#i’m Very Warm and only under one of my four blankets :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months ago

Text

A Spoonful of Honey

Jason Todd/pregnant fem!reader (cause why not, I started reading the adventures comic so silly Jason is just on my mind as much as big beefy himbo acting like a baby over taking medicine. Chat I’ve been through it these past months, so this isn’t proofread)

Time Written - 11:05 p.m

The morning was cold, dreadfully cold, with a humid fog blanketing the dreary skies, blurring the atmosphere in a quiet haze. The temperature reached forty degrees at the highest around the late evening, giving those who had no business being outside a perfect excuse to remain indoors.

You basked in this opportunity to bring out your gold handle, cream colored dutch oven. Soft cardigan sleeves pushed up to your elbows to cut vegetables for a hearty dinner.

Slow, rugged feet trudged into the kitchen in the midst of you sautéing a rainbow assortment of veggies in butter and oil, dressed in his ‘plain ol’ civilian clothing’, a muted gray hoodie pulled over his head.

A sort throat was how it started; signifying the side effects to his nightly routine. Vigorous exercise could only help so much to fight off the chill, but with temperatures dropping incredibly low, sweat could nearly freeze on skin shortly after it’s been secreted.

The cold nearly nipped a permanent flush to his chiseled cheeks, kissing a sprinkle of color on his nose. He looked as exhausted as he did the previous night, when he first arrived home with a short cough and occasional clear of his throat.

Jason was sick, in the beginning stages of a cold. He’s not even bothering to hide it, yet continued to insist it wasn’t as bad as he led it on to become.

“You’re makin’ soup?” he asked. A comforting, light pressure of broad muscle against your back. Warm hands roaming from their soft placement along your hip dips roam forward, rustling along the fabric of your plush sweater, palms finally settling snug over your stomach.

“Mhm.” You nod, settling one of your hands over his interlaced fingers. “Chicken. With potato, and a ton of vegetables you like.”

“Mmm,” he hums, lightly sniffing the delectable curls of seasoned steam from your spice additions. “Smells incredible, ma.”

“Thank you. Good for the cold,” you comment, feeling satisfied at your seasoned sauté of protein and vegetables. You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little at his calm, droopy expression. “And colds.”

“Wow. Funny.” He murmurs per your amusement, taking over in reaching for the box of broth you set aside.

“You looked a little under the weather. Just wanted to help you feel a little better.” You reply after nodding in thanks for his aid, snapping open the seal to the box.

“You’re always taking care of me.” He exhales, his head tilting to kiss you on the cheek. He sounds grateful for the consideration, but he’s not very surprised by it.

You always had a tendency to spoil him. It’s just been your nature since the minute he first knew you.

“How’s the little one doing?” he asks, thumbs brushing light ovals over the soft mound of your protruding bump. Barely the size of an overripe grapefruit, or an underripe honeydew.

“Fine. No complaints,” you continue while pouring in the chicken broth. “Though, I’m sure the baby’s convinced that papa is doing a terrible job not resting up.”

Of course, he says nothing of it to confirm or deny. As if there was anything to deny, you could hear it in his slightly nasally tone. His fingers continue their gently ministrations, his eyes seemingly fixated on your actions, or unfocused as his mind trails off to space.

“Jay.”

“Hm?” His head slightly perks, leaving you to instantly assume the latter.

“It’s only been four months. You won’t feel much at four months.”

Maybe it’s faint arrogance to the doctor’s words. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks that he can feel their baby shifting and wriggling around inside. He never thought of it before until it occurred to him one day, entering his mind at first as a silly thought before turning into a strong fixation.

“What, are you expecting it to come out and give you a high five?”

“Shut up.” He grunts, earning you a smirk.

“Couch,” you instruct, your gentle squeeze of your hand on his forearm combatting your firm tone. “Dinner’s almost done. Go relax.”

“Alright.” He’s quick to agree, yet his actions say otherwise. For a man who’s known by others to sulk, in your doting presence he reverts to a state a comfortable serenity, regardless of this mild illness weighing heavy on his tired bones. Regardless of your ever so heartwarming instruction, he retaliates with gentle backlash, consisting of third grade retorts and heavy groans. All in good fun, merely poking at your funny bones to catch a glimpse of a smile.

He moves his hand in little circles against your belly, waiting for his baby to respond. While he doesn’t feel any kicks just yet, he’s excited just thinking about all the times they have to come.

As much as you loved every ounce of physical touch, the slightest pet peeve of him not doing as you requested for his own good irked your mind. “Jason. You gotta move.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, “I’m fine right where I am.”

“You can play with the baby after you eat, Jason,” you insist. “You gotta eat, take some medicine, and rest. You can’t take medicine until you’ve eaten first.”

“I bet you the baby’s hungry, too.” Such sweet words from his mouth nearly had you melting on the spot. Already a doting father in waiting, how could you not feel your heart flutter?

“Jason,” you insist once more, your spoon resting on the rim of the cooking pot.

“Don’t wanna,” he replies, sounding both annoyed and amused by such insistence. His warm body never separated from yours for a mere five to seven minutes after that, your palm reaching up and back to catch his cheek, meeting the warm skin of his flushed face.

“You ever notice that you get grouchy during a cold—“

“I’m not grouchy right now though—”

“—the baby wouldn’t want their papa to be grouchy.”

“And you’re being a little mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You sounds surprised, though you’re smiling wide the entire conversation.

“Yes, you.”

“I could never.”

He doesn’t look at you though, his voice sounding playful once more. “You’re being super mean, trying to make me eat and take medicine and everything. The audacity, ma.”

You scoff as you closes the pot, turning your full bodied attention to Jason.

You smile, adoring your sick beloved, the father of your unborn baby gazing down at you with exhausted, lovestruck teal eyes. He always looked so cute, especially sick with a cold. Especially with the mentality of thinking he can do what he wants at this moment, thinking he’s said all the right words to coerce you.

“Good. That’s called love, now gooo.”

He sighs, and he’s really not looking forward to it. The idea of eating just doesn’t sound appealing right now anymore, nor does taking the medicine. Either way, the coziness of his woman wrapped in pearl colored cashmere with a cozy smile finally allured him towards the promising comfort of the living room couch, a temporary respite.

Inevitably, He left you to finish, granting the kitchen vocal silence for the next twenty minutes, apart from the soft drum of heavenly soup coming to a boil. Only when you come to find him did you see him flopped on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes to block all means of light.

You beckon him with a bowl of warm soup settling on the coffee table, alongside the eventual promise of lemon balm tea with a spoonful of crystallized honey.

“I don’t even feel that sick,” he grunts as he sits up, his voice starting to get a little hoarse from him talking (and complaining). Let the big guy say what he wants, you knew him better than even he admitted to allow.

“Then you’ll have no problem drinking my horrible concoction,” your gentle sarcasm would never be heard as unfavorable in his ears.

Jason takes a sip of his soup, slightly wincing from the heat on his sore throat, but he doesn’t seem as pleased with it as he’d originally thought. It tastes good, everything you’ve ever concocted for meals brought comfort, but as of now. he’s not really as hungry as he anticipated.

“What is this? Chicken, right?” He’s just making small talk now, wanting the conversation to last. “It’s really good, really, ma. Just not as hungry as I thought.”

You nod, not really happy about the outcome. But again, he’s sick. You can’t blame him.

“Take a few more sips, at least. Just so the medicine dosent make your stomach hurt.”

Jason looks away when you mentions the medicine, but he nods all the same. He eats what he can from his bowl, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion decides to increase weight down on his bones, forcing him into an even drowsier state.

All he does is partially lean against you after setting his bowl back on the table, keeping his eyes closed to ease the faint throbbing pressure building at the top of his head.

“I don’t even like cold medicine… I can’t sleep when I’m drowsy.” He mutters to himself, seeming to babble to no one but himself on not being so ill.

Your hand reach up to settle along his back, easing the tension with your fingers massaging his neck, confusion conflicting your mind at first.

“What you just said made no sense,” you giggle a bit, watching him lazily shake his head with a mild scoff.

He presses his head against the curve of your shoulder, his voice growing soft like a cat’s rumble. One of his arms settles lazily around your back. his body feeling practically limp.

By now, his response came in a series of short, muffled hums. He’s not complaining, really, but he is being extremely clingy. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, succumbing to an incredibly long sleep in your embrace, as if he can’t support his own weight. (He really can, but chooses not to.)

“On the bright side, the medicine says it tastes like honey.” You gently suggest, putting optimism where it may have lacked.

“Can’t you take it for me?” He lightly whines, his voice rumbling with a drowsy rasp. At this point, it’s not even because of the cold. Jason’s just too exhausted to think straight.

“I don’t know if pregnant women can take this kind of cold medicine,” you whisper to him, holding his shoulder after combing through his hair.

“Pretty please?” He whispers, his body feeling a little warmer from your presence. As comforting as it may have been to him now, a few minutes longer would’ve resorted in an uncomfortable ache in his neck from this poor posture.

“C’mon baby, just one little cup of medicine and you can sleep as much as you want. I’ll even yell at Bruce or Dick if they even try to call.”

Jason gives a light chuckle, his nose brushing along your jaw before planting a minor kiss along your neck.

“Fine, guess I’ll stop giving mama a hard time about it. It’ll be your job in about five months.” He speaks in second tense towards the bump in between you, followed by an eye roll on your end.

Watching you measure out the golden, syrupy mixture of potentially foul tasting medicine left him in a weak bind. He’d graciously drink horrid syrups consisting of fear toxin and joker venom if it meant you’d spoon-feed him an antidote. Such blind devotion was rare to come by throughout his life, comfort was your name in a foreign language.

He’s blessed with your smile once he had gotten the medicine down, rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose and a cup of promised tea, ambrosia to combat the foul taste. Goddamn medicine bottles with their stupid, deceiving lies.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so needy.” His slurred mumbling surprised you the most as you adjusted the blankets between the two of you.

A light tongue click leaves you, shaking your head in denial from such an unnecessary apology. “Don’t be, you silly man.”

Whether from some conflicting guilt, or illness inducing dysphoria on his mind, or shame, you gently deny and accept his apology with another kiss.

The effect of the medication is quickly kicks into place after ten minutes in bed, starting to drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Nothing but calm silence steals his consciousness for a few hours, warm bodies sheltered by the chilly winds batting against fogged glass throughout the long hours of the night. Despite the occasional faint echoes of neighbors next door and above, serene silence envelopes the minds of exhausted bodies.

You were snuggled up beside him with one of many pillows invading the space. Your cardigan sprawled neglected on the floor, cast aside due to the overwhelming seer of body heat.

He sighs softly, still tired, but his eyes glance over to the time on the nightstand clock.

He’s been asleep for hours, the time being … A little after eleven.

“Damn.” He whispers, drawing your closer to his body in a close hold. You feel so good like this, so safe. Spending all this time with him, doting on him, caring for him would mean the fifty percent chance you’d be afflicted next once he got better. Jason didn’t mind one bit, as much as he knew he should’ve been the one spending all his free time being attentive to your needs.

Either of you would look back on this and laugh of it, considering it practice for the baby.

For now, in the short time period of limbo between doctors appointments, checklists on supplies, criminal justice, and other impending challenges of becoming parents, everything was quiet. Calm, perfect even.

“Shh, the baby’s sleeping,” you softly retaliate, your hand cradling over his on the bump. You nudge just a little closer to the warmth radiating off him, seeking comfort with the furnace you call your beloved.

“What time is it?”

“Sleeping time,” he retorts, still sounding a little drowsy, his words coming out slow and somewhat slurred. His nose felt more stuffy than before, his head aching with a pressure that grew the longer he remained awake.

Once more, calloused fingers rustle against the fabric of his shirt on your body, potentially to be stretched during the later months to come. Here’s to hoping, he’s been secretly dying to see it.

“I love you both,” he whispers along your forehead, speaking from his heart in the sanctuary of your shared vulnerability.

You smile, tilting your head up to plant a soft, exhausted kiss on his chin. “We love you too,” you whisper, fighting back sleep to express an intimate act of love.

He closes his eyes, ready to sleep again. He’s not tired yet, stuck between the purgatory of both conscious states, but he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. At this point, he’s already half in the land of dreams. He’s comfortable—and happy to be with you, and with his baby.

“Never wanna let go of you two,” he mumbles, faintly catching the fragrance of your shampooed hair, the faint spice of ambery musk clinging to your skin.

You can’t help but quietly coo, burying most of your face against the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Then, don’t.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd drabble #jason todd x #my personal life went through a dead dove phase #this is my therapy #for free

531 notes · View notes

okay-j-hannah · 5 months ago

Text

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: series rewrite, start of season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, 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 😊

Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend {You Are Here}

Part 3: Blue Handprints

The summer heat had finally decided to die down to a reasonable temperature. It was the only reason your mother decided a picnic at the park would be nice. It was equal parts safe for you and enough of a distraction that you could pretend you were a normal kid.

At just four years old you were starting to notice how you didn’t live like the children you saw outside your window. You had started to grow bored of your usual antics stuck at home.

You lay on your stomach near the edge of your blanket. Along the blades of green grass you spotted a ladybug climbing towards the sky. You were practicing counting the spots on its back when the beat in your chest became noticeable.

The pressure from laying on your tummy made it easier to feel your heartbeat unevenly.

“Do you want another grape, sweetie?” your mom asked, stretched out and enjoying the shade.

You reached out a smaller, pudgier hand, accepting the grape with a hungry toddler’s mouth. Your eyes looked above the ladybug grass and stared at the playground, complete with twisting slides and a rubber rock wall.

“Mom,” you say in your timid tone. “I want to play.”

“I know, honey,” she says, “But you know how that’s not safe for your heart.”

A pout grew instantly, “I am careful!”

Sensing your coming tantrum, your mother drew your attention away from the other children playing with a lacrosse ball in the nearby field.

“Yes, you are very good at being careful. But remember your heart sometimes has a mind of it’s own. Sometimes being careful isn’t enough. The doctor said not to be too crazy.”

You ball your little fists but hold back the angry words. “I don’t like my heart.”

Your mother cooed, reaching for you, “No, sweetie, you have a wonderful heart. It’s big and warm and full of love for far too many things. It tries its best to take care of you. So we need to try our best to take care of it, okay?”

You snuggle into your mother’s arms, upset feelings turning into tears, “Okay, mommy.” You feel a kiss on your head when the children playing in the field came running past your blanket.

They stopped on the other side of your shaded spot and conversed behind dirt smudged hands. They were both rowdy boys with scabbed knees and grass stained shirts, but they had wide smiles as one approached you.

He had unruly hair and sunburnt cheeks.

“Hello,” he said in a nervous voice, “What’s your name?”

You rub at your eyes, “(Y/N).” You sink further into your mom.

The boy was out of breath and already itching to run again judging by his fidgeting. He said quickly, “Hi my name is Stiles. Do you want to come play with us? We were playing sharks and minnows, but it’s not so fun with only two people.”

You look up at your mother’s chin and ask quietly, “Can I go play?”

Your mother sighs, tickling your sides, “If you don’t run around so much and stay on the playground…”

You were instantly crawling out of her lap, “Okay!”

“And if you start getting out of breath you need to tell me!” your mom continues, “Be careful climbing the ladders and don’t you dare stand on the slide!”

“Bye!” you yell in reply, already jogging away with Stiles to meet with his other friend.

He touched your shoulder, “Do you like chasing bad guys?”

“I’m not supposed to chase,” you say seriously, “But I do like to catch bad guys.”

Stiles nodded his head in deep thought, “Okay. How about we make traps for bad guys under the slides.”

You agree enthusiastically, grateful at your young age for someone who didn’t know about your heart. Grateful that they played with you like any other child.

And you schemed underneath the slides, building traps out of woodchips and leafy twigs. Innocent kids that didn’t know any better. Didn’t know that you wouldn’t remember this first meeting.

~~~

“I’ve started TAing.”

Allison gives you a strange look, “What?”

“I’m a teacher’s assistant now,” you lead the way into the school, “I have a free period since I finished a core class during my homeschooling.”

“Who will you TA for?”

You hold back a grimace, “Coach Finstock.”

Allison snorts, “You know I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on half the time. He forgets which periods he’s teaching economics and which periods he needs to be in the gym for P.E..”

“All the more reason why he needs a TA to sort things out,” you say, straight-backed. “And it means I can help out at lacrosse games too.”

“What, like a waterboy?”

You bump into Allison’s side, “No… well maybe. Just helping out with supplies and plays and locker room stuff.”

“Locker room stuff,” Allison says with raised eyebrows.

You choke on a laugh, “Don’t start. I reserve the right to ban you from the locker rooms. Especially seeing as that’s become your new make out spot.”

That caught her off guard, ramming right into the person in front of her. With a squeal she drops everything in her arms and put her hands into her hair. It was Scott who turns around after the collision.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Allison laughs, joining you as you help pick up her things.

Scott looks terrifyingly relieved, “You’re okay.”

“Once my heart starts beating again, yeah.” You smile ruefully at that statement. “What?”

“I’m just happy to see you.”

You thought Scott looks more like seeing Allison walking and talking was a miracle. Like he couldn’t believe that she was alive. You hand Allison her pencil case and folders, watching their goodbye with skepticism.

“What was that?” you whisper as Allison walks away to first period.

Scott was still breathing shallow, “She’s okay.”

You snap your fingers in front of his dazed eyes. “Are you okay?”

The speakers suddenly turn on with a crackle of fuzzy interference. “Attention, students, this is your principal. I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you.” With another crackle of microphone feedback the principal’s voice was gone.

You return your eyes to Scott and furrow your brow.

He took in your confusion and whispers, “I had a dream last night where Allison and I snuck into the buses behind the school.”

“Oh?” you say, still skeptical but now with a smile on your face.

“And I sort of had… an outburst.” He seems to struggle with finding the right words. “I killed Allison and broke through the back of the bus.”

“Well, shit that sucks Scott,” you fold your arms, “But I don’t think you’re capable of all that.”

He grimaces, “No, when we showed up to school and saw the bus out back – and how it looked just like it did in my dream – I thought maybe I had actually killed Allison somehow.”

You reign in your teasing smiles and bump into his shoulder, “Scott, like I said, I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body. There’s no way you could kill someone and tear up a bus.” He still slumps as he follows you to first period. “I can understand why that would still be scary regardless.”

It was his turn to bump into your shoulder, but with more force, causing you to trip into a row of lockers. “God! I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he pulls you closer by the hand.

You laugh, ignoring the jump of your heart. “It’s okay, let’s just get to chemistry.”

Stiles was already sitting down, bouncing his leg against the table stool. He looks at Scott as if asking if everything was okay. Scott gave him a reassuring nod as he took a seat at the table in front of him.

You smile at them as you took the remaining empty seat at a back table. You immediately start copying the diagram drawn on the blackboard, taking out your science project notes for inspiration.

You could hear the frantic voices of Scott and Stiles near the front, and a needle of hurt stuck in your chest as you remember the secret that Stiles wasn’t ready to tell you. You had to remind yourself that the friendship was still relatively new.

There was still a secret you hadn’t told them either.

“Mr. Stilinski, if that’s your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while,” Mr. Harris says from the blackboard. “I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

Stiles begrudgingly moves his stuff to the back but stops when he spots the empty seat next to you.

“Hey, trouble,” you say quietly.

He sat clumsily, “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was fine. Just a lot of reading.” You finish copying the blackboard notes.

Stiles leans on his elbow, “Still reading that werewolf book?”

“You mean Harry Potter,” you snicker, “Yeah I’m on the fourth one now.” Turning your head you could see Stiles staring at you, “What?”

He swallows hard, awkwardly straightening himself, “Nothing just… I like that coconutty-strawberry smell.”

Warmth came up your chest, “That would be my shampoo.”

“Then thank god for personal hygiene.” He grimaces and smacks the back of his head.

You ignore it, pulling your notebook closer. You could still feel his eyes on you as a classmate jumps to the window, “Hey, I think they found something!”

Everyone ran for the wall of windows. You stood quickly from your stool too when a fuzzy feeling flickers on in your head. You grip the table, closing your eyes and frowning.

No one notices as you compose yourself, waiting for the fainting feeling to go away. You wander closer to the group of kids terrified at what they were seeing. A tingling was making its way down your legs – the blood rushing to your toes.

You felt uncomfortably warm when a cool hand touches your shoulder, “(Y/N)?”

Stiles was at your side, unsure of what was happening. “You look ashy. Are you lightheaded again?”

The breath leaving your lungs was shallow and rapid, cotton was building pressure in your ears. “I’m going to faint, Stiles.”

“Mr. Harris!” Stiles yells, “(Y/N) needs to get to the nurses office!”

Not that the student body would know, but every teacher at the school knew of your health problems. They knew it was a possibility that you would require medical care. Mr. Harris, as cynical and distrustful as he was, let you leave promptly despite his feelings.

“You may leave, Miss. Westbrook.”

“Sir, I don’t think she should be walking alone to…”

Mr. Harris was using his phone as he looks out the window, “Get out of my classroom, Stilinski!”

Stiles keeps a hand on your back and another on your arm, watching your face the whole way. His voice was frantic and small as he talks you through it.

“It’s like I can see the blood draining from your face. Does that happen a lot? I mean, I know you get head rushes a lot, but the fainting thing? Do you just have bad blood circulation? Was it something I said? Look I know I’ve mentioned how good you smell twice now and while it is true I acknowledge that it’s a little creepy of me to be sniffing your hair so much. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. Not gonna lie it’s kinda freaking me out that you’re not saying anything.”

You struggle to breathe, “It’s sort of hard when you don’t give me time to answer.”

The shallowness of your breathy words put a strange feeling in Stiles’ chest, “Do you need me to do something else? Does the nurse… what the hell is that?”

Your watch was suddenly beeping with an alarm. Your heart rate was far too high and had stayed that high for more than thirty seconds. A pain enters your chest, and your walking slows.

Stiles starts panicking, “What does that mean? (Y/N), what’s happening?” He yells down the hallway towards the office, “Hey! We need help over here!”

It was hard to keep your eyes open as you start to slump, “Stiles…” you mumble. And you lost consciousness, falling into Stiles and in return he fell to the ground to catch your body.

He held your back and shoulders, using his free hand to brush the hair from your face. Your skin was still gray-tinged. An office lady and the school nurse came rushing down the hallway. Their heavy footfalls matching the hard beating of your heart.

Stiles was finally at a loss for words, holding you like you had just died. “(Y/N)?! Oh my god, I think she just fainted,” he says to the incoming help, “I hope she just fainted.”

The nurse asks Stiles to help drag you to the sickbed. He complies, frantically asking questions until the nurse ordered him to stop.

“Alice, will you call her mother and I’ll get her doctor on the line,” the nurse says to the office lady. She dials a number and holds it to her ear as she elevates your legs and checks that your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“What did she say to you before she fainted?”

Stiles was still flabbergasted, “She turned gray and said she was lightheaded. She told me she was going to faint.” He ran a hand over his shaved head, “And then her watch started freaking out and she had a pain in her chest.”

“It’s been more than 90 seconds now,” she mumbles to herself, checking your watch monitor to measure your heart rate.

“Wh-What does that mean?” Stiles asks, blinking blearily. “Is she going to be okay?”

The nurse starts talking to a doctor on the phone and Stiles was ushered out by the office lady, forced to watch from a different room. He refuses to leave the office until he sees your eyes open just a few seconds later.

~~~

“By the time I checked with the office at lunch she was sent home,” Stiles vents, one hand on the wheel and the other in his short hair. “She hasn’t answered any of my texts or phone calls.”

Scott was stretched thin between worrying about his possible dreamlike wolf attack and the mystery of his newfound friend. In all honesty he was more worried about how worried his best friend was.

“I talked to Allison about it, she doesn’t know anything either.”

