#no but real talk she is not getting SHIT done in that hospital. she is squeamish as hell

[wildaboutchu2000]

🏥 for the ask game? i think it'd be funny (and kinda horrifying tbh) if she tried working at a hospital as one of her week-long stints

🏥 OC in a nurse uniform

those arent SCRUBS. GO CHANGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[runawaymun]

.

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 7

Warnings/Brief Summary: Marcus doing the must 💯|Ex being mentioned |Kelly and Dorn scolding reader🫠| Rita speaking facts🎙️ | Mike being done with the BS🙄| Next chapter might be the last part😢

Author’s note🗣️: I made this part a little long since I been M.I.A, enjoy ;) 💕

Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6  

———————————————————————

After mourning your skittles that you didn’t even have a chance to enjoy, you return back outside with your now tolerable father to discuss the plan on saving Christine from McGrath. 

Reaching the group, you noticed Mike and Armando standing to the side having a private discussion, but the more you watch their interaction, the faster you realized that Mike was lowkey praising his son's actions, giving him pats on the shoulder with a proud smile. 

Sensing an extra pair of eyes on him Mike looks past Armando, to see you and Marcus, standing with the group, giving him a quizzical expression, as he ‘disciplines' Armando for his actions.

Switching his face from proud to annoyed, Mike smacks Armando’s arm, pointing at him, while saying, "But you bet not do that dumb shit ever again.” 

Watching as Mike approach the group, with a perplexed Armando trailing behind him, you shake your head, amused by how Mike tried to cover his ass. Knowing that if he didn’t your father would start up with his mess again, but not to anyone surprise, Marcus already picked up on the bullshit.  

“Over there praising that boy for his hereditary playboy moves, Imma whoop your ass after this rescue, Mike!" pausing he look at Armando with a devious smile," Oh and I can’t wait to get my hands on you!” 

Rita cuts in before they could start bickering more, "ENOUGH! We need to focus on taking down McGrath, and not your kids FUCKING EACHOTHER!” 

Stunned by how her bluntness, you watch as everyone stood still, either too scared to talk back or still in shock. 

“Uh yeah, I think it’s time to focus on the real issue here.” you said swallowing hard as everyone gaze turn to you. 

“Alright so we need to call back u-” Rita begins to say but is cut off by Mike, "No can do were still wanted fugitives and I know that McGrath wouldn’t like the extra reinforcement......this needs to be executed by us and us alone.” 

Nodding her head she looks at Mike questionably, "Well how are we going to get their discreetly.” 

“With him." he said pointing at Lockwood with a determined look. 

“Mike will it be smart to use him.... he was the one that got us involved in this mess." Marcus said unsure by his decision to use Lockwood, knowing that he could fuck up the mission. 

“He’s the reason this shit started, and he’s the only one that has direct contact to McGrath." Nodding his head in understanding Marcus says, “I know but I don’t trust him when it comes to communicating with McGrath.” 

“I can help with that...I can easily transform Mike voice into Lockwood's, McGrath wouldn’t even know the difference.” Dorn says with certainty.  

“Well let’s get to work, we already waisted enough time." Rita says giving her approval of the plan. 

As everyone begins to break apart to get the plan in motion, you feel someone tug on your arm. Looking up you see Kelly giving you a forced smile, while tugging you away from any nosey listeners.

Already knowing what it might be about you roll your eyes, "Girl please don’t go into no rant about my dumb decision.” 

Exhaling she shake her head sending you a pointed look,” Y/N I don’t even want to hear it, the fuck was you thinking.... sleeping with his fugitive ass.”

Rubbing at your face you say, "I know Kells...I messed up, but it’s been a stressful week working at the hospital and shit with everything going on...I needed that relief.” 

“If you needed relief, you could’ve just called Rafe." she said folding her arms. 

“Why the fuck you keep bringing him up, I don’t want nothing to do with his ass after what he did to me.” you said folding your arms with a rigid expression. 

Studying you with her pensive eyes, she releases a sigh, "Okay, my bad for bringing him up but.... I would rather you deal with him than Armando.”  

Blinking you stare at Kelly with a blank face, completely frozen. 

“Kelly...since we all under a lot of stress and pressure right now.... Imma act like I didn’t just hear you say that stupid shit.” you said with a clenched jaw. 

“Y/N don’t be like that; you know what I mean.... I just want you to start messing with people that can raise your standards.”  

Pursing your lips at her words you say "Kells if I wanted someone who could raise my standards, I would just date one of the doctors from the hospital and finally fulfill your little greys anatomy fantasy.” 

Grinning she says, "Please do because I’m ready for some real-life Meredith and Derek action." Scoffing you say, "Girl, bye why you choose the most problematic characters.... matter fact they all problematic so never mind!” 

Giving each other a look you burst out laughing at y’all antics, "Besides, I'm already surrounded by that daily at work, so no thank you.” 

Calming down she smirks, "Okay fine...but you acting just like them, sneaking away so you can get som-”cutting her off you give her annoyed look. Kelly raises her hands in defense,” Hey, I'm just saying you gave it up pretty quick, you made Rafe wait for months before you let him hit.” 

“Don’t even try it, that was different, we were in a relationship, this was just a quick fuck.” you say already getting annoyed again by the mention of your ex. 

“Y/N, you do realize that ever since you got involved with this mess, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, and the way he's been glancing at you, says otherwise." she said pointing behind you. 

Gazing over your shoulder you see, Armando watching the interaction between you two, locking eyes, you see him smirk and give you a wink. 

Shaking her head at the scene in front of her Kelly mumbles “quick fuck my ass.” Breaking the intense eye contact you turn back to her saying Huh, with a lost expression. 

“One look at him already has you acting dumb.... damn girl he must’ve put some work in," Kelly says running her eyes over your figure. Snapping out of your stupor, you smack your lips, "He....ain’t do all of that, I mean don’t get me wrong it was good ...AMAZING....girl I’m not finna even lie...he had me wobbling.” 

Covering her mouth Kelly dramatically wipes away a fake tear, "He done turn my best friend into a hoe." As your about to say something smart you hear a familiar voice cut in "She not wrong Y/N/N, and I was being serious when I said you're going to my therapist.” 

Rolling your eyes, you peer up to see Dorn approaching, with a smug look. 

“Not you too......and y’all gonna stop using that hoe word so freely." you said pointing at both of them with a semi-serious look.  

“Y/N you had sex with him knowing that he was a fugitive...knowing that he killed Captain Howard....Knowing that he was trying to kill us in the process....and girl you barely know him." Pausing to scan your figure he says, "And by the looks of it you definitely didn’t use protection....A.K. A definition of a hoe.” 

Placing your hand on your chest in shock you say, "You did not just read me!” 

“I did but only out of love, cuz you need a wakeup call!" he says looking at Kelly, who nods her head in agreement. 

“First of all, I don’t need no damn ‘wakeup’ call, when I was fully aware of what I was doing, and secondly why is everyone forgetting I’m a grown woman,I can fuck whoever I want!” you said nose flaring while glaring at Dorn and Kelly. 

“Y/N were not judging you we just want was best for you.......especially after what happened between you and Rafe.” Dorn says with concern, while staring at his friend. 

“I know it’s just tiring hearing everyone criticize my actions." Rubbing your face in frustration, you sigh look everywhere but at them. Walking up to you, Kelly pulls you in a tight hug, silently allowing her presence to comfort you. 

Hugging her back you look to see Dorn standing their hesitantly, sighing you wave him over with a small smile. Embracing the comfort of your friends you say, "I love you guys but I swear your worser than my parents." 

 Laughing Kelly pulls away shaking her head in disagreement,”Nah,Y/N your dad is definitely worser than us, he had me in a death grip earlier mumbling about how your gonna birth gangster babies!” 

“No, he didn’t!” you say glancing at Dorn for confirmation, not believing it, watching as he gives a firm nod of his head with a smile, had you rolling your eyes. 

“Y’all are going to be the death of me.”you said laughing while wiping at your eyes. 

 Shivering slightly from the light breeze you say, "We should make our way back to the other’s I know they’re wondering where we ran off to.” 

As y’all begin to make your way back towards the front of the lake house you start to hear yelling and scuffling. Looking at Kelly and Dorn they quickly make their way to the front immediately drawing their guns. Following behind them quick as well, you see them pause, confused and alarmed at the sight before them. 

Stepping out from behind them, your just about to ask why they stopped until your eyes landed on the scene in front of you. 

Marcus seemed to have caught Armando lacking because the sight in front of you doesn’t even seem real and to be completely honest you pinched yourself to double check. Somehow your dad had Armando in a headlock, while shouting some crazy shit at him, as Mike tried to pull him off his son. 

Watching as Armando runs in circles trying to pry your father off him without truly hurting him, made you spring into action. ”DAD..WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" you say trying to pull him off along with Mike. 

“YOU THINK YOU CAN SLEEP WITH MY BABY WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES! OH, HELL NAH!” Marcus say seemingly lost in his on frustration.  

Listening as Armando lets out a few grunts and cuss words in anger, as your father tighten his hold on him, almost made you laugh but the agitated look he sends you had you biting your lip instead. 

Moving in front of Armando you attempt to remove your father arms as you yelled, "HOW THE HELL, DID HE GET YOU! IN A HEADLOCK?!” 

“Mierda, no sé, estaba hablando con Mike y luego lo siguiente que sabes es que se está aferrando a mí como un puto gorila!(Shit, I don't know, I was talking to Mike and then the next thing you know, he's clinging to me like a fucking gorilla!)” he growls in spanish becoming agitated the longer Marcus hangs onto him. 

“BOY DID YOUR ASS JUST CALL ME A MONKE-” finally breaking his hold Armando fly's forward in your arms causing you both to fall, while your dad was being held back by Mike who was starting to struggle. Seeing this Dorn and Kelly runs over to help Mike restrain Marcus as he continues to thrash around crazily. 

Somehow during the fall Armando shifted your weight causing him to take most of the impact. Groaning you roll to the side, trying to catch your breath. Moving your head in his direction, you were met by his pained expression as his eyes scan over your face. 

“You're okay, Nena?” he says breathing hard to catch his breath, nodding your head, you grimace as you sit up, eyes quickly assessing him. 

“I should be asking you that." you said slightly winded from the fall but eyes remaining on him with concern. Sending you a small smile, he nods his head still trying to catch his breath. 

Looking at your father who has a satisfied grin on his face, made you rolled your eyes at his immature behavior. "I can’t believe he did that.... he’s literally the cause of his on stress.” you said still in disbelief by what just happened. 

Hearing slight movement, you look back to see Armando, sitting up looking more annoyed than in pain now. "I wanted to throw him off of me.... but I knew that would’ve caused more problems." he said sending you an unsure look as he waits for your response. 

“Yeah, that definitely would’ve made it worse but to be honest..I don’t think anyone would blame you." you said with a smile. 

“You guys alright!” Mike says as he makes his way over to you two. Nodding your head, you move to stand up, letting out a moan in the process. "Just a little sore but other than that nothing too serious.” 

Offering Armando your hand, you pull him up from the ground, with little effort. “I’m just surprise that he attacked me...I mean Y/N warned me but I didn’t think he was actually going to do something. "Armando says dusting himself off while gazing between you and Mike. 

Mike rolls his eyes at his reply, "Marcus little ass always trying to prove a point, he didn’t mean no harm by it, and thank you for not hurting him.... I know you could have.” 

“Yeah, thank you for that." you said giving his shoulder a light squeeze in appreciation. Gazing up at him with a smile you were met with a smirk, confused you tilt your head to the side silently questioning him. 

“I can think of a few ways you could.....really thank me.” he said pulling you into his side while giving your hip a light squeeze. 

“See that’s the reason we dealing with Marcus's bullshit right now." Mike says pulling you away from Armando with a disappointed look.  

” Keep your nasty ass hands to yourself, matter of fact until this mission is over with, y’all ass bet not be near each other...comprende!”he says glaring at you two but more at Armando. 

Shaking your head, in agreement you gaze over at Armando, who is squinting his eyes at Mike. Watching as they have a staring match, made you raise an eyebrow in amusement, giving Mike a fake smile Armando says sure. 

Exhaling nosily through his pursed lips, Mike just accepts that it was a lost cause, "I swear if y’all give Marcus another reason to flip the fuck out tonight, he ain’t gonna be the one you have to worry about.” 

And with that he walks away seemingly done with dealing with everyone’s problems. Sighing you move to leave as well but is stopped by Armando grabbing your hand, "You gonna let his little threat stop us from having some fun."  

Glancing up at him you see him peering at you with a coy smile, "No, but I think we done had enough fun tonight." you say slightly narrowing your eyes at him. Rolling his brown eyes, he pulls you in a small embrace, hands falling to your waist. 

“Okay fine...but I still think I deserve a reward for not acting on my impulses." he says looking down at you with want. 

Fluttering your eyelashes in fake contemplation, "I don’t know.... you did show restraint when it came to my dad.... but right now, you're struggling with staying away from me.” 

Eying the way you lightly run your hands against his arms, made him smirk, "Doesn't seem like I’m the only who’s struggling, querida.” 

Staring up at him with a teasing smile,” Oh I’m not struggling at all, in fact I’ve been wanting to jump on you, since we left the apartment," pausing you look away from him, gazing at the others, "but for their sake, I'll wait until we rescue Christine.” 

Grabbing your chin, Armando pulls your attention back to him, "Well I can wait as long as you want, the only thing I want from you right now is a kiss." he says tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I think I can manage that." leaning forward you lick your lips in anticipation, "I mean after all I still need to reward you….right."

Keeping his intense gaze on your full lips,he hums in agreement.Deciding to tease him a little you lean up and give him a quick peck.

Shifting his low lidded brown eyes to yours,he reaches a hand down to pinch your ass hard,”Don’t be a fucking tease,Y/N.”

Jumping from the pinch you smack his chest playfully,”Okay,fine just wanted to see how eager you were.”

Pressing your full lips against his warm soft ones made you release a content sigh,as he pressed your body closer to his.

Shivering lightly from the way his tongue grazed yours,made you pull away from the kiss,”It might be smart to stop now before this get out of control.”you said taking in a breath while giving him a smile.

Staring down at you in thought, Armando smirks,”What…scared of giving them a show?”

Smacking your lips you pull away from his embrace,”No…I’m worried the longer I stay in your presence,the more I realize that I might actually have hoe tendencies.”

Face going blank he says,”What?”

Laughing at his expression you take his hand,pulling him with you as you walk towards the others.”Nothing just…never mind,I’ll explain it later.”

Armando trails behind you,still confused but choosing to disregard it as he keeps a sharp gaze on the way your hips sway.

“Y’all done being all lovey dovey.”Marcus say eyeing the way you keep a tight grip on Armando hand as you approach.Rolling your eyes at your dads comment you say,”Maybe…you done acting like a fool?”

Rolling his eyes as well,he cross his arms,while watching you two,”…..For the sake of my future grandchild,I am.”

You and Armando eyes immediately widen in shock,as y’all say,”What!!!”

__________________________________________

Authors Note🗣️:Marcus just don’t know when to quit ,and y’all starting to get on Mike nerves 😭😭😭.

⬇️That’s your ex Rafe(I wonder why he wasn’t in the new Bad Boys🤔)

[worldly-fluster]

The LADS boys when...someone else asked you out/says I love you, before him.

(it's either A:prank or B:a friend of yours that asked you how to ask someone out. I think only one of them will be a real one...dunno yet.)

Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

There will be a part 2 to this, just saying lol

Also, I started this because I was daydreaming of Zayne's practically all day. Oh and Xavier's, I had like, three different ideas for his lol.

Sylus-

•Okay so, who would be dumb enough to confess to you, knowing that the big bad leader has a soft spot for you?

•Of course, someone who has no idea you are even involved with him. That's who.

•Sylus watched as you went to go get your coffee from the barista. A Macha Green Tea Smoothie with a little bit of Vanilla and some whipped cream on top. He has that shite memorized. (Sorry if you no like, this is my fav drink from Scooters, you can pretend it's your favorite instead)

•He saw how the customer that just walked in paused when he saw you, before he smiled and called your name.

•you knew this random man??

•Sylus thought he knew everyone that you knew but with how you were greeting this guy-wait what, you're hugging him???

•Sylus' jaw set as he watched. He had to wait for you for months to get comfortable with him enough to so much as hold his hand, and this rando gets a hug in seconds?

•Nah. Nope. Not upset. Not even a little- was that a kiss on the cheek?????

•He's glaring both of you down, but he decided not to interfere with anything because you just started getting comfortable with him. He doesn't want to ruin that over, jealousy?, no, he'll hold himself back. For now.

•...maybe, if this guy stops holding your hands while you both talk. It's really annoying.

•Finally you both are saying goodbye to each other, he nearly sags in relief, until he hears it.

•"Bye babes! Love you!"

•...oh no.

Xavier-

•Tara was bored.

•She was also tired of watching Xavier fawn and hover over you like a worried mother hen.

•So she hatched a plan.

•She asked Nero to join in said plan.

•He was done with Xavier's shit too.

•The plan...backfired. Horribly.

•All it was, Nero was supposed to ask you for coffee and while of this 'date' he was to tell you as a joke that he likes you very much, as a friend, and he would like to become best friends.

•He barely walked away after asking you for a Coffee date.

•Xavier was unsettled.

•He completely forgot that other men might take you away from him...he feels he was too comfortable with how things were that now he's worried you will choose someone else...he doesn't want to lose his star.

Zayne-

•So Dr.Grayson needed some help and ended up calling you. So you went to the hospital while he was on his break and you both were trying to go over what he should say to this girl

•"How you doin'?" "NO."

•Zayne was walking by when he thought he heard your voice so he walked over only to hear Grayson saying, "I like you...love you even, will you go out with me?"

•Pause. Wait a minute. What the f-

•Zayne stands, frozen to his spot. Not aware of his surroundings nor hearing you respond to Grayson's 'confession'. He hardly reacted when you walked up to him.

•it took you snapping your fingers in his face to finally snap out of it.

•He blinked rapidly for a moment and locked eyes with you.

•"What...what are you doing here?" He could barely get out this sentence.

