#peter x aro
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My headcanon orientations for Wendy and Peter!
They like the darker colours of the other flags better~
#wendy maximoff#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#peter maximoff#pietro maximoff#quicksilver#xmen#x men#marvel#my art#fanart#digital art#aromantic#aro#aroace#biromantic#bisexual#bi#asexuality#asexual#lgbt#lgbtq#pansexual
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Peter b Parker with a aromantic darling getting him some yellow roses? (Yellow roses symbolize great care for ones friendship :] ) -aro anon
Love to see you excited about Spider-Man again :0!
Surprisingly enough this man actually knows the color meaning behind roses. From a stunned expression Peters face will light up, he's always been the one giving roses, rarely has he ever received any other than for grieving reasons, yet here you are with all your feelings in this humble bouquet
He keeps laughing and thanking you repeatedly, no clue how to respond in this scenario but damn does he feel so much for you right now
Parker eventually shuts up about the flowers, maybe two or three days later, though if you look around his little hiding spot where he overlooks all of the city you'll find them again, perfectly preserved in resin with the most care given to them. Peter is embarrassed to say so you might never hear it from him but he usually holds the flowers between his hands after a bad fight, letting himself relax on the top of that building with the reminder your there for him
#aro anon#aromantic#spider man x y/n#spider man x reader#spider man#spider man across the spider verse#spider man into the spider verse#peter parker x reader#yandere peter parker#yandere peter b parker#peter b parker#peter parker#marvel x y/n#yandere marvel#marvel imagine#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere imagine#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#aro reader#platonic yandere
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here's some more
#aro x peter#aro volturi#peter vincent#fright night#twilight#artist on tumblr#ship art#david tennant#michael sheen
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[art post] aro volturi x peter vincent ● noncon touching?
i want to see aro keep pretty human pets.
so,
#good omens extended universe#aro volturi x peter vincent#aro volturi#peter vincent#foolie's art#i gave up on peter's accessories#i plan to make more with DT's characters#should've added a collar whoops
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Peter and Barty are friends with benefits
#Before Rosekiller they hooked up all the time#And it wasn’t serious cause Peter’s aro and Barty was half in love with evan#They stayed friends afterwards though#peter pettigrew#barty crouch jr#party#peter x barty#The marauders#the slytherin skittles#marauders headcanons
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All I want is a fanfic where Aro and Lucian fight to death for the love of Peter Vincent, is that so difficult?
I don't even know what Peters x Lucian ship is called but I will call them Lucter until told otherwise.
#Lucian x Peter Vincent#lucter#vincturi#peter vincent x aro volturi#peter vincent#aro volturi#lucian underworld#bloody husbands#fright night#twilight#underworld#good omens extended universe
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because i’m baffled by it - i absolutely stan rosekiller ace/aro peter i don’t understand where “party” came from 😭
#marauders era#remus lupin#sirius black#james potter#marauders fandom#lily evans#the marauders#atyd#marauders#harry potter#peter pettigrew#barty crouch junior#barty crouch jr#barty x evan#ace/aro#peter x barty#party
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To Love Thy Enemy - An Aro/Peter Vincent Story
Chapter One: Meeting Death
It's Aro's duty to ensure that unruly vampires who draw too much attention to themselves are dealt with accordingly, but why risk the lives of his own coven when there is a perfectly good vampire hunter who he could use instead? What he doesn't expect is to become so concerned about and attached to the human male, especially when all of his habits seem to rub Aro the wrong way.
As for Peter Vincent, well, he hates all vampires, regardless of how kind they are to him, or how carefully they nurse him back to health after a hunt gone wrong. The only reason he even agrees to work alongside this Aro guy in the first place is because of his promise to keep Charlie and his family safe from harm, simple as that.
Vampires and Hunters are sworn enemies - and Aro and Peter will do well to remember that fact.
AO3 LINK [HERE]
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Hey guys! I just wanted to pop on and tell everyone that I do writing commissions! I do commissions for both fanfictions and original stories! I'm happy to write original characters so long as you give me information on them!
I charge $5 per 300 words with up to three characters before an added fee of $3 per extra character!
All proceeds go towards fixing up my house! In the tags are a list of fandoms I'm in!! Please feel free to DM me! Also!! Any shows that are kid friendly will be strictly platonic in relationships! I am an adult I will not write that.