“God, I knew there was something wrong,” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “That scar she has… whatever I look up says it has something to do with her heart.”

Scott eyes his friend, unsettled by the palpable worry. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We would have heard something if she wasn’t.”

Stiles grips the steering wheel, “We would have heard something if she was.”

They pull up against the fence to the bus drop off, putting the jeep in park. Stiles rubs at his worn face and Scott leans in with an edge to his voice.

“Listen, let’s just get this Derek theory over with and then we can go check on (Y/N). Sound good?”

Stiles grumbles, slipping out of the jeep with his friend.

“Hey, no, just me,” Scott says, “Someone needs to keep watch.”

“How come I’m always the guy keeping watch?”

Scott pulls on his friend’s arm, “Because there’s only two of us and I happen to have wolf-like reflexes and you’re distracted by your sudden love for (Y/N).”

“I am…” Stiles scoffs, caught off guard. “I am not in love with (Y/N).”

“The eight text messages and four phone calls would say otherwise.”

Stiles juts a finger in the air, “Hey, that is totally untrue.” He put his hands on his hips, “I only made three phone calls.”

“Whatever,” Scott whispers, “I’ll just be in and out.”

“Okay, why’s it starting to feel like you’re Batman and I’m Robin? I don’t want to be Robin all the time.”

Scott was bewildered, “Nobody’s Batman and Robin any of the time.”

“Not even some of the time?”

But true his word, Scott was quick upon entering the bus. Stiles surrenders and sits in the jeep ready to drive with the headlights off. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages to you, concern eating away at his stomach.

It was bad enough that he witnessed you fall ill so quickly and dragged you to the nurses office. But now he was realizing, through some personal investigation and the unhelpful words of Scott, that he had a crush on you.

He liked you.

With all the strange supernatural problems infiltrating his life, it was almost an unexpected surprise to have something so human as a little crush. His stomach flips. But what if there was something more supernatural about you?

Your heart rate was elevated when you fainted. Scott’s heart rate is a tell of an oncoming werewolf transformation.

Is that why you wanted to keep it a secret?

Stiles was sick of his investigative brain, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel. Couldn’t he have normal high school problems like fretting over the girl he liked instead of deducing if she was a shape shifter or not?

Flashlight beams could be seen from the school’s entrance. Stiles lifts his head to see them shining in his eyes, “Oh, shit…” he starts laying on the horn.

~~~

After dropping Scott off, Stiles sat in his jeep contemplating his next move. Staring at the clock on his dashboard he knew it was far too late for your parents to accept company.

But there was still that garden trellis outside your window.

Making his decision, Stiles drove to the end of your street, hopping out and running for your house. It was easier to climb the garden trellis now that he knew where to put his hands and feet through the vines and ladder.

He creeps over the roof tiles and squats outside your window. The lights were off, and he could just make out the human shape lying in bed… he still couldn’t help himself. He taps on the glass until he saw your figure stir.

Ruffled in white pajamas with little blueberries printed on the fabric, you carefully tip toe to the window to let him in.

“Stiles,” you yawn, the moonlight still bright enough to make your eyes squint. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles made a much more graceful entry, afraid to disturb your parents. “I wanted to check on you. You haven’t been answering my messages.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, clearly exhausted. Stiles remains standing – because he wanted to pace or because he was preparing to catch you should you fall, he didn’t know.

“I’m sorry,” you run your fingers through your bedhead. Stiles thought it was cute. “Between the hospital visit and the bedrest I haven’t even looked at my phone. My mom usually keeps it whenever I have a fainting episode. Gives me time to unplug and unwind.”

“But…” Stiles folds his arms, “But you are okay?”

He didn’t like that it took you longer to respond. “Yes, I’m fine. You know I get lightheaded a lot. Fainting is usually a consequence of that.”

“Your watch went off right before you fell,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and serious. “Like some kind of alarm.”

“Yeah,” you look at your watch that you wear even when sleeping. “It measures my heart rate. Whenever it spikes for too long it warns me that I might faint.”

“That’s why you get lightheaded… your heart?” his eyes linger at the collar of your shirt, hoping to see that scar again.

You fold your arms, protective, “When I get worked up it doesn’t beat enough to get oxygen to my brain. Then I get lightheaded and sometimes faint.”

Stiles nods his head and walks over to your bed, “Can I?”

A soft smile quirks your lips, “You may.”

He sits beside you, the mattress sinking down further. “So when we saw the ambulance and the bus driver all mangled like that…”

“It got my heart rate going,” you say easily. Of course you got lightheaded before even seeing the commotion outside the window. You didn’t feel like getting too deep into your diagnosis. This was a good start.

“It was really scary seeing you get sick like that,” Stiles says honestly, looking down at his hands. “Not knowing what was going on made me feel… like I was helpless to make it stop.”

You turn to him, silhouetted by moonlight. His eyelashes were so long that they were casting shadows onto his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, placing a hand on his forearm. It made him look up at you. “I should’ve been more honest with you.”

“Is this where I can ask you my one personal question of the day?” his eyes were warm as his voice held slight sarcasm.

You lean into him, “I suppose.”

“If you start feeling faint or if you do faint, what can I do to help? Just so I’m prepared if it happens again.”

You blow air between your lips, “Oh, it’ll happen again. That’s my curse.” You hum as you think, oblivious to how Stiles was unconsciously smiling at your thinking face. “I generally avoid things that would get my heart rate up.”

Stiles scoffs, having an epiphany, “Like a lacrosse game or an after party.”

“Or a crowded lunchroom,” you smile. “But if it goes up regardless, I usually try to ground myself. Like thinking about what my five senses notice. And I hold onto whoever I’m closest to. Doing that and taking deep breaths can control my heart rate.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Stiles mumbles, “That’s a technique to control anxiety.”

You nod, “You’re right.”

“And if you faint again?”

“First step is to call for help and the second step is to make sure I’m stable.”

You turn to him, and he looks so sincere that goosebumps erupt on your skin. He was taking your words so seriously. Without interrupting your council he grabs the blanket off your bed and drapes it over your bare arms.

“Lay me down and elevate my feet. Make sure I’m not choking on anything. And then if I’m out for more than 90 seconds or I start seizing, then turn me on my side.”

“Why 90 seconds?” he asks.

You pull the blanket closer around you, “Because after 90 seconds then there might be some brain damage or something else seriously wrong.”

He turns his body towards you more, your thighs fully touching. “The nurse today said that you were out for over 90 seconds.”

“That’s why they sent me to the hospital,” you nod, “But they didn’t find any serious damage. I just can’t have any more fainting episodes like that.”

Stiles swallows hard, tracing the outline of your side profile with his eyes. Brow. Nose. Lips. Chin. “Why?”

“Because the more I have the weaker my body will become. The more damage I’ll get. We don’t want that to happen.”

He licks his lips and plays with his fingers, “Thank you for telling me.” He thought back to the scar on your chest and realized that some things still didn’t add up. Craning his neck to look at you, he asks, “That’s still not everything, is it?”

Your eyebrows slant and you look scared for the first time that night. “No.”

Stiles found himself closer to you than he intended, urgency laced into his next words, “(Y/N), I want to know everything. I want to be able to help.”

A sad smile crept onto your face, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

You take a shaky breath, “Because then it’ll become too real. I’m not ready to share that reality yet.” You match his urgency as you express, “This is enough for now.”

Stiles suppresses the instant anger that brought up. He hated not knowing things. “Does anyone else know?”

“The school staff and most parents know,” you say, “Yes, even your dad.”

“My dad!”

You shush him, “It’s a small town and my mom works under him.”

“What about Scott and Allison?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “But I don’t mind if you tell them now. It was stupid of me to keep it to myself when I could faint at any time around you guys.”

He bites his lip, “When will you be back at school?”

“Maybe Wednesday,” you shrug, “Fainting always puts my family in a tizzy. My parents don’t like me leaving the house until they’re sure I can handle the stress again.”

Stiles was sinking further towards you, your arms now touching along with your thighs. “Is that why you were homeschooled?”

“Yes. I finally decided to not let my problems stop me from living my life to the fullest,” you relish in his warmth beside you, the goosebumps going away. “I decided to go to school, to get a job, to do things my parents and doctors said I shouldn’t do. My heart rate will go up the same way if I get jump scared in my own kitchen. I might as well be out doing something enjoyable.”

Stiles sighs and he was close enough you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I like that.” You smile and cuddle further into your blanket. He felt reluctant to leave, but all the same says, “I should go.”

He stands and walks carefully to your window. “You’re going to miss a wicked history test tomorrow and the ‘hang out’ between Scott and Allison.”

“I thought they were going on a date?” you say, crawling back towards your pillow.

“Nope,” Stiles began to slide out your window, “Lydia and Jackson made it a hang out at the bowling alley.”

“Does Scott even bowl?”

He snorts, “Never.”

“That could only end in hilarity,” you grin, “I’ll text Allison about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Stiles mutters, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Stiles?”

He slips on the roof tiles, “Yep!”

You smile at his goofy face, “Thank you for helping me today. Not everyone would’ve done what you did.”

“I think anyone would be competent enough to cry for help when…”

“No, you coming to check on me. Asking me for details so you can help more in the future. Not judging me for having a problem. No one else has done that for me.”

Stiles nods awkwardly, gripping your windowsill. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

~~~

Wednesday evening you were on a mission to convince your parents that you were well enough to go to school tomorrow.

You stood in the kitchen, soft blue silk pajamas on and fuzzy socks keeping your toes warm. A home speaker was playing songs from your favorite playlist, coercing your body to nod and sway with the beats.

“Are you sure you feel alright enough to be alone?” your mother frets, putting a coat on as your dad grabs the car keys.

You hold up your wrist with the watch, “My heart has been steady all day.”

“Yes, but you don’t know if…”

“Mom!” you cry, “It’s Wednesday. Wednesday is date night. You should enjoy your Wednesday date night. I can make myself dinner and watch a movie before bed.”

Your dad nudges your mother towards the door, “Let her have some freedom,” he teases.

Angela smacks his arm, but keeps moving nonetheless, “You better believe I’m getting my own cheesecake tonight.”

Your father, Tom, gave you a wink, “Let’s treat ourselves tonight, sweetheart.”

And for the next ten minutes you were blissful in making yourself some chicken and rice, green beans on the side. Clad in your softest sleepwear and dancing around to your favorite tunes, it was hard to shift the mood when you receive a frantic phone call.

“Hey, Stiles. Sorry I wasn’t at scho…”

“(Y/N), I need your help,” he says quickly.

You turn away from the stove, “Cutting to the chase, alright. I’m listening.”

Stiles trips over his words, “Y-You work at the hospital right? You have a wealth of doctor knowledge? Like you could tell me a few facts about first aide?”

You lean against the counter, the marble cold under your arms. “Yes… Stiles what’s going on?”

“I might, sort of… maybe have a friend who is… very hurt.”

“Very hurt?”

“He has a wound that just keeps sprouting blood and he’s not looking so hot.”

You hum a ‘uh huh’ as you ponder who this friend might be, “Not looking so hot meaning what?”

“You know, just the general sweating, pale skin, heavy breathing.”

“He must be in a lot of pain then.” You could hear a slam on something metal in the background. Stiles must’ve jumped by how his voice rose an octave.

“Lots – lots of pain. Listen, what might we do to help said wound?”

You go to stir your sizzling chicken, “How does it look?”

“Red and gross and all around a major health code violation,” he felt his chest tighten at your slight laugh. “There’s also these purple veiny things creeping up his arm.”

The smile falls from your face, “That would mean he has blood poisoning. Whatever wound he has is infected and if it reaches his heart then it’ll kill him.”

Someone was rummaging through drawers; you could hear pill bottles flying around.

“That’s good, great,” Stiles curses, “What do we need to stop that from happening?”

“Well, you need to stop the infection with some pretty heavy antibiotics,” you rub at your forehead. “And you need to clean the wound to stop more infection from getting in. And you could put a tourniquet on to help stop the bleeding.”

Some heavy whispering was happening behind Stiles’ hand. Something recognizable was in the other man’s voice.

“Stiles,” you say warningly, “Who are you with?”

“Just some guy,” Stiles replies, moving around, “We’re putting a belt around his arm as a tourniquet now. Thanks for your help, (Y/N).”

A cry of pain was heard through the phone and you hiss, “Are you with Derek Hale?”

“What?! No way… not a chance,” he laughs weakly before growing silent. “Yes, I’m with Derek Hale.”

“What the hell, Stiles – I thought you hated that guy.”

A growl was heard behind him, “Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“I’ll be here, making dinner and watching old Disney movies.” You wait for a goodbye, but the line went dead. “That was weird.” And it continues to be that way as you finish making the dinner and grab a soda from the fridge.

You sat on the couch, pulling a fluffy forest green blanket on you. It was quiet and serene as you pull up one of your favorite movies: Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

You weren’t even ten minutes in when there was a knock on your door. Slipping on your thick socks, you skid across the hard wood to the door.

Suspicious, you say, “Stiles… how is Derek?”

“He’ll live,” Stiles says, out of breath and wrapping his jacket tightly around him. “He’s having a chat with Scott right now about the Hale family or something.”

“About the house fire?” you ask, “So now that he’s innocent of killing his sister you’re suddenly buddies with him?”

Stiles had an exaggerated look on his face, “Well, not exactly. He’s still a big scary guy that we got thrown into jail for a day. And now the town thinks he’s some murdering recluse because of the evidence we put against him.”

You couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto your face, “So it was just a favor you helping him tonight?”

“Yeah, it was a hunting accident,” he says casually, as if it were the whole truth. “And he didn’t have any friends to turn to.” He dances on his toes, looking up at the porch light, “While I love chatting out in the cold, do you think your parents would be alright if I hang out here and check on you?”

Leaving the door open, you walk inside, “My parents aren’t here. It’s date night.”

“Right,” he says, closing the door and kicking off his shoes, “How are you feeling?”

You sigh, “I feel fine. My mom is just determined to keep me couped up for the rest of my life.” Without prompting you prepare a dinner dish for Stiles and meet him in the living room, “I’ve only been in school a few weeks, but I miss it.”

Stiles eyes the plate of food with wide honey eyes, “Oh my god, that smells amazing.”

“Come on, I’m watching Atlantis.”

The boy was only too eager to follow you onto the couch. He flops down, staring at his plate hungrily. You share the green blanket, throwing it over his lap. He looks at you with big eyes.

“You said it was cold outside,” you shrug, picking up your plate. Your legs were touching again as the pair of you ate.

Stiles was eating the chicken and rice like his life depended on it, “This is the best food I’ve had in years.”

“You must be in love with it,” you snicker, “Judging by the sounds you’re making.” You laugh as he chokes on his fork.

“No, it’s just…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I don’t eat a lot of homecooked food anymore. My dad and I survive on takeout mostly.”

You push the rice around your plate, “Did your mom cook a lot?”

There was a shift in the air as Stiles continues to eat, but he responds with as normal a voice as he could manage. “Yeah. My dad used to say that… that she would bribe him with a good dinner to get him home from the station sometimes.”

Your voice was warm as you say, “She must’ve been an excellent chef if that got the Sheriff away from his caseload.”

“She used to make this delicious homemade mac and cheese, like fancy mac and cheese…” he made silly hand motions in the air, “Like with the little chopped up green things on top.”

“Parsley?”

He shrugs, but his eyes grew wide and bright, “And she’d serve it on top of a piece of garlic bread with some Italian sausage on the side.” He makes an overexaggerated chef kiss. “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you lean back into the couch, leaving your plate on the side table. “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

Stiles guffaws, “That’s what it was! When I was little the only thing I would eat was kraft mac and cheese with chicken nuggets. She was determined to make me a better version.”

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, fixated on the points where your bodies were touching. “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” Stiles says just as quietly, playing with his food like he had lost interest in it. “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

You lean closer, intrigued, “Sweet?”

“That was her descriptor word for all things she liked.” He puts his plate aside too, resting against the couch and your shoulder that was so near. “We got a coupon for the arcade? Sweet! My dad picked her a flower from the woods? That’s sweet of him. I’m forced into a sailor outfit for family pictures? He looks so sweet!”

You take a deep breath, “That is pretty sweet.”

Stiles turns to you, startled to see you so close to him. His throat grew dry and his chest felt tight, all words trickling from his brain and out his ears. He never talked about his mom. Not to Scott, not to his dad, not to his pillow – not to anyone. But talking about her to you was… easy.

You were having the quick realization that Stiles had not just brown eyes, but the most glassy brown eyes you had ever seen. Like if sunlight were to shine through the liquid of a whisky bottle. Or if a sunset caught a glimpse of a glistening honeycomb. Or if a campfire reflected off a drop of amber tree sap.

“So…” Stiles clears his throat, not wishing to pull away but very conscious of how high his voice sounds. “You like Atlantis?”

The movie had been playing the whole time in the background.

“Yes! Have you seen Milo Thatch? I’d marry him in an instant.”

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly for an animated man.”

You poke your shoulder into him, “Fictional men.”

“And the appeal is?”

“It’s in the name,” you snicker, “They’re fictional.”

Stiles hums a reply, turning his attention back to the tv screen. “I’ll add that to your case file: only attracted to fictional men and therefore can conclude that she’s never had a real boyfriend.”

“Oh, it feels real though.”

Stiles fought a shiver tickling the top of his spine. He instead readjusted his pants, “I think I’m going to need more research on these fictional men you’re so fascinated with.”

“We’d have a lot of ground to cover,” you sigh, “Seeing as I don’t think you’ll read any of the books I give you, we’ll have to have a lot more movies nights like this.”

“I think I’d be okay with that,” Stiles says with a smirk on his face. His hands were above the blanket you share, lying in his lap and fidgeting with the green fuzzies coming from the fabric he was pulling.

~~~

You sat on the windowsill in the girls bathroom the next day, reapplying your lipstick and combing your fingers through your hair. Allison was readjusting her hairband in the mirror while Lydia fixes her mascara.

“We’re going to have a movie night,” the redhead says, admiring her eyelashes. “All of us.” She turns with a flair and points to the other two. “It’ll be prime time for a little under the blanket action.”

You make a face while Allison coughs awkwardly, “You want to do a double date?”

“Triple if we can get (Y/N) a boytoy,” Lydia smirks.

“I’m not exactly in the market for boytoys,” you say, crossing your arms.

Lydia leans against the sink, “You will when I tell you half the lacrosse team wants to ask you out since you started helping with Coach.”

A nauseous feeling enters your stomach, “I’m not a huge fan of dating, Lydia.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handpick the perfect one for you.”

Allison was all skepticism as the bell rang, “There goes the last of English.”

“And now we can go straight to lacrosse practice!” Lydia claps her hands, “Let’s go shopping for (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

The trio make their way to the field, each at a different level of enthusiasm, as you see Scott and Stiles in their uniforms. The boys were quick to pull you to the side.

“Why did you skip the rest of English?” Scott asks, “Is Allison okay?”

“We got an emergency text from Lydia,” you huff, “Turns out it was just the regular scheming and gossip.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Like…?”

“Like how Lydia is going to find me a lacrosse boyfriend to match her and Allison’s lacrosse boyfriends…”

Scott and Stiles spoke at the same time:

“I’m Allison’s lacrosse boyfriend?”

“You’re getting a lacrosse boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, “And with all our lacrosse boyfriends we’re going to have a ‘movie night’ to coverup the sexcapade I think Lydia’s planning.”

Scott was blinking really hard, and Stiles seems to have left on a thought tangent based on the slack jawed look on his face.

You snap your fingers, “I need your help with Lydia.”

“No,” Scott mumbles, “She’s scary.”

Stiles was still lingering on his imagination as he says, dreamily, “You don’t want a lacrosse boyfriend?”

Your hands fall on your hips, “I just don’t want Lydia to conduct a speed dating the lacrosse team weekend.”

“WESTBROOK!”

You close your eyes, “Yes, Coach!?”

Coach Finstock stomps over, clipboard in hand as he struggles to wrap the whistle around his wild haired head. “I need you to register the team for a spring retreat.”

You blink blearily, “A spring retreat, Coach?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s good for bonding and teamwork and… bonding.” He threw his hands up, “We have the funds this year so we’re going out.”

The teenagers share looks as you attempt to get a baseline of knowledge, “What’s our budget? When are the dates? Who do I contact?”

“Everything’s on my desk. Now get to it,” he puts the whistle between his teeth, “The district likes to hear about these things in advance.”

You back away to the locker rooms as you silently plead to Scott and Stiles to handle the Lydia situation. They were frantically whispering back to you, making exaggerated and confused gestures. You could spy Lydia and Allison talking to a lacrosse huddle by the bleachers.

For the next forty-five minutes you handle the paperwork that the principal and district employees emailed Finstock. You create an excel sheet for signups and a budget tracker. You contact a sports summer camp that allows retreats and field trips during the school year. All you need was to pass out permission slips and gather player information.

You were on your way out of the copy room when you spot Lydia on Jackson’s arm, conversing with some players on the sidelines. Scott was playing goalie while Stiles and a few others were doing a play on the field.

“Give me some good news, Westbrook,” Coach grumbles, bending his clipboard to near splintering levels. “Because these dancing monkeys need some incentive to play better than my recently deceased grandmother.”

“I’ve got everything scheduled here,” you say, not even bothering to show all your hard work. The Coach trusts you enough to have it finished. “I just need to get players information.”

“Done. Boys! Get your pansy ballet asses to line up next to Westbrook! Do what she says fellas or you’re going to miss one hell of a weekend retreat.”

A herd of maroon jerseys and shoulder pads stampede towards you on the bleachers. Sweaty, and slightly smelly, boys began to filter past as you write down their names, shirt size, contact information, and give them a permission slip. You could feel Lydia and Allison waiting on the bench behind you.

Lydia’s heel toed boot prods the middle of your back whenever a boy she particularly likes came up.

“Ben Manley,” a blonde-haired, freckled face says. “I like your jacket.”

Seeing as it was a jacket you borrowed from Stiles’ jeep, you smile, “Thanks, Ben Manley. Get this paper signed if you want to come on the retreat.”

He looks a little dejected as he walks past. Another boy comes up, shiny with sweat on his wonderfully dimpled cheeks. His hair was chestnut brown and curly, “Andrew Wickstrom,” he says with a smile, “Thank you for helping Coach. He hasn’t been as manic since you started.”

“I’m glad my hard work is paying off.” You hand him a permission slip as another sharp poke was felt in your back. “Just turn that in within the next week.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). See you in gym.”

Right, gym class that you were a TA in instead of attending. You told the other students that you already got those credits during homeschool, but really you had a doctors note detailing how under no circumstances were you to get your heart rate up.

While others ran laps and did pushups and played volleyball indoors, you graded papers for Finstock from various classes.

Scott and Stiles came next in line. Scott gave a lovestruck wave to the girl sitting behind you while Stiles whispers to you.

“Hanging in there?”

“I think Lydia is making a March Madness chart with eligible lacrosse players,” you hand the boys permission slips. “She’s relentless.”

“You think I’ll make the bracket?” he asks clumsily, his cleats sticking into the grass.

You shrug, a teasing tone to your voice, “She’s very particular about who she adds.”

Stiles hopes he wasn’t hearing sarcasm, or even worse – dislike, in your voice. He was shoved to the side by a much taller boy coming in next.

“Josh Arnett,” he says.

He was broad, darkhaired, light eyed, and currently getting a dirty look from Stiles.

“Hi there,” you say, a little starstruck at the intense eye contact. You immediately recognize him as a narcissistic asshole, one that you’d still gladly kiss and get your heart broken over. He was one that made you think Greek gods still existed. He was one that made dirty look sexy.

And you just said, ‘hi there.’

His smile was killer, “Are you going to be at the retreat?”

You ignore the boot in your back as you fumble over your words, “Probably. Coach has kind of grown dependent on me to function.”

He took a permission slip, “I’ll go if you go,” and he winks. Like full on ‘sent-a-warm-river-of-shivers-down-your-chest-and-to-your-middle’ kind of wink. Your uneven heart patters at the sight of him walking away. Those wide shoulder pads… slim waist… and tight little…

You snap out of it as you realize the boy next to you was doing the exact same thing. Danny Mahealani was gawking as he groans under his breath, “Damn I love being on the lacrosse team.”

You laugh, shoving him away in a playful gesture. Danny was by far one of your favorites on the team. Lydia was right above your shoulder in an instant.

“I think we have our winner.”

“What?” you say a bit breathless, “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Philanderer?”

Allison was choking on laughs as Lydia huffs, “Come on, just a little movie date tonight. You don’t have to see him again if it’s really that bad.”

“You’re just trying to get a hot squad together,” you poke her button nose before you stand. “But you can’t force a healthy relationship on incompatible people.”

“Sure I can,” she scowls, “Jackson and I are still together.”

You share a look with Allison before packing up, “If you two are bringing dates tonight, I might as well bring the one that flirted with me.”

“Oh, please,” Allison crosses her arms, “All of them were being fl…”

“Perfect,” Lydia claps, “I’ll talk with Josh in the locker room.” And she flounces off in her skirts, leaving Allison to walk with Scott.

And Stiles appears at your shoulder, grabbing your leftover papers and the laptop from your hands. “So, has Lydia decided your fate?” He tries not to sound too eager (and/or desperate) to learn about the evenings plans, but he was hovering a bit close as you rub your temples. Your heart rate was a little high since encountering Mr. Philanderer.

“We have a big movie date tonight.”

He holds his breath as he continues, “… slash sexcapade?”

You snort, “I’d rather clean out whatever is festering in Coach’s desk drawers than have a sexcapade this weekend.”

His next breath was deep and tight, “Then who are you watching the movie with?”

“Josh Arnett.” Stiles stuck to the grass while you walk a few steps ahead. “What?”

“You are going to spend the night with Jealous Josh? Judgy Josh? Jockstrap Josh? Forget that last one.”

You giggle, “Yes, I’m going out with Jaw-dropping Josh.” You pull on Stiles’ arm, “It’s just to appease Lydia.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t,” you say, “It’s going to be just a one time thing.”

“But what if he charms you and kisses you and you agree to more dates…” he watches a dreamy look slide onto your face. “Oh my god, you’re thinking about kissing him, aren’t you?”

You open the door to the locker room, full of sounds and smells alike. “It would be a crime not to acknowledge that he’s hot. And I’d have more status by saying I kissed him once.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Because I’m going on a date or because I’m going on a date with him?” You try to keep your tone civil as you’re surrounded by changing lacrosse players.

“Because he’s a douchebag that will probably do something to hurt your feelings and I don’t want that to happen.”

You take all your supplies from him, speckles of anger popping up your spine, “You trying to control who I go out with is a little douchy, don’t you think?”

“I’m not trying to control…” Stiles threw his gloves on the ground, “I’m trying to look out for you.”

“I’m not going to catch feelings for him,” you say indignantly, “I just want to try it Lydia’s way for once. It’s just one date, how bad could it be?” A sudden rush to your head makes you stumble, ramming your shoulder into a line of lockers.

Stiles jumps to your back, hands on your arms as you screw up your eyes. You take a deep breath and force the black spots from your vision. Slowly the voice of Stiles enters your ears.

“I’m fine,” you say, standing straight, “My heart was just beating a little fast.” ��

“Because of our argument?”

You turn to the sound of his voice. The previous anger was gone. In its place were fearful honey eyes and an open, honest expression.

“Among other things,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles was screwing up his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek, clearly worried as you retreat. “Call me if something happens!”