•"Grayson called me, said he needed help with something- are you okay?"

•Zayne looks kinda faint...oh shit.

•next thing everyone knows, Zayne is passed out in your arms.

•Everyone panics and it turns out Zayne has been overworking himself, the added stress of thinking that someone confessed to you before he could, didn't help.

•The thought of you with someone else also didn't, in fact, help.

•Next thing he knows he's in his office, on the couch with a fluffy, familiar, blanket covering him.

•Its your blanket that you always use when you pass out in his office after the check ups, cause no one would bother you there. Not on his watch.

•it smells strongly of you too...

•he sits upright immediately when he remembers and looks around the office...sadly you weren't there because Jenna called you out for a briefing, but he didn't know that.

•He went to pick up his phone to call you when he saw a note on top of it.

•"Get some rest Zav- doctors orders!! <3"

•His heart felt like it was gonna explode. Yet...he still couldn't get it out of his head that you might be dating someone else...

Rafayel-

•The day started out normal

•he got up, texted you, started painting, texted you, took a bath, texted you, complained to Thomas that you weren't answering his texts, calls you.

•the usual.

•What he didn't expect was when you 'called' him back. (You butt dialed him lol)

•so when he answered with an over excited 'hello?!' he was not expecting you to be talking to someone else.

•"Yeah, Tara he's just so...*dreamy sigh* I can't help but love him you know?..."

•He sat straight as he listened to you talk about this mystery guy and how you 'love him so much'... He might cry.

•Hangs up the phone before you even say who it is, he's so distraught, didn't hear that you were talking about him and asking Tara how you might be able to confess or if it was even a good idea.

•Mopes about the rest of the day, wanting to text you, call you, anything but he refuses to at the moment...he's too busy wallowing in self pity and cuddling the plushies and blankets that you leave at his place.

•You're supposed to be here...making him feel better but he guesses that you would rather be with mystery man than him...

[itsmarsss]

a great thing [Miguel Diaz x Fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

(~from the vault~)

He left you a voicemail telling you he had news less than an hour before he was kicked down the second floor.

Word count 3,060

[ . . .]

Exhausted was the word.

For exactly two weeks and two days, you slept on the unbelievably uncomfortable couch in Miguel’s hospital room, adamant about doing so no matter what anyone told you.

And everyone tried to tell you something.

Carmen, Rosa, Sensei, Demetri, Hawk, Aisha (through phone), even Sam. Nothing made you budge: you were staying until he woke up and that was final.

You’d wake up in the morning, have lunch with Carmen and Rosa, talk to him in hopes that he could hear you, go home, take a shower, change, get back and repeat. Every single day.

Every day was harder.

Every friend that came to visit with that look on their face, every visit from Sensei, every time his mom would break down crying and beg for him to make it through, every prayer from his grandma, every one-sided conversation you’d have with him as he stayed unconscious. Everything was harder these days.

So yeah, you were exhausted.

Sometimes Hawk would bring you lunch for you to share, and he’d distract you with conversation that he’d occasionally include Miguel in with a “you hear that, man?” or something of the sort, which made you smile.

Or Demetri would bring you comic books to keep you entertained, staying a couple hours at a time and silently reading beside you to keep you company.

Aisha called every day to check in and Sam visited once in a while. Sensei Lawrence visited all the time, his mom and Yaya were obviously always there, even Daniel LaRusso visited once. But nothing really felt like real company when Miguel was there but not really there.

You’d been spending day after day without your best friend and you were starting to grow a sort of anger towards everyone and everything, replaying the fight over and over in your head and growing more and more irritated as the days went by. God help Robby Keene if he ever got face to face with you.

And then Miguel woke up.

After two entire weeks and almost everyone around you losing hope, he woke up, while you were asleep. You woke up scared, groggy, confused about all the noise: the loud beeping, the yells, the motioning, the sudden amount of people in the room, Carmen yelling Miguel’s name- oh no, was he… no, his mom wasn’t yelling out of despair. She was happy.

And you realized it: he was awake.

He was awake!

He was awake and trying to talk and god damn you couldn’t see a thing through the tears and it was like you were paralyzed, unable to move as you processed the situation, barely believing what was happening. This had to be a dream, it had to be, but it wasn’t!

The day after that, you slept in the hospital room yet again. In the same unbelievably uncomfortable couch, but you slept way, way more comfortably than the nights before. The usual ‘good night’ directed at him every night was met with a smile this time.

The day after that one, you went home. For the first time in two weeks and three days, you slept in a bed. Your two-week suspension was already done with, but you let yourself sleep well into the afternoon.

Everything that happened during the days after that was a blur, nothing short of a rollercoaster. You cried silently while Miguel and you watched as a doctor told his mom he would maybe never be able to walk again and you hugged Hawk tight when he told you he’d gathered money to help pay for the medical costs and you went back to sleeping on the couch in the cold hospital room after the surgery.

And then the day came. Miguel was finally out, and you couldn’t even believe it.

He deserved a great thing, for a change.

“Holy shit! You haven’t seen actual sunlight in so long! How’s it feel?”

“Yeah I kinda feel like a vampire,” he remarked, covering his eyes from the sun with his hands. Carmen and Rosa walked within a distance behind the two of you as you pushed his wheelchair forward.

“You know you don’t have to push me?”

“Yeah but it’s fun.”

“Not more fun than being the one riding the wheelchair.”

“Oh we’re bragging? Push yourself then.” You pretended to be mad and retrieved your hands from the handles, crossing your arms in front of your chest in fake indignation, and he turned the chair to face you, feigning offence.

“Wow I thought you’d go easier on me after everything!”

“I would never go easy on you.”

“Wait! I just had the best idea.”

“Okay?” You said as for him to go on, not entirely trusting him.

“Sit on my lap.”

“What?” You ignored the burning feeling on your cheeks, blaming it on weirdness of the proposition, not what he was telling you to do.

“Sit on my lap! If you’re so jealous I’ll take you with me.”

“No way.”

“Why?”

Yeah, why? “Because- because we’re so gonna fall!”

“No we’re not! Do you not trust me?”

“I don’t, actually!” You let out a laugh.

“Shut up!” He exclaimed, smiling that smile of his.

Yeah, that one. Could you really say no to that? “Oh, my God,” you muttered, but did as he said, carefully sitting yourself down on his thighs.

“Okay, ready?”

“No?”

“Wrong answer!” He pulled on the wheels fast, picking up speed, and you had to support yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Miggy! Don’t do that!” His mom yelled after you, and you both laughed, out of breath with the adrenaline, when he stopped.

You waited as Rosa and Carmen walked up to you, only noticing you were still on his lap when Rosa shot you a funny look.

[ . . . ]

“Oh my God, Carmen, this is so good!” You exclaimed as you ate, Miguel agreeing with you eagerly by nodding his head.

“Thank you, mija! I missed having dinner with my baby,” she added, smiling at Miguel.

“We’ve had dinner together every day since I woke up!”

“Not proper dinner at the table! Different things, Miggy.”

As dramatic as it sounds, you couldn’t help but think about how utterly alive Miguel made all three of you.

You finished the food quickly and took off to Miguel’s room. You both laid on his bed on opposite ends, both facing the ceiling, in a comfortable silence that came after about an hour of talking about random things.

You propped yourself up by your elbows to face him. “Do you want me to stay over?”

He tilted his head to look back at you. “What?”

“If you want me to. I know it’s your first night out and all-”

"Why wouldn’t I want you to?” He smiled, and you couldn’t fight a smile yourself.

Then there was a knock on the door. “Guys?”

“Yeah mom?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah!”

With that, Carmen opened the door immediately, smiling at the sight of the two of you. “Just making sure. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, mom,” he laughed. She’d been checking in way more often than usual, but Miguel understood. He always understood.

"Just asking,” she smiled. “Do you need me to take you home, sweetheart?” She asked you, and you turned to Miguel, sharing a look that silently told him ‘I’m not the one asking her!’

“Um can Y/N stay over tonight? Just tonight?”

“Yeah of course! Sweetheart you know you can always stay over. I’ll bring you some blankets, we can-”

“Anything’s fine! Really.”

“Oh honey I’m sorry you won’t be comfortable-”

“It’s alright, promise!” You reassured her, and she was back with about 5 blankets in no time, laying four on the floor right next to Miguel’s bed for you to lay on and handing the fifth to you for you to cover yourself with, along with a pillow too.

[. . .]

You were both stupidly tired-- and reasonably so- but neither of you could sleep. You tossed and turned around on your make-shift blanket mattress but just couldn’t seem to find a comfortable enough position, sighing in frustration at the empty tries.

“You okay?” Miguel spoke up in a whisper, scaring you. Wasn’t he asleep?

“Did I wake you up?”

“No. Was awake.”

“Can’t sleep either?”

“Is it the floor?”

“No, it’s fine-”

“You wanna come up here?”

“What?”

“I think there’s room for the two of us. I’m not that ripped, you know, I don’t take up that much space” he joked.

You chewed on your bottom lip, unsure if this was a good idea. "You sure?”

“Yeah it’s fine.”

As you went silent, deciding on what to actually do, you head Miguel shifting his body around to try and make room for you.

“Just- just climb up here.”

You got up and did as he said, struggling to make yourself fit in the bed with him. "This isn’t gonna work,” you commented.

“Yes it is, wait,” he moved your shoulders, turning your back to him, and scooted closer to the wall to make more space for you.

“Isn’t this uncomfortable for you? It’s gonna give you pressure sores.”

“How do you know about pressure sores?”

“I pay attention to what your doctors say!”

“Stop worrying!” You could hear him smiling as he whispered to you. “My legs are positioned right, if you wanna know so bad.”

“Fine. But you better not be lying.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m… not gonna invite you to my ninth birthday party.”

“Okay that’s way too low even for you.”

“Yeah so I’d be careful.”

“Copy that.”

It was all peacefully quiet for no more than about twenty seconds before he started moving his arms around.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where to-” he moved his arm around, settling on placing it around your waist, carefully. “Is this okay?”

You felt yourself inhale a sharp breath. It should be okay. Right? It should be completely and totally chill and fine and normal. “Yeah it’s fine.” You didn’t know if he had heard the hesitation in your voice, but he questioned you again.

“Is this weird?”

“What do you mean?”

“This? We’re kinda cuddling.”

“Why, is it weird for you? I- I can go back to the blankets-” you were already moving to stand up but he pulled you closer to his body by your waist.

“No! I- I mean- it’s not. I’m just asking. Cause I don't want you to be uncomfortable. This is fine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re not uncomfortable? You know you don’t have to lie right?”

“No, I'm not! I promise. This is… nice. Uh- you know what I mean.”

You didn’t, exactly. “Yeah.”

Silence again.

“Did you actually sleep on that couch every night?”

"Why are you thinking about that?"

"'Cause we're talking about being comfortable and that did not look comfortable."

You laughed. “Yeah it wasn't exactly the best sleep of my life."

“Was it better than my bedroom floor?”

You let out a loud laugh and elbowed his chest slightly. “Your mom was very nice for setting that up for me!”

“Hey don’t hit me! I just got out of the hospital!”

“Oh that’s very sweet of you to think I care.”

“Oh I know you care! ‘Cause someone slept in the hospital for two weeks for me.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get back to talking about your bedroom floor.”

“No take backs! You were worried about me.”

“Yeah no shit.” Your tone wasn't playful anymore.

He paused. “I’m sorry I scared you like that.”

“Dude, you’re the one who got pushed down the second floor. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah,” he let out a weak laugh. “I guess.”

God, these silent pauses were getting unbearable. “What were you gonna tell me?”

“What?” He questioned, clearly confused.

“You left me a voicemail. Before- you know.”

“Yeah. Right.” Was his heart actually beating a little faster or were you imagining it?

“I know it’s probably something stupid that probably doesn’t matter now, that’s- that’s why I didn’t mention before but-”

“But?”

“It’s stupid.”

"You can tell me.”

“I uh. I replayed it a lot. While you were- you know.”

“You did?”

You couldn’t believe he sounded so surprised. Was it that surprising that you wanted to hear his voice again while was in a coma for weeks?

“I mean it was kind of the last thing you said to me before it happened. I didn’t actually talk to you that day so.” When he didn’t say anything, you tried to lighten up the mood, cursing yourself for bringing it down. “I’ve even got it memorized!”

“No you don’t,” he laughed.

“I do!”

“No way!”

“Do too!” You fake-gasped feigning being offended, turning around to face him- startling yourself for a half-second when you realized how close your face was to his, causing you to turn a bit more to lie on your back so you could face the ceiling instead of him, though he very much hadn’t let go of your waist in the process.

You once again set your mind elsewhere to avoid thinking about it too intently, clearing your throat dramatically before imitating the way he spoke.

“‘Um. Hey. Sorry I didn’t walk with you today. I’m not- I’m not ignoring you or anything. I just- I figured something really important out last night and I- I was gonna tell you like… 10 minutes ago but I didn’t- shit I have five more seconds anyway I’ll tell you at lunch bye-’ and then you got cut off.”

“Holy shit. I don’t even remember what I said word for word like that.”

“You had other things going on,” you joked, looking at him (though not turning your body to face him again yet) for a moment before averting your eyes to the ceiling again.

“You replayed it every day?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cute.”

“Shut up. So… what is it? You made me wait for weeks, you need to tell me!"

He shifted a bit. “Uhhhh-”

“Come oooonn, you seemed excited about it!”

“Yeah but it’s not- it’s not that big of a deal.”

Now you’d gained back enough composure to actually turn your head to look at him. “You said it was really important!”

“I… didnt?” He tried.

You only quirked an eyebrow up at him. He sighed.

“Did you actually get back with Sam? Is that it?”

“What?”

“I mean Tory was obviously pretty pissed. And the same day barely half an hour before all that happens you tell me you’ve got big news?”

“I’m not back with Sam.”

“I’m not gonna judge you if you are! Well I am actually. Obviously. But not that bad!”

“I’m not with Sam!”

“So Tory really did all that for nothing?”

“I mean, kind of? I did break up with her the night before. Right before Sam found me. And then Sam kissed me and guess Tory saw it but- we didn’t- we didn’t get back together.”

“What was it you wanted to say then?”

Silence.

“Did you get yourself in something? Is it bad?”

“I- I’m in love with you.” He was so quiet you almost didn't hear him.

“I mean it seems-” wait. “what?”

He let go of your waist, pushing his body up so he could sit down, you doing the same. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t gonna tell you like this. That’s- pretty obvious, but- I even. I left sensei a voicemail about it too-”

Non-stopping rambling from his part, complete silence from yours.

“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like this and it’s- it’s fine if you don’t-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Shut up. Just- for a second.”

“Oh- okay.” He stopped the rambling, but his widened stare kept itself trained on yours, as if trying to pry your thoughts out of your head through them.

You took a deep breath, trying to rationalize out loud what he’d just told you. “You’re in love with me. That’s what you were gonna tell me.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?"

He seemed taken aback by the question. It was understandable that it was not the first think he would've imagined you to say in return of his confession. “How do I- know? I guess. I guess Sam kissed me that day. And I tried to kiss her back to see if there was anything still there, but there… wasn’t. And I had like just broken up with Tory for that exact same reason. I was dating these girls I didn’t have feelings for and I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t have feelings for them.”

“'Cause you’re in love with me,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

“I mean- yeah. I’m sorry. I can- I can sleep on the couch if you want-”

That snapped you out of your trance-like confused state. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch, idiot!”

“But-”

“Are you sure? Like 100%?”

“Yeah, but-” It was impulsive, and you knew you probably should’ve said something before doing it, but what better way to show him you liked him back- as you’d just figured out yourself that very moment- than kissing him? So you did just that: you kissed him. In the dark, in his room, on his bed, with a million different problems to deal with, but that little moment, with him smiling against your lips, that was yours. A tiny little great thing in the middle of the chaos around you.

Yet another silence followed after you slowly pulled away from him, but this one was comfortable, content.

Miguel smiled at you. “So does this mean you like me back ooor?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, smiling too, before pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again. You could definitely, without a doubt, get used to this.

“We’ve been friends for years and we haven’t done this before?” He asked, out of breath, when you pulled away again and you laughed, feeling light as a feather.

“We should go to sleep, Diaz." You teased. "Your mom’s gonna get mad at me if you don’t sleep enough.”

“I am so in love with you.”

“Aw you have a crush on me? that’s embarrassing.”

“Shut up!”

"Yeah, yeah I'm in love with you too or whatever."

Maybe you deserved a great thing for a change too.

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

=Tim Wright/Masky=

- Twenty seven, only a little older than Brian.

- 6’0, buff dad bod.

- White with a small percentage of Native American.

- His childhood was ROUGH. His mom just dumped him off at a psyche ward whenever he started having hallucinations and rarely ever went to visit. He grew up completely isolated other than the other patients, never had any parental care or real friends. At around fifteen he burnt down the hospital and lived on the streets for a few years.

- After he was able to get into college he met Brian, and they immediately got along. Tim can’t communicate his feelings or even know what he’s feeling, but Brian can easily read people, is easy to talk to, and open minded, which is exactly what Tim needed. In all honesty, Brian’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a family.

- He is so desperate to feel any sliver of normality. Living at a strange, paranormal mansion, not remembering anything he does on missions, and not being able to have any normal social life makes him physically ill. Occasionally the proxies get a month or two off and that really the closest he ever gets to feeling normal, or even happy. Being able to watch TV in a normal house, go grocery shopping, get a part time job, do anything without worry or guilt, it’s the only good part about his life.

- Genuinely has a smoking issue, if you couldn’t tell. Goes through like two packs a DAY and has to buy them in bulk like a middle aged woman getting almonds at Costco.

- Has a little apartment a few miles away from the mansion with Brian. They were originally going to get separate ones close by, but Brian was too worried Tim would sieze out or have an episode to leave him alone.

- He gets sick SO easily. Not just from The Operator, he catches a cold at least every other month.

- Has an old, rusty pick up truck him and Brian drive around.

- Gets along surprisingly well with Natalie, sometimes they smoke together. It’s hard for him to understand her accent, but he doesn’t mind her company nonetheless. He finds her super interesting, and extremely intimidating — but he’d never mention that.