#writing#writing commissions#aro volturi x peter vincent#good omens#hannibal#venom#the owl house#doctor who#the prodigal son#hetalia#the miraculous ladybug#the walking dead#howl's moving castle#spirited away#my hero academia#labyrinth#joker 2019#kingsman
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PLEASE I NEED THAT!!!
A huge issue I have have with this fandom is the (Young) Peter Pettigrew slander. Everyone goes ballistic bc he betrays the Potters and yada yada even though Regulus, Barty, Evan and any other death eater did pretty much the exact same thing.
So, I want to write a fic. Peter centric all about Peter discovering himself and his sexuality / identity while his friends all fall in love around him. (+ a couple other things)
A list of stuff it would include:
Aromantic Asexual Peter
Non binary Peter (maybe, lmk)
Wolfstar, Jegulus, Dorlene, Panda/Marylily, Rosekiller
Childhood friends Peter James and Marls
NO PETER BASHING‼️‼️
NO LILY SLANDER ‼️‼️
Happy ending (bc I’m a sucker for a happy end)
Angst
Disabled Peter!!! (My love)
Sassy + Cunty Peter bc yes
I got the idea while listening to Little League by Conan Gray and it would be loosely based off that
There are a few things I haven’t decided yet so it’s not set in stone so ideas/suggestions/feedback/criticism let me know <33
I will put updates on this page for you all, should I decide to continue on with it, and it will be posted on my Ao3 (Fredtheemoplant)
Again, any suggestions or question can be said directly in my asks or in the comments :)
All that aside, the question isss:
#i headcanon Peter as a big brother in case it can interest for ideas or else#i already hc my peter as aro sometimes aroace so YESSS#alsooo suggestion: marpanlily (mary x pandora x lily) if you cant decide between pandalily and marylily
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slow down ── dilf! peter maximoff x f! reader
⟡ NSFW || MINORS DNI 18+
⟡ TAGS: sexual content ・ fem!reader ・dilf!peter ・ unprotected p in v・ english is not my first language so bear with me・not proofread ・word count: 1,831
⟡ SYNOPSIS: domestic life with peter
a/n: i just finished my assignment for criminal law & wrote this fic with the aid of monster energy. kindly ignore the atrocious writing lol
“Hey kiddo! Bedtime!” Peter called down the hallway. He waited, silence.
“You’re not in bed yet! I’m gonna have to tickle ya to sleep if ya don’t get moving!”
Still nothing—except the faint sound of a stifled giggle. Peter’s lips twitched into a smile.
Game on.
He leisurely made his way down the hall, towards the living room, passing Luna’s bedroom door without sparing a glance.
“Huh, that’s weird,” he wondered out loud, playing it up.
“Where’s my kid? I swear I had one, like, five minutes ago.”
Peter exaggerated his search, peeking behind the curtains and glancing under the furniture. More giggles, and he nearly broke character with his own grin. He then made a big show of scratching his head in faux puzzlement.
“Nope, no kid here. Oh well,” he sighed dramatically. “Hmm, could’ve sworn I heard something. Maybe it’s a mouse. Or a cookie thief…”
At that, Luna couldn’t hold it in any longer. She popped out from behind the armchair.
“Noooo! Daddy, I’m here!” she squealed, bursting into laughter. Peter spun around, feigning surprise. “There you are! Thought I’d have to call the FBI or somethin’!”
Squealing with delight, the five-year-old bolted down the hallway as fast as her little legs could carry her. Peter was on her in an instant, zooming past you with a playful wink before scooping her up into his arms, spinning her through the air.
“You’re getting too fast for me, kiddo,” he grunted, as he carried her towards her bedroom, the little girl squirming in his grasp and laughing hysterically.
You leaned against the doorway, amused by the back-and-forth that had become so routine.
“Peter, you’re supposed to be calming her down, not winding her up.”
“I’m working on it,” he called back, depositing his daughter onto her bed and tucking the blanket around her.
“Fine, but when she’s bouncing off the walls at midnight, you’re the one getting up with her.”
Peter shot you a smirk, showing that he knew exactly what he was doing. He reached down and ruffled Luna’s hair, earning another giggle from her,
“Alright, peanut. Let’s make a deal. One more story—only one—Deal?”