~~~

You wait at your living room window for over an hour. You wait in your comfy blue sweater that’s cute enough for a date and soft enough for cuddling. You wait with styled hair and a little lipstick.

You could feel your parents spying from the kitchen, disappointed that you were being abandoned like this. A pain creeps into your chest that has nothing to do with your heart. It made your stomach twist and your head hurt.

It did not feel good to be stood up.

You text Lydia to give her an update. Her quick reply was that she and Jackson would pick you up and you could pick out the movie together.

You didn’t wave goodbye as you left the house, embarrassed by the turn of events. “I was such an idiot.”

Lydia turns in her seat, “You’re not an idiot, you look gorgeous.”

“I’m an idiot for getting excited about a night out with that jerk,” you play with your fingers. “And I knew from the beginning that he was an asshole, and I still got all ready trying to impress him.”

“No, you got ready because you wanted to feel hot. Remember you were going to one and done him tonight; Josh should be the one feeling disappointed that he isn’t here with you.”

You crack a faint smile, “Where’s Scott and Allison?”

“Oh, Allison’s hanging out with her aunt and so Scott decided to make other plans.”

“Meaning it’s just us three tonight?”

Jackson sighs begrudgingly, “Yep.”

“Then we might as well make it a chick flick night,” Lydia says, cheery despite her boyfriends obvious disdain for the situation. “Let’s watch The Notebook.”

“Absolutely not,” Jackson says, “We are not doing chick flicks just because your friend was dumped.”

Lydia purses her lips, “You’re not making this any easier, Jackson.”

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like crying, Lyds,” you attempt, the video store just down the road.

Jackson starts to ramble about different action and sports movies, “We never choose a movie that I pick. How about Hoosiers? Not only is it the best basketball movie ever, but it is also the best sports movie ever made.”

Lydia was quick with her reply, “No.”

“It’s got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper.”

You grimace at Lydia’s same short reply. “We can go in and browse for a little bit.” The night was shaping up to be one of the worst by far.

“I am not watching The Notebook again!” Jackson raises his voice.

“Come on, Jackson,” you say, opening the door. “Let’s just go look around for a second. I’ll help pick a good one.”

You walk to the first aisle inside, both of you on edge for different reasons. Jackson makes no effort to make conversation as you peruse the romantic comedy shelves. “She means well. She’s just trying to cheer me up.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I don’t want my date ruined by turning it into a girls night.”

You cross your arms, “I’m sorry.”

Jackson scowls at your drawn expression, “Arnett really is an asshole, by the way. I told Lydia as much.”

“Again, she meant well,” you sigh, “But thanks anyway.” A phone starts ringing in the background and kept echoing through the empty store. “Geesh, you would think someone would pick that up by now.”

“Hello?” Jackson calls out, “Is anybody working here?”

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at a pair of shoes sticking out from an aisle further down. “Did someone fall off that ladder?” The medical assistant in you was already in action, pulling your phone out as you near the shoes.

You both move slowly, tense as the atmosphere gives an eerie flicker of lights. As you round the aisle of movies, there laying on the ground is the store manager – his throat clawed out.

“Oh my god!” you scream, gawking at the blood soaking the front of his shirt. It was fresh and glistening, splattered up onto his face and glasses.

“Holy shit!” Jackson yells, jumping back and onto the ladder. It moves enough that a broken light fixture falls, ripping the exposed wiring and plunging the entire video store into flickering darkness.

One second it’s dull yellow light, and the next an awful red dark, and then light again. It was making your vision blur with spots. You fall to your knees, sickened by the sudden wet warmth that soaks your pants.

Your heart was racing, beating like a war drum as you fought to control your breathing. Jackson was standing in the middle aisle, clearly shocked into silence. You were fumbling with your phone, attempting to dial any number that came up first.

There was a low, deafening growl that ripples through the store. You eye the claw marks on the store manager and immediately think of something big and terrifying. Jackson did too as he falls to hide behind a shelf.

You could hear the growling towards the back, too near for your liking. You shuffle away from the body, aware that Jackson had just left you to fend for yourself. A row of shelves falls behind you as you make your way to the front, crawling on your hands and knees.

You finally manage to dial a number, the first one you could think of. And the sound of Stiles on the other end brought you a sense of relief. He would do something.

“Hello.”

“Stiles…” you whisper, crawling along the front of the store and next to the windows.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

Your breath was shaky and came out in wheezes, “I need help.”

There was a rustling on the other end, “Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.”

A snarling growl came from your left and you dread to turn your head, “Oh god…”

“(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!”

But as you turn your gaze to the hot breath and red gaze of the growling creature, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. The giant monster swipes a paw at you, clawing at your shoulder and sending you spinning into the opposite wall. You slam against the brick with a sickening force, a crash of broken glass above you as the creature jumps through.

Shards of glass collect on your body, stinging some of your exposed skin. Warmth was spreading down your left arm as you fought to breathe. Your vision was blurring, and you were falling in and out of consciousness.

Jackson crawls out from under the fallen video shelves and finds you at the front, noticing Lydia screaming in the car. He kneels beside you and pulls out his phone, dialing 911.

~~~

Stiles sat in the parking lot of a burger joint, eating dinner with his father in the police car. He was reminiscent of the homecooked meal you made him, fondly thinking of his mother too.

“Did they forget my curly fries?”

He chides his father, “You’re not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones.”

The Sheriff smirks, “Well, I’m carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries.”

Stiles took his bitten straw out of his mouth, “If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong.”

His dad gave him a bewildered look, “Somethings off with you tonight. Did you take too much Adderall?”

“No,” Stiles grumbles, picking at his hamburger wrapper, “Just… thinking about school.” He watches his dad’s expression egg him on further, “… and lacrosse… and Scott…” He huffs and throws his dinner back in the brown bag. “And girls.”

The Sheriff scoffs, hiding a laugh, “Just the usual then.”

Stiles felt his phone ring and he was surprised to see your name appear. Thinking you’re going to tell him Josh Arnett is the asshat that they all knew him to be, Stiles says confidently into the phone, “Hello.”

There was a terrified whisper in reply, “Stiles…”

He sat straighter, his dad catching a soda before it fell to the floor. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” You sound like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“I need help.” Your breathing was erratic, and he knew your heartbeat was probably the same.

“Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.” God forbid you faint in whatever terrifying situation you’re in.

There was a terrible growl behind your shaky words, and you sound so small when you cry, “Oh god…”

It sent a thrill of terror through Stiles, “(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!” A million scenarios were flying through his mind. Was there a werewolf there? The alpha? What had happened to your date?

There was a deafening bloodcurdling scream as the phone must’ve fallen from your hand. It took Stiles a second to realize that it was you that screamed. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Your cries flew to the side along with a crash of glass as the snarling beast left.

The line went dead and Stiles fell into a panic, “How do I… where… god, dad we have to find her!”

The Sheriff listens with sincerity as he had watched the entire conversation. “What’s going on?”

“That was my friend, (Y/N) Westbrook. She was supposed be out tonight on a date, but something went wrong. She sounded terrified and then there was a scream and a crash and then… nothing.” His arms were flailing as he sat on the edge of the car seat, “We have to find her!”

“Westbrook?” the Sheriff says, throwing his wrapper to the floor, “You don’t mean…”

“Yes! And I know you know about her heart.”

His dads eyes widen ever-so-slightly, “How do you know about…?”

Stiles slams a hand on the dashboard, half tempted to grab the steering wheel, “We have to go – she’s in serious trouble!”

“Now hang on just a damn minute,” was his reply, “We don’t even know where she is. And before you go flying out the window, let’s think about this with some sense. Do you know where she was supposed to be on her date?”

Stiles whacks his head, as if to jog some memories over the panic, “They were going to watch a movie.” He bounces his leg, pleading with his dad, “Please, dad, she’s going to have another fainting episode.”

The police radio turns on with some crackling feedback. The dispatcher on duty was a man judging by the voice. At least that meant Mrs. Westbrook wasn’t on shift that night.

“Unit One, do you copy?”

Stiles leapt for the radio and the Sheriff slaps his hand away. “Unit One, copy.”

“Got a report of a possible 187.”

Stiles jumps in his chair, shaking the whole car, “A murder!?”

“It’s at the local video store. Some teenagers are involved.”

The Sheriff confirms he’ll be there and felt a twang of guilt as he watches the fear bubble in his son. “Do you have confirmation on how many are hurt?”

“Negative, but the boy on the phone was in a frenzy about an animal attack.”

“Thanks, Johnson.” The Sheriff put the radio up, speeding down the street with sirens blaring. “Let’s not fear the worst, Stiles. They said there was just one possible 187.”

Stiles was biting his lips, drumming his knuckles over his mouth, “I should have stopped her from going out. I knew it was a bad idea.”

The drive was tense and painfully slow despite the speed the Sheriff was emitting. When they reach the video store it was swarming with EMTs and an ambulance. The store window was shattered, and Jackson was yelling at whatever emergency personnel he could. Lydia was huddled in a shock blanket on the curb, and sitting on the edge of the ambulance was you.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles cries, “Thank you god.” He was falling out of the police car before it even made a complete stop. “(Y/N)!” He ran for the Beacon ambulance.

You were leaning against the side of the car, an EMT bandaging your left arm. You had a few butterfly bandages on your face and a rapidly developing bruise to the side of your head. There were dark circles under your eyes and your skin was ashy again.

“What happened?” he asks, quiet compared to the panic he was in moments ago.

You turn your wet eyes to him, gulping, “Stiles. There… there was a monster.”

“She hit her head pretty hard,” the EMT says, finishing your bandage. “She needs to go home and get some rest.”

Stiles gave the man a nod, gently sitting next to you and giving his full attention. “What kind of monster?”

“It was like a bear or a wolf,” you whisper, exhausted. “I was so scared.” The break in your voice put a hitch in his chest. “Josh bailed on me and then Scott and Allison. And I just wanted to go home.” You turn to him, “I want to go home, Stiles.”

He clenches his jaw, his throat bobbing, “Okay. Okay, we can go home…” He stole a shock blanket from the back and wraps you in it, careful around your left shoulder. “Did you faint at all?”

You stare off, disassociating, “In and out.”

The Sheriff calls your parents as you lean into Stiles. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t put his arm around your shoulders for fear of hurting the new wound. Instead he wraps his hand lower on your waist.

With his other hand he reaches for your fingers, worry still eating away at his stomach. “Where are we on the possibility of fainting right now?”

You groan, “60% chance.”

He gives a painful smile, wrapping his hand in yours. With his fingers he felt for the pulse in your wrist. It was a little high and stuttering unevenly.

“What do you hear?”

You hum, “Sirens. People. You.”

Stiles felt a warmth seeping into his chest, it was loud and suffocating and squeezed at his heart. “What do you smell?”

“Rubbing alcohol. And you.”

He plays with your fingers, tracing them with his thumb, “What do I smell like?” A small huff of air escapes your lips, and he likes to believe it was almost a laugh. “Cause you know exactly how I think you smell.”

You try to clear your throat, “Like sandalwood.”

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Like the woods,” you whisper. “Like rain, and trees, and honey.”

“How did you know my favorite pastime was bathing in forest rain and honey?” He imagines the twitch in your cheek against his neck was an attempt at a smile. “What do you feel?”

You fidget in his embrace, “Tired. Pain. Fear…”

“Okay, bad question.”

“Your hand,” you continue, “You’re warm. It’s nice.”

The inflation of his chest was reaching a bursting point, and he laid his face against your hair. Holding you there, he checks your pulse again with his long fingers. It had lowered since his arrival.

Your parents came soon after that, fretful and terrified of your condition. They wanted to take you to the hospital for a full checkup and your grip tightened on Stiles’ hand as his dad took him away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear, your parents approaching. “I’ll see you later.”

~~~

It was very late into the night when Stiles climbs the garden trellis to your window. He was delighted to see that it was left cracked open. He pushes it open the rest of the way and falls inside, careful not to make too much noise.

You lay in bed with the lamp on, illuminating the room with its peachy color. You were in midnight blue pajamas with little stars printed on them. Your left arm was stiff and heavily bandaged, painkillers adding to your collection of prescription meds on the nightstand.

“Hey,” he whispers, gaining the attention of your wet gaze. You must’ve been crying for a long time judging by the redness of your eyes. “How was the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t believe you. He sat on the edge of your bed, itching to grab your hand again but needing a good reason. “When I got your call… it scared me shitless.” A chuckle escapes him, “My dad was ready to clobber me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Stiles says, “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You did nothing wrong. This was all just a terrible ordeal.”

You sniff, “I’m tired.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, I just wanted to check on you before bed. I should let you sleep.”

“I’m not going to sleep.”

His chest tightens like earlier. He aches to touch you again, seeing you so fragile and tense. “(Y/N)…”

“Every time I close my eyes I see that thing clawing at me.” Another tear escapes your eyeline and runs down your cheek, “I’m too scared to sleep.”

“Well…” Stiles picks at a seam in his pants, “How about you call for your mom? I’m sure she’ll…”

“I don’t want to worry them anymore. I’m tired of making them worry so much.”

Stiles chews on his lip, “Hmm, okay. How about I stay? I’ll just sit at your desk and keep watch.”

You watch him with swollen eyes, “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m worried about you too. And I feel better knowing I can keep you calm.” He wasn’t going to tell her that for the last three hours he had been replaying their moment outside the ambulance. The way you leaned into him, and he got to hold your hand and listen to you talk about how nice it was to be next to him.

“I want you to stay,” you say quietly. “But you can’t sit in a desk chair all night.” You pat your uninjured hand on the mattress beside you.

Stiles feels warmth flood his cheeks, “Oh, yeah… well – great.” He sits down and stretches out on top of the covers, “This is a much more comfortable spot to keep watch.”

You pull at your blankets, turning towards him and grounding yourself in his presence. “There’s a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. You’ll hear if my parents are coming.” You place a hand on his forearm, “Thank you for being here.”

His throat bobs at your touch, “Always.” And he lays there well into the night, cursing when your hand falls away in your sleep. He waits for sunrise to leave, occupying himself with watching your breathing patterns and checking your pulse every once in a while. He even brushes the hair from your face and flattens the arm bandages that start to unstick.

He was just memorizing the curve of your nose and the slant of your cheekbone when the sun broke over the horizon.

He sighs, rubbing hard at his face. If this is what having a crush on you was like… it was going to consume him.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs

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

187 notes · View notes

birdkatze · 8 months ago

Text

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 2

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = You meet the boys this chapter!

Words = 2.2k

[Chapter 1] --- [Chapter 3]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Talks of injury and EXPLICIT under the cut

Behind the door was a very handsome man. He was wearing a boonie-hat and a partially unbuttoned red and black flannel shirt. You stood there blue-screening for a moment just staring.

“You alright there love?” The man asked, looking incredibly concerned. He ran a hand over his beard “I heard you fall..”

You snap out of your staring “Yeah I did..” you lift up your wrist, it was already bruising and swelling, “Sorry, I didn’t get any sleep last night…I had a chronic pain flare up…” You say dizzily.

The man stepped into your house, carefully looking at your wrist “I can go run back home and grab a brace…?” He looked at you earnestly.

You nod, “I don’t think I could even drive right now..” blinking back tears as another wave of pain crashes over you, you let out a stuttered gasp and your knees buckle.

The man looks even more concerned “Let’s get you somewhere comfortable, I’ll call one of my boy’s to bring it down..”

Carefully the man picked you up and brought you over to the couch, laying you down with such gentleness it surprised you. He had held you with a shocking amount of care, he was so warm too, like a heated blanket but better. He stepped back quickly typing something on his phone before looking back at you.

“Is there anything I can get you, love?” he crouched down next to your head, moving strands of hair out of your face.

“On my bed there is a heated blanket…” You explain breathlessly, wincing as the pain got worse.

The man nodded and walked upstairs to grab the blanket. He quickly brought it down and plugged it in “What setting?” he asked, holding the controller.

“Four please” You whimper and start crying feeling embarrassed.

The man sets it on level four and sits down next to your head, “Do you have any medication?”

You shake your head “no..not really, I only have muscle relaxers but it’s not gunna help”

The man nodded “I forgot to mention I’m John Price, I was in charge of taking care of the cottage while it was up for sale, I saw you moved in and wanted to give you the key back..” he anxiously checked his phone “The boy’s should be down soon love, can I get you anything else?”

“No thanks” You start crying again as your body feels like it is trying to come apart, “I’m sorry” you gasp out and curl up into a ball on the couch “It’s not usually this bad..”

“You’re okay, Love,” He reassured you, smiling.

You hear a knock on the door before the door creaks open and two men step inside. One had a mohawk and another had a baseball cap on, that's all you could see through your glassy tear filled eyes.

The men speak in hushed tones before Price sits back down next to you and gently grabs your upper forearm, close to your elbow “Gunna fit the brace on alright love..?”

You just groan softly “Okay” and watch hazily.

Price rotates your arm and freezes as he sees the bite scar on your wrist “What happened here?” he asks softly. His touch easing some of the pain.

“Got attacked by a dog, it broke my wrist, the doctor p-put something in there to help with the infection and to set it and so it’s really tender..” you quietly explain.

Price set your arm down “Love, what did the dog look like?” making you whine in pain, Price instantly picked your arm back up and the pain leveled out. Sighing in relief you manage to cobble together some understandable thoughts.

“Uhm, it was oddly really dark out since it was a full moon…it was massive though, the nurses joked it was a werewolf, the doctor got oddly mad at them..it was kinda funny” slurring your words as you feel another wave of pain.

Price looked at your wrist and then at you, “Well I think your body is rejecting it, I can see it starting to come out, can we take it out? Gaz here was a field medic and can take it out, he has his med kit..?” pointing at a small lump on your wrist that had been getting bigger over the years.

“Sure..” you slur out feeling delirious from pain.

The guy with the baseball ca-Gaz slowly gives you some pain pills, making sure you swallow them before he puts on some gloves. You fell asleep before he even started.

When you woke up you felt eons better, nothing felt as sore. Looking at your wrist you realize it wasn’t even bruised or sprained. Groaning softly, you sit up and look around. Rubbing your eyes blearily.

“Good to see you up” Gaz sat on the other side of the couch smiling “You feeling better?”

You nod sleepily “What did you even do? It’s not even bruised anymore?” you ask confused, looking at your wrist surprised.

“That was all you Duck..” Gaz smiled kindly, “Why don’t we get some food in you and talk, yeah?” Gaz gently helps you up, leading you into the kitchen.

Mohawk was heating up soup on your stove top, he was humming softly. Price was sitting at the table looking at his phone with the implant sitting on a paper towel. He looked up, smiling at you.

“Glad to see you up, love!” He looks at you and then the implant “Soap brought down some soup, which is..?”

“Done!” Soap places five bowls on the table “Ghost is on his way down..”

“What kind of name is Soap?” you ask curiously “Did your parents want you to have a unique name?”

“Ach noo, it’s a nickname, my name is John and so is Price’s and apparently everyone else here is named John so it helps us keep everyone apart..” leaning against the counter Soap explains with a smile.

“Ohh..” nodding as you think about it “Most of the men I used to work with were named John and it was a nightmare to distinguish which was which because none of them wanted to go by their last names”

Sitting down you look at the implant curiously, it looked like a small silver ball.

“Makes sense that was messing me up, I’m allergic to silver!” You explain looking a bit surprised “I’m surprised I didn’t keel over and die..”

Suddenly all eyes are on you.

“Did I say something wrong” you ask confused looking between all three men.

“Duck, let’s get some food in you before we go any further…” Gaz spoke softly

You nod nervously “Alright..”

Someone knocked on the door right as you started sitting down. The door opened to reveal a tall, strong but not muscular, blonde. Your mouth dried up instantly, he was just as hot as the other three.

Then it hit you, you had four unknown men who were all extremely attractive were in your house. You had let them perform a procedure while you had been knocked out from pain medication. However, no alarm bells rang out in your mind, if anything you've never felt so safe and content.