- Doesn’t necessarily mind Toby, but he does think he’s kind of an asshole. They get along on occasion, however he can be a jerk. To Tim he’s a snarky, reckless teenager, and to Toby Tim’s a nagging older brother who won’t ease up. When they have to work together Brian is usually alongside them, and his demeanor somewhat evens them out.

- Shockingly enough, he’s a morning person. Especially in the spring. Right before the sunrise when theres a light blue haze, dew on the leaves and buildings, and a cool breeze, it’s one of the rare times he feels peaceful.

- Almost exclusively eats microwaved meals. He can’t cook for shit and he doesn’t care enough to try.

- When him, Brian, and Toby are stationed away from the mansion they stop at hole in the wall diners. He always gets a black coffee and scrambled eggs, he likes to see if the places make them any different than the others.

- He listens to country music.

- Can’t really figure out any new technology. He’s not old or anything, he just has no means to. Still has an iPod and listens to CDs.

- More onto Masky now!!

- Unlike Hoodie, this guy does have malicious intent. Can and will attack anyone who possesses him off or gets in his way.

- EXTREMELY short temper. Won’t put up with Toby whatsoever and has beaten the shit out of him, no remorse.

- He is aware of what happens in Tim’s life, rather than how Tim doesn’t know what happens when Masky fronts. If something or someone slightly upset Tim, Masky is FUMING. Any slight emotion Tim feels, he feels ten times stronger — and more aggressively.

- Hoodie gets on his nerves, but they work well together. Masky is ruthless and doesn’t care what happens to who, while Hoodie is only aggressive by order.

- Masky prefers Kate over any proxy, even though him and Hoodie work together the most. She knows hot to shut up and get shit done, and he almost admires her for it. She’s fast, efficient, and not empathetic when it comes to victims. The only reason they’re not always paired together is because their killing styles don’t line up. She’s a hunter, while Masky is a brute that focuses on how he kills.

- He can front for extremely long, sometimes up to a few months, and when he fronts he does not sleep at all, which bites Tim in the ass.

- Extremely high pain tolerance. He can get stabbed and still be focused on getting the job done, he’ll deal with the pain after the fact.

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

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 8: The Favor

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

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

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: Don't worry

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

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Part 8: The Favor {You Are Here}

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They won’t tell me that, either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think her memory will…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean, looking for an Alpha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

But you are nowhere to be seen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

A few green strings lead to fun facts like:

Watches true crime

Likes to read

Works at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital

Born in Palo Alto, California

Fireman Tom

Front Desk Westbrook

Atrioventricular canal defect

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s suddenly eight years old again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stilinski.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “For how long?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What other things have we done together?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did we slow dance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ollie misses you,” he smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that with the jeep you mentioned?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle and it strikes Stiles.

“What sort of job would that be?”

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

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

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

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How much is a bunch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We did,” he says quickly, “We do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is your granddaughter?”

“Allison Argent,” he says.

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

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

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

“You used handcuffs last time?”

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

Allison gasps softly, “You’re kidding.”

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

“Like… chains?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been…”

“… distracting yourself?” Allison offers.

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

“Do you think (Y/N)’s in danger?”

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

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

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

“Let’s tackle this first,” he says.

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

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

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

 ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Stiles?”

You frown, “I haven’t seen him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In what way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you?” you ask timidly.

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

“How do you like your marshmallows roasted?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott wiggles his eyebrows, “You know what.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he says with hidden emotion, “I… I could’ve… if I had just stayed with you…”

Your brows knit as he applies a third bandage. “It’s not your fault either, Stiles. We’re both doing the best that we can.”

He clenches his jaw, “Maybe we should put band aids on all your fingers so you’re not tempted.”

You snort, “Thank you for helping me.”

Stiles smiles and again you’re struck by another one of his features. Stiles is cute, you think, he’s really cute. “You’re welcome,” he says.

He holds your hands for a second before lifting them to his lips. He kisses each of your bandages in a chaste, silly way. “Make-it-better kisses,” he says almost dreamily – remembering a past memory, “Your specialty.”

You’re stuck on the way his mouth hovered over each of your fingers. “You learned well, apparently.”

“You’re basically cured,” he smiles again, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Make-it-better kisses are a medical miracle, so they say.”

You nod slowly, “Maybe I just need a couple more of those to get my memory back.”

Stiles’ eyes blow wide, “Oh… oh my god – that’s not what I… I didn’t mean to insinuate – I mean, not that I’d be upset to do… ah, shit, I’m messing this up.”

Giggles are falling out of you faster than Stiles is running his mouth. “Stiles, I was meaning a forehead kiss. Help fix my brain.”

He lets out a loud sigh, “Of course – of course that’s what you meant.” He’s jerky and hesitant and terribly endearing as he leans over to place an awkward kiss to your temple.

~~~

The jeep stops with a jolt in front of the sheriff’s station. Through the blinds Stiles and Derek see a woman behind the counter.

Somewhere in the holding cells is Isaac, being held on suspicion of his father’s murder.

“Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office,” Stiles says. He grits his teeth, “The problem is getting past front desk Westbrook.”

It was Angela on duty, filling out her part on police reports behind the counter.

“I’ll distract her,” Derek says nonchalantly.

Stiles freaks, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he grabs Derek’s leather jacket, “You? You’re not going in there.”

Derek looks at the hand on his jacket like it might be his next snack.

“I’m taking my hand off,” Stiles says quickly. “That is Angela Westbrook in there – you can’t just ‘distract her.’” He uses air quotation marks.

“Sure, I can.”

“She’s married!”

Derek shrugs, “And I’m charming.”

“You’re a criminal!”

“I was exonerated.”

Stiles licks his lips, “You’re still a person of interest, and trust me, Westbrook is the last person you want to mess with. She almost always hangs up when I try to call the station.”

“That’s because you’re a hyperactive, overexaggerated teenage boy and I’m…” he adjusts his collar, “A handsome innocent person of interest that looks really good in leather.”

The look of acceptance in Stiles’ face was laughable. He couldn’t deny any of those points. “Fine. Try and charm her and see what happens.”

They wait as another police officer appears to talk to Angela, looking like they were about to head home for the night. It’s the opportunity Stiles needs to talk to Derek about one more tiny favor.

“So with me helping with this whole Isaac fiasco… I was thinking maybe you could do something for me.”

Derek whips his head over, “Excuse me?”

“A favor for a favor.”

“You know I could just walk in, knock everyone out, and break into that lockbox, right? I don’t actually need you.”

Stiles lifts his hands in protest, “You do if you want to remain an innocent person of interest!”

Derek stares him down uncomfortably, “What favor?”

~~~

The new spring rain was finally here, starting with a light sprinkle. You are on the couch, your favorite forest green blanket over your socked feet. Oliver is snuggled on your lap, enjoying the way your stomach rocked him back and forth with your breaths.

Angela sits with you, warming her hands on a mug of tea she brewed for you. “Chamomile and lavender,” she says.

You sigh, “Good for stress.” You give her a knowing look, paired with a smile.

“And sleep,” she says, “I’ll probably pass out in about ten minutes.” She laughs and then clears her throat, “You know, there was something super strange that happened at the station the other day.”

“What was it?” you ask, excited that your mom wanted to share about her workdays again. She had been worried about putting stress on your heart by telling you those stories.

She looks worried now, “It was a little chaotic.”

“Please, mom,” you say, “We haven’t just talked in a while.”

Angela seems to agree, taking a big gulp of her tea. “Well, we had a boy in holding for a murder – no, I won’t tell you who. And Derek Hale came in to talk to me.”

“Hale,” you mutter, “Wasn’t that the name of the family whose house…”

“Burned down, yes,” Angela says, “And while he was there, the boy broke out of holding and an officer I’ve never seen before was knocked out on the ground.” She shakes her head, “I have no idea how any of that happened on my watch. The poor officer had an arrow in his leg and everything.”

“Oh my god, from what?” you ask with pursed lips.

Angela shrugs her shoulders, “The Sheriff is looking into it, but I’m not sure. His son was by the holding cells when he got there.”

“That Stiles guy?”

She nods, suddenly looking at you with warmth – a question in her eyes. “That’s right. He’s a good kid. A strange one, but good.”

“Did you…” you start to say, “Did Stiles and I hang out a lot?”

Angela swallows, “You did. He thought we couldn’t hear all the times he climbed the garden trellis,” she smirks, “But your father and I aren’t that dumb.”

You scoff in surprise, “He climbed the front of the house?”

“A couple times,” she replies, finishing her tea, “He’s not exactly the most graceful person. It’s easy to hear him struggle up the vines and fall through your window.”

You laugh, “And you never thought to stop it?”

“Your dad considered it,” she says, pausing to hear the rain fall heavier on the roof. “But we knew you kids were fine. He might be a bit of a troublemaker, but I know he wouldn’t do anything to put you intentionally in harm’s way.”

Squinting your eyes, you suddenly gasp, “Oh my god, you approve of him, don’t you?”

Angela shrugs again, “Maybe.”

“You’ve never liked any boys I’ve brought over.”

“I think your dad still needs a little convincing,” she says, “But Stiles will win him over eventually.”

“I didn’t realize…” you say, flinching as thunder crashes overhead.

Angela shivers, “Well, that’s my cue for a nap.” She stands and stretches, “Warm tea, cozy bed, and rain in the background? Don’t expect me to wake up anytime soon.”

You laugh, “I’ll be here reading. Thank you for the tea, mom.”

“No problem, sweetie. I wish I could start on that garden, but the recommended time frame is the end of April,” she rolls her eyes, “My herbs are suffering in their little pots!”

You smile as she retreats up the stairs. The rain was really coming down now, pelting the roof like a hail of bullets. You always loved the sound of rain. Maybe it was the cliché book reader in you, but the weather gave the perfect conditions for a reading session.

Ollie sleeps soundly on your lap as you pick up your latest read. It was strange coming home to see a bookmark in a book you didn’t remember. It still sits on your nightstand, hopefully to be picked up again should your memories return.

In the meantime, you begin to read a new fantasy trilogy.

The rain and thunder continue for another half hour, Oliver choosing to sleep on an overturned pillow beside you. He snuggles his face into his fluffy tail as you read. You were just starting to feel sleep tugging at your eyelids when a firm knock came on the front door.

You close your book, apprehensive as the last time someone knocked on the door, the new principal sat you down to question your current whereabouts.

But you find that it was someone new. A tall handsome man with light eyes stands on the porch, sprinkled with rain.

He wipes the water dripping into his eyes, “Hey, (Y/N).” He looks up at the ceiling as if listening for something, “Can I come in?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you ask, shocked that this handsome man knew you by name.

“I’m Derek,” he says, pushing his way in and standing beside the piano.

You follow by quietly closing the door, afraid to wake your mom. One of the men involved in the strange chaos that happened at the police station was currently in the sitting room.

“Like Derek Hale, Derek?”

“You remember me?” he asks with confusion in his brow.

You fold your arms, “I remember your name on one of my mom’s police reports years ago. About a house fire.”

He clamps his mouth shut and nods. “Listen, Stiles and Isaac have been talking about you – asking me for favors.”

You remember your friends talking about an Isaac. “Okay?”

“I told them it might not even work, but alphas are usually the ones best apt to do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, arms tightly wound and your feet rooted to the spot. You are starting to get a pit in your stomach. Thunder is roiling outside.

“Just… jog your memory a little bit.” He takes a step forward and you suddenly find the ability to move backward as far as the room would let you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say quickly, “I don’t even know you!”

Derek holds up his hands, “You need to calm down. Your heart is stuttering all over the place.”

“Yeah, it does that,” you say angrily, fear overtaking you, “Especially when strangers threaten to do something to jog my memory.”

“It’s just some minor memory manipulation,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really done it to extract memories out of someone else before, but it can be done.” He approaches your body pressed against the wall, “You need to hold still though – I don’t want to damage your spinal cord.”

You gape your mouth, “What the hell do you mean!?”

He takes ahold of your neck and you’re on the brink of a scream when he covers your mouth with his other hand. “I need you to stand still.” And he sinks his claws into the back of your neck.

You flinch and gasp behind his hand. Something sharp punctures the nape of your neck, heat trickling down from the top of your head to your spine. You feel a strange twinge of electricity and it makes you shiver.

A picture was filling your mind, crisp and warm as you close your eyes to see it better.

It was you in a pale yellow dress, bows in your hair, and your hand held tightly in Tom’s fingers. Judging by how you had to crane your neck to see his tall figure, you had to be about four years old.

Another warm image appears: dirty carrots being pulled from smelly earth. Your mom claps her soil stained gloves, proud of the garden you planted together. Little you was just as excited, taking a bite out of the carrot and grimacing at the gritty taste of dirt.

One memory flows in, a tinge of cold on the edge of this one. Like you found a cold spot in a pool of water. You were finishing a homework page your mom made on algebraic equations. A bitterness was in your chest at not being able to do it in an actual school.

Your mom appears to place a stapled packet of papers in front of you. You curiously pull the first page towards you and the top reads: ‘Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital – Job Application.’ You squeal and launch yourself into a hug with your mom.

The next memory that tries to surface isn’t as warm as the others. And it doesn’t flow in as easily. You start to get a headache as a cold image swims into view. A jeep driving through the woods.

“I don’t get out much.”

He laughs, “Then why the sudden change?”

“I felt like it.”

“Woman of many words,” he smirks.

You flinch, the memory crumbling into something new – just as cold and difficult to resurface as the other one. A movie was playing in the background and a steaming meal was on plates in front of you.

He was describing a different meal to you, “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you say, moving your plate, “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

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

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” he says quietly, “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

Pain pulses in your temples as floods of memories try to pry through your vision. It was like trying to yank sharp rocks through a rubber hose. But the next memory appears with a slight warmth.

Your chest was fluttering with desperate breaths.

“And what do you feel?” he asks.

“My heartbeat,” you say, tightening your fingers around his, “Your hand. And the cracking spray paint.” It was getting easier to breathe as you open your eyes to look at him.

You can see your initials drawn on his cheek with blue paint. He looks concerned as his thumb starts to rub along the inside of your knee.

Stiles, you think. That’s Stiles!

A burst of freedom surges through your head – like a lock being broken. You start to remember everything in between these colder memories. They start to warm with recognition.

Stiles is rambling, “… and I wasn’t sure how you felt about me being close when you weren’t in some kind of distress from your heart because so far the only times I’ve touched you has been when you were about to faint or your heart is racing or you just went through a traumatic ordeal, and seeing as being drunk and having a breakup bonfire with your friends is none of those things… I thought maybe you’d be mad at me for, you know… touching you.”

You smile as he gets even more adorably endearing, “I’m not mad, Stiles.”

He still looks ashamed, whispering, “Okay.”

“I would tell you if I didn’t like how you were touching me.”

He whips his head to you, his throat bobbing.

Your eyes start to prickle with tears. How did you not realize how much this boy was into you? The signs were all there.

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already soothed by his woodsy honey scent. You breathe it in deeply, loving how he apologizes as he gets under the sheets. You relish in his awkward avoidance of your limbs, “It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling like avoiding your gaze would save him from the heat encompassing his heart. It was making his cheeks burn.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

He bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Tears are filling your eyeline, a drop racing down your cheek as the distant, cold memories are fully back in focus. The pain in your head was growing, but it was worth it to remember all this. The fact you didn’t notice Stiles’ feelings sooner was putting a pool of guilt in your stomach. The poor boy was being so terribly obvious now that you saw the scenes again in your mind’s eye.

He smells like candy, you think.

Your lips fall into an easy pattern. He moves his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you kiss.

He hums deep in his throat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there too.

“Is this good?”

You laugh with your eyes still closed, tears actively falling down your face. It was good, you remember. So good you actually have a crisis in thinking you might’ve made a mistake. You were in denial of any feelings you had for him.

Even when Allison and Lydia questioned you before the dance.

Your mind swims to the desired memory that you had forgotten. Projected stars fill the space as the band plays a soft song. You hold onto Stiles in a beautiful starry dress. You’re hidden from him as you’re pressed together, swaying to the music.

You wonder if that’s part of the reason you two have courage to talk. Neither of you were looking.

“What else?” you ask with a puckered brow. A warmth you now know to be likeness enters your chest.

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

You laugh, “You’ve said that before.”

He smiles, “I like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing you’re smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.” He pulls away to see proof of that smile. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.”

Your cheeks start to feel itchy with salty tears, a quiet sob making your breath stutter.

“Like a lot a lot.”

Before watching the aftermath of that dance play out in your mind, you force yourself to the present. Claws rip out of your neck, and you wince, wiping at the tears that had dripped down your chin.

“How…” you sniffle, “How did you do that?”

Derek looks serious, searching for side effects in your crying, “It’s just something werewolves can do.”

“Never heard of that one before.” You cover another sniffle with a laugh, “Thank you,” you say, “Thank you.” You jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s frozen for about three seconds before placing his hands gingerly on your back, “You’re welcome.”

You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but it’s the perfect height to hide your face in his chest, “He was so devastated when I didn’t remember.” You recall Stiles when he first saw you in the hospital, “He has to be so upset.”

“He’s miserable,” Derek says gruffly, pulling you away. “I need you to fix him. I didn’t think he was capable of being any more annoying.”