Luna’s eyes lit up, and she bounced in her bed. “Deal!”
“Peter,” you reminded him, stepping into the room with a raised eyebrow, “you said ‘one more story’ three stories ago. She’s going to be up all night at this rate.”
Your husband grinned innocently.
“C’mon, what’s one more story? Just gotta make sure she’s really tired.”
He turned toward the bookshelf, fingers dancing over the colorful spines.
“Which one are we reading tonight? Something super long, I bet.”
She giggled, pointing at a well-worn book. “That one, Daddy!”
He picked it up, settling onto the edge of the bed as Luna snuggled under the blankets. “Alright, one loooong story, but then it’s off to dreamland. Yeah?”
•••
After Luna was sound asleep in her bed, and you’ve done your playful striptease, it was time for you to free Peter from his jeans. In the process of removing his belt, your fingers accidentally brushed the strain in his crotch.
“Mghmm… careful there babe.”
He inhaled sharply, and you indulged in the temptation, gently rubbing him through the denim with your left hand while unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper with your right.
His body pressed against yours, and you felt the soft push as the back of your legs met the edge of the mattress. With a smirk, Peter wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You let out a delighted squeal, soft giggles filling the space between kisses as your fingers clung to his shoulders for support. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, feeling the heat of his cock press against your abdomen.
“Please, Peter. I want you, so bad.”
And that was all your husband needed to hear. He laid you gently on the mattress before crawling forward, positioning himself to settle between your legs. Breathlessly, you gripped his shoulders and lifted your hips slightly, moving in sync with him as he lined himself up. Peter began to slowly ease himself into you, groaning into your shoulder, warm puffs of his breath tickling your skin.
He paused for a moment for you to adjust, before pushing further until he was fully sheathed inside you. The delicious stretch of your pussy was nothing short of glorious.
“Oh god… Nghmm — Peter,”
You whined, tightening your grip and leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin as he started moving. He slowed down mid-thrust to mumble against your cheek,
“Love you too baby,”
Peter rested his chin on your shoulder, placing hot kisses along the column of your throat as he moved, He shifted his hips to find a better angle, and you gasped when you felt his tip nudge against your cervix. Your spine arched and your heels dug into his back as he thrust into with such force that your body slid a few inches towards the headboard, the sheets creasing around you.
“A-ahhh— fuck–”
A strained moan tumbled from his lips when he sheathed himself to the hilt. You can tell by the vein popping on Peter’s neck that he wanted to lower his head, but he was fighting every instinct to keep his eyes focused on you, chocolate irises fixated as you both begin to ascend towards the precipice.
The sight of him, biting his lips and brows furrowed in such concentration made the hot coil in your belly tighten. Supporting his weight on one elbow, Peter slipped his other hand down between your legs, and his fingers—those magical fingers started working your clit almost frantically.
“Please— ohmygod, Peter,”
you babbled, clenching your quivering thighs and throwing your head back when he bottomed out once again. His tip was pressed snugly against your cervix, and you swore you could feel him poke into your stomach, but that did nothing but stir your body into overdrive. You heels dug into his backside, anchoring him as the familiar warmth of his come spurted into your womb. Instinctively, the walls of your pussy clamped tightly around his cock, milking him dry.
“C’mon, baby,” Peter mumbled as he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the mouth, “wan’ you to cum for me, yeah? Cum all over my cock.”
The few seconds between you seemed to stretch into eternity before the coil finally snapped, waves of intense, white-hot pleasure alight your bloodstream as your pussy convulsed around his cock. You placed your palms to either side of his face, his eyes trying desperately to find a part of you to focus on.
•••
Moonlight streamed in through the window, bathing a silvery glow over your bedroom as you lay tangled up in each other, legs intertwined beneath the sheets. Peter smirked lazily as he traced a finger along your arm.
“Y’know, I think ‘m finally starting to get the hang of this whole ‘normal life’ thing. Not as fast-paced as I’m used to, but it’s not so bad,”
You laughed softly, nestling your head against his bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
“You? Normal life? That’s a stretch.”