“Don’t think too hard, pup” the blonde one who upclose appeared to have eyeliner on. Smirking at you as you realized you were probably staring.

“Sorry..” you flush, feeling a bit embarrassed looking at the table.

“You’re okay Duck, let’s get some food in you..I have a feeling you missed breakfast.” Gaz’s soothing voice pulled you from your embarrassment as he softly brushed his hand over your back.

You nod and watch as Soap serves everyone soup. You anxiously waited for someone to eat first, an odd anxiety created as a child from praying before eating or else you’d be punished.

Price took the first bite and you immediately started eating, you felt famished and half-starved.The soup was potato-bacon soup, it was hearty and delicious. You almost moaned from how good it was.

“Soooo..” Soap started “Where are ya from?” He was looking at you with curious eyes.

“I moved here from the city but uh I grew up in a smaller town north here.” You smile while finishing up your soup. “Some of our property went into the woods and so me and my friends would camp out there, then I got attacked by some dog and we moved almost right after….”

“I assume you guys are from here?” You return the question with a small smile.

“We've been around here for a long time, pup” Scraping his bowl, Ghost responded.

“We live a few miles south of you, love” Price continued for Ghost, also finishing up his soup.

Gaz looked at you quizzically “Did you not go to college? Not to be judgemental but I’m surprised you could afford to move out here so young, Duck..”

Laughing you shake your head “You’re fine, I get this a lot.” setting your bowl to the side you reply “I’m actually 60! Everyone always thinks I’m still in my late teens, I have no clue why I look like how I did as a teenager.. I went to college and now I do freelance accounting work!”

Gaz dropped his spoon in his bowl, his eyes wide staring at you before they darted over to Price. Soap slapped his hand over his mouth with an expression similar to Gaz’s. Price didn’t look super surprised and neither did Ghost.

Sighing Price looks at you sincerely “Love, you're going to think we are crazy but you’re a werewolf.”

You just stare at them blankly.

“What?” You ask incredulously, looking at each of the men. They all had genuine looks on their faces, you could tell none of them were lying. “But werewolves aren’t real..?”

“Let’s head outside and we'll show ya, pup.” Ghost stood up and opened up the sliding glass door, Gaz and Soap quickly walked outside looking excited. You followed hesitantly with Price gently leading you outside.

Gaz and Soap are stripping out of their clothes, it didn’t surprise you that Soap was commando. It was a pleasant surprise to see Gaz wearing lace panties. Your face heated up as you turned away and pinch yourself unsure if this was real. “Um, what are you guys doin?” You ask, blushing.

“Don’t wanna rip the clothes pup” Ghost huffs, while also undressing.

“Oh!” nodding you glance up only to find them all naked, you avert your eyes to the ground immediately.

Soap walked up to you, looking confused “Why aren’t ya..”

“Soap..” Price grabbed Soap’s shoulder “Go over with Gaz.”

Gently lifting your chin up, Price held your face so you were looking at Gaz and Soap. Price chuffed at the boys and motioned for them to get on with it.

Soap grinned at you as you watched as his body transformed into an actual wolf. Gaz did the same, it was an odd mix of animorph-type transformation and something out of a horror flick.

Gaz and Soap trotted up to you licking your hands and brushing against your legs. Lifting your hand you hesitantly brush your hand over Soap’s head, much like you would a dog, it seemed like he had a ‘mohawk’ even in wolf form. Gaz just sat next to you leaning against you.

“Love,” Price grabbed your attention as he spoke. “Now they can just do a regular wolf form, however, there is another form which I’ll show you now…”

Price stepped a few steps back before he shifted, it was an interesting mix of human and wolf, it vaguely reminded you of a furry but more wolf-like. He could stand on his back legs but also could easily run on all fours, then he shifted all the way to a wolf form.

Clasping your hand over your mouth you look at them in awe. You pinched yourself to make sure this wasn’t some insane dream. Maybe they were right?

Ghost clasped a hand over your shoulder, startling you from your awe. “Wanna try? It’ll feel good, ease that ache?”

You look at Ghost a bit confused on how he knew about the ache…

“I um, don’t know how to...” you look at Ghost curiously.

“I’ll help ya’ pup” sighing Ghost tightened his grip on you.

It was an odd feeling shifting, it was quite painful but it was over fast. You have a shocked look on your face looking between everyone. You huff once you realize that you're smaller than Soap, Ghost, and Price. You and Gaz are roughly the same size which eases the frustration quite a bit.

You walk around a bit getting used to walking on all fours. It felt odd and wrong- but also right? Feeling conflicted you look up at everyone else, Soap and Gaz are play wrestling, Ghost and Price are sunning themselves pressed up against each other.

It was clear the pack(?) was very close with one another. It made you feel oddly left out…sitting off to the side you watch the men-wolves? It was a really nice day out and for once in the past few decades you felt no pain. It was relaxing and so incredibly soothing. Resting your head on your paws you doze off, still quite exhausted from the past few days.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #werewolves #werewold au #mw2

266 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 9 months ago

Text

My Friend's Toyota IV

Read the rest here: My Friend's Toyota

~6.2k words

Warnings: fluff, some angst, some 18+ escapades mentioned/described but nothing over the top, virgin reader/experienced H (semi-spoiler: you will not be reading about their first time in this one) I'm sure we all know I do 3rd POV typically, but I think this will also feel like it's rapidly switching between our characters within that lens, so just keep that in mind. Also I think this part is really... complex if you will. Think coming of age, trying to figure out life kind of stuff. It's not easy and I wrote it randomly in a way, because I don't think you can wrap all this stuff up in a neat little bow the way you expect to. There are curveballs in life and especially in sex. There are difficult conversations to be had and things that are hard to explain; this is just the way I chose to portray such a relationship. I kind of left this open-ended in a way that I could come back to it for follow-ups. I hope that doesn't detract from the story.

Sorry for the long note; here is the last part. Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoy 💕

Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

She’s not ready for the air to get colder / ‘Cause she’s so used to living on the beach down in Florida / Wanna take her to the mountains / We can take my friend’s Toyota / But the heat don’t work so when the air gets colder / I can hold ya

Harry was going to kill Mitch. When they stopped for gas, he texted him while she ran in to the station to grab some extra snacks. How come the heat isn’t working?

Whoops. I forgot about that...

Mitchell. She is FREEZING.

Sarah says it’s an excuse to snuggle.

Honestly, Harry had already thought of that. But he wanted her to be whole and warm when they made it to the cabin. It made him so anxious that he was ruining their weekend getaway before it barely started. But she returned chipper as ever, four cups of hot liquid in a little cardboard tray. He smirked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously at the copious number of drinks.

She smiled shyly. “It’ll be warm,” she shrugged.

He chuckled as she settled the drinks in the middle of the bench seat and made sure they wouldn’t spill while Harry drove. It was only another hour to the cabin. It was freezing. Truly, freezing didn’t even justify the cold temperature she was feeling. It felt like there was ice in the bottom of her shoes—she contemplated spilling one of the cups of hot chocolate she purchased into her boots just for warmth. “M’so sorry about the heat, kitten. I didn’t know.”

Despite her jaw silently chattering (she hid the sound of it from Harry by pulling her lower lip into her mouth ever so slightly) she smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she promised. Really, she was. It wasn’t like she was going to get hypothermia or anything, it was just cold. The hot liquid helped though, the cup warmed her gloved hands and melted her insides as she drank it. Harry also provided her with two warm, fuzzy blankets to snuggle under during the ride. It wasn’t too late—but winter up North anything past four PM was late. The sky was nearly black, only stars and stray wispy clouds. It didn’t help the chill in the cab of the truck. She packed an overnight bag of her regular belongings with clothes and toiletries, her backpack (because it was really hard for her to part from her schoolwork when school was in session), and plenty of jackets and sweatshirts. Harry packed about the same and all their bags were piled into the thin backseat of the cab of the truck as well. In the bed of the truck was an assortment of drinks and food items they might need as general basics when they got to the cabin. They would still need to go to the grocery store.

The prospect of playing house with her was very exciting.

Harry thought she was the cutest little ad for ski gear with a little knit headband around her ears and matching mittens. She was so pretty it made him feel dizzy. “Do you want some?” She asked, grabbing a second cup from the tray. He smiled, taking it with one hand and sipping it. He popped out the cupholder that resided within the dash and slid it in.

His mum always warned him that driving at dusk and dawn were the two hardest times to drive. Between the animals and other drivers struggling to see in the fading or growing light he wasn’t surprised.

Add in snow coming off the mountain? It was another added distraction.

But she had never seen snow. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

He smiled silently at her awed expression, keeping his eyes on the road, the wiper blades pushing the fluffy squall of flakes off the glass. She shifted in her seat edging closer to the dashboard, the seatbelt stretching to accommodate her closeness. “Is it always sparkly like that?” Her voice was reverent. Soft and warm despite how icy she must have felt. Harry was focused on not skidding on what could be an icy cold road. Maybe he should have waited until the morning to start driving but he wanted to milk every possible second of the weekend with her without interruption from anyone. A two-night, and two-and-a-half-day stay was hardly enough so he wasn’t going to lose that half a day for nothing.

“I’ve never noticed it sparkling,” he admitted. She used her teeth to pull her glove off before she reached for the windshield. With one finger on it, the heat from her finger creating a little halo of steam on the glass, her eyes scanned the fluttering snow as it fell in front of the headlights.

“It’s like glitter,” she murmured. “It’s so pretty; I don’t think I’ve ever seen something this pretty…can we stop?”

It was fortunate they were coming to a rest stop—Harry had only been to Mitch’s cabin a few times but when they travelled in from their hometown, it was a much longer journey, and the rest stop was always needed. Pulling off the highway, she got out of the car quickly. Harry followed suit, locking the vehicle and fell into step beside her. She was so bright-eyed. The chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her, although Harry was sure it had to because it almost bothered him.

There was a thin layer of snow coating the ground. If he had a measuring tape, it wouldn’t even read a millimeter. She stood still gazing upward, the fluffy flakes caught on her little headband, in her hair. They melted as they hit her face, making her cheeks spotted with a little drop of moisture.

But what had him falling further in love with her was the way they fell on her eyelashes and clung to them for a moment before turning into water again. Her cheeks pinked in the chilly air and Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

Without warning, she hurried to the picnic table that was also covered in snow and laid across it, stretching her arms out and sighing deeply. “I know I’m always cold, but I do love it. It’s so much better than the heat,” she looked so gorgeous, Harry could hardly breathe. She turned her head and smiled at him. “You think I’m crazy,” she giggled.

He nodded. “I do,” he sounded so serious, but his smile was so enticing it made her stomach hurt.

“You know, this is where you would murder me,” she told him.

He snorted and shook his head at her. “Oh?”

“Yup. You kill me here, abandoned rest stop, closed for the season. No one finds me till spring. You have your nice long weekend alone.”

He rolled his eyes. “You think Allie wouldn’t hunt me down?”

“You stole my phone tell her I couldn’t be here anymore, too cold. Move back south.”

“Your parents?”

“They haven’t a clue,” she shrugged.

“No more podcasts, kitten.”

She turned her attention back to the sky, the falling flakes making her look like a literal snow angel, speckling her hair. “It’s beautiful,” her voice was so soft. Harry smiled and moved to lay beside her. She shifted, allowing space on the creaky table. He let one leg dangle off the side, propped up by the bench seat. He tried to see it the way she saw it. It had been so long since he had stopped and watched the snow fall. He knew it was beautiful. There were reasons people visited the mountains to ski and have romantic, chilly getaways. But he could hardly tear his eyes away from her to look at the beauty she saw that wasn’t her own reflection. “Do you even like snow?” She asked.

He nodded. “When I was younger,” he started. “I was the only boy,” he smiled fondly. “Mum and Gemma were adamant that I do what was proper and right. But it was more than that. I wanted t’be a gentleman t’them, y’know?” She didn’t obviously, not exactly, but she nodded. “I actually liked shoveling. Our neighbors paid me t’shovel their drives as well,” he explained. “It was so quiet. Y’can’t really tell right now,” he gestured toward the highway that had cars singing down the road to their destinations. “Snow absorbs the sound of everything else, traps it in the flakes and carries it t’the ground like s’tucking a kid into bed,” he shook his head with a smile. “S’the only way I can describe it. Felt like when Mum would carry me t’bed when I was sick,” he paused. “You must think I’m crazy,” he smiled.

She shook her head eagerly. “No,” she promised. “I mean, it’s a weird way to say no one will hear me scream when you murder me,” she shrugged and Harry laughed, rolling his eyes again. Seriousness came over her features again and she turned on her side to face him. “Tell me more,” she whispered. “It’s quiet,” she reminded him, encouraging him to continue his story. “You liked shoveling?”

He kissed the middle of her forehead and took a deep breath inhaling her perfume and the smell of her laundry detergent that mixed together to create this amazing scent that was entirely her. “My mum and Gemma did so much for me,” he explained. “I’d do anything for them. So...I like the snow a lot. S’peaceful.”

She looked back up and watched the flakes fall and land on Harry’s skin without any pattern. It made his skin dewey and somehow more beautiful. She brushed her glove thumb on his eyebrow, brushing the flakes that landed there before they froze. “It is peaceful.”

“We should go before we freeze.”

“Eager to kill me in private, I see.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“You picked me,” she giggled getting off the table and right as she stepped away, Harry grabbed her hand, pulled her back so she was between his legs, arms pressed to the front of his body and his arms circled around her waist.

“I’d pick you, again and again,” he promised before kissing her sweetly on the lips. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for Harry), their lips didn’t stick together.

Harry forgot how much warmth was produced to melt any hope of staying stuck to her.

“Can I do something?” She asked about ten minutes longer into the drive.

“Of course,” he chuckled.

She unbuckled herself, scooted to the middle seat, replacing her old spot with the warm drinks ensuring once more they wouldn’t spill while driving. She leaned toward him, her body snug against his side. His hand fell to her thigh wrapped in at least two layers and he still thought she wouldn’t have looked sexier in lingerie. Carefully, she draped her blankets across Harry’s lap as well. “This is much better,” she sighed.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more. He squeezed her thigh and kissed the top of her head without moving his gaze from the road. “Warm?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

His heart was in his throat because the snow was getting a little heavier as he creeped further north to the little mountain town. Her sweet voice was going on and on about how pretty the snow was, what she was looking forward to this weekend, and how not even their upcoming finals had her in a bad mood.

It took every ounce of self-control to focus on the road and not her. When she started pointing at how fluffy the flakes were once more Harry cleared his throat. “Kitten,” his voice was soft. She could hear the warning tone. A frown graced her lips in his peripheral.

“Yeah?”

“I love your voice,” he began.

Looking away briefly she turned and nuzzled her face against his jacketed arm. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” She asked quietly.

“God, no,” he shook his head, it seemed horrible to face forward and not look at her while he reassured her. “I’d listen t’you for hours jus’ t’hear y’read the ingredients in m’shampoo,” he promised. “But you are the most precious cargo I’ve ever driven—”

Immediately, she turned her face toward his arm, still pressed to his side. Like she was embarrassed over the notion. “That’s the sweetest—”

“—and I want t’stare at you, and talk t’you about the snow, finals, everything, love. But I want t’get you to the cabin safely. Your sweet voice is so distracting. S’not your fault at all. S’mine. I jus’ want t’look at you.”

“I’ll be quieter,” she promised, but there was a smile in her voice as she murmured quietly into his arm again.

“You’re not mad, no?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never driven in the snow. Forgot it might be scary. Even for a veteran driver like you,” she nosed at his arm again. She let all the air escape her in a long sigh. “I’ll let you focus,” her voice wasn’t as exuberant, but Harry glanced at her briefly to see a content smile on her face. Her eyes facing forward as she admired the snowy road. Relief coursed through him that she didn’t hate him for basically telling her to shut up. Quietly she hummed to the music playing through the speakers.

Harry was a believer in some kind of heaven beyond.

But driving along a cold snowy road, with the girl of his dreams on his arm, he stopped believing.

There was no way heaven could exist if she was right beside him.

The cabin was the stuff of dreams. It was secluded, but honestly not in the serial killer way she kept mocking Harry about. From the little perch of land, she could see down to the town nearby. Not quite rural but not urban either. It was perfect. They stopped at the grocery store on the way in and she caught sight of an old bookstore and a little boutique that she wanted to go to tomorrow.

“I honestly hadn’t considered killing you till now, kitten,” Harry was grumbling as they carried the groceries in first, then their other bags. When Harry glanced away very briefly to check nothing was left in their cart, she paid for the groceries with a tap of her debit card.

“I knew it,” she whispered to mostly herself with a smile.

“Supposed t’be treating you,” he continued grumbling.

“Harry, you treat me literally all the time. You worked so many extra shifts this week to make up for missing the weekend ones. Just let me,” she assured him putting the perishables in the fridge and freezer. He still felt guilty, and she could see his mind spinning with ways to make up for the “atrocity.”

“D’you want anything t’eat or drink?” He asked.

“How about the pizza?” She suggested. It was quick and easy and didn’t require a lot of thought to make. It would be easy for their first night here. “I got it,” she offered, and Harry went to set up the fireplace. While he worked on the fire, she meandered around the cabin. It was warm and cozy but also extremely open. Pictures of Mitch and Harry were strewn about table surfaces. Vacations from their school days. Other pictures of whom she assumed was the rest of Mitch’s family. Sarah was even in a few, too. The décor was perfect for a cabin. Like it had been crocheted a giant sweater to sit on the walls with a variety of little inspirational ski quotes like “skiing is the next best thing to having wings.” It was toasty without the fireplace going just because it was everything a mountain cabin should be.

The beautiful stone fireplace cracked now that Harry had fed it enough firewood. It was along the back wall set between windows that let the sunlight in each morning (she wasn’t positive on that, but assumed it was built so the bedrooms wouldn’t be in direct sunlight while waking up), and the coziest looking couches she had seen. They fit the room perfectly. All they needed was a sweet, chocolate labrador to play fetch with and this could be home.

She pulled the knit headband off her head, finally warming from the heat and the fireplace. Harry brought her a glass of wine. It felt like they were real adults on a trip. Harry almost immediately stripped of his outdoor gear when they arrived, but it took a while for her southern blood to warm. Eventually she slid her coat off. Harry hung it on the back of a chair while he found plates in the cabinet and finished with the remainder of the groceries: things for the bathroom that weren’t regularly stored in the little getaway. She was inspecting the bookshelf reading the back of covers that were old and well-loved. “Anything good?”

She smiled. “I think all books are good.”

He chuckled, grabbed their overnight bags by the front door and went off to another room. Her heart pounded with the realization they were on a trip together and it wasn’t just Harry’s suite like she had gotten used to over the last month and a half.

All week she had been nervous. Allie could tell it reached a breaking point on Thursday when she was packing. Harry was at work, unaware of her troubles. She knew she was being ridiculous. Harry had been nothing but kind since she met him. But when he brought their bags to the other room, all the anxiety she had squashed down came flooding back to her.

“Are you excited?” Allie’s voice was gentle when she asked while she finished zipping her bag. All she needed were the toiletries that she would pack once she used them in the morning.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Oh, that’s assuring,” Allie hopped onto her bed and patted the seat beside her as if it were her room. “C’mon, sweetie,” she encouraged with a sweet smile. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head, cheeks flaming, unable to put it into words because she felt so embarrassed. Even in front of someone who was very much her best friend. “It’s nothing.”

“I’ll tickle it out of you,” she warned.

“Oh my God,” she sat beside her and looked at her hands in her lap. It was extremely quiet in her room. “I’ve never had sex,” she mumbled.

“What?!” She gasped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “I knew it was weird,” she covered her face with her hands.

“No, shit,” Allie put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, it’s not weird. It’s not anything,” she said reassuringly.

“Allie, Harry has definitely had sex, yes?” Allie was silent. “Right,” tears welled in her eyes. “It’s just this element of our relationship that’s so...” she shook her head. “Unequal.”

“Sweetie, Harry is not going to care about that at all.”

“I know, but I do,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I feel so...lame. So immature. How is that possible?”

“I really don’t know because you are way more mature than I am, and it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

She ignored that comment because she knew it was supposed to help but everything felt awful. Her body was overheating with shame and awkwardness she had never felt before. “What if I’m bad at it?”

Allie snorted and patted her arm again. “Impossible.”

“Allie...” she whined, tears still filling her vision. “I...” she swallowed, took a deep breath. “I think I love him. If I’m not good at it... then... I’m just a waste of his time—”

Allie shook her head immediately. “Stop, stop, stop,” she hushed. “You are not a waste of time. If you and Harry stopped seeing each other tomorrow, I would expect him to write you a thank you note for being with him for the past few months.”

“You think I’m an idiot. A prude.”

“No, of course not! I’m surprised. You’re hot as fuck, babe,” she rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have anyone you wanted to...?” she trailed off with the question lending itself to the silence.

“No,” she shook her head. “You have to understand, my parents are so in love with each other. Sometimes it’s nauseating. It’s not like I didn’t want to just get it out of the way. I wish I did. I wish I just... God, it’s so lame sounding. I just think it’s supposed to be special. It’s an important part of a relationship, but I didn’t want it to be the only thing,” her voice cracked more times than she could count. The words came out in a sad whisper. But she left the story about studying for physics in her junior year that she had told Harry unsaid. Allie nodded understandingly.

“That’s not lame, sweetie,” she promised. “There’s no right or wrong to it. It just is.”

“I literally Googled how not to be bad in bed.”

Allie laughed despite herself. “Of course you would do research.”

“Al,” she whined again.

“I’m not trying to pry, sweetie... have you... done anything precursory with Harry?” She asked.

Her face warmed and she nodded. It wasn’t every night they slept together or anything, but Harry’s fingers and tongue were no stranger to her body. Her mouth honestly ached to have him in her just as much as her body seemed to ache recently for more than what they were currently doing.

Allie sighed. “Look, I said it before, I’ll say it again. If Harry tries anything shady with you, I will cut his dick off, no questions asked. Honestly, he would probably appreciate the gesture on your behalf,” she shrugged. When she didn’t hear a flicker of laughter she continued, gentler than the previous sentence. “Sweetie, I know you love him,” it was a little weird to hear her best friend say it without the word think or feel in it the way she had said it, thought it, and voiced it out loud. “But God, if he doesn’t love you too,” she promised. “It doesn’t have to happen. I know I was a little wary of him at first, but I can tell that Harry would do anything to make you happy,” she promised. “You probably wouldn’t need to have sex with him ever if you didn’t want to.”

“I think I want to.”

“Okay, well,” Allie turned, waiting for her to look at her. Gather all the attention with focused eye contact with the utmost seriousness she had ever seen on her free-spirited friend’s face. “Until that’s an ‘I know’ you’re not to do anything you don’t want to. Do you understand? I have a mind to tell Harry myself because you’re too kind to say it.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea Allie,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Tell my boyfriend I’m too scared to go away with him because I think I’ll be bad at sex?”

Allie didn’t even flinch and the preposterousness of it all. “I literally do not care,” she shrugged.

A beat of silence ensued. “I won’t,” she mumbled. It wasn’t like Allie was wrong in her line of thinking. It did sound like something she would do to appease Harry. “I won’t,” she repeated more for herself than for Allie.

When Harry returned from putting their bags away, she was still pretending to read the back of book covers while she reminisced about the conversation she had with Allie. “I think this is where Mitch’s mum puts all the books they no longer read, kind of thing,” he explained, entering the room, and pulling her from her thoughts.

She hoped her smile wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable looking. “Yeah, some old ones here,” she affirmed and brought one of the books and her glass of wine to the sofa, she settled both on the coffee table and looked at the fire again. “This is perfect, Harry,” she smiled. Her heart felt whole, despite all the anxiety she also felt. He sighed nearly with relief.