Your smile suddenly drops, “I never got the chance to tell him.” Your hands fly to your hair, completely ignoring the pain still pulsating in your temples. “I went to find Lydia before I…”

Derek raises his eyebrows, “Before you…”

You look at him with red eyes, “Derek this is so important. I need a ride. Please!”

~~~

The rain is in full force behind you, providing a backdrop to your panting silhouette. Just traveling from Derek’s car has you soaked in rainwater. The sleek black car drifts away under the cover of thunder.

You’re shaking terribly, water dripping from your hairline and down your face. The porch at least gives you some cover while you wait. It was ridiculous. You left the house in such a hurry, you hadn’t thought to change.

You wear comfy sage green pajamas, matching with little white daisies on them. A sunflower yellow knitted cardigan lays wet and heavy over your shoulders. One sleeve is dangling further down your arm than the other.

Anxiously you check that the police cruiser is absent from the driveway. Then you hear the door creak open.

Stiles is there in dark blue loungewear himself. It brings out the purple circles under his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” the dull expression in his face suddenly changes to one of deep concern, “What are you doing here? Did you walk in the rain?” He’s reaching for your cardigan, wishing to pull you into the shelter.

But he hesitates – not knowing if it was okay to touch you so forwardly. Not knowing if you’d find it a violation that a near stranger lays his hands on you.

It breaks your heart.

“I need to talk to you.”

He blinks, hand falling to his side, “Yeah, of course.” He opens the door further and ushers you in. “You must be freezing.” He jumps to find a towel to cover your shivering figure.

You’re pulling the wet cardigan off when he returns with a giant fluffy towel. He sees the straps of your pajama top and immediately averts his eyes, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. He rubs up and down your arms for about two seconds before catching himself again.

He takes three steps back, rubbing at his face harshly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You aren’t sure if the tears ever stopped since regaining your memories; it was too hard to discern what was from the rain and what was from you. But you look at Stiles now with a deep warmth in your chest.

It was so large and so warm it was constricting your lungs. Looking at him was making it hard to breathe. “Are you not sleeping?”

He clenches his jaw, “I try to sleep as much as possible. It’s probably not very restful sleep,” he runs a hand over his shaved head, “But… it’s nice to dream.”

You want to touch his face, touch the circles beneath his eyes. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. I completely forgot and then there just wasn’t any time to.” You hold the towel around your shoulders, taking a few steps toward him.

He looks scared, his throat bobbing as you approach.

“That night at the dance,” you start, “We were on the dance floor, and you were saying such wonderful things.” You shiver, “And I was afraid to admit the things I was feeling.”

Stiles’ eyes were growing wide. Wide and desperate. They were silently pleading with you. The very air surrounding you two seemed to be sucked out. A hitch is in your chest as you continue:

“I never got the chance to tell you… how I feel.”

His eyes were growing warm, tears lining his bottom lashes, “(Y/N)…”

“I like you too, Stiles,” you say with a proud smile. “I like you a lot.”

You watch the breath leave his lungs – like his chest had collapsed. He’s screwing up his face like he’s trying not to cry, but a tear falls anyway. “Really?”

You give a breathy laugh, voice choking on the emotion in your throat. “Really.” And you let the towel drop from your shoulders, launching yourself forward to crash your lips against his.

He stumbles back and grips your waist for support.

You stand in the entryway, holding his face and kissing him deeply. You tilt your head and make the kiss deeper; he follows a second behind you, still recovering. He’s shaking just as much as you are now.

Goosebumps erupt on your bare arms, and you pull away to look at him. Tears are smeared on both your cheeks.

“You remember?” he whispers softly, moving his hands to hold your face.

You run your hands down to his chest, “There’s this little trick with a werewolf and my spinal cord,” you shrug, unable to stop smiling. “It pulled everything back for me.”

He’s still trying not to cry, twisting his lips, “Thank god,” he gasps a sob. “Thank you god.” He pulls you in for another kiss, soft and tender this time. He wipes away the wet strands of hair framing your face.

You take a deep breath, tracing a finger up his chin to the soft skin beneath his eyes, “You really need to sleep.”

“I do,” he licks his lips, eyelashes sticking together with tears, “Just to see you.”

You take ahold of his wrists near your face, “You need real sleep.” You tug on his hands and lead the way upstairs. The rain continues to fall, accompanied by rumbling thunder. It gives you something to listen to as you enter Stiles’ bedroom.

You take a quick peek at the disarray: clothes strewn about the floor, old books open and stacked precariously on scrap paper, lacrosse equipment dirty with soil and grass piled in the hallway. The bed is scrambled like he was kicking in his sleep.

Pushing him to sit down on the mattress, you turn to move toward the dresser, but his hand clamps down on yours.

“Where are you going?”

You look back at the instant terror that envelops his face. “I’m just going to change out of my wet clothes.” You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’ll be right back.”

At the dresser, you find a pair of plaid pajama pants and a shirt with a Doctor Who logo. In the hallway bathroom you change and comb through your hair. You’re hanging your wet clothes on the shower rod when you hear stuttered breaths coming from Stiles’ bedroom.

In a few quick steps you’re back in the room and see Stiles struggling to maintain his breathing. His eyes are still wet with tears and he’s holding his chest like it hurt. His head snaps to you when you enter, and a micro change happens in his expression – the smallest amount of relief.

You’re at his side in an instant, running your hands over his chest and to his face, “Stiles, it’s okay. I’m here and I remember. This isn’t a dream. We’re okay – I’m here.”

He nods his head, but still struggles to draw breath. He is fully panicking.

You grab the covers and pull them over you, crawling onto the bed and laying yourself over his body. Like a weighted blanket. You take deep breaths and hope he can mimic the feeling as he feels it against his torso.

One of his hands goes to your back, holding you to him. With his other, you intertwine your fingers. You pull your hands under your chin, giving them a kiss. With your head nestled into his chest, your free hand raises to be up by his pillow. You’re able to reach his short hair, running your fingers over his head in a soothing motion.

A tangle of limbs, your body holding his down, he starts to calm. He holds onto you like his life depends on it. Like if he lets go you’ll float back into his restless dreams.

It feels like hours later you both fall asleep, holding each other.

And it was the best sleep either of you have had in weeks.

~~~

Research Websites

Atrioventricular Canal Defect

Atrioventricular Canal Defect

Ventricular Tachycardia

Ventricular Tachycardia

Implantable Cardioverter-defibrillators (ICDs)

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael

[katyawriteswhump]

(You’re just) too good to be true 

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompts, flowers and/or hugs. Thanks to bananas and yesdanger on discord for the extra prompts to get me going. I have tried to get as many in as possible. 

Summary: Steve wakes up in hospital after everything is over and can’t quite believe how well everything has turned out…

Rating: T. WC: 1460   CW: None. Other tags: Steddie, platonic stobin, angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, temporary amnesia, fix-it fic, everybody lives.

…

Steve flutters his eyes open and spies Robin sitting by his bed. Mascara streams down her face, and her hair’s a literal disaster zone.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She grabs his hand. “You’re gonna be okay. The doctor should be here any minute.”

Doctor!?! Where the heck am I?

His throat proves too dry for words. Robin garbles way too fast for him to understand and she’s wringing his fingers ever tighter.

If she’s touching me, I guess it can't be rabies.

His memory triggered, the shitshow slams back. First, the bats, the bites. Then everything that happened after, until they journeyed again into the Upside Down to try to kill Vecna.

Oh hold on, scratch that. 

To fail to kill Vecna.

Staring blankly through Robin, he fixates on the terrible parts. Eddie lying bloodied and dead in Dustin’s arms. Dustin sobbing his eyes out. Max was pretty much lost too, and Vecna was alive, gone to ground, and…

What happened next? Why am I in a hospital bed? Jesus, I was fine! 

There’s one of those IV thingies in his arm. He shivers though can’t tell if he’s cold or hot. The doctor arrives, jostles him, talks at him, shines lights in his eyes. He’s not in pain, but his brain is all woolly, and he’s confused and weak and lost.

He needs a hug more than ever in his life. Robin peeps at him over the doctor’s shoulder, bouncing like a spooked bunny-rabbit, then she’s gone.

It’s all too much.

He quits, sinking back into the darkness.

…

When Steve next pries an eyelid open, he spies Eddie breezing into the hospital room. Eddie joins Robin, who has moved to the window to pick at her nail polish.

Eddie is gone, which means… Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I’m dead too? Or dreaming?

His throat is achy and tight. He closes his eyes again, hot tears welling. More memories trickle back.

“Make him pay,” Eddie had said.

He recalls that last, lingering look between them. The one that slammed him like a freight train, because... Wtf? For some strange reason, that moment doesn’t feel like the end of a story anymore.

It feels like a beginning. Which is just dumb. 

Eddie is no more.

He peeps again, watching a dude who is very definitely Eddie pouring bottled water into a vase of flowers on the windowsill. Robin seizes the bottle from him: “What are you doing, shit-bird? Those are silk—his mom brought them. They don’t need water.”

“Riiiight.” Eddie pulls a silly face, which Steve finds freakish levels of adorable. Suddenly, he wants to crush Eddie to him, tell him that he’s insanely happy he’s here, even if this is some crazy dreamworld, and…

… he wants to shove his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and kiss him stupid.

Huh?

Steve licks dry lips. Most bewildering of all, he somehow knows how awesome kissing Eddie is. As if they’ve done it before.

More than once.

Eddie sneezes dramatically. “If those flowers are fake, I’m allergic to WASP chintz. Which checks out, I guess.”

Robin laughs, though it’s sad and nervy. He catches a glimpse of Eddie’s bambi eyes, and they’re anxious, haunted, too. Then Lucas and Max walk in.

MAX? She’s in a coma!

Steve’s head throbs miserably from trying to make sense of this mad place. 

He quits and drifts back to the darkness.

…

When he next peeps, Robin and Eleven are sitting by his bed, sharing a packet of cool ranch doritos. 

Which makes less sense than ANY OF IT.

Robin’s gotten real picky lately about sharing food. At least, with anybody but him. He’s vaguely pissed, because these two hardly know each other. The way they’re huddled on the same chair, like close buddies, suggests otherwise.

Yeah, he’s vaguely pissed. And kinda jealous. He sort of hates himself for being needy... but he really wants that hug. 

Then another memory flashes back. Some alien desert landscape, with Eleven blasting Vecna with everything she’s got. Eddie sprinting toward him—tailed by what looks like a medium-to-large demogorgon with at least a dozen extra flailing limbs—and Robin yelling, “Steve! El’s got this—help Eddie!”

He finally forces his eyes wide enough for them to see he’s watching. “R-Robin?” he croaks.

“Steve!” She leaps to her feet, nearly knocking El and the chair flying. “You’re really, actually awake this time? Please say yes.”

There’s noise and confusion. The doctor arrives again, checks Steve’s vitals, then bitches that there’s too many kids in the room: “It should be family only,” she says.

“We’re his family,” argues Robin. “His parents only come during official visiting hours.”

Robin is allowed to remain. She helps him sip water, and then he says, “Look, I think was dreaming earlier, or off my head on meds, because I saw you with Eddie, and I know that’s impossible, because…” He swallows hard, mumbles the hateful words: “He's gone, right?”

“Oh my God, you don’t remember?”

“Jesus, Robin! Remember what?”

“We won, Steve. Everyone lived. We even got Crissy back. Vecna’s the only one who’s history. If you hadn’t got hurt, it would’ve been the perfect revenge.”

This time, he manages to take more of her story in. He gets lost in the part where Robin and Dustin figure out time travel—some crazy shit about the proximity of alternate dimensions causing rumples in the space-time continuum. The rest of her tale unleashes a slew of badass memories that squish all the terrible ones into the dirt. Instead of Eddie being dead, he recalls…

“You and Eddie totally slayed this nasty-ass demo-squid-monster,” says Robin. “It got pretty intense, and when you survived, you had, like, an EPIC hug. Aaaand might’ve kissed. Then, later, you threw yourself at Eddie to save him from flying debris, then you rolled into a crater, and he wound up on top, and…”

Steve suddenly recalls that moment vividly. Eddie straddled his hips, and his own hands landed not entirely accidentally on Eddie’s butt. Once they’d gathered their breaths, Eddie leaned forward, swiped hair from his face, and whispered:

“About what you said to Wheeler. If you still want to win her back, that’s fine, I’ll back off, but… just so you know, six kids is cool with me, Stevie. Not like we need to adopt. When you’re around, they simply rock up.”

“So, yeah,” Robin says, ripping Steve from these mind-blowing revelations, “it took us half a dozen attempts to get things right. In the final boss-fight, it was just you, me, Eleven and Eddie. We were lost in the Upside Down for weeks, before we exploded Vecna into a billion disgusting pieces. Because you're you, you were closest, got caught in the blast. You lost a lot of blood, but all important appendages are still present and correct, including, um… any important appendages you were particularly worried about. Not that I’m saying you were, but… Ugh!” She facepalms. “This so isn’t where I meant to go with that.”

He faintly smirks. “You dug that hole, not me, Buckley.”

“No need to gloat. You’re gonna be fine. Everyone is going to be just fine.”

It’s still too much to take in. One question bugs him the most: “Eddie and me, erm… How far did we..?”

“I didn’t stand there and count the bases, Dingus! He’ll be back in five. Ask him. But, you know, there was talk of picking out rings, getting matching tats and—”

“You’re kidding?”

“A bit. Seriously, by the third week, you two seemed chill. Happy. I really hope you remember it all soon.”

He takes a beat. Warmth pools in his chest, because everything Robin says sure as heck feels true. He gives her hand a little pulse, and their fingers intertwine.

“Robin,” he says. “At the risk of sounding downbeat, it’s all a bit too perfect. I’m kinda worried I’m dead.”

“Oh! You’re really, really not. I’m all sticky and gross 'cos I was here all night, but… would a hug help?”

He nods, levers himself up a little, suppressing a wince at the effort. He wraps the arm unencumbered by the IV around her, and she awkwardly cuddles him. He rests his cheek on her bony shoulder, and breathes deeply, while she rubs juddering circles in his back.

She’s sweaty and clumsy and real.

“You’re not dead, I promise,” she whispers. “If you were, I’d be so mad with you, after all that effort to fix things. Besides, you still got hurt, and we were all out of time travel opportunities. Long story. Anyhow, it's been hell, till the doctors said you’d be okay, and even then… We’ve been so scared.”

Her trembling shakes through him. He tries not to sniffle, but he can't seem to help it. Everyone survived. Eddie’s alive. Eddie and he are…

His heart gives a crazy squeeze that says everything he needs to know.

“As soon as you’re out of here,” whispers Robin, “this summer is gonna be the best ever.”

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.6

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 5362

Summary: Once you're back home, your husbands try their best to support you, but the circumstances are taking their toll on you. It all goes well until you find out who was the one driving that night...

Warnings/Tags: mention of amnesia, angst, tiny mention of blood, fluff, cuddles, anxious!soft!min, caring!soft!channie, domestic stuff, husband!min, husband!chan

A/N: I know, I know it looks like shit in the beginning but trust the word count, it'll get all good, soft and domestic🖤

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN

Minho slips out of his shoes and stands still for a moment. Chan closes the door and hesitantly slips his hand into Minho's. “Kitten?” he asks quietly but gets no response. “Min, look at me, please.”

Minho does, looking at him with wet eyes, still not saying a word. Chan gently rubs his shoulders before cupping his face and flashing him a small smile. “I know I should be happy,” he finally says. “I know I should be relieved that she's awake and talking. I know I should be happy that we finally got her back. I know I shouldn't still be feeling like shit,” he rambles, and Chan soothingly fondles his cheeks. “But you know how much she hates losing control. You know how scared she gets of change,” he hiccups helplessly, and a few hot tears slip down his cheeks. “Once it'll all settle in, she'll hate me, and I-I can't even blame her because I did-didn't do anything else those p-past two months a-and-.”

“Hey,” Chan says so softly it makes him shut his mouth. “I won't let that happen, baby. It was an accident and there was nothing you could've done,” he says firmly and pulls him in close. “I'm so thankful you're both alive, you know? I don't know-” his voice breaks, and Minho's heart sinks at the sound. “I don't know what I would've done if…,” he stops himself, not daring to put his deepest fear into words. “I get it, Minnie because it would've been a lot easier without the memory loss. I'm terrified of hurting her because I'm not fully feeling well yet. But as long as you won't let go of my hand in all this, I know I'll be okay.”

Minho carefully pulls Chan's hands off his face and intertwines their fingers. “I won't let go,” he says.

“I'll always have your back, okay?” Chan asks timidly, and Minho nods quickly. 

“And I'll have yours,” he promises and squeezes his hands. 

“I could really use a hug,” Chan admits, and Minho doesn't hesitate, pulling him close and kissing his cheek. He gently sways them from side to side and exhales softly. “I love you, Min.”

“I love you too, Channie,” Minho whispers back and squeezes him tightly. 

-

Minho gently helps you out of your jacket and hangs it up for you. Neither Chan nor Minho had remembered that you only moved in here one and a half years ago, so the house was another factor. He watches you glance around the hallway timidly and swallows softly. “Anything familiar?” he asks gently. 

You swallow hard and shake your head. “Not besides…some of the interior,” you tell him. 

He notices how anxious it makes you and carefully slips his hand into yours. “Let me give you a tour, come on.”

You follow him through the house and recognize some bits of your old home. He tells you where to find the most important things, and seems like he's afraid to say anything wrong. It makes you sick seeing your husband try so hard to make you comfortable in a suddenly so unfamiliar place. “I-I'll go use the bathroom real quick,” you tell him, and he nods, telling you again where to find it. 

You close the door and take a deep breath, hugging yourself tightly. “Fuck,” you whisper and sit down heavily at the edge of the bathtub. If you wouldn't know Minho and Chan had been your boyfriends for four years and then husbands for another five you would've freaked out at the hospital. You couldn't remember the past two years of your marriage, but the seven years before are enough to trust them. Still, it all feels so weird. You don't notice how much time has passed until Minho gently knocks at the door and lets himself in. He sits down next to you, and for a moment, you're both quiet. “Minho?” you ask timidly. 

“Yeah?” he asks gently, turning to look at you. 

“Have I been a good wife to you and Chan? Did we have fights? Did I hurt you? Did you hurt me?” you ask, and he inhales deeply. “I know this sounds weird, but…I have no idea where we left off.”

Minho fidgets with his wedding bands and hums thoughtfully. “I can't remember anything big concerning the two of us, we usually get along very well,” he tells you, a small smile on his lips. “We were on a date before the accident. I was very tired, was fighting with Chan over the phone, and…you said you'd take me out for dinner. You were trying to cheer me up, and you did, you always do,” he says and gently clears his throat, pushing away the images of what happened after. 

“What about Chan?” you ask timidly, sensing something off. 