“Hey, I can be normal,” he defended with a grin, though the glint in his eyes said he didn’t really mind being anything but. “I did the dishes tonight. That counts, right?”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, letting your hand rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You stuffed them into the dishwasher in like a nanosecond. Doesn’t really count when you’re cheating with super speed.”
Peter chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Alright, alright. But I still nailed bedtime. Got Luna to bed without any major disasters—except maybe that story where I gave the dragon a Brooklyn accent. She seemed into it.”
“She loved it,” you agreed, smiling at the memory of their earlier antics.
“You’re good with her, Peter. You’re her hero.”
“Yeah, well, she’s pretty awesome,” he shifted slightly, turning to look down at you, his silver hair tousled against the pillow.
“She’s got you to thank for that.”
You met his gaze, fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest.
“Pretty sure she gets most of that from you. The attitude, the energy. The ‘never staying still for more than a second’ thing.”
He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Gotta keep things interesting, right?”
You let out a soft hum of agreement, your lips brushing against his collarbone as you spoke. “Interesting is one way to put it.”
There was a beat of comfortable silence between you, and Peter’s arm wrapped more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, just the warmth of his skin against yours. He broke the silence with a quieter, more thoughtful tone. “You ever think about how we got here?”
“Where? In bed?”
“No, seriously,” Peter said, fingers brushing through your hair absentmindedly. “Like, the whole thing. You, me, Luna. I used to think I’d never have something like this. Y’know, slow life, family stuff. Thought I’d always be the guy on the outside, just speedin’ through life.”
You shifted slightly to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “What changed?”
He shrugged, his smile softening. “You. You changed everything. Made me realise I didn’t have to run away from it all the time. That maybe I could actually slow down long enough to be a part of something.”
Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him softly, the gesture full of the affection you felt for him. He kissed you back with the same tenderness, his hand cupping your face gently as he deepened it, the kiss slow and sweet like molasses. When you finally pulled back, Peter’s thumb brushed across your cheek, eyes locked on yours in that concentrated, yet familiar way. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m lucky to have you. You and Luna. You guys are my world.”
You smiled, warmth spreading through you at the sincerity. “We’re lucky to have you too, Peter. Even if you’re still kind of a goof.”
He grinned, silver hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head. “Gotta keep you guys on your toes somehow.”
You laughed softly, settling back against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a peaceful quiet. His arms wrapped around you protectively, his thumb continuing to brush absentmindedly against your skin. For a while, neither of you spoke, just content to be together. But as you felt your eyes growing heavier, Peter’s voice broke the silence one last time, soft and almost sleepy. “Hey, babe,” he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.
“Thanks for making me slow down.”
You smiled against his chest, “Thanks for sticking around.”
He chuckled, his grip tightening around you. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
#𝐅.𝐈.𝐓#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff smut#peter maximoff x y/n#peter maximoff fluff#dilf!peter maximoff#quicksilver x y/n#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver smut#quicksilver#x men apocalypse#x men#evan peters#peter maximoff x you
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Where Did You Learn That?!
Masterlist
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader
Prompt: It’s a casual day when Tony brings the team to a new area to show them something. And Y/n surprises everyone.
Warnings:cursing, sexual innuendos, stripper pole usage (don’t worry there’s clothes), degradation, praise?
Pronouns: unspecified
A/N: I saw this video on tt and I immediately had to do this drabble . Lmk if you want a smutty pt. 2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/n’s pov
It’s everyone’s off day in the compound so we’re all just chilling out. I’m laying down in between nat’s legs on our designated couch in the living room.
She’s playing absentmindedly with my hair while everyone does their own thing.
Wanda is playing with Peter and America on the switch.
Thor is chowing down on poptarts.
Yelena is eating Mac and cheese while cringing and gagging about Kate’s latest boyfriend. Saying how “she doesn’t know how anybody would ever want to do something like that” and Kate obviously banters back with “says the aro ace person”
I smile at their friendship. And then I look at Bucky and Steve, Sam is helping them catch up on the greatest movies of all time.
Well everyone is taking part in that, but it’s Sam’s turn. I obviously made them watch every single Barbie movie when it was my turn. Especially the newest one. God Margo Robbie is so good. And of course Natasha made them watch all the Bond movies.
Anyways. We’re all just having a chill day.