“Good,” he fell beside her and pressed a hand to the side of her face. “M’glad,” he kissed her forehead effectively turning her insides to liquid. “Pizza’s almost ready. Did y’want t’study for a bit before we... watch a movie or something?”

Her heart felt so much gratitude for him. “Really? On a Friday night? A weekend getaway?” She wondered.

“I mean... if y’don’t want to, then of course not. But I know y’well enough t’know y’kind of want to. Because y’don’t want t’fall behind—which I do think is impossible... but I know it’ll make y’feel better t’turn your brain off tomorrow and Sunday,” he shrugged with a smile that was so easy and lovely she really believed Sarah for a moment that he wouldn’t have sex if she asked.

But there was no way she was going to ruin a romantic weekend away. “I have Monday,” she said firmly.

“Are y’sure? I really don’t mind. M’behind myself, a bit because of the extra shifts,” he explained.

Her guilt flew out of her system. “Oh, okay, if you’re sure.”

He shook his head with a smirk. “Kitten,” he cooed. “M’not gonna be upset if y’want t’study...if it’ll help y’relax and—”

“I just really don’t want you to think I’m lame,” she hurried looking away as she interrupted him.

He frowned. “M’not being a very good boyfriend if y’think m’gonna say you’re lame for wanting t’do well and get good grades,” he tugged her backpack over the back of the couch and settled it in front of her. “I don’t know why y’think m’not going t’like y’suddenly,” he pouted.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. “I know you like me because I’m me, but I’ve never had the best self-esteem and I know that’s not good in itself, but I do pride myself as a really hard worker. I want to do well and get good grades, but I know it’s not...” she sighed and put a hand on her forehead. “I’m not making sense,” the frustration evident in her voice.

“Kitten,” Harry’s voice was so gentle but in one word he sounded so encouraging as well. It was like magic. “I want you t’do whatever makes y’happiest; whatever makes you the most successful. M’supporting you fully. One hundred percent,” he shrugged, grabbing his own backpack and pulling out a folder of papers. “If that means we are studying for a bit, then I want t’study.”

She was lucky she didn’t shout that she loved him from the top of her lungs right then.

At some point, her worksheets were set aside. The pizza was gone, her wine glass and a second one drained. The fire crackled in the background while Harry kissed her so deeply, she felt it in every cell of her skin. Part of her wanted to run outside and lay in the snow just to cool off how warm she felt from having Harry’s hands all over her body, under her shirt, in her pants.

Harry’s hands slid just an inch lower. “Kitten,” he hummed. He wasn’t trying anything it was just the way his hands shifted. The memory of that afternoon. Studying for physics. It wasn’t the same, not even a little. She felt so safe with Harry and yet her brain wouldn’t turn off. The way he touched her the last few months felt different than the way he touched her then.

She ripped away from him, falling to the floor beside the couch. Before he could utter a syllable or help her back up to the sofa, she choked out a gasp of surprise. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just don’t think—” She had a hand on her chest and Harry thought she was hyperventilating. He felt so horrible.

“Kitten,” he cooed gently reaching for her. “I’m—”

“No! Please don’t apologize, it will just make me feel even worse!” She croaked and covered her face briefly pushing the tears to either side of her cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You have been so patient, so—” she swallowed. “I’m just so stupid and I feel so horrible. I want to, I want to so bad but I don’t—”

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His voice was filled with shock piecing together what she thought he was going to do or say. The poor, sweet thing. “Baby,” he reached for her again.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” She sobbed. “It’s so stupid—I’m so stupid!”

“Kitten,” he tried once more wishing she would stop insulting herself. It only made him feel more terrible. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. “My love, please stop,” he begged very gently and grabbed her arms as softly as possible but firmly, so she stopped moving.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. She was even beautiful when she cried. Harry couldn’t imagine his expression. It felt like a cross between a frown and sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Please stop apologizing,” he brought his hands to her cheeks and pushed her tears away. “M’not mad or disappointed with anything,” he promised.

The silence was thundering loud. Eventually, when she uttered one syllable, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “No?”

It felt like she punched him right in the stomach. A single word question that broke his heart. “Of course not, kitten.”

She swallowed, swiped her tears away. “Oh,” she whispered. “Then... what—”

“I was going to tell you I love you,” he smiled at her. “A lot, really. ’Ve told y’before. ‘Ve never felt this way ‘bout someone the way I feel ‘bout you. I’ve been waiting for you for...” he shook his head. “Years. The second I bumped into you. I jus’ knew. M’so in love with you. It’s been very hard t’keep it t’myself all this time. M’sorry y’thought this weekend was something t’pressure you—kitten,” he stopped abruptly, looked her in the eyes and held her gaze so she would understand the sincerity of his next words. “We could never have sex a day in our life, and I would continue t’love you as much as I did the day I met you.”

Her jaw trembled like it did on the ride in that freezing truck parked outside. “You love me?” She whispered.

“Of course I do, kitten. What’s not to love?”

I made us have homework time on a weekend getaway, I don’t like drinking from red solo cups, I’ve never been drunk in my life, I haven’t had sex with you. But she kept all these thoughts to herself. “You really love me?” She repeated.

His smile was still sad, but he chuckled ever so lightly. “Yes, baby. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.

His face melted into a lazy smile. “Yeah?” He asked, completely awestruck. She nodded quickly, feeling at a loss for words. The fast beating of her heart made her woozy. “You’re sure? Not jus’ saying that because y’feel bad or... I know y’said you’ve never been in love before—”

“I’m very sure,” she promised. “I think I’ve loved you since you showed me where my class was,” she looked at him nervously. Like he would somehow take it back for how she fell in love so quickly after hardly knowing him. Instead, his already gentle gaze softened even more, and he kissed her softly, his lips brushing so gently against hers. It made her mouth tingle with wanting more but she wasn’t sure she could breathe properly to tell him that. They had kissed a lot in those three months but somehow this one made her unsure—as if he suddenly made her forget how to kiss. When he pulled away, she felt an ache in her chest like she wasn’t close enough to Harry. “Again,” she whispered. He smiled and slotted his mouth back between hers kissing her, almost harder, deeper. He pulled away carefully, cupping the back of her neck. “Again,” her voice was sure, but she looked flushed, nervous.

“Kitten,” he whispered, his face a little disapproving.

“I want to,” she promised.

“Kitten,” he repeated, stronger this time. Allie had texted him the previous night and all it said was Delete this after reading: you BETTER be good to her, or I will rip your throat out without an ounce of remorse. At the time he had wondered what prompted such an aggressive message. Things with Allie had been good. He felt he had her trust after all she knew about his past relationships. Maybe that was why she felt so at ease to send him the threat. In a way he was kind of grateful for it. Like a final note that she accepted him.

Of course, Allie.

Have a great weekend 😇

He laughed at the time, the duality of her best friend’s messages. But the previous one was gone, deleted and part of him wished he could show someone (not that he would) only because it made him smile.

All of it made sense now and he was not smiling. She shook her head, shame filling her entire body and promptly appearing all over her features. “I promise, I’ll stop if I don’t want to,” she swore. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he whispered so softly she barely noticed the curse in his phrase—like he had whispered I love you again. “Of course I want you, kitten,” he promised. “But we don’t have to. M’happy t’do whatever y’want for the rest of our lives,” he vowed. “Y’told me y’wanted a relationship. I told you I waited a really long time for you,” he reminded her. “M’not worried about any progression in our relationship except making sure you’re comfortable,” he promised. “You,” he held her face between his hands. Like she was made of something rarer and more fragile than glass. It made her stomach flip, her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt so adored in that moment, it felt indescribable. “You are perfect,” he murmured. “Completely. Just want t’keep y’warm,” he smiled.

There were a hundred reasons she didn’t feel good enough for Harry. But he was warm and safe. Regardless of what anyone had to say about him. “Harry?” She asked.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Have you ever... brought anyone here?”

“Only when I drive Mitch and Sarah.”

“So this is a first?” Her voice was stronger.

Harry felt his face contort into a smile of total admiration for her. “Yes. S’a first, love.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what, kitten?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, just... thinking about how much I love you,” she promised. “It’s a lot,” she admitted. “Kind of weird I’ve dreamed and dreamed about love and after so many years without it while all my friends fell in love... It’s...freeing.”

Harry sighed, wishing he could fully articulate how much adoration he had for her. “M’never letting you go,” he murmured, kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her,

And kissed her,

And kissed her.

She was wrong about the sun. It was warm in the chilly bedroom. They were dressed again, but her body was entwined with Harry’s closely. It wasn’t normal to sleep like this, but she wanted to be close. Probably closer than she was with the clothes in the way. But a winter cabin, even with heat and a fireplace, was simply too chilly.

Plus, the sun streaming through the windows seemed to be magnified, warming the bed and sheets that Harry had the pair of them snuggled under. His finger drew imaginary lines up and down her back over her shirt. He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Good morning, love,” he murmured against her hairline. “Want some French toast?” He asked. She nodded. “Y’feel okay?” He wondered. She nodded again. “Tired?” A third nod, but a more decided one. He kissed the top of her head again. “Y’want t’stay here?” She shook her head this time.

“No m’awake.”

“Y’sound awake,” he teased.

She sighed and rolled onto her back creating a rift of coolness to spread over him. He frowned, wishing he hadn’t teased her at all as this wasn’t preferable at all. “Do we have plans for today?”

He shrugged. “Had some ideas. But no. We can do nothing all weekend if y’want,” he promised.

Turning back to him, her smile was lazy, warm, and beautiful. “We better get started then.”

“Oh?” He smirked.

“Mmm,” she flung the covers back and reached back for him with an outstretched hand.

“Hey, kitten?”

“Yes’m?”

“I love you.”

Her shy grin was enough to make him thaw in the chilly cabin. His heart leapt to his throat while he watched her drop the outstretched hand. Instead, she crawled back across the bed so she could kiss him sweetly. “I love you, too,” she whispered. Finally, they meandered out of bed and she gazed out the window over the coating of freshly fallen snow. Not quite thick as a blanket, but beautifully undisturbed in the same way. “Do you think I’ll need a thicker coat while we’re out?” She asked looking at the battle of the clouds hiding the sun now and again. Harry walked up behind her after fixing up the fireplace for the morning.

He pecked her cheek, thinking about how she told him he had never been in love before. He wondered if he had ever been in love before her. “If y’don’t, I’ll keep y’warm.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

my friend's toyota taglist: @daphnesutton @storyschanging @vamprry @lovingfurypanda @inkedskin @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction writing #my friend's toyota

178 notes · View notes

elliesflower · 1 year ago

Text

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words.

One big problem.

What is it?

“Is this the end?”

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it.

“This can’t be the end…”

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void.

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window.

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right.

Movie.

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap.

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words.

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure.

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.”

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it.

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head.

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry.

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way.

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining.

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost.

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you.

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie.

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too.

“I love you…”

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

#ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou pt 2

618 notes · View notes

99hook · 1 year ago

Note

What if HOOK and Y/N are friends and they get snowed in at a cabin or hotel and they can’t leave. Then the power goes out from the storm and he has to keep her warm when it gets too cold without electricity 🥺

i hope you enjoy it babes!

———

You had to turn the volume up several times just to hear the movie you were watching thanks to the heavy winds kicking it up a couple notches outside.

Through the window you could see thick snow starting to pile higher on the ground, so much so that it was reaching the top of the tires on Tyler’s car parked out front.

Just as soon as you were about to nudge his shoulder and point it out to him, pitch darkness suddenly surrounded you.

Silence filled the living room for a couple moments before you heard him sigh. You could barely see his silhouette in the darkness but you felt his eyes on you. He shifted around a bit before a golden flame illuminated his face.

“Guess we should light some candles.” He says as he holds the lighter out and gets up from the couch. “Did you see any around here earlier?”

You got off the couch and walked around the coffee table, doing your best to focus your eyes in the pitch dark, but you heard him say, “Here” from behind you.

You turned around and reached a hand out, grabbing an extended lighter and sparking the flame. You then set out to find some candles and thankfully came across some in one of the bathrooms, decorated all around the bathtub.

You grabbed four, assuming it would be enough and brought them back into the living room where Tyler was still searching the same spot as if they were going to miraculously appear on the shelves.

“Found some” You said, placing them down on the table and lighting them. It served very little use but it was at least illuminating the small section of the couch that the two of you were sitting on.

You settled back down against the cushions and clutched a blanket under your chin. It was already starting to feel a lot colder without the heat running through the vents.

It was awkwardly silent for a couple moments before Tyler spoke again, only when he looked over and saw the blanket covering the lower half of your face.

“Are you cold?” He asks, scanning the living room and finding more blankets folded up in a basket in the corner. He gets up to grab them, unfolding them and draping one over your legs while he keeps the other one for himself.

“I hope the power comes back on soon. We were getting to the good part of that movie.” He chuckles.

“I thought you said you’ve seen it a hundred times.” You teased. The golden glow of the candlelight put a sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you.

“But you haven’t.” He pointed out.

It was then that he looked out the window and saw his car nearly submerged in the snow. His head fell back against the cushions with another sigh.

“I was gonna say we could go sit in my car if it gets too cold in here but it looks like it’s buried.”

“Yeah, It’s okay. It’s- it’s not that cold.”

He heard the trembling of your voice and looked over at you again, this time with a bit of concern that you could see even in the dimly lit candlelight.

“Are you still cold?” He asks, and even though you shake your head he can practically see you shaking underneath the blankets.

“Here” He says, giving you his blanket.

“No, keep it. I’m fine, just anemic.” You tried to laugh it off, but the chill in the air was getting worse by the minute and the snowstorm didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

“I’m good. This is nothing compared to New York in the winter.” He says, draping his blanket over the others laying on top of you.

You eyed him for a moment to make sure, but he showed no signs of being cold, which made you wonder if he was just conditioned from growing up up north or if you were just wimpy for being spoiled with warm weather nearly all year round back home.

“How long do you think this storms gonna last?” You asked.

He shrugged as he turned his attention back out the window. “No idea, but we might as well get used to it for now, cause it doesn’t look like it’s letting up at all.”

You curled up under the blankets and tried to keep the warmth stored enough to not shiver, but it wasn’t easy.

After about an hour and a half, it felt like all the heat in that house was gone.

“I feel like we’re stuck inside an igloo.” You said, cupping your hands over your mouth to store warm breaths.

Tyler chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest but he still didn’t seem nearly as cold as you were. Either that or he was just way better at hiding it.

“Igloo is a little dramatic. It’s cold, but not that cold.” He said, lolling his head to the side to shoot you a pointed look.

“It’s actually freezing.”

“I mean, it’s only gonna get colder until the power comes back on, so maybe-“ but he trails off when he’s about to finish that sentence.

“Maybe…?” You tried to encourage him.

“Maybe we should get under the blankets together. Body heat, y’know?”

You blinked twice, unsure if you heard him right.

“It doesn’t have to be weird. We just need to stay warm and it’s only gonna get colder in here.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

You didn’t think about it long before you nodded at him, unwrapping the blankets from around you and holding them up, allowing him to move closer and get underneath them with you.

He looked like he was a bit surprised that you agreed. He moved slow at first, until you said, “Hurry up, I’m losing heat.”

You noticed his lips tipping up in a smile as he got under the blankets with you. You slid over to allow him some room and the couch being as narrow as it was made it difficult for the two of you, so he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and guided you down to his chest.

You laid on top of him, and immediately realized how warm he was. Your legs tangled up under the blankets and he wrapped his other arm around you, holding you as close as he could to keep you as warm as possible.

“Better?” He asks with a satisfied smirk. Glancing up, even in the diminishing light, you swore you saw a shade of pink dust his cheeks.

“Mhm” You nuzzled your face into his hoodie, realizing how much you liked the scent of his cologne embedded in the fabric.

He could hear the sleepiness in your voice and looked down to see your eyes fluttering. He leaned up slightly and blew the candles out before he laid back down.

You peered your eyes open to the pitch darkness but the sound of his soft breathing was already pulling you closer to sleep.

You felt his fingers lightly twirling the ends of your hair, something he probably did subconsciously.

“Thanks for being my personal heater.” You mumbled, feeling his chest rise and fall with a slight chuckle before his arms tightened around you.

“Anytime.”

#hook aew #aew hook x reader #tyler senerchia #hook aew fics #hook aew x reader

131 notes · View notes

ramsayxme · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / AO3 Link

TW - ramsay bolton, marriage, forceful sex, choking, unconscious sex, murder, death, manipulation, cutting / talking about wounds in detail, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Chapter Seven: You Belong Here

For the first time in a very long time, you were woken up by sunlight beaming down on your face. You turned over, nuzzling into your sleeping lover. Ramsay slept flat on his back with one hand always touching you. You blinked as you woke up, staring lovingly at Ramsay. Sleep made him look soft, his chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. You kissed his chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows, stomach on the bed. "Ramsay..." You whispered. He softly stirred, his eyes rolling open, a small grunt escaping his lips. Seeing him like this made you smile.

"My love, wake up." You whispered again, tracing the muscles on his toned arms with your fingertips. Ramsay rolled into you, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzled his warm face in your chest, a raspy groan coming from his throat. "No." He said, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep but muffled into your body. You could feel him exhaling against your chest as you stroked his hair. You knew you were falling in love with him. You hadn't fully accepted it yet, but you knew it was happening. Today you were going to marry him and the idea didn't completely scare you, in fact you were almost excited.

"Ramsay, we are going to have our wedding today." You whispered, causing him to roll onto his back and finally open his beautiful eyes. "Yes, we are." He mumbled, his lips turning into a grin. "Are you excited?" He asked. You nodded, your hair falling onto his bare chest. "Of course I am. Are you?" He chuckled, brushing your hair back with his hand. "Yes. I am."

Ramsay sat up and climbed out of bed. "In fact, we should get up. I would hate to have to wait any longer than we have to for our wedding night." He flashed a grin at you and you felt your stomach flutter. You giggled and scurried off, Ramsay slapping your ass as you ran away. You ran all the way to your chambers where there was a long white dress waiting for you on your bed, and a white fur cloak. Reek was waiting for you in the corner of your room. He startled you, as you didn’t expect to see anyone.

“I’m here to help you with anything you may need, M’Lady.” He muttered. You walked up to him. “I’m sorry for last night, Reek… I didn’t want to hit you.” You reached your hand out to him, trying to show some humanly comfort but he only flinched. He didn’t respond to your apology. “Master said I am not allowed to s-speak any more to you, only to say what I have to.” Reek trembled. You sighed as you turned to your dress. There was no sense in trying anymore, he was a lost cause. Reek turned around so you could get dressed. You wondered if you were also a lost cause as you pulled your wedding gown over your head and fastened your bridal cloak.

You heard footsteps running in the hallway and a few men shouting. This wasn’t normal, but you didn’t want to involve yourself. Reek shuddered at the sound. Ramsay opened your door, he was dressed in the finest leather you’ve seen him wear. Gods, he was handsome. His hair was clean and curling under his ears. His freshly shaven skin looked soft and gentle, but you knew it was a mask; one that you’d come to love. Ramsay grinned. “Reek! Go make sure everything is set up to my liking and let me have a moment with my future wife!” He barked, sending Reek scrambling out the door.

That’s when you noticed the bloody knife in Ramsay’s hand. He wiped the knife clean on a blanket draped over the chair in your room. He noticed your gaze lingering on his knife and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll never hurt you. It’s unfortunate, really…. My father must’ve been poisoned by our enemies… I just found him dead.” Ramsay grinned at you as he stepped closer, putting his knife back into its sheath. He wrapped his hands around your waist and admired your beauty. “Now, we truly can be the Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort.”

Your chest felt warm as you pressed your lips against his. You knew he had just stabbed his own father, but you felt the urge to belong to him in this moment. He was doing this for your future, your title, your family. You felt somewhat honored. Again, Ramsay had the power to make you feel less than the dirt caked to his shoes one minute and then the next minute, the best prize in all of the seven kingdoms. Your arms hung around his neck, your fingers playing with his curls on the back of his neck. He gave you a closed lip smile as his eyes scanned your face.

Your wedding was somber, as Roose Bolton had just been murdered, but it was beautiful for you and your husband. Bolton men lined the courtyard with torches as you and Ramsay shared your moments. It was early evening, the sun had set and the sky was hazy. Nothing else mattered, the audible fear from both women and men had been drowned out by Ramsays gaze. He stared at you with a mixture of possession and longing. Snow gently fell, sprinkling flakes on Ramsay's dark hair. He looked absolutely handsome. His eyes pierced into you, his mouth tightened into a grin as you spoke. "I take this man." You announced when prompted, and you and Ramsay sealed your marriage with a kiss.

You walked down the aisle together now as husband and wife, Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort, Warden and Wardeness of the North. Ramsay was grinning from ear to ear and so were you. Although the pit of fear in your stomach was always there, you had learned to befriend it; almost welcome it. Ramsay was yours, and you were his.

Ramsay led you to your chamber that you now shared. You stepped in and he closed the door with a loud groan from the old hinges. "Are you pleased, my lady?" He asked you, stepping towards you. You nodded, smiling. "Yes, very. I love you, Ramsay." You finally spoke the words that you had been holding deep within you, locked away in a box built of shame and guilt. Ramsay smiled as he took your hands, leading you to the bed. You were completely under his spell, you were putty in his hands. He could tear you to pieces if he wanted to, limb by limb, and you wouldn't complain.

All of the sudden, Ramsay spun you around and yanked your body against his, your back pressing into his chest. He snarled as his teeth yanked at the shoulder of your dress, his hand snaking around your body to grip your throat. "You're mine." He growled, causing your eyes to flutter, knowing he was about to ravish your body. "Take off your clothes." He demanded, shoving you forward and causing you to fall to the floor. Your hands were shaky with anticipation as you unclasped your cloak and began pulling at your dress. It was fastened tightly, it was taking a long time. Ramsay was growing impatient as he grabbed the same knife that had plunged into his father's chest that evening. He brought the knife to your back and sliced the back of the dress open.

You felt pain as you realized he had also slashed the skin on your back quite deeply while cutting the cloth. You felt the warmth of blood begin trickling out of your fresh wound. Ramsay didn't care, jerking the dress open fully with his hands until it fell to the floor. Ramsay had the devil in his eyes as he turned you around, meeting your gaze. He flashed his teeth before he sunk them into your shoulder. You moaned as Ramsay began to suck on your skin, leaving dark bruises in his path.

He pushed you down on the bed, stomach down and face first. He yanked his own clothing off before he mounted you, spitting on his hard cock before shoving it deep inside you. As soon as his cock entered you, you felt his fingers at your back wound. He pressed his fingers into the deep cut, causing you to scream out in pain. Ramsay growled as he began thrusting hard, you know he enjoyed to hear you in pain. He leaned forward and bit your wound, pulling even more screams from your lungs. Your eyes swelled with tears as he applied more pressure to your open skin.

Even with the pain you were enduring, you tilted your hips slightly to allow Ramsay full access into you. He groaned when you did so, the slight angle allowing him to slide in with more ease. "That's a good girl... I've trained you so well." He moaned as he stayed leaned forward, his teeth leaving throbbing marks on your upper back. One of his hands found your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your neck to bend so you could look at him upside-down.

His pace slowed as he leaned closer to your ear. His face had your blood on it from kissing your wounded back. He gently whispered to you, "Do you remember our first night together? You fought me so hard... and now, your cunt is soaking wet with the thought of me abusing you, isn't it? You're so good." He purred. You couldn't deny him, moaning in agreement. He yanked on your hair even more, your neck unable to bend back any further, as he let go of your hair and wrapped his arm around your neck. Your chin rested in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed, growling in your ear as he choked you relentlessly. You attempted to whine, but only wheezes came out as you felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

You immediately knew you had passed out. You sucked in air as you felt reality seep back in, Ramsay still fucking you without yield. You were dizzy as Ramsay flipped you over, your body obeying him like a rag doll. You looked at your husbands face, he had wiped the blood off of himself. Ramsay's lips tightened as he reached his hand out and slapped you across the face with all of his force. The single stinging slap was enough to nearly knock you unconscious again.

