next to him, tears on the verge of falling but you blinked then away stubbornly. You weren't one to cry that easily, but control seemed to jump out of the window whenever he was involved.

"Kaz," you whispered as though he would open his eyes that very second and you would be met with dark brown irises that you so loved.

"Here we are again huh," you murmured and heaved a deep sigh. "Its been what 3 times now that we were in this same scenario?"

You kept on making small talks, it beimg useless towards him but actually helping you to get over your emotions.

"You don't understand the way my heart breaks when you get hurt this badly, Brekker," you said softly. "I've tried to tell you so many times but you're one stubborn asshole aren't you?"

You exhaled and your eyes gazed at his beautiful features, from his sharp eyebrows, to long eyelashes and then to his perfect lips.

"You have to wake up, Kaz. You will," you said firmly. "I don't think I can function properly without you," you looked down at your hands.

"Get well soon, love," you whispered the words and despite being unconscious, rhey ringed in Kaz's ears. Love, you had called him. He felt something brush against his forehead, pushing away strands of hair and tickling him a little.

But then the warm feeling was gone and once again he was alone, cold, and empty.

===============================

What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart, you'll be the one I was meant to find. It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be. So why don't we rewrite the stars? And maybe the world could be ours, tonight.

"Saints this is all so ridiculous," Jesper muttered and frowned deeply at the comedic costume that he was supposed to wear. "Couldn't you have gotten something better?"

"You either have the choice to wear it or run around naked, I don't care. All I want is a proper distraction. The choice is yours," Kaz said easily and went back to scrutinising the map placed on the table.

Jesper rolled his eyes but wore the clothes anyways and you snorted making him give you a sharp glare.

"I'll shoot you, I swear," he threatened weakly when you fully cackled. "It's not fair that you get to dress up like a literal princess when I'm here looking equivalent to a clown!"

"I'm afraid you won't make a very pretty princess Jes," Inej smiled as she sharpened her knives with without even looking at them.

"Oh I don't, Inej. He might make a wonderful, lovely girl," Nina piped in and you laughed.

"Enough chatting please," Kaz interrupted your lighthearted teasing making the Heartrender scowl.

"You always have to interrupt the best moments between us don't you?" She glared but the man didn't as much give a shit.

"Wylan you're ready with your explosives? Confident they'll go off exactly when we want them to?" He asked and received a confirming nod.

"We'll leave in about five minutes exactly," he checked his watch and scanned all of the faces staring at his intently. "Off you go then. I want absolutely no detours from anyone, I'm talking especially to you, Jesper," he narrowed his stare to the Zemeni who merely shrugged and grinned.

"Goodluck everybody," he said and they all left for their respective work. "Let's go," he said to you and you got up, instantly feeling uncomfortable in the rather beautiful dress and the heels.

This was new and uncharted territory, something you had never even worn before in your entire life. But you liked it. It didn't match your usual attire at all, but a change at times was welcomed on your part.

You two were invited, or rather you had invited yourselves to the ball that was supposed to take place. It was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate and steal.

"Remember all we have to do is stay for the entire program, we cannot afford any mishaps to happen. No tiny slipups at all or the entire plan goes down the drains," Kaz said as you slowly walked to the venue.

"I know Kaz," you sighed at his nagging. "You can trust me, you know?"

"I know," he said lowly and looked straight up, refusing to make eye contact.

Your eyes flitted to look at his side profile. It was sharp, the streetlights highlighting his carved features and your heart started running at an unbelievable speed.

He had for once ditched his long coat and had instead worn an all black suit with a black tie. And saints did he look amazing. Kaz Brekker seemed to have no idea at just how unsettled and in love you were.

Just as you were about to enter the grand hall, he stopped you and offered his arm. He was also not wearing his gloves, wanting to stay off suspicion as much as possible.

"You sure? We don't have to do this," you said softly but he insisted and you hesitatingly wrapped your fingers around his elbow.

Kaz didn't as such flinch from your touch, which just proved that he did trust you a lot.

"Ah there you are! Mr and Mrs Helvar am I right?" An elderly man beamed at you two and Kaz instantly transformed into a complete stranger in mere seconds.

"Absolutely!" He smiled widely, his lips stretching in an unfamiliar way and you almost cringed at how fake it looked, but that was only because you knew him.

"Alright alright that's enough," you whispered after the host went away to greet someone else. "Please bring back the Kaz I know".

He rolled his eyes and returned to his cool demeanour. You were lounging near the bar, sipping drinks to pass time while also maintaining a strict checking of the area.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" You asked after about an hour.

"The party's only just began. It'll take time I think," he answered and looked around.

"These heels are killing me," you groaned. "I need my shoes back".

He didn't say anything but his jaw had clenched, as it always did when he felt a little helpless and unsure. He glanced at your feet before returning his gaze back to the ballroom.

"Saints he's here again," you said suddenly and he turned to see the same man walking towards you two once again.

"You've been sitting for quite a time now! Come on then let's get you on your feet. Don't keep such a beautiful lady waiting, Mr Helvar," he grinned cheekily, eyes clearly trailing down your body.

"I'll make sure," Kaz answered rather tightly, stepping in between his line of sight and blocking you from his filthy eyes. He looked at you and held out his hand, you stopped for a tiny second before placing your bare palm into his cold one.

He inhaled sharply but at the same time gently pulled you towards the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on the host who seemed to be watching your every move.

"He's just wrote himself a death wish," your fake husband grumbled in annoyance which soon turned into a forced smile after waving at someone.

"Loosen up now, we have to dance," you said and were surprised immensely when his fingers intertwined with yours and his other palm was slowly making its way to be placed on your waist.

He glanced in your eyes and all you offered was a gorgeous smile. That seemed to be all that was required and the tips of his fingers brushed your waist before halting there.

Your free hand was on his shoulder and you two swayed, your bodies closer than ever before. And you thought to youself, you could definitely get used to this.

Not the elegant gown or the grand party, not at all. But these small but significant moments of intimacy with him.

"This is nice," your small whisper broke the silence as you danced, engaged in your own little rhythm. Too occupied with each other to even pay the slightest attention elsewhere.

"It is," he nodded and this time made eye contact without hesitation. The force was so strong and powerful that you couldn't feel anything except for the rapid thumping of your heart.

Everybody else seemed to fade as you two danced the moment away, completely taken by each other as you swayed. And you thought, it wasn't so bad was it.

And Kaz gave you a look which seemed to answer your question, it was as if he had clearly read your mind.

It's not so bad, his eyes reflected and you couldn't stop the small smile which soon fell off after another question had plagued your mind.

'Then why? Why can't we give this a shot? Give us a shot?'

"It's always up to us you know," you murmured suddenly, not bothering to elaborate because you knew he understood it well enough.

"Nobody has a damn say in what the hell we do with our lives. It's always up to you and me," you repeated and smiled tightly.

While he just stared at your face, taking notice of the way your heart was literally shattering in front of him. And all he wanted was to tell you that he loved you too, had been loving you since ages.

But you already knew that, you weren't oblivious for saint's sake. You knew he had fallen as hard for you as you had for him. His problem was that he refused to accept it, for god knows what reason.

===============================

Ahem ahem... do we need a part 2?

Preferably from Mr Brekker's pov? 👀

225 notes · View notes