Minho straightens up and pinches his nose, trying to figure out where to start. “About…six months ago, Channie wasn't feeling very well. He was overwhelmed with work and had no resources left for either of us, including himself. He pushed us both away, and one night, when I was abroad, he called me, saying he got into a fight with you and something was seriously wrong,” he tells you and chews on his lower lip. “I called you, asking you to go back and check on him as I flew back home. Chan was feeling numb for quite some time, and we did our best to support him figure out ways to make him feel again. After a while, he decided to visit his family in Australia, take a break, and everything. I stepped in for him at work, and it was killing me,” he admits. “I missed him like hell. I had to lead our team, and I felt lost without him, but you never gave up on me,” he says and his hand subconsciously slips into yours. “He caught me on a bad day, we got into an argument, and well…then we had that accident. Channie got onto the next plane and came back home as fast as he could.”

“Is he still struggling?” you ask hesitantly, and Minho smiles weakly. 

“I don't know, Y/nnie. This whole thing has taken a huge toll on me. I broke down repeatedly and Chan took care of me as best as he could. He even got me a therapist, imagine that,” he laughs, and you can tell he's not really doing well with any of this. “I don't think he had much time to figure out how he truly feels. I should've been there for him more, but I…I could barely get myself out of bed sometimes.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologize timidly, squeezing his hand. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

Minho shakes his head firmly. “None of this is your fault,” he says and searches your eyes. “None of it, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly. 

Minho inhales shakily, a suspicious shimmer covering his eyes. “I know this whole memory thing is shit, honey. I feel selfish for saying this, but I'm just so glad you're alive and back home.”

You smile weakly and squeeze his hand firmly. “As long as I have you two, I'll be okay sooner or later.”

Minho gently squeezes back and looks up as Chan steps into the doorframe. “Oh my, am I interrupting something?” he chuckles. 

“Hey, Channie love,” Minho says softly and Chan leans down to give him a kiss. 

“Hey, kitten,” he smiles, gently caressing his cheek. Chan turns to you and gently brushes back your hair, kissing your head, unsure if you feel like kissing. “You're okay?”

“More or less,” you nod, and he sits down on your other side. 

“We're always here if you need someone,” he tells you and gently pats your knee. 

“Thanks,” you nod tiredly. “I really appreciate it, this can't be easy for you either.”

Minho remains quiet this time and glances at Chan. “We're just glad to have you back. The rest we can figure out together,” he assures you. “Just let us know, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod gently. 

-

You turn onto your side heavily and are met with a sight that used to bring a smile to your face. Minho's asleep next to you, his hair hanging into his face, lips parted, and his bunny teeth showing a little. His lashes throw their shadows on his cheekbones and you once more notice how beautiful he is. You've been home for a week now and Minho took another two months off to keep an eye on you. You like being home with Min because he's there when you need him but lets you be when you don't. He doesn't push, he doesn't talk your ears off, and he tries his best not to handle you like you're made out of glass. Still, you can tell he doesn't see you when he looks at you. He doesn't see his wife. He sees the accident and the woman he lost due to the memory loss, and the guilt in his eyes suffocates you sometimes. 

You haven't dared look up the accident yet, but slowly, you can't fight the urge to see what really happened that night. Minho doesn't like talking about it, and Chan wasn't there. 

You slip out of bed and grab your phone, leaving your husband on his own. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you start researching and soon find article over article. Pictures of the crashed car send shivers down your spine. Investigating some further you can tell how worried your friends were about Minho during their interviews, who looks nothing but truly exhausted. You can tell he hasn't been sleeping much; his eyes look glassy in most of them, and Chan never leaves his side.

-

Minho looks up as you come downstairs to join him for breakfast and gets up, putting some waffles on your plate. “Thought you'd like something sweet,” he says and flashes you a smile. 

“Who was driving?” you ask, making him freeze for a second. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, but the slight tremble in his voice tells you he knows exactly what you mean. 

“The accident. Who was driving?” you ask again, stopping in front of the table. 

Minho carefully puts the plate down in front of you. “Does it matter?” he asks timidly. 

“It does,” you nod, tilting your head at him. “Will you be honest with me, or do I have to ask someone else?”

He stares at you, wondering what you're aiming at with that question, but gives himself a push. “I was.”

“Were you drunk?” you ask, and Minho's frown deepens. 

“No.”

“You said you were tired, was that it? Was that what made you miss something?” you ask, and he subconsciously takes a step back. “Were you so upset about Chan that you weren't paying attention?” 

“Y/nnie,” he pleads quietly. “Don’t do this.”

“Min,” you say firmly. “I can't remember the past two years of my life. I don't know what happened and no one can tell me because that'll only be your version of every day,” you say and take a shuddery breath. “Chan hasn't kissed me once since I'm back home, and you look at me like I'm something broken you're too attached to to get rid of. That hurts, Min. I just want my fucking life back!”

Minho raises his hands in defense and steps closer to you. “Honey, I'm sorry, you're right. I can't make up for all that time. But she said they'd come back to you in a few months, at least that the chance is very, very high,” he tries, but the way your eyes darken, he knows you don't want to hear any of it. He tries to brace himself for the emotional outburst that's about to happen, but he can't prepare himself for what you say next. 

“No, you really can't make up for it. Not if you're the one causing this whole mess,” you say, noticing the fear flickering in his eyes, but you don't care. “You were the one driving, you're the one feeling guilty, and now I know why. My whole life went to shit because of you!” you snap at him. Minho doesn't say anything, simply stares at you as your words sink in. His body trembles, his stomach tightening painfully, and his eyes filling with tears. “You fucked everything up, and you're trying so hard to make up for it by staying home with me. Now I know why you so desperately try to make me feel better, and I thought it was because you loved me!”

Minho looks at you as if you just hit him right in the face. A soft whimper leaves his lips, snapping you out of your rage, before tears start running down his face, and his body shakes with a sob. “I know, okay?!” he snaps right back at you. “I know it's all my fault! I-I know I fucked up, and I-I'm the one to b-blame,” he hiccups helplessly, taking a few steps back as you reach for him timidly. “I'm sorry, Y/nnie, I swear, I did-didn't want this.”

“Min,” you whisper guiltily, but your husband shakes his head firmly, biting back a sob. “I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't mean it.”

“Don't lie,” he says, voice cracking. 

“I'm sorry, please,” you try, but Minho pushes past you and goes back upstairs. You let him, knowing he can't handle you, seeing how badly you just hurt him. Helplessly, you grab your phone and call Chan. 

“Hey, baby girl, I'm on my way home. Is everything-.”

“Channie,” you whimper. 

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks worriedly, putting you on speaker. 

“I hurt Min,” you tell him, hugging yourself tightly and sitting down on the sofa. 

“Hurt him how?” he asks nervously, taking a turn left. 

“I said some dumb stuff about him being responsible for my life turning to shit and that the accident was his fault,” you say, and it's quiet for a moment. “Chan?”

“Ynnie…please tell me you didn't,” Chan says lowly, heart sinking to his stomach. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“I'm sorry, Channie, I didn't mean it,” you whisper timidly. “I was just…I don't know what got into me.”

“I…fuck, okay, I'll be home in a bit,” he tells you, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. 

“Thank you,” you sniffle. 

Chan stares at his phone as you end the call and slams his hand on the wheel. “Fucks sake Ynnie, not when I finally convinced him otherwise,” he curses and finally reaches your street. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Chan quietly pulls the front door closed behind himself and swallows hard as he meets your anxious eyes. “Where is he?” he asks. 

“Upstairs,” you tell him. “Channie, I'm sorry,” you tell him, tears filling your eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Chan sighs softly and opens his arms for you, pulling you into a tight hug as you get up. “I know you are. I know you're struggling, and I know we can't take that pain away,” he says, soothingly rubbing your back. “But baby girl, you can't forget Minho is a victim here too. He might have been the one driving, but he's also the one who saw you unconscious, covered in blood, and not knowing if you'd ever wake up again,” he tells you gently, without sounding like he's blaming you even a little. “He still feels guilty because he'd rather be the one getting hurt. He's been having nightmares and panic attacks and had a really hard time believing that it isn't his fault, you know?”

“I just fucked that up, didn't I?” you ask timidly. 

“I don't know,” he answers honestly. 

“I asked him if he was drunk,” you admit shamefully. 

Chan bites back a sigh, trying to be patient with you. “Okay, come on,” he says and pulls you to the sofa. “The police provided us the security camera footage, where you very clearly see who's at fault,” he says and grabs his phone, showing you the clip. 

You can see your car pulling up at the crossroads. Suddenly, a car races down the street from the right and crashes right into your side. It's raining heavily, making the road slippery and causing both cars to slide to the side a few meters. Once the video is over, you look at Chan horrified. 

“That other driver was drunk,” he tells you gently. “He was speeding, ignored a red light, and honestly, looking at this, it's a miracle you two are still alive. So please, don't blame anyone else but that guy, hm?” 

You nod quickly and chew on your lower lip anxiously. “Channie angel?”

“Yeah?” he asks gently. 

“Can you tell him I'm sorry? I don't think he wants to see me right now,” you say timidly. 

Chan nods and kisses your temple. “I will. We'll fix this, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, relieved. 

“I'll go check on him, alright?” he asks, and you nod bravely. Chan grabs a blanket and wraps you up in it, flashing you an encouraging smile. “We'll be okay.”

You timidly grab his hand and search his eyes. “I love you.”

Chan's face softens. “I love you too, baby girl.” 

-

Chan opens the door to the room he uses to work from home, suspecting that's where he'll find Minho. His heart breaks a little as he sees him sitting on the small sofa there, his legs hugged up to his chest. Minho's wearing a sweater of his, burying his face in its sleeves as he takes shaky breaths, clearly trying to calm down. He silently closes the door and walks over, kneeling down in front of him and soothingly rubbing his thighs. “Bunny?” he asks so softly Minho looks up with wide, teary eyes. It's a term reserved for their most private, intimate moments and it never fails to make Minho feel so safe and loved. 

He doesn't say anything, body moving on its own as he slips from the sofa and crawls right into his lap. Chan welcomes him with one of his most loving and healing hugs, nuzzling his nose into his hair. 

“I love you,” Chan whispers, cradling his head. Minho slumps against him, burying himself into his arms as deeply as he can, growing so small it breaks Chan's heart. 

“I'm so tired, Chan,” Minho says, voice raspy from crying. “I'm so fucking tired.”

“I know,” Chan says and turns with him in his hold, leaning against the sofa. “How can I help?”

“There's nothing you can do,” he answers quietly. “She hates me. I fucked up her life.”

“You really think that?” he asks patiently. 

“Doesn't matter. She does,” he says. 

“Do you?” he asks. “You think you fucked up her life?”

“Apparently, I'm not exactly making it easier,” he answers. “Since I'm the drunken, heartbroken, distracted fuck who got us into that accident.”

Chan mindlessly rubs his lower back. “Apparently…so you don't believe it.”

“I-” Minho grows quiet before pulling back and searching his eyes timidly. “Does that matter if she does?”

“To me, it does,” he nods. “You've been blaming yourself for months, saying the most hurtful shit about yourself…I think you made some progress,” he says calmly. 

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “The minute someone throws it at my face, I agree with them.”

“Bunny, can I tell you something?” he asks, and Minho nods tiredly. “She called me the minute you left, saying she fucked up. She asked me to tell you she's sorry because you probably wouldn't want to see her now.”

Minho's eyes fill with tears. “Really?” he asks timidly, and Chan nods. “I really thought she hated me now.”

Chan gently cups his face and plants a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. “She doesn't, I promise.” 

Minho messily wipes his cheeks with the sleeves before stopping in his movement and groaning at himself. “Fuck, I completely messed up your sweater.”

“That's okay,” Chan giggles softly. “We can wash it.”

Minho hums and smiles shyly. “Just really needed you close after that,” he tells him. 

“You're so cute,” he smiles happily. “Also-” he gets interrupted by the door opening. The two of them look up and see you standing in the doorframe, shaking with sobs. 

Minho moves before Chan can fully comprehend the sight and wraps you into a tight hug. “Shh, honey, it's okay.”

You hug back tightly and shake your head. “Nothing is okay,” you sob. “I hurt you. Just be-because I can't cope with what's happening.”

“It's okay,” Minho whispers gently, caressing your head. “I promise we're okay.”

You timidly grab his sweater a little tighter and bury yourself into him. “I'm sorry, Min. You didn't fuck up anything,” you hiccup. “I love you so much.”

Minho buries his face in your shoulder and shakes his head. “I know,” he whispers and squeezes you gently. “I love you too, my pretty girl.” 

“I just wanna feel normal again,” you whimper, and Minho's hold on you tightens. 

“Try and give yourself some credit, honey. You went through some shit, and you're still dealing with the aftermath,” he says softly and kisses your hair. “Try being a little more patient with yourself.”

Chan smiles sadly, remembering himself saying something so similar to Minho only weeks ago when they went for a walk. So he did listen. 

Two weeks later

You anxiously meet your reflection in the mirror before staring down at your products on the sink. Chan said he'd take you both out to dinner, and you just wanted to look nice but you had trouble remembering your routines. You talked to your doctor about it, and she told you it's completely normal to get confused easily by those things at the moment. 

Minho walks into the bathroom, buttoning up his shirt, and flashes you a gentle smile. “You're alright, beautiful?” 

“Yeah,” you nod quickly and stare back down at your things. “I…I think I need help,” you tell him, glancing up at him as he fixes his hair. 

“Sure, what do you need?” he asks, not quite picking up on your struggle yet. Minho grabs your concealer and carefully hides the dark patches beneath his eyes. He's still not sleeping well, and it shows. 

“I uh, I forgot what I usually do,” you tell him, waving at the various items displayed at the sink. “Like…did I have some sort of routine? Because if I did it's nonexistent in my brain right now.”

“Oh,” he nods and puts your concealer back down. “Uh, I'm not sure, but I can still help,” he tells you, and you smile relieved. “One second,” he winks at you and leaves the room, coming back with a chair. “Alright, take a seat, honey.”

You giggle softly and do as you're told. Chan joins you, chuckling in confusion as he sees you. “Min's helping me, my brain is letting me down right now.”

“Oh,” he laughs and watches Minho grab some of your things. “Yeah, it's good you asked him and not me.”

“I had a feeling,” you tease him lovingly.

Chan chuckles and turns back to the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He fixes his hair that frames his face in those beautiful curls you love so much and you can see the frown forming on his face before it’s fully there. It’s beyond you how both of your husbands were this stunningly pretty and still had their trouble believing so, Chan much more than Min. “Channie?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. “You look very handsome.”

Chan meets your eyes through the mirror, face softening. “Thank you, baby girl,” he says with a sweet, shy smile. Minho turns around, taking in the sight of his husband, and hums agreeingly before slapping his bum. Chan snorts and fondly rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“That’s your own fault wearing those trousers,” he smirks before getting started with helping you. “Who even allowed you to leave the house in those, huh? Surely not me. No one else should be allowed to see how well-.”

“Minho,” Chan whines in protest, blushing heavily. “Shut up, will you?”

Minho smiles softly and then you realize he must’ve noticed Chan’s insecurities getting the better of him as well. “Only because it’s you,” he tells him fondly. “So, I think you started like this,” he tells you. He talks you through it, checking in with you if what he’s doing makes sense, and tries his best to make you satisfied with the result. Only a little later you’re ready to go and thank him happily. “Always, princess,” he assures you kindly. “You need help with your hair as well?”

“No, thank you, darling,” you smile at him. “I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No rush, honey,” he tells you and kisses your cheek before leaving you some space. He joins Chan downstairs, who’s standing at the kitchen island, bent forward on his elbows as he checks his phone. Minho smiles at the sight and steps behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Chan gently intertwines their hands on his stomach and finishes his message to Lix with one hand. “You’re alright, kitten?”

“Yeah,” he nods and nuzzles his face into his neck. “Ah, you put on my favorite cologne,” he smirks, burying his nose deeper into his skin. 

Chan hums, agreeing, and turns off his phone, turning in his hold. He smiles as their eyes meet and gently nudges his nose with his own. “Pretty boy,” he whispers, and Minho blushes softly. “I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Minho frowns gently. “I’m right here, love.”

“No..like,” he leaves the sentence unfinished, gently squeezing Minho’s hips. 

“Oh,” Minho laughs brightly and kisses him sweetly. “I can stop by the company tomorrow, just make sure Sungie and Binnie aren’t around.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Chan chuckles, gently cupping his face.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish now,” Minho warns him, and Chan rolls his eyes, kissing him lovingly. Minho kisses back sweetly and pulls back soon, knowing Chan could get lost in kissing way too quickly. They really didn’t have time for this now. Not with you coming downstairs any minute, still finding your way back into your marriage. “Channie…is that place you picked in walking distance?” he asks. 

“I figured there’s a chance she doesn’t feel safe to drive yet, so yes,” he nods, and Minho hums, relieved. “Also, you aren’t exactly keen to sit in a car yet, either.”

“Not really,” he chuckles agreeingly. “Thank you, Channie.”

“For what?” he frowns softly.

“For being so considerate and caring,” he smiles, shaking his head as Chan is about to respond. “Don’t you dare say it’s nothing now, I will kick you.”

“Oh,” Chan nods, holding back a laugh. 

“Idiot,” he giggles fondly, poking his side.

“I’m ready,” you interrupt them gently, standing a little away from them.

Chan smiles at you sweetly. “You look beautiful, baby girl,” he tells you, and you mirror his smile. 

“Our beautiful girl,” Minho agrees proudly, taking your hand and pulling you closer. “We should probably leave, right?”

Chan checks his watch. “Yeah, we should.”

You swallow softly and glance at them timidly. “Can I sit in the back?” you ask.

“I thought we could take a walk, it’s close by. If we’re lucky, we can see the stars on our way back home,” he says, watching your eyes brim with tears. “Or we can take the car?” he asks nervously.

“No,” you shake your head and laugh weakly. “I would prefer walking,” you assure him. “Thank you, Channie angel.”

“God, you two sometimes,” he breathes out, squeezing Min’s and your hand. “It’s nothing, really an-ey!” he breaks off in protest as Minho punches his shoulder.