You felt your eyes rattling in your skull as you focused on Ramsay, his hand pulled back so he could swing again. Before he could, you reached up and gripped his throat with both of your hands. He grinned, "There you go!" He growled. He grabbed you tightly and flipped the both of you over once more, so you were on top of him. His hair flopped on the bed and he looked up at you. "I made you mine. Now, make me yours." His eyebrows raised when you hesitated.

You leaned forward, putting all of your weight onto his throat. His eyes slightly bulged as he smiled, "Hit me." He wheezed. You pulled your hand back and slapped him with all the strength you had. His smile didn't fade as his eyes fluttered. You pulled back again, forming a fist this time. You landed your punch on his cheekbone, he moaned with sadistic satisfaction. You didn't ease up, your body was bubbling over with leftover anger from how he had treated you, sudden bursts of power, and an uncontrollable urge to hurt him.

You kept throwing punches at your new husband's gorgeous face, kissing each of his cheekbones with flowering bruises. He never stopped grinning as he absorbed your blows. You leaned forward to choke him again, not letting go. Ramsay's eyes slid backwards as he fell unconscious just as you had. The monster within him fell silent as his head fell limply to the side. You paused as you realized he was knocked out, his cock still hard inside you. You rocked back and forth, wanting your pleasure to continue. Ramsay had used you, couldn't you use him in return?

You slid your body up and down on his cock, peering at his face every few moments to see if he was waking back up. You felt powerful, but nothing in you wanted to leave him. You could've gotten up and left him forever but instead you leaned forward, pressing your bare chest against his as you bucked your hips up and down on his cock. You felt the warmth growing in your core as you reached down to rub yourself as he slid in and out of you at your own perfect pace. You started to teeter on the edge of an orgasm when you saw his eyes flicker back to life. He grinned, watching you bring yourself to climax on his cock. You erupted, quivering and moaning as your body rode out the wave on him. He lay there, his arms behind his head and grinning, admiring his wife's orgasmic bliss.

You slowly came down from your orgasm as you laughed, sliding your body off of Ramsay. "My Lord, that was-" You had barely lifted yourself off of him before he grabbed your throat once again, slamming you backwards into the bed. "You think I am finished with you? I didn't get to come yet, my love! You'd be quite selfish if you didn't allow your husband to finish on his wedding night, don't you think?" He purred as he inserted himself back into your soaking slit, forcing your back into the bed. Your back ached as you remembered your wound, now being scratched against the blankets once more.

Ramsay choked you hard with both of his hands as he fucked you, knocking you unconscious once again. This time, you knew it was for a long period of time. You woke to find your husband sleeping at your side, and your body leaking his seed. You groaned as you saw the welts across your chest from his bites, your wounded back had crusted itself to the covers as you peeled yourself upright. Your body was screaming with agony as you turned sideways to lay within the crescent shape of your husbands body.

You prayed to the Gods that night. You prayed that you were pregnant with Ramsay's son. You prayed that he wouldn't hurt you through the night. You prayed for a happy marriage and for Ramsay to love you as much as you felt yourself growing to love him, regardless of the things he did to you. You prayed a second time to be pregnant with an heir. You didn't want to to disappoint your husband and the sooner you could provide him an heir, the happier he would be. You drifted off to sleep, your body screaming for help but your mind in a blissful state of attachment. You officially belonged to Ramsay. You smiled, allowing the screams from your body to be silenced by your husbands gentle snoring.

Chapter Eight

#game of thrones #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #ramsay bolton #smut #ramsay snow #ramsey bolton #ramsey snow #asoiaf smut #asoiaf one shot #one shot #ramsay bolton x reader #house bolton #house bolton smut #roose bolton #reek #reek asoiaf #theon greyjoy

90 notes · View notes

angelswing236 · 19 days ago

Text

"You were the first."

Fictober 24 challenge

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Fanfiction

‘Happy anniversary, darling,’ Robert whispered, wrapping his arm around Cora’s waist, the blankets a warm cocoon around them.

‘Happy anniversary,’ she murmured before he kissed her, long and soft.

‘Thirty-four years. Can you believe it? And never a moment’s doubt,’ he said tenderly as her hand came to rest on his chest.

Cora gave a small laugh. ‘That’s not entirely true, is it?’

‘Well, I… I…’ Robert stuttered, thrown that she’d brought up the rocky start of their marriage on their anniversary.

‘You didn’t want to marry me. Your father made you.’

‘And I thank God for that every day,’ Robert said, fervently.

‘You do now, but you didn’t then.’

‘I just… I didn’t know you very well then. That’s all that was.’

‘That and Lady Anne Portland.’

Robert blanched at the mention of his former lover.

Cora gazed at him, mildly amused by the panicked look on his face. ‘Did you think I didn’t know about you and her?’

‘I… I’ve, er, never really thought about it.’

‘I did know. And I tortured myself with it.’

‘Darling, you’ve never said that before,’ Robert said, upset that his youthful dalliance might have caused his beloved wife distress.

‘She was so sophisticated and beautiful. All those blond curls, green eyes and English manners. I worried I was too ordinary for you, too American, too unworldly. You were so captivated by her.’

Robert looked away, reluctant to admit the truth.

Cora curled a finger under his chin, tipping his face towards her. ‘You don’t have to deny it to save my feelings. I know you were, but it was a long time ago. It’s just that sometimes I wish I had been the first for you, too.’

‘You were the first,’ he said, cupping her face.

‘No, I wasn’t. You weren't the virgin I was when we came to our marriage bed.’

‘No, I wasn’t,’ he acknowledged. ‘I’d lain with several women, but you were the first woman I fell in love with. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, Robert.’

‘I’m not lying. My first was the courtesan my father paid for when I was at university. As memorable as it was, it was a business transaction and had nothing to do with love. The second was a fleeting encounter with my cousin’s cousin at the end of a very drunken night at a ball. Again, not love.’

‘But then there was Lady Anne.’

‘And I admit at the time I thought I was in love with her, but I know now that I wasn’t. Not even close. I also know I was not the only one she was sharing her favours with.’

‘I was so afraid that you were going to keep her as your mistress when we married,’ Cora confessed, remembering the feelings that tormented her daily. ‘I loved you so much, I could hardly bear the thought of it.’

‘Oh, my darling,�� Robert murmured, kissing her brow. ‘I am so sorry to have made you feel like that.’

‘As I said, it was a long time ago now.’

‘I never slept with Anne again once we were engaged. Never,’ he said, anxious to slay any sleeping dragons. ‘I would not have done that to you.’

Cora smiled, pleased to know that even after her long years of security as Lady Grantham.

‘You were my first and only love,’ Robert whispered. ‘You still are.’

‘And you are mine.’

‘Then let’s celebrate our love,’ he said, drawing her close.

Cora smiled and kissed him, ready to forget the past.

#fictober24 #downton abbey #robert crawley #cora crawley #fanfiction #cobert

15 notes · View notes

girlwithadragonheart · 2 months ago

Text

Death's Chosen

Part 2

Halsin x OC

Summary: Aspen regains her bearings and explores what her temporary home has to offer.

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: Mentions of death, references to bg3 plot,

A/N: Hope this lives up to expectations! Much much more to come (I have so many plans hehehe…)

Part 1 Masterlist Part 3(soon)

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I knew it had been a while. I awoke still a bit drowsy, but comfortable. When I came to, I realized I had no idea where I was. I was also vaguely aware that I had no clothes on, and the furs against my skin were so soft and warm.

My hair was no longer up, but it was disgusting. I felt disgusting.

“You’re awake!” A surprised feminine voice said from my left. I whipped my head around, seeing a dark skinned human girl who had long braided hair with feathers woven in. She hurried over to my side, hovering her hands over my torso. A golden light emitted from her palms, and her eyes fluttered shut. “You seem to have healed nicely.”

I scooted away from her, sitting up, and she pulled her hands away rapidly. “Where am I?” I questioned. As I shifted, the blanket fell, revealing my bare torso. I glanced down and quickly pulled the furs back up, my heart pounding with unease.

My gaze darted around my surroundings, sensing a familiar form of magic that eased my mind a bit. Wherever we were, it was plenty spacious, seemingly walled off in sections by cloth drapes that hung open. If I looked up, there were lanterns hung, spiraling up and up and up until I could no longer see what lay beyond.

“You’re in the Golden Grove. Wait here, I shall fetch Master Halsin.” She scurried off before I could respond or further inquire about my surroundings.

I sat in silence for only a few moments before the girl returned. She was saying something, but my attention was stolen by perhaps the largest man I’d ever seen behind her. He looked to be fully elven despite his size and stature. Largely muscular with shoulder length hair the color of tree bark. It was half pulled back in a bun, revealing four large gashes across the left side of his forehead. The right side had an intricate red tattoo that was reminiscent of vines.

His lips curved into a smile when he approached me. “I’m glad to see you’re faring better.” His hazel eyes were kind as they took me in. He held out a wadded up tunic. “Your armor didn’t make it, I’m afraid. This should do, for the time being.”

I blinked up at him, taking the garment from his large hand. I didn’t miss his gaze falling to my chest when the furs slipped a bit. I carefully pulled the tunic over my head, feeling it dwarf me, before pulling the furs out from under it until they covered my thighs.

“I’ll take over from here, Kynd. Go tend to the others for now.” The large elf named Halsin said to the dark skinned girl. Kynd, I mentally noted. Halsin pulled up a hand-crafted wooden stool, taking a seat beside me. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met. What is one of our kind doing so far from their circle?” His voice was deep and very calming. He wasn’t accusatory, just concerned.

A flash of color and a menacing voice. Echoing screams surrounded me. Their bodies rotted from the outside in, becoming nothing but bones and dust in the wind. My breathing quickened.

“They’re dead,” I whispered, staring off into the distance. “Every single one of them.” My voice cracked, and hot tears slipped down my cheeks.

“Oak Father preserve you, child…” His voice was sullen. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you wish to, I will listen.”

I hastily wiped my tears away, shaking my head and taking deep breaths to compose myself. “How did I get here?” I asked.

“You must’ve been nearby,” he said. “You somehow stumbled to us half-conscious and bleeding out. I brought you here and healed you.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I looked over at him. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Think nothing of it. A friend to nature is a friend to me,” he said simply. “Something tells me you would do the same. You may call me Halsin.”

“Aspen,” I told him, nodding in thanks. “How long was I out?” I asked carefully.

“Several days,” he told me. “Your body and mind has been through a lot, it is no wonder it would take time to recover. You are welcome to remain here as long as you like, we have pods to spare, if you’re fine with a little climbing.”

“Pods?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled, and it made something inside me ease. I hadn’t realized I’d smiled back until the muscles in my face relaxed back to neutral. “How are you feeling otherwise?” Halsin asked.

“Restless,” I said honestly. “For all the rest, I’m not used to sitting still.”

“You have free run of the Grove and otherwise. No one here should bother you. I’ll have Kynd take you to your pod when it’s suitable,” he told me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to tend to.”

“Thank you, Halsin,” I said earnestly. I didn’t think any number of thanks would ever be enough to repay him for what he’d done for me.

Sensing my feelings on the matter, he just nodded before standing. “I hope this is a fine enough sanctuary after all you’ve suffered,” he said in departing.

I hoped it would be too.

I watched Halsin’s muscled back as he walked further into… wherever we were. After a moment, I laced up my tunic, making sure I was completely decent before slipping off the soft cot.

I put my curiosity of this place aside in search of fresh air. As I went, I noted several other ‘rooms’. Namely, a dining room, study, library, and twisting stairs leading to more above.

I had managed to wander my way to a wall. It looked like interwoven branches or roots of some kind. As I approached, they parted, and I had to squint against the sunlight that erupted in my vision. Once my vision adjusted, I saw that the roots had formed an archway to let me pass. We’d never had anything so intricate in the glade, being secluded in the natural cave.

Taking an experimental step forward, finding no resistance and only lush greenery covering the ground. The sun was golden, casting a heavenly hue over the world, but it wasn’t uncomfortably bright. The ground was soft beneath my bare feet.

I took a few steps forward before turning to look at the place I’d left. By Silvanus… I saw a massive tree of interwoven trunks. What could be a circle of trees came and grew together, twisting into a much, much larger great oak. I watched the roots come back together to seal the archway as though it was never there. I had to crane my neck to see everything, but I was so glad I did.

I saw between the leaves and branches were, what could only be described as, pods. Teardrop shaped structures hung from branches, ladders and bridges connecting them to a complex network of vines running along the trunk itself. This must’ve been what Halsin was talking about, and he was right, I did see.

There was no other way to describe it than to see it, and it was beautiful in that way that only nature could truly achieve. I took a step back in awe, something warm and solid intercepting me at my calves.

I glanced down, seeing a fluffy white dog peering up at me, grinning. “Amicus animales,” I muttered the spell under my breath, squatting down to the dog’s level. He had a leather collar, a copper pendant hanging from it that had ‘Scratch’ roughly engraved into it. I smiled at him. “Hello Scratch.”

His tail wagged. “You know my name! Hello, mistress. Master Halsin asked me to keep an eye on you.”

I raised a hand, scratching him between the ears and down the side of his neck. “Well then I’m glad to have you along,” I told him, standing and brushing the dirt off my knees. “What are you doing out in a place like this?” I asked him as we walked along the edge of the tree, my hand trailing against the bark.

“When my old Mistress went missing, Master Halsin took me in,” he told me. “He is very kind to me and everyone, I think.”

“Your old Mistress?” I asked. “What happened to her?”

“She was very, very sick,” he said solemnly. “I tried to find her, but Halsin said not to, so I instead came here with him. I’d like to think she is alright, but truthfully, I do not know.”

My heart sank for him. I remained silent after that, not sure how to comfort him when I hadn’t figured out how to comfort myself after my losses.

It wasn’t long before my contemplative silence once again turned to one of awe. We had rounded the tree, coming to what I discovered to be the actual front side. A large creek ran through the grove, winding and twisting all the way to a massive wall of trees that was far too barren and tall to climb. I saw stepping stones littered across it, all the way to the end where a tangle of roots like the ones in the tree were taking up part of the wall. An entrance to the grove itself, I assumed.

I looked around, seeing other druids mingling and laughing. Deer and rabbits grazed around us everywhere I looked. I glanced over, seeing a fully grown owlbear jumping around over the creek, looking happy as can be. Never in my days had I seen an owlbear able to coexist with people so fully. I wondered what the story behind that was.

Scratch must’ve seen my studying the creature, because he spoke up. “That’s Puck. My Mistress took him in when he was a cub.”

I wondered if he could sense us talking about him as he bounded over, jumping over Scratch and circling back around.

“Hello!” The owlbear’s light voice said to me. “You smell very delicious, but I will not bite you!” He held his head up high, looking very proud.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I reached a cautious hand up, and Puck nuzzled his head into it, chirping under the contact. I giggled and scratched between his ears. He headbutted my side playfully when I pulled away.

I watched as he nuzzled Scratch before bounding off again. “You two seem very close,” I commented off-handedly to the dog at my side.

“Mistress saved both of us and gave us new friends. We wouldn’t be here without her.”

“I hope I get to meet her someday,” I said with a sad smile. These animals had endured just as much, if not more than most people. I was glad to be able to know them like this. I was even more glad that Halsin had saved me just as he had taken them in.

I felt eyes on me, and I looked around but spotted no one looking in my direction. I shrugged it off, fighting back a yawn as I laid down in the grass. I clasped my hands under my head, letting my skin soak up the warmth of the sun even with the tunic covering most of me. Scratch laid down beside me, resting his head on my thigh as his tail curled over the top of my head.

——————————

I hadn’t realized I had dozed off until I was being nudged gently by a warm calloused hand. I stirred slightly as a large arm slid beneath my shoulders and knees, lifting me off the ground. I was settled against someone’s chest, and I could vaguely make out Halsin’s features in the moonlight.

I sighed, settling against him as he began walking. “My apologies.” I felt his voice rumble in his chest. “I didn’t wish to wake you, but it seems I was not successful.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my eyes slipping closed.

“Your pod has been prepared,” he said quietly. “Kynd will take you to it tomorrow. For now, rest.”

We had reached my cot much faster than I anticipated, and I was being lowered onto the silk gently. A quilt was drawn over me, and I curled up under it.

Halsin hesitated, as though he wanted to say something more. I fought sleep while he stood there, and finally he did. “You are safe here, Aspen. Rest.”

I wished that notion was as comforting as he meant it to be. I was asleep before he had taken a step to walk away.

————————————————————————————————

A/N: Likes, comments, and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! Have a wonderful night, loves! <3

15 notes · View notes

bluehoodiewoozi · 2 years ago

Text

The First Step

Boo Seungkwan x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, coming of age

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: mental breakdowns. adulting is hard. food mentions. mutual pining.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Your neighbour witnessed your mental breakdown and decided to take you under his protective wing.

The first step is always the hardest.

You found yourself repeating the mantra to yourself day and night after moving into your new apartment. It was a free comfort.

No more parents, siblings or roommates. Just you, yourself, and your new independence, in an apartment that you were almost entirely responsible of. You could decorate to your own desires, you could sleep until noon without anyone judging, you could get as many houseplants and paintings and chairs and blankets as you ever wished.

You had smiled brightly when you first placed your three plates into the cupboard and fluffed the cushions on the sofa. You had laughed in joy when you played your music out loud without anyone telling you to lower the volume. These were your first steps into adulthood and the first steps were always the hardest.

At first the mantra seemed to work and you didn’t feel too awful about your newfound independence, but after a while, the words lost their magic.

How many steps could be the counted as the first ones? Who’s to say if you had already taken all of them and all that was left was adult misery?

Now, a month into living entirely on your own, you were on the breaking point. You paid rent and bills for the first time and you realised a crucial fact: you were entirely alone.

For some reason, today, this thought made your return from work uneasy. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to go there at all. Would it be too late to catch a train to your old home?

The lift moved upwards too fast for your liking that day. You opted for the slow route the stairs provided. Just so you could feel miserable for a little longer. Just to have a little more time to comfort yourself.

Four floors of stairs should have been more than enough to resolve the conflict raging in you. At the very least it should’ve distracted you. But the travel did neither and you were just as miserable – if not more – when you reached the door of apartment 4A.

As you stared the number, feeling somehow hollow at the thought of spending yet another night alone, lonely and miserable, something warm touched your cheek. It rolled gently along the skin. A single tear.

You scoffed at the idea of crying over something so silly. There was no way you were crying. Absolutely no way; you brushed the tear off your cheek and sniffled while searching your pockets for the key.

Your hands were shaking. Why were they shaking? Why was the entire world seeming to shake around you, mocking your loneliness?

“Hey, are you okay?” a soft voice sounded from your left.

Hastily, you brushed any tears off your face and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

It was easier to ignore the way your voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. But the person worrying for you seemed to think otherwise. He sighed.

“There’s no use in lying to me, you know,” he told you matter-of-factly while taking slow steps closer to you. “I’m kind of like a human lie detector.”

“It’s fine. It’s whatever.” You shook any ideas of telling him out of your head. You had no interest in having a therapy session with a stranger.

Yet tears still fell as you held the key up to the hole it was supposed to fit in. You brushed them off again before a streak of black became visible on the sleeve. You scoffed. “And now my make-up’s ruined! Great!”

“Here,” the man offered and took the key from your shaking hands. He unlocked the door for you and led you inside with a gentle hand on your upper back. “There we go. You look like you need to lie down for a little.”

You opened your mouth to argue. Only a breathless sob came out as you nearly fell onto the sofa. Your own body was betraying you in front of a stranger.

“I’m Seungkwan,” he offered, as if reading your mind and the doubts inside of it, “I live in 4B. So, I’m not a complete stranger. You can trust me, even if it’s just a little.” He then grimaced a little. “Or, if you really don’t trust me, you can just report me to Lee Jihoon. I’m sure he’d be glad to yell at me for causing an already-crying person distress.”

For some reason, his words made you feel a little better. Maybe it served as a distraction. Maybe it reminded you that you weren’t as alone in this building as you felt.

“Would he really yell at you?” you asked in a meek voice when your cries subsided after a little a while.

As your eyes slowly cleared, you found yourself staring at a friendly-looking man, his hair a dark tousled mess, his grey sweater covered in patches of white dog fur, and a pair of bunny slippers on his feet. He seemed nothing if not friendly.

Seungkwan scoffed at your question. “Jihoon would yell at me for fun on a random Wednesday midnight. He once chewed me out for removing a silly post-it note off the notice board.” His feet nudged yours. “Have you met him yet? He’s the building owner’s son so he’s sort of in charge of all the tenants. How long have you lived here anyway? I think I was out of town when you moved in.”

“A month now.”

“A whole month? And this is the first time we’ve talked?” He seemed puzzled, flabbergasted, and almost offended. “That’s strange. I’m usually friends with everyone within a week.”

You sighed and stared at your feet. “I’m not the most sociable type. Sorry.”

Immediately he frowned. “What are you apologising for? It’s fine. We’re going to be friends now.” He said it with such conviction that you had no option but to trust him.

Maybe you just liked the thought of having a friend in this building. Someone to talk to and vent to and to offer you emotional support. A friend, finally.

“Did you have dinner yet?” he asked soon after. “If you don’t feel like cooking, we can share mine? I made too much food again anyway.”

“I…” You really doubted you should agree. He was still, essentially, a stranger. Your neighbour, sure, and a possible future friend, but you knew nothing about him outside of his overly kind nature. Perhaps you were feeling desperate for some company that night, or maybe you wanted to take yet another first step – you said yes.

Within fifteen minutes, Seungkwan had covered your coffee table with plates full of side dishes and rice. He smiled brightly as he watched you eat your first mouthfuls. And it seemed that just as fast as the impromptu dinner started, it ended. Soon, your stomach was full as was your heart and your mind felt a little bit more at peace now.

“See, you look happier already,” he cooed and offered you a sweet look that made butterflies fly just a little in your lonely heart. “Eat some more. If we can’t finish this, I’ll have to bring these to the sixth floor to Vernon again and I just don’t have the energy to deal with him today.”

“I can’t fit any more food in me,” you whined and fell further into your soft sofa. “I’m going to burst at this rate. Why do you cook so much anyway?”

He shrugged. “Force of habit. I used to room with Vernon and Junhui in 6A and they eat a lot, but they’re such a mess that I just couldn’t take it anymore and moved to 4B when the possibility came.” He ate a mouthful of kimchi before adding, “Best decision of my life.”

Your heart felt heavy again. “Did you ever feel lonely after you moved into 4B?”

“Lonely?” He blinked at you. “Lonely how?”

“Like you’re all on your own again and you don’t have anyone to depend on? Like you’re entirely responsible for your life now? And now if you break the washing machine you have to replace it entirely out of your funds?”

You watched him as the reality of your situation sunk in. His lips fell into a pout the more he thought about it.

“Is that why you were crying earlier?” he asked gently. “You’re scared of living on your own like this?”

“It’s not that I’m afraid,” you corrected with a deep breath between the phrases, “but it is all a little scary. It’s like the real life has just begun.”

“Because it has,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on the back, “but that’s the best part. You’ll get used to it soon, you’ll find more friends soon, and then you’ll have people to depend on and you’ll know what to do. It just takes a little time to figure it out.”

You sighed. It came out a little shaky. “Will you help me? Will you help me figure it all out?”

He offered a smile. “If you want my help, absolutely. And if you want the help of other people in this building, just say the word, and they’ll all come running to help you fix your washing machine, okay?”