Until Friday starts talking
“I have been instructed to inform everyone that Mr. Stark has something he’d like to show you. In the west wing.”
I frown and say outwardly to anyone who will answer
“I thought the west wing was under construction?”
Thor shrugs his shoulders and says
“I guess not anymore. Let’s go look!”
We all make our way over there and along the way Clint, Carol, and Vision join us.
We walk into the west wing to find a big ass room.
Tony is standing in the middle and says
“Welcome to the new party central!”
The lights go up a bit but not a lot. Just enough to see that there are multiple stripper poles, bars, and party amenities scattered around.
I raise my eyebrows and everyone either groans or cheers a bit. I don’t say anything I just walk up to Tony and point at the pole in the middle of the whole area. I whisper
“Is that one currently spinning? Or stationary?”
He smirks and says
“That one is turning right now. Imagining a hot girl already?”
I shake my head and say
“Something like that”
Then walk up to the pole. I’m a few feet away from it and I look down and see my outfit. It’s a baby shirt and jeans. I might fall because I’m a bit rusty but who cares. I used to be amazing. It can’t have gotten that bad right?
I shrug my shoulders and go for it. I do my most remembered and most practiced routine from my stripper days. BEFORE I became Natasha’s girlfriend.
She doesn’t know about it either.
Watch this for what it looks like :))) ⬇️
I hop down from the pole and flip my hair back and look at the avengers who all have different looks on their faces
Wanda, Steve, Kate, Thor, and Peter all have their mouths wide open and they are blushing hard.
Clint and Vision are unimpressed, probably because one is a robot and one has a wife who is also my sister. (He is literally my brother in law. He’s not gonna be impressed when he knew what I used to do)
Yelena looks disgusted naturally.
Bucky, Carol, Tony, and Sam are impressed with my skills.
And Nat. I can’t determine what her look is right now. So walk to her and take another look at everyone as I rest my arms around her neck. She absentmindedly rests her hands on my hips. Everyone is still looking in awe so I say
“What? Like it’s hard?”
That snaps them out of it.
Peter, Kate, Yelena, and America all go to the poles to have fun on them. They’re just kids.
And the rest of them walk away or start talking.
Natasha though, grabs my hand and leads me to the corner far away from everyone.
She is about to say something but Wanda walks up to us and says
“Uh- that’s- um- that was really cool.”
She’s blushing so hard and I smile at her. She’s a cutie.
I smile and say
“Thank you Wands”
She smiles and walks away quickly.
I giggle at her flustered state and turn back to Natasha and say
“Was it good?”
She scoffs and says
“Good? Are you kidding me?”
She pauses long enough for me to cut in
“Are you mad? I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be mad if I did it in front of everyone. I know you like showing me off to everyone just to make them know who I belong to.”
I ramble a bit about her possessive tendencies with me. I also like feeling like a trophy wife sometimes.
She shakes her head and says
“No that was fucking hot. Why didn’t you tell me you used to do pole?”
I shrug my shoulders and say
“I guess it just never came up. We don’t usually talk about strippers you know?”
She nods her head and then says
“Well, I’m gonna need a few things from you from now on. Can you handle it?”
I nod my head and say
“I’m sure I can”
She smiles and kisses me and I pull away to say
“What are the things?”
She smirks and leans in to kiss my neck and says into my ear
“One- you’re gonna get fucked tonight. Two- I’m gonna need a personal show now. And three- I want at least one dance at every party. I want everyone to see what a good slut you are on the pole. Then I want them all to be sad that you’re all mine.”
I let out a shaky breath at her words. I think I get a high from feeling like a trophy wife. Only sometimes though.
I thread my hands through her messy, slightly wavy hair and pull her head back to look at me.
For some reason I get a kick of confidence and say
“I’ll do all of that for you. If I can do whatever I want with you tonight”
She raises her eyebrows at my sudden dominance but then smiles softly and says
“Whatever you want you say?”
I nod my head and say
“And you can’t say otherwise. Unless of course you are uncomfortable with it.”
She smirks and says
“I think I can handle that.”
She steps back and holds out her hand and says
“Do we have a deal?”