“I told you, it’s not nothing. It means a lot, my love, and we’re very happy to have you,” he says. “Also, be glad I didn’t kick your pretty a-.”

“Okay,” Chan laughs and pulls you both with him. “Enough of this now, you’ll make me get all sappy, let’s go.”

-

You enjoy your first evening out immensely. It makes you feel less like something’s wrong with you. Both Chan and Minho focus mostly on you, making sure you’re alright and comfortable. The many smells and loud noises are overwhelming at first, and they try their best to distract you. Once you allow yourself to relax, things get easier. Dinner is delicious, but what truly makes your evening is the laughter, gentle touches, and the way they make sure you’re part of the conversation. 

On your walk home, you indeed see the stars painting the dark canvas of the night sky. You’re walking between them, holding onto their hands, and feel a lot closer to Chan as well. Minho occasionally points out constellations, sometimes playfully bickering with Chan about the correct name. You find yourself smiling, genuinely smiling, for the first time in a while. You think about your day and suddenly stop in your tracks, leading to your husbands turning in confusion. 

“Y/nnie?” Chan frowns as your eyes fill with tears. “Are you okay?”

“I remember that place,” you breathe out, and they both stare at you with wide eyes. “We had dinner there the week we moved in, didn’t we? Channie, you spilled your drink all over Min’s pants. Min, you wouldn’t stop cursing because it got all sticky and-” you break off in wonder as your mind forms such vivid pictures of that day. 

Minho laughs wetly, a hot tear falling down his face. “Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

Chan still stares at you in wonder before laughing weakly. “You remember?”

You nod happily, messily wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I know that’s not much, but-.”

“No, baby, this is huge,” Chan smiles through tears, wrapping you into a tight hug. “That’s your first breakthrough after only three weeks, baby.”

You giggle happily and beam at Minho, who’s still frozen in place. Reaching out for him, he takes your hand and lets you pull him into your hug. Minho cups your cheek and kisses your forehead softly. “I’m so happy for you,” he tells you genuinely.

-

Back home, as you prepare for bed, the weight of the day slowly settles on your shoulders. For the first time since you got back home it doesn’t feel like the burden of another wasted day but a blanket of comfort. It reminds you of the love and care that surrounds you in the presence of your husbands. Minho brushes your hair as Chan takes off your makeup for you, both as gentle as they can get.

As you lay in bed between them, the events of the past few weeks replay in your mind. The argument with Minho feels like a very distant memory now, simply a hurdle you’ve all overcome together. His forgiveness, his understanding, and his undying love for you feel like a balm for your wounded, anxious heart. Chan’s patience, kindness, and unwavering support for the two of you remind you of the strength of your bond.

In the quiet of the night, with Chan’s steady breathing on one side and Minho’s warm presence on the other, you feel a sense of peace lull you in. The road to your recovery would still be a long one, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that there wouldn’t be any more challenges.

You whisper a quiet “I love you” into the darkness, and in the soft murmur of their responses, you find a promise—a promise of healing and a love that will never leave you. You don’t know why, but right here, you understand that no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together as a family. With that thought, you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that with Chan and Minho by your side, you’ll be okay. You would talk to Chan about the distance you feel another day, and you’d work through your shared trauma with Minho another time, supporting him through his share of the deal as well. For today, you’re glad to be able to fall asleep between the loves of your life.

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[abysshare]

I feel like this needs to be said but i feel like I'll just be talking to a brick wall for the billionth time.

The ableism of disabled villains in fandom is so beyond tiring. Its bad enough when a grey or protag character gets it.

Today I'll be using Curly from Mouthwashing and William Afton from FNAF as an example.

Curly, isn't really a grey character. Maybe more of a protag, but since we play as Jimmy for most of it, he is kind of an antag. But for this post i will be putting him as a protag. Which reminder.

Protag doesn't mean good guy exactly.

Anyway.

Captain Curly is a burn survivor as well as a disabled man, with no skin, no hands or feet, and is left with one eye. The damage is pretty bad, and the Nurse ( Anya ) has done the best she could with what she had, which is pretty damn good considering all things.

How does the fandom treat him? Its a mixed bag but of course. Ableism.

They either give him "dog buttons", or infantalize him, coquette-ify him, erase the situation just because "its easier" or whatever else. And then theres some people who genuinely try by getting him to a proper hospital so Anya or another doctor can try and fix what they can, as well as give him an AAC device or a wheelchair, so on and so forth.

Its either shit as unfortunately expected or good enough that makes people genuinely do research or call out ableism.

Now lets look at William Afton. A villain, murderer, mad scientist and so forth. For this post I'll be strictly talking about The Fourth Closet William Afton and Burntrap.

For those who are not into FNAF. The Fourth Closet is a seperate timeline from the games, an AU. And Burntrap is TECHNICALLY not William now, but when Security Breach came out, we didn't know this.

A bit more backstory for those who do not know. William has an Animatronic suit that he can go into to perform or kill, but it has these things called springlocks. If something happens, they can go off and hurt and eventually kill him.

Moving on.

William Afton is a Springlock Victim ( and even though no fire happens in the book before the ending of The Fourth Closet, i would argue and say he does indeed have burn scars as well in the graphic novel ) aka ragged Metal throughout his skin.

As Burntrap, he is a metal burned skeleton with leftovers of Springtrap/Scraptrap with burnt flesh.

How does the fandom treat both versions of him?

As Burntrap: some people like him, some don't. Its purely because at the first reveal we all thought it was William himself somehow even though he is supposed to be dead-dead for real. His design CAN be cool, scary and great in the right spotlight.

However.....

Most people took the "haha peepaw" route of memes. Some being ageist and some being ableist. Making him a senile old man in a wheelchair or a walker with Vanny being his caretaker. Most of the time throwing him down the stairs or beating him with his mobility aid or threatening to. Sometimes they would also draw him in diapers with poop in it.

Utterly disgusting, ageist and ableist behavior all because this is a villain.

How do they treat TFC version of William? Well.... i don't see much of him to be frank. But either its coquette-ifying him ( which is just as gross as coquette-ifying Curly ), genuinely calling him pretty or being absolutely being ableist/rancid, or removing his scars all together.

What is the point I'm getting at?

If its a villain, like William, to Darth Vader to Hordak from the She Ra remake, to Belos from TOH.......

They get mocked for their disabilities because abled folks ( and even some disabled folks ) thinks the Villain or whoever deserves it as punishment.

But these same people will turn around and infantilize and baby, or dogify or coquetteify "good guy" disabled characters.

I haven't seen this in the Arcane fandom, while i don't doubt people have been ableist to Jinx, Silco or Viktor , at least it isn't as "loud".

Ableism isn't cute or funny. And while i UNDERSTAND these are characters- and that they are not real.

It HURTs real people.

And I'm talking as a disabled chronic pain person, so don't even start with me.

Ableists and shit will be deleted, ty.

Edit ( 12 / 9 / 2024 ): to add to this, i still see people making jokes, especially to make self shippers feel bad ( those who self ship with springtrap ), about how William most likely passed human fluids and gasses as he died-

Yeah. News flash: you do that no matter how you die. Even later in a casket as you're rotting away.

Now.. the act of him doing that as he dies isn't ableist within itself. But the fact that these people using the bit of him urinating and defecating himself as a joke Is ableist as there are folks with disabilities that can't control it, and there is no shame in that.

Also if you're trying to say "Springtrap smells like literal shit". Consider people already know this and either ignore that ( which is valid ) or yk. Have their insert take Springtrap home and clean him up and fix him.

Or have Springtrap clean himself up ( i imagine he does by the time he become Scraptrap, as best as he can anyway ).

.

As for Curly, i am seeing a lot of Videos that are finally talking about it. Thank the gods, moon, whatever.

Mouthwashing is one of those things you really don't need to ship anyone with anyone ( if you must i highly suggest making an oc because thats awesome ).

On top of that though I'm still seeing ableist art of Curly and probably will for awhile 😮‍💨

[kooktrash]

Fighting heart mc has a little accident at home and needs to go to the hospital (maybe for stitches?) and jk calls her and nurse pick it up and says that she’s in hospital 😌 And of course he got panicked and rushed to the hospital and even after he saw that she’s perfectly fine he can’t help but cry because of the fear and all those ugly emotions (and he thought that something big happened to her) 😭😭 And of course he wouldn’t stop gushing over her and be her ‘yes man’

oooof I missed these two idk. jk has always been the more stressed out one so I could def see him completely losing his shit while oc is like “🤷🏽‍♀️Shit happens” he def makes a bigger deal out of it.

FIGHTING HEART

warnings: mentions of bl**d, oc cuts her leg with glass. jk gets anxiety from it. oc needed stitches 2.4K words.

You never considered yourself a handy man of any sort. You hate getting your hands dirty and you hate doing any sort of hard labor at all—it’ll mess up your manicure, but today you didn’t have much of a choice. You had just been lounging around your apartment all day with Jimin who decided he would come over and keep you company. Your boyfriend, Jungkook, has been stuck training lately because he’s got a big fight coming up and Jin has been really strict on him because of it. Even if he won’t admit it, you know he’s been stressed because if he wins, he’ll win big.

Jungkook has finally begun to really establish himself as a real boxer and right now he’s getting so many calls from just about anyone in the boxing world looking to set a match with him. He’s so close to being the lightweight champion and you know it’s been a lot of pressure on him so all you’ve wanted to do was show him your support and show him he could rely on you.

Maybe that’s why you decided to tackle this issue on your own today.

“You’re scaring me, Y/n,” Jimin said as he watched you stand on your kitchen counter trying to switch out a lightbulb, “If you fall Jungkook is going to kill me.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you turned to him with the huge, heavy lightbulb in your hands, “Stop being so negative, I’m very capable of changing a lightbulb, thank you very much.”

Jimin released a sigh, “I mean… if you say so.”

Jungkook was exhausted, his body ached everywhere and all he wanted to do was drive over to you, pull you into a bath with him and hopefully fall asleep after. Lately it feels like all he’s done is train with Hobi and right now he just wants to stop it all and go see you.

Of course he’s thankful for all the opportunities he’s been given in life but right now he just wants to be selfish and hang out with the love of his life without worrying about the newest brand deal—which right now, Calvin Klein has been blowing up Jin’s phone to sign the new and upcoming boxer as a brand ambassador. He thinks he’ll do it but only if he can get you signed on as well, it’s not like they would say no with the connections you have. Maybe he’ll talk to you about it tonight.

“Alright Kook, you wanna rest up tonight because tomorrow we’re doing it all over again,” Hoseok said to him as they walked toward their parked cars ready to end today’s session, “Are you going to see Y/n?”

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook said, already taking his phone out to call you, “I’m thinking we’ll get dinner and after that probably just lounge around.”

They said their goodbyes and once Jungkook was in the privacy of his car, he called you. Lately, he’s been so busy he almost feels guilty for not being able to see you. You’re so supportive and loving and all he wants to do is spend all his time with you but he’s finally doing something with his life and it’s all because of you so he just continues to push himself to his limits. He wants to be with someone worthy of you, no matter how many times you assure him you’ll love him no matter what.

You chose him over anyone else, even when you saw his poor living conditions with leaking roofs and broken cabinets. You stayed with him when you saw him lose control at an underground fight club. You’ve chosen him and he loves you so much that he misses you anytime he’s away.

When the call went to voicemail he couldn’t help but be confused, you told him you would just be home today so he wondered why you wouldn’t answer. Maybe you were sleeping or not around your phone, so he called you again just to be sure.

“Hello?”

Jungkook pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen to make sure he had in fact called you and not whatever guy was currently answering the phone, “Y/n?”

“Jungkook,” Jimin cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, this is Jimin.”

He released a breath in relief, “Oh, where’s Y/n?”

“Um,” Jimin bit his lip nervously as he looked behind him. Jungkook waited for him to speak but the longer he stayed quiet the more worried he got. Why did Jimin answer your phone and why did he seem so nervous?

“Y/n can’t really answer the phone right now,” Jimin said, already imagining your overprotective boyfriend plunging his fist into Jimin’s pretty head, “She had an accident an—“

“What?” Jungkook hit the brakes hard, completely forgetting he was trying to drive out of the parking lot, “What do you mean accident? Where is she?”

“We’re at the hospital right now, they’re giving her stitches—“

“Where?” Jungkook’s voice dropped to a low octave as his blood ran cold. He barely listened to the hospital Jimin told him before he was hanging up and speeding toward you. He ran a couple red lights but he didn’t even care. He felt his anxiety begin to spike up to the point where his chest tightened painfully and it was getting hard for him to breathe.

Getting to the hospital all happened in a blur, he went straight to the E.R section and he knew that the nurse behind the counter thought he looked crazy.

He was drenched in sweat from training and his eyes were red, his hands shaky and his voice cracked when he asked what room you were in.

“She’s just finishing up surgery and she’ll be out soon, I’ll take you to where the friend is waiting,” the nurse said and he anxiously followed after her, biting his lip so hard that it bled. The elevator ride felt like an eternity and he ignored the nurse’s warning not to run as he searched for Jimin who sat outside the room with his head down.

“What happened?” Jungkook asked and there was no denying the panic in his voice. Jimin shot up out of his seat looking a little scared by the way Jungkook glared at him. Jimin bit his lip, “We were in her kitchen and Y/n was trying to change a stupid lightbulb and—“

“Ow!”

Jungkook looked to the room, the blinds were closed so he couldn’t even look in and the door was shut, “Oh my god, did she fall?”

Jimin nodded subtly, “Y/n dropped the bulb and I think it s-scared her and she ended up falling a-and, glass was everywhere a—“

“What the fuck were you doing?!” Jungkook yelled louder than he meant to and others immediately turned to him with worry. Jimin’s eyes widened at the way Jungkook grabbed at him and once Jungkook realized what he was doing, he immediately let him go, “I’m sorry, Jimin. Sorry… b-but, if something happens to Y/n…”

“I know man,” Jimin put a hand on his shoulder, “She’s just getting a few stitches and she’ll be out soon. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook sat down with his head in his hands, hiding himself as he shut his eyes trying to get his brain to shut up. He knows that you’ll be fine but he can’t help but imagine the worse. He’s been so busy lately and he told you he would switch the stupid lightbulb for you and just kept forgetting. This is all his fault. All of it.

The thought of you being hurt in even the slightest way made him sick to his stomach. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. He’s supposed to keep you safe and be there for you and he hasn’t been and he feels so fucking shitty because all he can picture right now is your fall. How bad was it? How did it happen? Jimin said there was glass everywhere…

How hurt were you?

It felt like years passed before they were finally let into the room. Jimin stood behind with guilt written all over his face as Jungkook went right to your side, immediately holding your face in his hands, “Baby, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you said with a smile as you looked down at your leg, “Just a couple stitches, nothing too bad.”

“Six stitches and a large piece of glass in her heel,” the doctor said as he looked down at his paperwork. Jungkook was hovering over you with his forehead pressed against yours, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” You asked brushing his sticky hair out of his face, “I’m fine.”

“She did great,” the doctor said, finally getting Jungkook’s attention, “We’re going to prescribe something for the pain and finish up some paperwork. We have a pair of crutches Y/n could use but she should be healed in about three weeks. As of right now, I’d say put as little weight on her foot as possible, it was a big fall and she’s definitely bruised up.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Jungkook said and you looked at him. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked down at your boyfriend who lifted your knuckles to his lips and kissed the top of them. You could see his reddened eyes and when he looked up at you it was clear he was crying, this is the second time you’ve seen your strong boyfriend cry and it broke you.

“Jimin,” you looked to your friend, “Can you give us a minute?”

The doctor took that as his cue to go get the paperwork and leave with your friend until it was just you and Jungkook. “Baby,” you called to him once you were alone and he allowed himself to fully break down against your hospital bed, “What’s wrong? Are you mad? I know you told me to wait b-but, I just wan—“

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, tears falling down his cheeks, “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/n. I keep telling you over and over again that I want to be someone you deserve and I just keep disappointing you.”

You sat up suddenly, wincing a little as you shifted your leg and Jungkook immediately looked up with fear, “Jungkook, this isn’t your fault at all. This was an accident, I was being impatient. Even Jimin told me it was a bad idea but I wanted to prove that I could do things on my own, obviously not bu—“

“Baby, you’re so strong and you don’t even know it,” Jungkook said as he sat down on the edge, careful not to take up too much room, “So strong and smart that you can do anything. I just… I should’ve just done it the first time you told me.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” You combed his hair back before wiping his tears away with your thumb, “And shouldn’t I be the one crying? I just got six stitches.”

Jungkook sniffled as he leaned forward and pulled you into a tight hug, “I was so scared, baby, so fucking scared that something horrible happened and I just… I just couldn’t get over the fact that I wasn’t around.”

Your eyes met his and to help him calm down, and remind him he won’t lose you, you kissed him. Jungkook kissed you back wantonly, hand in your hair and salty tears on his tongue, “I love you so much.”

The wait for the paperwork took forever and Jimin sat in the corner of the room watching you and Jungkook. He had been so exhausted from his training that when he rested his head on your chest, he fell asleep.

“You’ve got a very concerned boyfriend on your hands,” the nurse said once she returned, “I hear he caused a commotion downstairs and out in the hall just worried sick about you.”

“I’m sure he did,” you said in a whisper, brushing a finger against his cheek that had him waking up slowly, eyes hazy as he looked up at you.

“Alright, well just follow the doctor’s orders, once the numbing block wears off you’ll feel some pain because you sprained your ankle. We’ll do a follow up in about a week, how does that sound? Now I need the one she’ll be leaving with to sign these documents.

“Sounds good, we’ll be here,” Jungkook had your hand in his as he signed the paper with his free hand, there were crutches in her hands and she was motioning for you to try and sit up. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to tuck an arm under your back and the other one under your knees before he was lifting you up.

“No need for crutches?” The nurse asked, watching Jungkook pick you up with ease. Jimin took them from her with a thank you, “I guess not.”

“Babe, I can walk,” you tried telling him as he cradled you in his arms, “I’m heavy.”