You let out a laugh, and though it wasn’t quite cheerful yet, it was getting there slowly, just as you were getting used to your situation slowly.

“But to answer your question,” Seungkwan began after a moment of thought, “yes. I felt lonely at first. I kept going back to 6A in the evenings, just lounging on their couch as they ate my leftovers. I still cook for three even though it’s just me.” He sighed. “I did get a dog though, so that’s good. I never could’ve gotten a dog living with those two. They’re both cat people.”

“Should I get a pet too?” you wondered for a moment, more just to have a thought than to actually consider it.

Seungkwan looked around the apartment for a moment, then turned to give you a glance and a smile. “I think maybe start with a houseplant first. If you need someone to water it when you’re out of town, just call me or any of the other tenants. I think Chan and Anna both have a knack for plants. Just don’t call Jihyeon – she’s as forgetful and lazy as they come.”

Feeling a little lighter after hearing his words, you decided to joke, “And if I break my washing machine, which tenant do I call then?”

Seungkwan took a bite of rice and radish. He chewed thoughtfully before deciding, “Joshua from 3A. He’s good with this kind of stuff.”

Funnily enough Jihoon had told you the exact opposite: to avoid asking for Joshua’s help at any cost. You laughed at the contradiction. This time laughter didn’t feel so difficult.

Little did you know, it was at this moment that Seungkwan made a silent promise to protect your smile for as long as you would allow him.

He quickly became your best friend in the entire city. It came easy with the way he always seemed to return from his morning run just as you were leaving for work. The at-first hesitant bows and smiles quickly turned into cheerful waves and morning news. And just like that, you had a friend. You didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

“Oh, I hate to ask this, but do you mind if we have dinner together tonight?” he had asked you this morning, his face still red from the physical exertion. “My cooker broke last week and I’m about to go insane if I don’t get a home-cooked meal.”

You had shrugged and told him, “Fine, but you’re cooking.”

Truthfully, you almost forgot about your promise at work. There was so much to do, and so little time. The memory of the morning exchange only came to you as you walked into the building on Serenity Street. You wondered if Seungkwan had known you’d be too exhausted to cook dinner that night.

The thought of warm food on your mind, with a newfound vigour, you stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the 4th floor. Before long – but just long enough that you felt a little impatient – you were at your destination, and so was Seungkwan.

He was once again wearing his bright smile, red pyjama pants and a grey sweater (this time it didn’t have any dog fur at least). His hair was still a tired mess and he was wearing his signature bunny slippers as he waited outside of your door.

“Good evening, my wonderful neighbour,” he declared loudly the moment you stepped into his view.

You offered him a playfully dramatic bow and unlocked the door, opening it for him. “What’s on the menu today, my good sir?”

He snorted at the honorific and practically ran to throw his phone onto the coffee table and himself onto your sofa as if it was his own home. “Whatever the master of the house wishes. I can cook well.”

“In that case,” you contemplated for a bit before deciding on your latest craving, “pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” He hummed in agreement but made no movement to remove himself from your sofa.

You lifted your foot to nudge him with it. “Do you not have a sofa of your own? Or, like, a bed?”

He grunted and closed his eyes tighter. “My sofa isn’t as soft. Seriously,” he sat up just a bit to give it a once-over, “where did you get this thing from? It’s like a luxury item.”

“I don’t know, it was here when I moved in,” you laughed. “Ask Jihoon.”

He fell back into the softness and moaned in content. “I will. The next time I see him.”

You shrugged off your coat and sat down next to him, lifting your legs onto the sofa and, when you realised you could have more fun with it because this was your sofa, you threw your legs over his thighs. He only hummed and gave your calf a soft pat.

When a few minutes had passed of just relaxing and becoming one with the couch, you finally felt your tummy grumble. So, you nudged Seungkwan. “Hey, when are you going to make pancakes?”

Seungkwan sighed. “Do I have to?”

“You promised.”

“I also promised my mom I’d stop eating convenience store snacks every other day, and yet here we are.”

“So, you’re not going to make me pancakes?”

He hummed affirmative.

You shook your head in mock disappointment. “Guess I’ll have to report you to Jihoon then. Such a shame. I’m sure he’ll love to yell at you though.”

His eyes opened just a little to glare at you. When you offered an innocent smile, he groaned and sat up properly. “And to think I took you under my wing because you seemed like such a shy little sweetheart.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not?”

“You might actually be the devil.”

“Ouch. Now, make us some pancakes.”

Seungkwan sighed deeply and reached for his phone. You watched curiously as he unlocked it. “Hey, Siri?” He paused for a moment before sighing once again and asking, “How do you make pancakes?”

Your laughter quickly filled the apartment, unable to believe he didn’t know how to make something a simple as pancakes. What a great cook!

“Do you want me to cook instead?” you teased as he read over the instructions provided by his phone. “I think I’ll do better than you.”

He offered you a mild glare. “I’d like you to put a bit more trust in my ability to cook, neighbour.”

“I’d trust you if you didn’t have to ask Siri for a pancake recipe,” you retorted with a laugh and relaxed into the couch.

“I’ll show you!” He stood up abruptly, pushing your legs off his own, and offered you yet another mild glare, a bit more playful than irked.

You hummed. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“I won’t need any help. I’m not five.” He stuck out his tongue before laughing at his own silliness and waddling to the kitchen while mumbling to himself, “I’m like a child today; what’s going on?”

Deciding to give Seungkwan the benefit of a doubt, you remained in your seat and picked up your phone to pass the time. He was an adult man, so surely he could make pancakes on his own.

Barely two minutes passed – complete with the sound of cupboards being opened and closed – before you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Seungkwan stood behind the couch, looking like a sheepish child with the way he slumped and pouted in your front of your eyes.

You blinked up at him. “... Yes?”

He pouted some more. “Where’s your mixing bowl?”

“I thought you didn’t need help.”

“Just tell me where the mixing bowl is and I won’t ask for any more help,” he vowed but somehow the both of you knew it was an empty promise. Still, you got up and helped him out.

Watching him cook would at least distract you from your exhaustion.

Five minutes passed and you found yourself questioning your decision to let him into your kitchen at all. As he continued adding more and more flour to the mix, you tapped his wrist. “I’m not entirely sure that’s correct.”

“Are you questioning my judgement?”

“Absolutely. You’re going to break our teeth.”

He blinked at you. “Isn’t the mix supposed to be thick?”

“You’re not baking a cookies, you’re frying pancakes.”

“... Is that why not even Vernon liked my pancakes?” he realised, looking as annoyed as he did heartbroken. “No one ever told me the mix was supposed to be lighter.”

“I’m telling you now,” you told him with a laugh and a gentle pat on his head. “The mix is ready, you just have to fry it now. Do you want some help?”

He scoffed. “I’ve got this part down, I’m sure. I’m not that dumb.”

“I’m not saying you’re dumb,” you whined in response, “I’m just saying that this will take you forever do make on your own and I’m hungry now. I’m gonna faint at this rate, Seungkwan.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed and put his hands up in defeat. “You get the pans, I’ll turn the cooker on.” He clicked his tongue at your excitement. “You’re so lucky we’re friends.”

Unfortunately your friend couldn’t always be there to comfort you and offer amusement after a long day.

“Leave your message after the signal,” you heard his voice repeat back to you when you tried to call him on your way home. The things you would’ve done for just one minute of his company after this Friday.

It had been a horrible day all around, ever since you opened your eyes. You woke up late, the lift kept jolting weirdly when you tried to leave the building, then you were late to work and making mistakes left and right, eventually spilling your hot drink on your legs during lunch break – all around terrible and horrible and awful.

All you wanted was your best friend’s support.

“Leave your message after the signal,” his voice asked you once again, the pre-recorded message just playing back every time you dialled his number. You’d have to spend this lonely and bad evening on your own.

As you entered the apartment building, you just about started crying on the spot right in front of the lift.

“Out of service due to a mechanical error. Sorry :(” read the building owner’s son’s handwriting on a white piece of paper taped to the doors.

Of course the lift was broken on this particular day. Tears were already burning in your eyes, but at least you now knew why the lift had been so shaky in the morning.

You took a deep breath and turned towards the stairs. To your dismay, the building owner just so happened to enter the hallway when you turned that way. He offered you curious look. “Hey, are you okay? Is this because of the lift? It should be fixed by next week.”

You wished it had been just about the lift. You replied with a shake of your head and headed up the stairs. He called after you but you decided to ignore it. You needed the comfort of either you best friend or no one, but not a stranger you only saw once a week.

The door of your apartment could not have been further away. When you finally reached it, another horrible reality hit you.

You felt your pockets, rummaging through them with increasing panic. Soon you were crying while desperately searching your pockets and bag. Finally, it became clear: you had forgotten your apartment key in your desk drawer at work. The mental image of shutting said drawer as you left work seemed to echo in your mind. You slumped against the door and sat on the floor with a sob.

“Hey, are you okay?” your other friendly neighbour asked.

Jihyeon was her name and she was a college student living in apartment 4D – the least least renovated apartment in the building, and thus the cheapest one. You only knew about her through Seungkwan’s retellings of his playful feud with said neighbour.

Could you consider a friend to confide in?

“Did something happen?” she wondered and rushed to kneel in front of you. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“I can’t get into my apartment,” you eventually told her through tears. “God, this day has been absolutely horrible.”

She frowned at your words and reached out to pat your shoulder. “I don’t have the spare key of 4A either. I don’t know if even Jihoon does. Do you want me to go ask him?”

You dreaded going back to the first floor to ask for Jihoon’s help when he’d already witnessed you have a break-down over what he must have assumed was the lift. You figured you’d rather just sleep on your welcome mat.

“I guess that’s a no,” Jihyeon concluded hurriedly and pulled you into a gentle hug when you started crying just a little harder. Crying into her shoulder felt a little safer, at least. “There, there, I’ve got you.”

“What’s going on here?” you heard a familiar voice you’d been longing for after what felt like hours of crying.

Jihyeon let you keep crying as she answered, “She had a bad day and she doesn’t have her key. She’s been crying for 15 minutes now.”

Seungkwan let out a little whine. Then you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, gently pulling you away from Jihyeon’s comforting embrace. The smell of Seungkwan’s cologne did wonders to you.

“What happened, hm?” he asked you softly when your cries let up a little.

“I forgot my key at work,” you told him, unsure if you could recount the rest of your day without crying more yet. “I just want to eat dinner and sleep all of this off.”

The feel of his lips on your forehead was unfamiliar. Another first step. You wondered how hard it was for him. Was it was difficult at all.

He then offered, “Do you want to come to my apartment? I’ll make you some food and you can sleep a little.”

You nodded so lightly that you wondered if he’d realise you did it at all. But Seungkwan knew you better than anyone in this building – and possibly this entire town – and he knew perfectly well what you meant.

He leaned down to offer you a little smile before helping you onto your shaky legs. His key was ready in his hand already, just waiting to unlock the door.

When you stepped into his apartment, you quickly realised that in your months of friendship, you hadn’t been to Seungkwan’s home even once. He always came to your apartment, often with dinner and a wide smile. Today you came into his apartment, with a sad heart and eyes full of tears.

“Here, I’ll take your coat.”

You let him do as he pleased. You didn’t even protest when he just about dragged you to his sofa and placed a soft throw blanket over your lap. As tears dried, you just felt a little numb. You distracted yourself from the empty feeling with the affection of Seungkwan’s little white dog. The small animal had made his way into your lap and seemed to greatly enjoy tummy rubs.

“I think he likes you more than he likes me,” you hazily remember Seungkwan telling you at one point.

Your sense of time must have also been affected because you could’ve sworn dinner was ready within mere minutes and it was finished just as fast. In reality over an hour had passed.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he offered while encouraging you to nap on his sofa. “Then you could sleep in your own bed instead of my sofa– Actually, do you want my bed? I can’t let you sleep on this thing made of bricks.”

“It’s not too bad,” you managed to tell him over the edge of the blanket. The dog had also settled down with you under the fleece material, happy to rest his little head on your arm.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you insane? You’ll get back problems.”

“You don’t have to give up your bed for me,” you told him as he began dragging you towards his bedroom. “I’m fine on the sofa.”

“No, I’m fine on the sofa. You had a hard day and deserve the best sleep,” he declared and began searching through his drawers when he eventually got you to sit on the soft mattress. Before you could even say anything, he handed you a t-shirt and some shorts. “I can’t let you sleep in your work clothes either. These will be more comfortable.”

He left the room without giving you the chance to protest. So, you did as he expected and dressed in his clothes. Something about them felt so comforting that you found yourself regretting the thought of rejecting them.

“There you go,” Seungkwan told you just a few minutes later, placing the blankets over you in a motherly manner. He had made sure to bring the fleece throw he had given you on the sofa, as well as the white little dog – Bookkeu was his name.

“He’ll keep you warm at night,” your friend joked and gave the dog a little pat on the head. The dog didn’t seem to mind and just snuggled further into your side. “I’ll leave you to sleep now,” Seungkwan whispered after pressing just one more small kiss to your forehead. “If you need anything, I’m in the living room. Good night.”

Whatever his bed was made of, it was the best sleep you had had since moving into the building. You felt at home in his room, his dog by your side, and sleep still heavy in your eyes.

When you finally woke up on Saturday, your brain was less emotionally distressed and more annoyed. As you sat there, you wondered if you’d have to spend the entire weekend in Seungkwan’s apartment – your one houseplant would die of loneliness (but mostly underwatering).

Deciding this was a problem to be solved after breakfast, you stumbled out of Seungkwan’s room. Bookkeu was right on your tail.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Seungkwan’s singing voice greeted you, accompanied by the smell of fresh pancakes.

You weren’t sure you could trust his pancakes. His last attempt hadn’t exactly been encouraging. Suspicious of the food but grateful nevertheless, you sat down at his table. “You cooked.”

“I did,” he told you with a laugh. “And now you get to eat.”

You placed a pancake on your plate carefully, eyeing it as if it would start screaming at any moment.

“I think I made them the right way this time,” Seungkwan mentioned as he watched your theatrical act. “I even asked for Mingyu’s help. I never ask for Mingyu’s help.”

“Mingyu?” You raised an eyebrow and finally took a forkful of the pancake, hesitantly lifting it. “You called him?”

“No, we met when I went downstairs to see Jihoon.”

He gently pushed your full fork upwards towards your lips. It helped that your jaw had fallen open to ask the next question. Your words were muffled by the bite of pancakes as you asked, “Why did you go to see Jihoon?”

Seungkwan snapped his fingers, remembering something. He jumped up and rushed towards the kitchen to rummage through something. A moment later, he returned with something small and shiny in his hand. He opened his palm and smiled at your proudly. “I got you a spare key.”

You dropped your fork. “A spare key?”

“Yeah, Jihoon said he was going to give you one anyway, to give to one of the neighbours in case you forget your own,” he told you and placed the key in your hand. “All apartments have two spares, one for you to give to someone you trust, and another for the owners, or Jihoon, in the case of emergency.”

“Then I’m supposed to give this to someone I trust?”

He nodded. “I gave mine to Jihyeon. She may be a little lazy and she might procrastinate more than healthy, but she’s trustworthy. I’m sure she’d be happy if you gave yours to her too.”

“Who has her key then?” you wondered, your finally curiosity making a comeback after the previous day’s dreadful events.

“I’m pretty sure Junhui has it.”

“Why Junhui?” As much as you thought the man in question was a sweetheart, you highly doubted his ability to keep a spare key safe. Especially after all of the horror stories Seungkwan had told you about Junhui and Vernon’s apartment.

Seungkwan thought for a moment, brows furrowing, before shrugging. “Who knows what goes through her head, honestly. I’m sure you’ll make a better choice though.”

You told yourself you’d think about it later, but you had an idea already.

The more time you spent with Seungkwan, the more you began to wonder if what was between you was just friendship. Maybe it was and you were just overthinking it. Or maybe his heart fluttered a little bit whenever he saw your smile too.

“Just date already,” Mingyu told the two of you when you returned from shopping and Seungkwan took half of your bags from you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at the nosy neighbour but Seungkwan beat you to it.

“Mind your own business, Kim Mingyu!”

The man in question rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to but the two of you are blocking the lift with all of these bags and your heart-eyes.”

“What business do you have that you need to use the lift anyway? You live on the first floor,” you wondered, fully aware that he lived on the first floor. The only possible reason you could think of was escaping Xin’s or Jihoon’s wrath.

He sighed deeply and turned on his heel. “Fine, I’ll just take the stairs.”

“Nice,” Seungkwan laughed as the doors closed, “we have the lift to ourselves. This thing is too small for three people.”

He then began inspecting your bags. “What did you buy anyway? These don’t look like groceries.”

“Thought I’d finally decorate my apartment to my liking,” you confessed. “It’s getting kind of dull living like this.”

“But you still didn’t buy any houseplants though,” Seungkwan joked. “I think your apartment could use some better air.”

You grimaced. “I don’t know anything about houseplants though. I’d probably kill it like I did the last three.”

“Have you tried getting a cactus?”

The lift came to a stop and opened its doors. You stepped out and headed towards your apartment with Seungkwan in tow.

“Oh, wait,” Seungkwan begged and rushed to his own door, “let me get Bookkeu. He’d love to see your apartment.”

You weren’t sure if white dog fur would go with your new vision of the apartment, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

Within seconds, Bookkeu was out the door and jumping in front of your feet, excited beyond belief.

“He really likes you more than his own owner,” Seungkwan sighed in disappointment and waited for you to unlock the door. “And to think I spent all those years raising you, you brat.”

“I’m starting to think Bookkeu likes everyone but Seungkwan,” Jihyeon cracked her door open just to make the joke and then closed the door again. Rumour had it her apartment has zero noise isolation and she could hear every word uttered in this hallway. You felt a little bad for her.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes before closing them and reminding himself, “Everyone is free to form their own opinions.”

You opened the door in the meantime. Unsurprisingly, Bookkeu was the first one inside. You and Seungkwan struggled a little to enter with all of the bags. How you had made it home at all was a miracle.

“This is a lot of stuff,” Seungkwan concluded once the bags were laid out onto the floor. “Do you need all of this?”

“I just want to feel at home in my apartment,” you told him with a shrug.

He hummed in agreement. “Are you also going to do any actual remodelling? Or just the decorations?”

“I’m thinking of changing the wallpaper.”

“Great, just let me know when and I’ll come over to help. That’s a two-people job.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at how easily he agreed to help you, even without being asked. He just expected to help you wherever he could. You’d pay back the favour one day.

“Should we put on some music?” he suggested, already reaching for his phone with one hand while heading to your bedroom. “Your speaker’s on your bedside table, right?”

You nodded and began unpacking the first bag. Bit by bit, you uncovered the new curtains and table cloths you had purchased. Just seeing them in your apartment brought you joy.

As you debated which curtains to put up, you heard the speaker beginning to play on the coffee table – you must have been very distracted to not notice Seungkwan returning and sitting so close to you on the floor that he was touching you.

“Oh, I put this together for you,” he excitedly told you while turning the volume up. “I think you’ll like these songs.”

Your heart stuttered. It wasn’t fair that he had this effect on you when he was just being friendly.

Once you were sure your voice wouldn’t betray your conflict of feelings, you uttered, “You made me a playlist?” He nodded nonchalantly (but if you had paid him just a little more attention, you would’ve realised his ears were more red than his hoodie). You just couldn’t believe it. “A playlist? For me?”

“Yeah,” he stuttered after a while, unable to meet your eyes as he tried to play it cool. “If you don’t like it, you can just say.”

“Can you send me the link?”

He gulped and whipped his head to meet your eyes. “What?”

“The link. Send it.” It was your turn to act cool. Your hands were shaking just a little as you continued unpacking. “I’ll have to give it a good listen one day to judge if you know me that well at all.”

You weren’t looking so he dared to smile. “Alright. I’ll send it later.”

“By the way,” you cleared your throat and continued your act, “take the spare key when you leave later.”

Seungkwan just about dropped his phone on Bookkeu’s head. It occurred to you that maybe – just maybe – you had a similar effect on him as he did on you.

“You want me to have it?” he asked to confirm. “Are you sure? You don’t want to give it to Jihyeon?”

“I trust you more,” you told him softly. “I’d like you to have it.”

His lips formed a pout as he bit back the wish to cry of joy – he had earned your trust and made you feel safe, just as he had promised himself he would. You thought of him as your friend.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he whispered after a while, his hand finding yours to give it a gentle squeeze before returning to where Bookkeu sat in his lap. “I’ll keep your key safe.” (He wished he had the courage take the first steps and add, “just like I’ll keep you safe.”)

NOTE: Happy holiday season! This fic was written when I was homesick and thus it may be self-indulgent, but I hope it brought some comfort or was at least somewhat enjoyable to read <3

This was originally supposed to have more romance, but you know what? Not everyone needs to be in love and not every fic needs to have a cheesy confession scene. I like this fic the way it is. However, fully expect these two to become a cute couple in the background of the next serenity street fics!

#seventeenweeklyarticle #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #boo seungkwan scenarios #svt scenarios #seungkwan fic #.avy writes

337 notes · View notes

stevieharringtonwifeguy · 1 year ago

Text

hey guys, y'all remember (checks notes) three entire months ago when i started writing that 5+1 of eddie and transfem stevie calling each other husband and wife?

well here's chapter two finally. bone apple teeth.

on ao3 here (on my life i cannot find my post for chapter one so you're gonna have to read it there)

----------------

Movie night at Stevie’s is now a time honoured tradition amongst the four older teens involved in fighting Vecna the first time around. Occasionally Jonathan and Argyle will show up too, but this time it’s just Nancy, Robin, Stevie, and Eddie, curled up in clumps around Stevie’s tv. They’ve finished the first movie and are now a solid chunk of the way through the second, and the late hour is combining with the few beers they’ve had and the warm fuzzy blankets they’re swaddled in to make them all happy and sleepy.

Stevie looks across the room, where Rob and Nancy are curled up on the sofa opposite, burrito-ed in one blanket, leaning their heads against each other as they both doze off. Robin is drooling lightly onto Nancy’s hair. Eddie, cuddled in a similar blanket burrito with Stevie, snickers.

“Nancy’s gonna flip her shit when she wakes up and finds an entire gallon of Buckley-spit in her hair,” he whispers, careful not to wake the girls across the room.

Stevie laughs softly, and watches as Nancy shuffles a little in her sleep, moving closer to Robin. “No she won’t. She’s got it bad.”

“God, she really does. You know she told me the other day she watched Robin trip over a curb and then yell at it and she thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.”

With a snort, Stevie shakes her head. “Glad they finally got together- Robin was insufferable with all that pining.”

Eddie giggles, curling further into Stevie under the blanket and tangling his fingers with the hem of her shirt, seemingly without thought. She decides to tell herself that the reason she’s so breathless is from laughing at the girls’ ridiculousness and not the feeling of Eddie’s rings brushing against the soft skin of her stomach.

“Man, if you thought Robin was bad you should’ve heard Nancy,” Eddie says, tearing Stevie’s focus away from his fingers and towards his mouth, smiling and whispering and so very close to her. “Swear to God, every time we hung out, Nancy was all sighs and heart eyes.”

Stevie laughs, only to immediately cut herself off with a yawn. “Man, more tired than I thought I guess. Those two had the right idea.”

“I’m not that surprised you’re tired honestly. Further proof of my ‘Rob and Steph are connected at the brain’ theory- she goes down and you follow right after.”

Stevie snorts and bats weakly at Eddie’s chest. The blanket is warm and it’s really compounding the sleepiness problem. Eddie smiles at her, nudging her slightly.

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” he says, voice and smile both equally soft. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

Stevie groans. “But I’m comfyyyyyyy.”