“Shh, I’ve made guys bigger than you tap out with one punch,” Jungkook said as he carried you to the elevator with Jimin hot on your trails, “I think I’m capable of carrying my injured girlfriend to the car.”

When you got to the hotel you lived at, Jungkook had yet to let your feet touch the car even once. He helped you to bed using a pillow to rest your leg and making sure you were comfortable as he ran around looking for things you might need.

You giggled, “Kook, I’m not paralyzed, I can walk, just give me some time.”

“I know you’re strong babe but I really don’t want you over exerting yourself,” he said, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll go do it.”

“I still need the lightbulb fixed.”

“On it.”

Jungkook ran out to the kitchen, nearly crying again once he saw the mess on your perfectly polished marble floors. Once again he was reminded that you had probably been in a lot of pain and he wasn’t around. There was blood mixed with thin glass all over the floor and he went to your supply closet to get the cleaning supplies. If Jimin wasn’t around, what would have happened? Would you have forced yourself to stand and call an ambulance? Would you have called him or would you think he was too busy to answer?

The next morning Jungkook did not leave your side one bit. He called Hobi and told him he wouldn’t make it to training and spent his day doing everything he could for you.

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[anggiazs]

Just saw a TikTok comment saying "I think Logan stans like Logan, while Jess stans like Jess and Rory together." and I can't help but think THAT THIS IS SO TRUE!

If you're talking about Jess, Rory is never out of context. It's always talking about how they bring out the best in each other at the right time, how they need each other, how they made each other better, yada yada yada. In the end, they're soulmates, pushing towards each other. As much as I love Jess (seriously, I have a problem), I would always want him more for Rory, for them to be happy together as adults in love in a way I'm so certain they can be.

And with Logan, ... Istg if I see one more person saying "Rory should've said yes to Logan's proposal" I am gonna riot, like full on burning a house down. "But he loves her so much, he can give everything for her!" HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR HER! Yes, most of it is her decisions and mistakes, but good god he doesn't do anything real or impactful about it. He just lets her. It's always "But Logan is..." or "Logan will...", and oh my god this show is NOT titled "Huntzbergers". What about what Rory wants??? What about her??? Can't you see that he brings out the bad from her? Not only him but his entire environment???

Hhhh, most of Logan stans I see on TikTok only love him because he's rich and knows how to have a good adventurous time. Don't they care about the actual emotional connection between two destined people?? And don't even get me started on them comparing adult Logan and teenage Jess, which is another rant entirely. "THIS is how a healthy relationship should look like!", and it's a clip on Logan being there when Richard is sent to the hospital, not on him bribing Rory with coffee without even saying "I'm sorry" or any other manipulative shit he has done. There are two sides to a coin; If you refused to see that on Jess, sure as hell I'm not letting you ignore it on Logan.

And I also saw a comment saying "Logan loved her so much he'll agree to anything she does because he'll follow her every decision." and um, isn't that... like, not healthy?? Loving someone should mean you want what's best for them, knowing someone so well that with one glance you can tell something's not right, not seeing them drown in a lifestyle YOU INFLUENCED ON THEM, and just decide to be happy and follow them deeper and deeper into it. Rory and Logan would not last A MINUTE outside the Yale bubble, and that is a statement I'll carry to my grave.

[kooksvspogues]

Happy 1st Birthday Lillian! 🥳

Part 6

Authors Note: so sorry for just now being able to post, last few weeks have been insane between tests, finals, and then family was in the hospital. Hope this makes up for the time gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we get to the bar, we meet up with Austin and Chase in line, immediately giving them both a hug.

“You look gorgeous” Austin tells me putting his hand on my lower back, ushering me forward as the line gets shorter.

We wait for everyone to get our ID’s scanned and our stamp before walking inside, me and Mack grabbing each other’s hand and lead everyone to ‘our spot’ from all those years ago, right behind one of the bars and beside the pool table.

“Mack, is that Grant??” I pull her beside me and point watching as one of the security guards walking towards us making their rounds

“Holy shit, yes it is” she said pulling me towards him, “Grant!” She yells catching his attention

“I thought that was y’all, how are y’all? Ain’t seen both of y’all here in years!” He yells over the music pulling us both into a hug

“We’re doing good! I’m actually married and have a baby now! Mads just graduated from vet school” Mack answers for us both as Grant gives us both a high five

“I’m happy to hear y’all are doing good, that’s amazing! Y’all stay safe and let me know if y’all need anything!” He smiles as we nod and smile back before walking back over to the group.

“Who was that?” Drew asked us

“Grant, he was one of the security guards that always kept an eye on us” I tell him and he smiles

“What do you want to drink?” Drew asks me

“Crown and coke” I say and be nods, “you need help getting everything?”

“Yeah, that’d be great” he smiles as he runs down the list of everything we need making sure he’s got it all before we walk over to the bar.

We waited for a few minutes waiting on the solo cups and the beers, I immediately start sipping on my drink the second I get it.

“You gonna dance with me any or is Austin gonna keep you tied up?” Drew asks putting his hand on his hip looking down at me

“Little do you know, I’m into that kind of thing” I wink before laughing at my own joke as I watch his eyes go wide, “but for real, all you gotta do is ask me, I’ll dance” I assure him

“If you’re already talking like that, take your time on the drinks Ms. Taylor” he warns

“I will do as I please Mr. Starkey” I tease grabbing 5 beers, purposely bumping into his side before walking back over to the table handing the beers out.

Drew came and stood next to me at the table, handing the cups out he had. I quickly chugged my crown and coke, sitting it down.

“Slow down cowgirl” Austin teases pulling me in between his legs.

“I’ll be fine” I say, watching as one of the workers are walking around selling Jell-O shots, “Mack?” I say pointing over at the girl.

“You already know” she winks and I smile waving the girl over, she quickly walks over

“What can I get you fine people tonight?” She smiles

“We want the whole tray” Mack yells from across the table, making my eyes widen, Mack and I both start to pull out our cash but Drew beats us to it, taking the tray out of her hand and sitting it on our table.

“I’m gonna pay you back” I tell him

“No you’re not, my treat, congrats Dr. Taylor” he winks keeping our eyes locked as he grabs one of the shots and puts it up to my lips, I take hold of it and suck it out of the mini cup. When I look over, I see Austin watching me closely

“What?” I ask

“That was hot” he said making me laugh

“Want one?” I ask, holding one up for him, which he happily takes from me.

Garrett had done brought me and Mack both a few more drinks, taking the edge off when one of our favorites songs to line dance to, comes on; Fuego by Pitbull

“Come on!” I yell reaching for her hand before we both take off to the dance floor, immediately feeling like we’re 22 again. I felt eyes on me and every time I glanced over, there was for sure always one set of crystal blues not leaving me while the other pair seemed to be interested in anything that walked by, but I didn’t care, but because of the set of eyes that were still watching, I decided to add a little more sway and slowness to my moves… or maybe that was partly the alcohol mixed with an attractive man staring.

~~~~~ Drew’s POV ~~~~~

From the tone of her voice earlier at the bar, putting the shot up to her lip, to the sway of her hips on the dance floor right now, I didn’t know how to control myself. I didn’t know how to not go out there and dance with her, hold her close to me, how I’ve wanted her for years now.

“She looks so fucking good out there, can you just imagine how she’d move in bed?” Austin says bringing me out of my thoughts

“Dude, chill, stop talking about her like that” I tell him

“I’m sure your thinking the same thing about some girl here already” Austin says patting my shoulder

“No I’m not” I say crossing my arms looking him in the eyes.

“Suuuure you’re not, good luck buddy” Austin says walking towards the dance floor grabbing Maddie’s hand pulling her to the middle. Mack walks over next to me, grabbing another shot

“You okay?” She asks me

“I really don’t think you should be pushing Austin and Maddie” I say

“What why? I think they would be really cute” She defends

“Cause of that right there” I say pointing at him trying to keep her against him when she clearly wants to actually dance, not grind.

“Oh God, She looks uncomfortable, will you please go get her” Mack pleads

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice” I say immediately making a bee line for her.

“Austin, stop” I hear her tell him laughing nervously trying to push away from him

“Cmon, I’m just trying to have some fun” Austin says

“Austin, let her go” I say grabbing Mads hand, pulling her to my side. Austin steps closer to me, keeping our eyes locked

“What’s your fucking deal Drew?” He asks pissed off

“She didn’t want you on her like that” I tell him

“Maddie was fine, weren’t you?” Austin asks looking down at her with a smile before reaching out to grab her arm

“Don’t touch her” I warn keeping my eyes locked with his

“I don’t know what your problem is the past few days but figure it out Starkey” Austin says before walking off

I turn to look at Maddie, “want a drink?” I ask

“Yes please” she smiles before taking my hand and leading us off the dance floor and towards the bar, asking for 2 crowns and coke when the bartender gets to her.

“You okay?” I lean down and ask her

“Yeah, just glad you came and saved me” she smiles up at me, locking her eyes with mine keepin a light hold on my arm

“Glad I was able to” I smile down at her, “you look really beautiful” I say watching as the corners of her mouth turn up into a big grin and her cheeks turn a extra shade of pink

“You look good tonight too” she says, bumping her shoulder into my arm

“Here you go ma’am!” The bartender says sitting the cups in front of us, I reach over her and grab both cups, handing her one as she grabbed the same hand and led us back to the group

“Are you okay?” Mack asks her as soon as we walk up

“Yeah, huge thanks to Drew” she smiles nudging me, our eyes lingering on each other longer than they should’ve

“Yeah, Drew’s the best” Mack says making my eyes cut back to her, giving her a smile

“I try” I wink patting my chest making both of them shake their heads

~~~~~ Maddie’s POV ~~~~~

“I really gotta use the bathroom, come with me” Mack says grabbing my hand

“I’ll walk y’all over there” Drew says quickly following us over. I take a few quick sips out of my cup before handing it to Drew for safe keeping following Mack into the bathroom.

“I don’t think he’s gonna let you out of his sight now” Mack whispers to me before laughing as I walk her to a stall

“Well I’d much rather have your brother as a body guard than Austin trying to grind up against me” I say from the other side of the door

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that” Mack says

“It’s okay, but can you please stop pushing for the whole Maddie and Austin thing now?” I plead as she opens the stall door

“It’s gone and never will return” she smiles at me

“About time” I playfully roll my eyes as she swats at my arm before putting her hands back under the water, “maybe next time you’ll listen to me” I tease

“My bad for wanting my bestie to be happy” she throws her hands up

“I am happy, I’m surrounded by great people” I tell her grabbing ahold of her arm as she stumbles a little

“I mean with somebody romantically dummy” she says

“I know but I’m not worried about that right now” I defend

“You haven’t been worried about it in years…” she mumbles “part of me thinks Drew has a little crush on you which is weird” she adds

“Nah he’s just being a good friend” I tell her

“Yeah, that’s fine, just the look he gives you, I can’t pinpoint what it is” she tells me

“What look?” I ask

“Like eyes sparkling, can’t help but smile around you, he even blushes with you Maddie! I have not seen him blush since he was in middle school… see, that look right there” she explains as we go around the corner before we both look up at Drew, waiting a few feet away with a big toothy grin when he seen us

“Austin is making a fool of himself” Drew tells us when we walk up, pointing towards the dance floor where he is drunkenly dancing next to a girl but his dance moves almost favoring a 4 year old

“What is he doing?” I laugh

“Maybe that’s why he was only trying to grind” Mack says making Drew and I laugh

“As long as he keeps it away from me, I am good” I defend laughing as we walk back over to the table with Logan, Chase, and Garrett

Logan immediately pulls me over to him, “are you okay?” He asks

“I’m good, why?” I ask

“Austin, he looked really uncomfortable, I didn’t realize what was going on until Drew was basically running to you” he laughs taking a drink raising his eyebrows

“He was just being good friend, stop reading so much into it” I laugh pushing his cheek playfully

“Mhmmm… I’m just saying, I’m all for it” Logan whispers the last part

“For what?” I raise an eyebrow

“You and Drew” he says making my eyes go wide

“There’s nothing between me and Drew, just friends” I defend

“Just friends don’t look at each other like y’all do” he states

“We don’t look at each other anyway” I say

“Yeah okay, keep telling yourself that sweetheart” Logan says patting my head before pulling me over to the pool table where the rest of the boys are at

“You play?” Drew asks picking the rack up

“Eh not really, more of a pool watcher” I say taking a sip as he nods, giving me a smile, before picking up and his cue and getting ready to take the first shot.

After watching them for a while, chase and Garrett had wondered off when they were supposed to just go get more drinks and Logan had made his way back to our table.

So not knowing where or if our drinks were even got, I go over and grab two more crown and coke from the bar quickly and go back to where Drew is.

“Here ya go” I smile as he takes the drink

“Thank you ma’am” he says taking a drink, “wanna try?” He asks gesturing towards the cue.

“I’m good” I say

“You won’t get any good at it if you don’t work on it” he says leaning against the pool table, crossing his arms as good as he can with the drink in his hands, and looking down at me with that adorable smug smirk

“I have no reason to need to work on it” I shrug

“Yea ya do” he says

“Whiiich is?” I ask

“That way you can be my partner, hell, if I get you doing it good, we could win some money” he chuckles

“You and chase seemed to be good partners” I point out

“Yeah… but I’d much rather have you by my side than Chase..” he smile and I laugh “what?” He chuckles

“I’m too drunk to listen to cheesiness Mr. Starkey” I grin up at him

“Just one time, I’ll even show you what to do if you want me to, do it and I won’t bug you about it again” he says grabbing the cue and leaning it towards me. I roll my eyes and grab the cue from him before getting into the same position that I watched them do. “Wait.. hand here…” he says grabbing my hand and placing it where it needed to be “put your fingers like— there ya go, atta girl.. now lean over, focus on one ball and use your other arm to shoot” he tells me and I feel his hand land on my back “you got it”

I couldn’t help the feeling in my stomach, most of his hand being skin to skin contact and a few of his finger tips right above the hem of my tank top. I look back at him partly confused and partly just wanting him to take his hand off so I can focus

“Sorry” he says pulling his hand away leaving the area feeling extra cold. I turn my head back to the cue and aim it directly for the striped 5 ball and shoot. I watch closely as it slowly makes its way to the corner pocket, dropping in.

“Did I actually just do that?” I say standing up straight and looking up at Drew

“You’re welcome” he smirks holding onto a cue

“That was me, not you sweetheart” I tease

“You wouldn’t have gotten it in if I didn’t show you where to put your hands”

“I woulda figured it out” I say handing him my cue and patting his bicep before turning to walk away but he quickly grabs my hand to pull me back

“I’ll make a deal with you, hot shot” he smirks

“And that is?” I ask

“If you can knock in…” he focuses on the table “stripe 12, I won’t keep trying for something that we both desperately want, but if you can’t, pick a ball for me and if I can knock it in… I get to take you out, one time, and it can be when your moved back if need be” he tells me

“Deal” I say raising my hand waiting for him to shake

“Deal” he smiles ear to ear

“What’s funny?” I ask

“Take a look at 12 sweetheart” he whisper yells over the music, I raise an eyebrow before looking down at the table, searching for 12.

12…Right in the middle of two other balls, “Drew, that’s not even fair” I whine

“Deals a deal babe” he winks as I roll my eyes, “let’s see what you can do”

I walk around the table, looking at different angles trying to find the best spot. Every spot was gonna be a miss unless you were just lucky, every hit would hit one of the other balls and throw 12 off course. But, I had to try so I took the spot that looked the less threatening, leaned down and got the cue set up as good as I knew. I moved a little to get the right angle and took my shot, saying a little prayer in my head. I watch 12 collide into 5 slightly and kept going, getting closer and closer to going in… and it would’ve, if the ball hadn’t hit the corner of the side and took off to the other side.

I throw my head back and groan. “I’m actually proud of you for that” Drew says

“Proud enough to just say I won?” I ask

“Not a chance” he smiles making me roll my eyes again, “what ball?” He asks as I glance around the table, looking at the 3 against the side.

“Ball 7” I tell him

“Oh.. wow.. I don’t know if I can do that…” he says in a serious tone. I look up at him starting to grin until I see his smirk replace his ‘concerned’ look

“Oh you’re such an asshole” I say pushing him slightly laughing before watching him find his spot, getting into place, and taking a shot. The cue hits the ball on one sides, knocks into ball 7, and it knocks into the ball on the other side and it keeps rolling towards the pocket, 7 not far behind it. Drew places his hand over his mouth watching the ball closely as it makes it to the edge of the pocket, feeling like it paused for 10 minutes before falling into the pocket. I cross my arms and look at Drew watching him raise his arms in victory

“That is complete bullshit” I laugh as he makes his way over to me doing a somewhat victory dance, before picking me up and spinning around making us both laugh

“I get to take you out” he says putting my feet back on the ground

“When I move back” I tell him

“Don’t think your gonna get out of it, I won fair and square” he says mockingly

“Okay okay, just don’t tell Mack” I warn

“Figured that” he laughed

“One date” I say as he locks eyes with me

“Yeah… one date” he rolls his eyes but agrees

“C’mon” I say grabbing the cues and sitting them down on the table and grabbing his hand pulling him to the dance floor “you know how to two step?” I ask looking up at him

“A little” he said as I grabbed his hand and push it to go behind my back as I kept hold of his other hand

“Just go with the flow” I tell him as I take the lead a little to get him started, but after he few minutes, he pulls me closer and is dancing like he knows everything there is to know “Thought you said you only knew a little” I tease

“You just make it easy” he teases back

“Oh.. I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult” I laugh

“Definitely a compliment” he says before dipping me, one hand on my back and the other on the back of my leg. Our eyes lock and it feels like we’re the only people in here

“Drew” I say after what feels like eternity

“Don’t.” He says pulling me back up and pulling me off the dance floor and towards a vacant hallway, immediately placing me against the wall, placing his lips on mine. The alcohol giving us all the confidence in the world…? Maybe…? I feel him pull away slightly, “please” he begs as I place my hand on his cheek and the other on the back of his head pulling him back down to meet my lips. One of his hands in my hair and the other on my hip keeping me close to him.