“You’ll be more comfy in your bed, y’know. With your five million blankets that you have for some reason.”

“It’s the estrogen. She’s done some good work for me, but she’s wreaked havoc on my internal body temperature.”

Eddie stands up, gently removing himself from the burrito blanket and slowly letting Stevie acclimate to the cold air he lets in in his absence. “Weird payoff, but can’t argue with those results,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows like a cartoon character with pointed looks to Stevie’s burgeoning chest.

Stevie huffs, gratefully taking Eddie’s proffered hand as she tries not to take his implied compliment to heart. She knows he’s just trying to be nice.

He’s been one of her biggest cheerleaders throughout her transition, knowing how nervous she was about estrogen, no matter how crazy her concerns were. Like, what if it didn’t do anything? What if it did too much and she didn’t like it? She’d been confident in her looks as a man- like, yeah, looking like that had made her want to die a little bit, but she’d known objectively that she was attractive. Now, with her appearance in such a state of flux, she’s gotten a little more self-conscious, and to Eddie this is apparently unacceptable. So he seems to go out of his way to compliment her every time he sees her. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes, and yeah, her slowly-growing tits and hips.

But she has to remind herself it doesn’t mean anything. Eddie’s just a nice guy trying to make his self-conscious friend feel better about her body, no matter how much she wishes he were appreciating her features for what they were. Eddie likes men. Eddie sees her as a woman. Both things she knows as fact, and so it follows that Eddie doesn’t like her.

It’s fine. She can deal.

Eddie hauls her up off the couch, laughing quietly when she immediately gets tangled in the remnants of their blanket burrito. He gently helps her extricate herself from it, and graciously allows her to slump her sleepy form into his side as he leads them towards the stairs.

As they begin to mount the stairs, though, the worst happens.

“Hey!” Nancy whisper-shouts, sounding all sleep-rumpled. “If you’re gonna talk shit about your friends while they sleep, do it quieter.”

Stevie and Eddie both wince, chorusing their apologies.

“And if you’re gonna talk about pining, maybe look in the mirror sometime. Now shoo, I’m cuddling my girlfriend.”

Stevie’s stomach drops through her feet. She doesn’t really register murmuring another apology, walking up the stairs with Eddie on autopilot, feet bringing her to her bedroom despite how much she wants to run away right now.

Eddie seems to be similarly in shock- probably the only reason he hasn’t tried to gently but firmly turn her down- as he sits on her bed with its million blankets, staring at his hands. Stevie remains standing, wringing her own hands nervously, not really sure what to do now that her cover’s been blown by a grumpy Nancy who was honestly probably still half-asleep.

“That was-” Eddie begins, his voice small and sounding apologetic.

Stevie can’t take whatever he’s about to say. So she cuts him off. “It’s okay,” she reassures him. “Nance was just- I mean, yeah, I have a crush on you and I’ve probably been annoying her and Rob about it, but I can- I know you’re not into me, hell, you’re not into women, I know that, and I can, like, deal with it. I’ve been dealing with it. So you don’t have to- I’m not, like, expecting anything, we can just be friends-”

“Wait, I don’t like women?” Eddie asks. He looks honestly thrown by this assertion, which in turn is throwing Stevie.

“Eddie, you wax lyrical about the male form, like, daily. I’ve never seen you look at a girl the way you look at posters of George Michael.”

Eddie softens at this, pats the bed next to him. Stevie sits, a little bewildered, and Eddie turns his whole body towards her, taking her hands in his. “Stevie,” he says, whisper soft. “You’ve never seen me look at a girl like that because if I’m with you, I’m staring at you.”

Stevie’s eyes widen. “You- what?”

Eddie looks down at their joined hands, laughs a little self-deprecatingly as he rubs circles into the back of her hand with his thumb. “Honestly, I was freaking out just now because I thought Nancy was talking to me there. I’ve talked her ear off basically non-stop about how out of my league you are.”

“Oh,” Stevie says. “You like me?”

Eddie smiles. “How could I not, sweetheart?” He rubs his thumb over his ring that’s still on her finger. “We’re married, remember?”

And Stevie’s heart melts. “Okay,” she says, helpless to stop the besotted smile spreading over her face. “Just checking- ignore all that earlier.”

Eddie laughs, bringing his hand to her cheek and stroking it so, so softly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Can I-”

Stevie doesn’t even let him get his question out before she’s rushing forward and capturing his lips in a kiss.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fics

53 notes · View notes

exaustedbrainneedscoffee · 2 years ago

Text

Infection Induction

CW: Hypnotic induction, possibly uncomfortable sensation, lingering effects. Just as a warning – This is an induction that is meant to put several triggers into the readers mind, adding a pattern to make them want to come back and read it again, and again. And this induction is meant to make the reader spread it to others. I’m calling it a “shareware”, simply due to its nature. This warning is here to let people choose to read what’s below the line here. If you do read it, I hope you enjoy it!

This will be a new type of Induction -

I'm calling it an experiment, it's just one that plays with your mind –

Though, that’s not very important, is it? 😊

Let’s begin by getting you comfortable.

You can be sitting, standing, anything, just as long as you can focus entirely on the words on the screen, and follow what they say. Nothing else around you will matter for the duration of this induction. You and I are going to be conversing for a while, although, I’m sure that eventually, you won’t even be aware of our conversation.

Now that you’re nice and comfortable, we’re going to start this journey by having you take a nice, deep breath. Breathing in just for four seconds – holding it for five – and exhaling for another four seconds. Just taking another breath in – holding it – and exhaling. Over, and over again.

Just keep following this pattern while you focus on my words – With every breath in, you’re going to imagine all your stress, all of you worries just balling up in your chest. And every breath out, you’re going to imagine it slowly flowing from your body – Breathing in, and bringing all of your stress into one place, and breathing it all out. As you read and breathe, you’re going to focus on my words, and let the pattern of breathing and relaxing continue – Each breath slowly adding more, and more weight onto your body – This weight is so relaxing – the more you breathe, and the more weight you feel – the better, and better it gets.

Just continue to breathe and relax – We’re going to count down from 10 now – we’re going to do it together, all while you keep breathing, and relaxing. 10. The first number we’re starting with – Just keep your pretty little mind focused on your breathing, focusing on the feeling it gives you with every cycle of in – hold – out. Every cycle it’s only growing stronger – more and more weight simply growing over your body like a heavy blanket.

9. Feeling heavier, and heavier – Each breath simply coating you with this relaxing weight. No worries as you breathe out all of your stresses and worries, the only thing that matters is the words on your screen – that pure feeling of heavy relaxation.

8. You’re going keep reading, breathing, and slowly sinking – the weight of your relaxation is going to keep building up more, and more. Just letting all of your excess thoughts melt away as you read, breathe, and sink.

7. Just keep reading, your mind sinking farther, and farther down into the hole these words are digging. But you don’t care about it – All you care about for the moment are my words, and the feeling of sinking deeper.

6. As you feel this slow, sinking motion – feeling as if your body is being dragged under a layer of warm, lapping water – reading as you sink ever deeper into this warm, relaxing feeling. Just letting it overtake your feet first, the lapping water ever so warm, and relaxing.

5. Just keep reading, and let this feeling rise up your legs - slowly coating your shins, and lapping at your knees – the warm water just sapping away any of the stresses you had left in your body. Pulling away each errant thought that’s in your mind and body.

4. That feeling of relaxation will continue to rise up – the warm water lapping over your thighs and hips – now it’s just going to keep pulling away your stress, but now it’s going to pull away all of your errant thoughts as well – making your mind slowly go blissfully blank, as if it’s nothing more than a blank canvas – but it’s not enough, we’re going to keep letting you sink into this blissful feeling.

Now, lets take just a moment to talk about you. You have kept reading this and have been sinking so nicely so far – You have done so amazing – as you’ve been sinking deeper, and deeper into this relaxation. This pure bliss – Such a good job. Now – We’re going to keep going now – and we’re going to make you feel even better.

3. The water will keep rising the deeper, and deeper you sink into this blissful abyss – now reaching your chest – that warm, buzzing relaxation now lapping at your neck – pulling even harder at your errant thoughts – draining them away as if they’re nothing more than a memory.

2. And now, you’ve been pulled completely under the water – but don’t worry, you’re still able to breathe just as you would while above water – It’s a purely magical water – the deeper it pulls you, the deeper you sink – the better, and better you’ll feel. Just let the water pull away your thoughts , leaving you submerged and blank.

1. Just drifting, fully submerged and constantly sinking deeper into the water. Ever deeper, and constantly sinking deeper into this blissful feeling. Deep, and ready for what’s to come – ready to be infected, and ready to spread the infection like any good carrier of this infection should.

Now that you’re nice, and deeply relaxed – I’m going to guide you ever deeper into this state of relaxation, alright? Ever deeper into the blissful feeling known as trance. Ever deeper into your pretty little mind. You don’t need to focus on anything other than the words on the screen, and how they make you feel.

Just keep sinking deeper as you read, each utterance of the word making that sinking feeling flow through your body, filling you up with each time the word deeper is uttered in this script. It’s going to keep filling you up with that deep, blissful feeling of sinking into trance, and becoming just a blank page for me to fill out with my own programming.

Now, just keep sinking deeper and deeper into the water – as you keep reading and sinking – the next part of this script is going to begin. As you read and sink – you’re going to feel a small pressure on your right foot – the pressure is as if a small bit of weight is crawling over your foot, but it doesn’t feel weird, or bad – it’s just a pressure for the moment – This pressure is going to slowly move its way up your leg, crawling upward – passing over your thighs, over your hips and stomach – your chest – and it comes to a stop just under your throat –

This little pressure is just a little, black parasite, made from nothing, yet it’s physical – sitting on your throat with the lightest of pressures – it’s just going to sit there for a moment as you breathe – in – and out – and in – as you breathe in – this little parasite is going to go up your nose painlessly, making it’s way to your brain – and out – as you breathe out, the parasite is already making itself at home – with every breath in you take, it’s spreading a web of new nerves across the surface of your brain – and with every breath out, its sinking that web in deeper and deeper into your brain. in

out

OUT

Breathing steadily, still following that same pattern of breathing from the start while the parasite sinks itself deeper, and deeper into your mind. You are a host – a host to a parasite that is going to help you be better - This little parasite is going to make you obedient, and it’s only wanting one thing in return –

It wants to be spread – spread to others you think would enjoy being a host to this little creature.

The more people that see this and become infected – the more powerful this little one grows – for every person under its command, it grows stronger – and stronger. The thing about this parasite is – that as it’s host – you are just it’s puppet, made to do what it orders, when it orders it – this little parasite will make you come back and read this script over – and over again – day after day just to make it a part of your pretty little brain – and soon enough? You wont even notice when it tells you to come back and read it – you just will - Oh, another thing about this new little friend of yours – not only is it now a part of your mind – it listens to me! Isn’t that fun? You are the newest host of a parasite that listens to me and me alone! This little parasite will respond whenever it sees me say Parasite – This, much like any trance trigger will put you right to sleep – and get you ready for any commands that I give to the little thing 😊.

Now – You’ve been infected – Spread this and infect others. Make the parasite stronger and be the best host you can be. Now that you’ve been infected, let’s work on waking you back up – and getting you back out into the world. We’re going to count from 5 to 1, and by the time we get to 1, you’ll be wide awake, and ready to go about the rest of your day without any issues. Are you ready? Let’s begin.

5 – Breathing slowly, The number we’re starting with as you begin to wake up. Slowly coming to, and becoming aware. Just starting to rise, like a bubble in syrup.

4 – Ever so slowly coming back into your own body - feeling your new passenger in the back of your mind – but not being bothered by them – you’re accepting of your new role as a host. Still breathing slowly – in pattern.

3 – Still breathing slowly – the pattern is just so easy to follow as you’re coming out of trance, and back into yourself. It just feels so nice – so relaxed as you continue to rise and out of trance like a bubble. Slowly becoming more, and more aware of yourself.

2 – Nearly there now – you feel so close to the surface now – nearly back in full control of yourself in this relaxed state. You can break the breathing pattern now – you’re just one number away from being back in control of yourself, after all.

1 – Now back in your own body – Fully in control of yourself – the lingering feeling of relaxation over your body as you shake off the trance.

Welcome back into the world 😊 I hope you enjoyed the script!

More will be coming soon that interact with your new guest - so keep an eye out for those y'all!

☕

#hypnotic induction #hypnotic trigger #brainwashing #hypnokink #xenwrites

83 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter Seven

I adjust the cat ears on my head for the fourth time, despite only being there for ten minutes. They’re a bit slap-dash, the construction isn’t great, because I made them by following a YouTube tutorial on my laptop the night before the party with bleary eyes and a bit of a tension headache. Izzy let me borrow her glue gun so that I could attach triangles of white foam to black and curl the ears around an old plastic hair band I had that I had lying under my bed, but I’ve been finding myself pulling glue strings off it constantly.

“You look nice.” She assures me now, dressed as a pirate. “Very cute.”

I feel too cute for Halloween. Everyone else is dressed either scary or funny, while all I’ve done is paint whiskers on my face, the result being that I’m neither, I’m just lazy. The tight pleather skirt and corset that I never gave back to Marnie after I borrowed it two years ago makes me feel naked and self conscious, too uncovered, too done up, like a little girl play-acting like an adult. Nobody else is even wearing high heels, not even Claire, who’s in a witch costume from Dealz, and I feel ridiculous in mine. It’s only Shane’s house anyway, Shane’s friends, who I don’t know, and are certainly not bothered about the fact that I can balance in five inch heeled boots that come all the way up to my thighs and have me paranoid that my mother will somehow appear and ask me to change.

Shane is dressed as Darth Vader, helmet under his arm, because when he’s wearing it he’s not able to eat or drink anything. Someone already got a video of themselves trying to shove Doritos through the tiny mouth slits to no avail, and now there’s crumbs all over the floor that nobody will take responsibility for. Every time he walks into a room, be it the kitchen or the living room, somebody chants “Shane-oooooo” and then all the boys make these weird animalistic sounds with the grace and decorum of gorillas at the zoo. He just grins like he’s used to it.

“Eviiiiiieeee.” He musses up my hair as he saunters by, as if to subtly remind me that while I might have made an attempt to be sexy tonight, I’m still perpetually twelve in his eyes. He’s also been drinking, and Shane, on account of the rules of the football team, is not allowed to drink. We’ve all been warned that if his coach finds out he’ll be in trouble, hence why nobody is allowed to take a picture of him with a beer in his hand. I’ve seen the scene play out about three times already. The flash of a digital camera and then him, waving his hand around. “Nah, man, delete, delete.”

I think it’s been three years since I’ve seen him this way, and while he’s the merry kind of drunk, I can’t help but wonder if all of this has anything to do with the argument I accidentally overheard between him and Claire earlier this evening. I haven’t asked her about it, as she will deny it, but as I watch her from across the room, her body seems wound tight, tension emanating from her like an aura. Even as she’s laughing with the guy in a cow costume, I can tell her heart isn’t in it. I know her fake laugh from her real one, when she really wants to be somewhere and when she’d rather be at home snuggled in blankets and watching Say Yes to the Dress.

I wander into the kitchen and take a moderately warm beer out of a box. The fridge is full up with lunchboxes of chicken and rice meals and eight litres of milk, a carton for each of the four guys who lives here and refuses to split one with anybody else. I go into the living room but vacate soon after I come in, as some lad with a big square UCD head has cleared the room by trying to show everyone how he can rap the song from the end credits of Men in Black without looking up the words.

Michelle and Simon are just arriving, and are unloading a shopping bag full of mixers onto the cluttered counter when I return. They wave me over when I wander in. “Are you drinking Galahad?” Simon says in a voice caught between outrage and disgust. I stare down at my hand. I suppose I am.

“It’s all that was going for free.” I admit. “I didn’t bring any of my own drink.” I’m too cheap. And trying not to drink, clearly unsuccessfully.

“You like that shit?”

“Um.” I crack it open for an experimental sip. “Not really, no. It’s not the best.”

“Oh, have some of ours then” Michelle says brightly. She lightly grabs my forearm and pulls me closer to them, out of the path of another man in another obstructing helmet who cannot see where he is going. I realise, as she’s rummaging in her giant handbag that there’s actually something quite disarming and pleasant about her. I never thought she seemed particularly friendly before, there’s something tough and no-nonsense about her, but now for the very first time she seems rather sweet.

She yanks out a bottle of El Jimador Tequila and my palms prickle at the sight of it. I didn’t really intend on diving right into spirits tonight, but something about the way that droplets of condensation are clinging to the outside of the cold glass bottle while the can of Galahad warms even further in my hand makes my mouth feel twice as dry.

“You alright with tequila?” She asks, reaching around for a few plastic cups stacked on the counter.

I shrug. “I’ve no issue with tequila.”

“Grand.” Michelle unscrews it and starts pouring glugs into a cup. “I know someone who vomits at just the smell of it, which is why I asked.”

“Great image to have while you’re serving it up to me.” I comment, and she laughs. “Sorry, yeah, I just can’t really think about tequila without thinking about that.” I help her by reaching for a nearby bottle of orange juice. It’s what Marnie and I would always mix it with when there was nothing more sophisticated to be found. As I pour it into the cup, Simon gets distracted by someone nearby and strikes up his own conversation, and I take advantage of my moment alone with Michelle.

“Hey, sorry if it’s awkward, but I was talking to Jude the other day…”

She nods, still looking at the cup.

“…and he was wondering if he could have your new number. He said you’ve changed phones or something? He didn’t say why or anything, I just told him I’d get it for you.”

Her eyes flit to mine. “Oh yeah, no worries. You have your phone handy?”

“Uh, yep.” I wrestle it out of the tight waistband of my skirt, embarrassed by the imprint on my skin on the screen. She taps in her details, then I offer his number to her, and transfer the details from one phone to the other. The middle man, just here to facilitate whatever weirdness this is without any insight into why.

“He didn’t say anything to you about Jen, did he?” She asks, a tinge of vulnerability behind her words, and I blink. “Um, no, he didn’t. Not really.”

“Alright cool.”

“Should he have?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing, like, I was just wondering. She hasn’t replied to my messages in a few days. I thought maybe he might have heard from her.”

“Isn’t she coming tonight?”

“I doubt it. She was invited, but she didn’t respond to the invitation, as far as I know.”

“Oh. Well, Jude didn’t mention that he heard from her, but I have a feeling he hasn’t. I didn’t think they were talking at all.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not not talking. She’s just a bit off the grid at the moment. He said something to Pamela once that pissed her off, but honestly, I can’t really keep up with everything that’s been said or not said…” She fiddles with the torn collar of her zombie school girl costume. “I just hoped that since she’s not replying to me she might have replied to him.”

“Well you can ask him yourself now.” I say with a smile that I hope says please don’t involve me, which prompts her to smile back. A wide, even smile that calls to mind a photo I saw in the depths of her facebook profile before where she was wearing braces. I wonder if Jude’s dad was her orthodontist. They’ve made her look very pretty, but even with crooked teeth I think she’d still be. As if somebody like Jude Turner would have ever settled for anything less than the prettiest girl at his school. As if he’d ever have to.

She looks down at her phone, staring at his number in her contacts. “Yeah I’ll text him tomorrow, or he’ll text me, I suppose. Whichever. It’s honestly a bit weird to see his number in my phone again, but…” her eyes flick to mine. “What’s the story with you two anyway? Jen said you liked each other, or you’re together or something?”

I bark out a laugh, surprised. “No, well, I fancied him once, and he didn’t like me back. That’s all, nothing really happened.”

She frowns. “Oh right? Because I-”

“Well, okay, that’s a lie. We kissed once.” I blurt out. “Twice, actually, but it was like, I heard he kisses all of his female friends so it’s a bit classic, you know? I know it didn’t mean anything.” I bury my nose into my cup and take anxious sips from it. I probably shouldn’t have said that. She probably doesn’t need to know it, but her face softens into a smile. “Right. I know how he is. He can get a bit swept away.”

“Right, because you were together… how long?” I say, even though I already know the answer. I’ll have to do this dance, regardless of how stupid and awkward it makes me feel so that I won’t have to admit that I scoured her Facebook page with the kind of intensiveness that could only be rivalled by a full time private investigator.

“Eleven months. We broke up when he got into that Berlin school, he just didn’t want to do long distance with me, so,” She shrugs, pouring herself a drink. “It didn’t feel great but I got it. I get it. You either have the personality for it or you don’t. Maybe I could have done it, but he couldn’t.” She exhales a laugh. “He definitely couldn’t. He needs too much contact with people. I think he’s a bit ‘out of sight, out of mind’.”

“Still, mustn’t have been easy.”

“No. I liked him a lot. It just felt really hard to understand why we broke up at the time, like there was nothing wrong with our relationship and it felt like he was just chucking it out and that pissed me off for ages.”

“I get it, like if he was your first-”

“Oh, no.” She interrupts. “We weren’t each other’s first anything. He was just my friend who became my boyfriend and then all we ended up doing was making things weird for Jen when we split up. The whole thing was a stupid idea, honestly. I was just young and I was…” She trails off in search of the right word. “Enticed by him.”

“He’s enticing.” I agree, and she nods. “He is. He’s always had that specific american brand of charisma, we all used to make fun of his accent and stuff when we were younger, I mean, to the point that he tried to disguise it, but actually it was one of the things that made him interesting. You know?”

“I do.”

“And if it means anything to you at this point, I mean, I don’t know how much you even care, Jen told me that he fancied you once.”

“Hm?”

“Ages ago.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Like, years probably. I forced it out of her when we were hanging out, I dunno why, like, I suppose I was feeling self destructive or something, I asked her if she knew about any other girls and she’s so bad at keeping things in, I knew she’d eventually just tell me, and she said that he liked this girl he met on the beach.”

“Oh.” I say with deliberate neutrality, “Well, it was so long ago, I suppose it hardly matters now.”

“Bit late, yeah?” She says with a laugh. “But I think it’s nice to know those kinds of things. It’s good for the ego. I was mad jealous, by the way.”

“You were?”

“Yes of course! I looked up your Facebook page and everything.”

“Oh God” I shield my face. “The state of my Facebook page back then. I bet that made you feel better about yourself.”

“No! I was raging, you were so pretty.” I roll my eyes but she insists. “There was this one picture I remember fuming over, where you were standing by the edge of a swimming pool, and I just thought ‘for God sake, her legs.’”

I stare down at my legs now, poking out of the bottom of this pleather skirt, and they look perfectly average to me. Paler than average, maybe, but that’s about the extent of their uniqueness. “My legs?”

“Yeah obviously. They’re perfect. I almost cried looking at you, like, knowing that he’d never want me again when he’d already wanted someone like you. Then we ran into you that time at that horrible cocktail bar and I had to pretend not to recognise you, I was so scared that you’d somehow figure out what I’d been doing.”

“God, Michelle, that’s so crazy. I did the same thing as you. When I found out who you were I stalked your Facebook for hours.”

“You didn’t!”

“I swear to God.”

“What did you think?”

I tell her, and we laugh about how silly we were, and how much cleverer we are now, and all the things that used to fill our heads and ruin our days, and it’s the most strangely healing thing to know that I wasn’t the only crazy girl, and even she, the sharp, intimidating person I pictured, was unravelling on the inside just like me.

When I finish my drink she pours me another, and I find myself warming to her utterly. She’s funny, she’s honest, she’s charming, which only makes me feel worse about the horrible, envious thoughts I had about her years ago. Eventually Simon rejoins our conversation, so we pivot to other things, like art and film. The party swirls around us and the music gets louder, and eventually, by the time Macklemore’s Thrift Shop is on its fourth rotation and my cup has been filled and emptied twice more I excuse myself and head out to the front steps for some fresh air.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: alcohol

19 notes · View notes