“What the fuck?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @percysley @dilfs-4life

[princessbiteme0o0]

You’re My Home. (Jschlatt x Reader)

WARNINGS: Fluff, age regression (It’s not a Daddy kink, there’s a difference), depression, sweet Schlatt, protective Schlatt

Summary: I honestly don’t know. I’m just miserable and want to write out my pain lmao (I wish this was real lmaoooo)

—🌸—🌸—

Schlatt sat at his office computer, talking to Ted as they filmed the podcast. It had been a long week for both him and his girlfriend, who currently was asleep in one of the other rooms on the couch.

“This has been a crazy week, Ted. I’m so fuckin’ tired.” Schlatt complained, running a hand over his face.

“Oh yeah? And how’s (Y/N)? Shea told me that she’s been texting her complaining about her job.” Ted replied with a raise of his brow.

“Don’t even get me started.” Schlatt grumbled with a scowl. “She’s beyond exhausted and keeps pushing herself so hard that she was bordering on a hospital visit this week for exhaustion.”

“Well shit dude. Tell her to quit.” Schlatt waved his hand in frustration at Ted’s words.

“I’ve tried, but she’s so damn stubborn that she won’t. Even tried telling her I’d take care of her and-“ Schlatt is cut off by the door to his office creaking open. He turned towards the door, ready to yell at one of his employees for opening the door, but his eyes softened when he saw her standing in the doorway, wearing one of his extra large shirts on her little figure. Her hair was messy and she looked exhausted.

“Daddy?” She mumbles out, rubbing her eyes. Tears of frustration were in her eyes as she stared at him.

“You know I’m recording, Pumpkin.” He sighs out softly, a small frown crossing his lips when he sees the tears in her eyes.

“Jay…” She whimpers out and Schlatt leans back, patting his thigh. With a tired smile on her lips, she padded over to him and sat on his thigh, burying her face in his neck. “Love you…” She mumbles, giving a small wave to Ted through the camera. She heard Ted chuckle softly and let out a teasing ‘aww’ and she rolled her eyes, hiding her pink cheeks in Schlatt’s neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, hands gently rubbing her back as he continued the podcast with Ted like it was nothing. She was quick to fall asleep there on his lap, the sound of his voice filling her smaller body with warmth and making her feel safe.

Once they were done recording the podcast, Schlatt carefully carried her to the couch and laid down with her curled up on his chest. He knew that she had really been struggling at her job, he knew that she was stressed. It was obvious how depressed she was by how much more often she was slipping into her regressive state. The more it happened, the more he felt the need to protect her and her innocence. He loved her for everything about her, but the main thing that pulled him in was the purity of her. Her big heart and loving smile, the way she looked at everyone like they had the best intentions.

He was pulled from his own thoughts when he felt her stir on top of him. “Daddy?” She whispers out, trying to curl herself further on top of him and his arms gripped her just a bit tighter as if to protect her.

“Hi there, Toots.” He teased softly and when she giggled one of her small, warm giggles, he felt his chest swell with love for her.

“Missed you.” She mumbles, placing a kiss on his chest.

“I was only recording for an hour, Honey bun.” He chuckles, kissing the top of her head.

“I know, but you’re my home. I feel like I might die without you.” She speaks softly, readjusting herself to peer up at him through sad eyes.

“(Y/N)…” He whispers out, his eyes brimming with tears. She constantly showered him with such love and passion that he honestly questioned if he deserved it, but she was constantly quick to assure him that he did.

“I know… You don’t like all the lovey dovey stuffs, but I mean it.” She smiles softly, kissing his chin gently.

“I know you do, Sweetie… I love you so much.” He replied with a shaky smile.

“You couldn’t imagine just how much I love you.”

[i-yap]

I have a Dick Grayson request!

I don't know if you do vigilante s/o but I was wondering if you did could you write how he would react when he finds out that the crazy person jumping off buildings with his alter ego is also his gn s/o? I always find the different takes on the reader finding out about Nightwing but I really want to know what you think his reaction would be?Anyways, this might not be something you'll write but I just figured I'd ask

Lots of love and admiration for you and your works

❤️

A compliment and a Dick grayson ask??omg made my day ( I promise he isn't my favorite I love them all equally)

Ive never really written vigilante reader..or even imagined one but I can try

Dick Grayson x vigilante!s/o

s/n- supername

"There's an armed robbery at the children's hospital on 34th" reported Tim onto the batcom.

"I can get there in 5" replied Dick.

"Take hood with you, he's on 39th " Ordered Batman

"I don't need a babysitter..especially not hood"

"HAHA, Ill be there as soon as I'm done beating up this creep who was cornering pretty girls" Jason says cheekily.

"wait ..I dont think i need you here hood, or even I'm needed..S/n got here first. She's tying up the perps as we speak"

"Unmask her Nightwing, even I couldnt figure out her identity and she has been spotted in too many crimes around gotham" said Oracle

"You can't passible think THE s/n is a criminal" tim replied shocked

"Haha timmy has a thing for s/n just cause she was caught buying rock shirts from the shady stores he loves" Jason teases

" NO REAL NAMES ON THE COMS JASON, also Oracle is right. Best to be precautionary" states Batman.

Nightwing approaches s/n. "OH JEEZ, hi your scared me haha. Not that you're scary. You're really hot , I mean your partner probably finds you hot but not me. I'm just random vigilante...Uh anyways Ive called the police they're on their way so I think my work here is done!" You say hurriedly after spotting your boyf-nightwing approaching you.

"Well good work here s/n. But I actually had to speak to you alone. " "Me? why??"

"I need you to unmask yourself. Batman's orders . You cant trust me, you know I'm one of the good guys and we have been on multiple cases together. Plus you are kind of in my city"

" Well I- dick listen." "How do you -" You take off your mask to reveal yourself.

"I was about to tell you dickie..please don't be mad" "MAD? ME? MY SWEETHEART IS A CRIME FIGHTING ASS KICKING SUPERHERO! I KNEW YOU WERE TOO STRONG TO BE A BARISTA!. I mean I do wish you told me before" "I just didn't know how you would take it. You always talked about how much you loved our domestic intimacy and simplicity in our relationship and i-" Dick takes your hands in his "We can still have that baby, just because you are a superhero doesn't change anything. Youre still the best thing that ever happened to me and now we can even spend more time together as our alter ego. We would be a great power couple!" Says dick, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

"EW EW THE ROMANTIC SPEECH WAS GROSS BUT KISSING NOISES?" Yells jason into the coms

" NO DICK HOW COULD YOU, MY SUPERCRUSH MAN" Cries out tim

"shit i forgot to turn off my comms" whines dick

"NO REAL NAMES ON THE COMS !" Orders Bataman

"Bring her to the manor once you have discussed the - the revelation. There is much to talk about" Says Batman.

"I'm Surprised Y/n is even real" Joins in Damian.

"WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT HAVING A PARTNER" yells Nightwing into the comms while you try to muffle your laugh.

"Well, I am no one to comment on your mental state NightWing, But it is questionable"

You pull away Dick from the comms before they all start bickering- and giving bruce a headache. Sure there was a lot to discuss but dick is the best batboy to be a vigilante partner to. He would be understanding and non restrictive and the perfect partner in fight. Communication is easy with him and he trusts you and gives you your space to be yourself. After all, its all these things that make him love you for you.

sorry if there is anything offensive i don't usually write gn!reader cuz I'm a cis female and I don't proof read. Also english is not my first language. Lmk if there's anything offensive and ill change it.

[holybatgirlz]

Had to do another response to bridgertonbabe’s spouses groupchat

(All credit goes to @bridgertonbabe)

—

🐝 The Children Group Chat 🐝

Eloise sent a picture.

Eloise: I think we should submit this to Merriam-Webster to put in the dictionary next to the word ‘heavenly’ because holy shit what happened last night was the closest I have ever had to a religious experience.

Eloise: And yes, I already created and bought matching sweatshirts with this image on it for everyone. They say ‘I survived the Pictionary Incident of ‘16’ on them.

Hyacinth: I swear to god if you two idiots scared Sophie off I’m going to finish what she started.

Anthony: Do I have to remind everyone that both Colin and myself were assaulted last night?? Or did you not see the photo Eloise just sent??

Violet: Do I need to remind you both that you purposefully dropped a keg on your brother’s hand?!?

Colin: Mini. It was a mini keg.

Colin: We’re not stupid enough to drop an actual keg on Benedict.

Violet: Well, you could have fooled me.

Violet: The doctor told me your poor brother broke two fingers and was a millimeter away from needing to have surgery on his hand. And in his dominant hand no less.

Violet: Do you have any idea how this is going to impact your brother? His painting? His upcoming gallery showing? He still has three paintings he needs to finish before next month and I have no idea how he’s going to complete them now that you two have gone and done this to him.

Colin: Yes, yes mother. We know. Benedict’s your precious little baby. Heaven forbid he do anything wrong. Like yelling at his girlfriend because she nearly made him lose Pictionary.

Colin: A girlfriend who, I would like the record to reflect, slapped me.

Anthony: Sophie also gave me a black eye. Kate has spent all of this morning laughing at me every time I walk into a room and she sees it so I think we’re even.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet: What did you not understand about almost needing surgery? You practically shattered his hand!! You nearly destroyed your brother’s art career!

Hyacinth: If Sophie stops talking to me because of the shit you two bozos pulled omg I’m going to end you both.

Colin: I’m surprised the coke can you nearly hit her with didn’t already do that.

Daphne: Hey. We may have a situation happening.

Francesca: What’s wrong?

Violet: Is everything alright?

Daphne: Simon’s panic pacing in our living room right now and I heard him say something about Sophie. I’m trying to figure out what happened. Give me a second.

Daphne: Hold on.

Daphne: SOPHIE’S PLANNING TO BREAK UP WITH BEN!!

Francesca: What??

Eloise: Say sike Daphne. Say sike right now.

Gregory: Seriously??

Colin: Oh shit. For real?

Francesca: How do you know?

Daphne: Simon and Kate are texting with her right now. I only figured it out because Simon’s stutter comes back when he’s stressed and mutters to himself to stay calm.

Daphne: But Sophie’s said she’s going to break up with Ben when he wakes up because she thinks we all hate her!!

Violet: I need to get back to the hospital right now.

Hyacinth: YOU IDIOTS!!!

Hyacinth: I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BOTH!!

Colin: Gregory. Since I know u r with her. Scale of 1-10 how pissed is Hy right now?

Gregory: Hy right now:

Gregory sent a photo

Gregory sent a photo

Colin: Ah. 100 then.

Gregory: Yeah

Colin: Well it was nice knowing everyone

Anthony: Why on earth would she think we hate her?? You were all cheering her on when she was assaulting us.

Eloise: By far the hottest thing I've ever seen. I think watching her throw that punch rewired my brain chemistry. Watered my crops. Cleared my skin. Ended my depression. And helped me finish my graduate applications. I’ve never felt so alive.

Eloise: Fuck Wollstonecraft. Fuck Steinem. Fuck Atwood. Their works do not even compare to the straight prose Sophie was shooting last night while she was yelling at you two.

Eloise: And if we lose her now because you two idiots made her think we despise her I am going to HELP HYACINTH BURY YOUR BODIES!!!

Francesca: Mum, how close are you?

Violet: 30 minutes out. John is driving as fast as he legally can to get me back there.

Violet: I knew I shouldn’t have left her there alone. I knew something was off. She was far too quiet to have been okay with all of this.

Daphne: Do you need us to come meet you there?

Violet: No. The last thing we need to do is overwhelm her.

Violet: This is all my fault. I should never have picked Pictionary. I shouldn’t have even allowed a Game Night to begin with!

Violet: I forgot that I have wolves for children. That you all were swapped with changelings as babies.

Hyacinth: Why didn’t anyone stay with Sophie???

Eloise: Because she’s a grown woman who knows how to handle herself. She seemed fine last night.

Francesca: She seemed pretty overwhelmed to me. I found her crying in the bathroom after Benedict yelled at her.

Violet: She was crying?!!!

Francesca: I think she was just taken by surprise and she told me Danbury had called her earlier about the lawsuit with her stepmother so I thought she was probably already stressed before she arrived at the house last night. I told her Benedict didn’t mean any of it. And after the beat down she gave Colin and Anthony I thought she would be okay.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to get there!!

Violet: Sweetheart, I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.

Hyacinth: Omg Mum hurry up 😩😩😩 My sanity is on the line here.

Gregory: Anthony and Colin’s asses are literally on the line right now. Hyacinth might actually commit to killing them.

Hyacinth: I swear to God I’m going to actually lose it if Sophie leaves. We finally were about to have a cool in-law in the family and now you IDIOTS RUINED IT!!!

Gregory: We were almost able to say we had a felon in the family 😖😖😖

Daphne: Gregory. Sophie nearly going to jail is not something to strive for.

Francesca: She also isn’t a felon. She would have had to have been convicted for that to be true.

Hyacinth: Firstly, she was falsely accused and this has been a known fact for weeks now. Keep up. Secondly, and according to the police report, Sophie almost outran the cops and got away. Like they chased her seven blocks before they caught her. Full sprint the entire time. And then she elbowed one of them while they were arresting her so they nearly hit her with an assaulting police officer charge because of it.

Hyacinth: Thirdly, Ben said Sophie completely decked her stepmother once it was revealed that Armabitch lied about her stealing from her (which honestly should have been a heads up for tweedle dumb and tweedle dumbest not to FUCK with her)

Hyacinth: And FOURTHLY, she literally got broken out of jail by Mum and Ben because yours truly was smart enough to make sure her location sharing was on.

Hyacinth: She’s a literal icon of icons 😍😍😍

Daphne: Hyacinth, you never answered this the last time we asked. But did you hack Sophie’s phone?

Hyacinth: No

Hyacinth: I just made sure she was sharing her location with me while I was putting my number in her phone. That’s all.

Violet: Alright I’m back at the hospital.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to find Sophie! You need to stop her!

Violet: Oh I plan to. Not going to allow all my hard work to go to waste. I’ll text you once I’ve spoken to her.

Eloise: Are you two idiots happy with yourselves now??

Eloise: Was this worth dropping a keg on Benedict??

Colin: Again

Colin: Mini keg.

Colin: And right now, since I am currently praying to every God in existence to make sure Sophie and Benedict don’t break up, the answer is no.

Anthony: If she was bold enough to hit me in the face, then she was a perfect fit for this family.

Anthony: Mum, if you don’t stop her, tell me. I’ll come out there and speak to her myself.

Hyacinth: Anything?

Daphne: Oh my god this wait is killing me.

Francesca: Mum any updates yet?

Benedict sent a picture

Benedict: I lived.

Daphne: Benedict! Where’s Sophie? Is she with you?

Hyacinth: DO NOT LET HER LEAVE US!!!

Benedict: She here ❤️

Benedict: she finance

Eloise: ????

Benedict: Soap finance

Daphne: Benedict what are you trying to say

Eloise: What the hell does this mean???

Benedict: Soap

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: SOAP MY FINANCE

Benedict: soap finance

Benedict: Duck

Francesca: Benedict are you still high??

Benedict: No. Typing 1 hand. Hard

Eloise: I think we should all take that as he’s still high.

Benedict: Soap Bucket my finance

Gregory: This is some fucking DaVinci code level shit.

Francesca: Are you talking about Sophie??

Benedict: Yes

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: She finance

Francesca: She’s fine?

Eloise: What about Sophie’s finances??

Violet: Fiancée. He means fiancée.

Violet: Sophie and Benedict are engaged!! Well, technically, engaged. Sophie told him he has to propose again once the drugs wear off but I got here just in time to see Benedict asking her to marry him after he woke up and hearing Sophie tell him yes. We’ve all been celebrating. It was quite lovely 🥰🥰

Benedict: Mum cryin rite now.

Eloise: No doubt ecstatic she no longer needs to worry about you dying alone.

Colin: Oh thank Christ.

Gregory:

Francesca: 🥳🥳 Congratulations Benedict

Daphne: Congratulations!!

Hyacinth: This is literally the best news I could receive 😭😭😭

Benedict: Thank you ☺️

Benedict: V happy rite now.

Eloise: V high 2

Benedict sent a photo

Benedict: High on life 😌😌😌 On love 😍☺️🥰

Eloise: Omg 🤢🤮

Eloise: Freak

Eloise: No one asked to see your kissing selfies.

Violet: Benedict. Sweetheart. Since I apparently have to text you this as well. Put the phone down and go back to sleep.

Benedict: NO

Benedict: Engaged!

Benedict: Every1 celebrate me b engaged

Anthony: Congratulations brother.

Benedict: Asshole. Hat u. U no celebrate.

Benedict: Hate other asshole 2. Were Colin?

Colin: Hey Benedict. How’s your hand?

Benedict: Duck u

Benedict: Fuck u

Benedict: Hate u both so much rite now.

Colin: Listen. Ben. I’m really sorry for almost crushing your hand.

Benedict: Hand no long matter. U hurt Soap. I kill u.

Colin: She slapped me!

Benedict: Deserved. U deserved. Drop keg on me n face Soap wrath.

Benedict: God she was so hot 4 that.

Eloise: So hot

Benedict: So hot. My gf is so hot.

Benedict: Finance! She finance now.

Anthony: Benedict. Please tell Sophie how sorry we are for last night and that we are all incredibly happy for her. For both of you.

Anthony: You can also tell her she has an impressive right hook.

Anthony: …

Anthony: Benedict?

Anthony: Benedict are you there?

Violet: He’s not going to answer. Sophie finally took his phone away. But I’ll tell her.

Daphne: Everyone say thank you to Kate and Simon. They spent almost an hour trying to talk Sophie out of leaving Benedict while we were all freaking out.

Francesca: Do they know?

Daphne: I told Simon

Anthony: Kate knows

Gregory: Kate and Simon right now probably

Eloise: Anthony. How much did you just drop on ‘thank you for saving my ass’ jewelry for Kate?

Anthony: Fuck off.

Francesca: I texted Kate. She’s checking the bank account.

Francesca: About 5k by the looks of it. And he’s taking her to Paris.

Anthony: I hate all of you.