I nod my head and shake her hand like a business woman. And she then pulls my hand so that I get pulled up to her and she whispers against my lips
“Let’s start now. I have a feeling we have a long night ahead of us”
I nod my head and she drags me to the bedroom.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
A/N: this turned out a lot longer than I thought I would. And I know how I said I’d be taking a break but I couldn’t get this off of my mind. <3
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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
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Requests open!
-200 followers celebration announcement
-my A03
-I'll write for Marvel, DC, and the Twilight Saga and I'm open to writing both regular and dark/yandere dynamics.
-I'll write for Simon 'Ghost' Riley and Konig, both from Call of Duty.
-I'll also write for Aemond, Daemon, and Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jordan Li, and Homelander, as well as the Arcane characters Jinx, Sevika, Vi, Viktor, and Silco.
-I'll write for any character from parts 4,5, or 6 of jojo's bizarre adventure!
-I'll write for the following Slashers: billy loomis and stu macher; the sinclairs; Michael Myers; Kevin Khatchadourian; pelle; JD; the Lost Boys
-I'd also like to write for Chrollo from Hunter x Hunter, if anyone has any requests!
-I also write for both Helluva Boss and Hazbin hotel!
-When it comes to the Twilight Saga, I'll write for the Cullens, the wolves, and the Volturi.
Obvious rules apply:
-no homophobia, sexism, racism, or any other bigotry
-all characters aged up!
-This blog is 18+!
Feel free to ask me anything!
-I also have a ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/lethwrites
-I take commissions: up to 2000 words, $1/100 words. Message me if interested!
my game: https://leth-writes.itch.io/yandere-twilight
Anon list: 🤠, 🌌, 🍄, 🍒, 🐢, 🐿️
(Dividers by cafekatsune!)
Masterlist under read more:
Wolf pack x herbivore shifter reader
Yandere Aemond x reader
Yandere platonic The Boys
Wolf Pack x reader who has a dog that hates them
Twilight wolf pack x reader who is leaving for college
Yandere Aemond x Servant! reader
Cassandra Cain x Deathstroke's apprentice
TASM Peter x reader
Wolf pack x fox shifter
Batfamily hugs
Cryptid Batfamily
Batfam Soulmate au
some batfam headcanons
superman x reader
Tom Holland! Peter x autistic reader
Avengers x hypervigilant reader
Homelander x reader who stays in the shadows
yandere platonic the boys part 2
yandere platonic batfam x broke reader
Marcus, Aro, and Caius x reader headcanons
wolf pack x reader who went missing
yandere platonic the boys part 3
brief Ghost headcanons
Jordan Li x reader
Cullen petnames
Ghost x reader headcanons
yandere Aemond x reader
wolf pack x alligator shifter
Paul x reader with dirty sense of humour
Paul x reader with facial scar
Yandere batfam x broke reader part 2
yandere batfam x broke reader part 3
Yandere batfam x broke reader part 4
JD x reader
Yandere homelander x influencer reader
Yandere Chrollo post 1
yandere Chrollo x reader who can see ghosts
Cullens and a human s/o
Wolf pack x reader who's quite aggressive
wolf pack x short reader
homelander x supe! reader
random Cullen headcanons
Peter Parker red string of fate headcanons
Paul x Jacob's ex
Fishbowl (yandere Chrollo)
Yandere Tim Drake x meta reader
Yandere TIm Drake x meta reader part 2
200 follower celebration: Cassandra Cain
Seth x imprint leaving for college
wolf pack x easily flustered reader
Lost Boys x reader
200 followers: Jolyne
Wolf pack x reader they scarred
Yandere Aemond x reader
yandere spiderverse
HOTD x oblivious reader
Yandere batfam x vampire reader
yandere batfam x trying to fight them
Yandere HOTD x trying to fight them
yandere HOTD x reader scared of their dragon
NSFW Aemond x reader headcanons
yandere batfam x reader who's scared of them
#mcu x reader#yandere mcu#batman x reader#superman x reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#yandere spiderman#twilight x reader#yandere twilight
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OMG HIII!! I see you write for KISS now. I lit hit the jackpot with your page omgg..
My request is Ace Frehley x Reader who is Pauls younger sister? Like Paul is super overprotective of her and yeah do as you wish with that.
SECRET .
; pairing ; ace frehley x reader
; note ; i'm so happy i love these all 4 of these sillies so much i love you anon
; warnings ; none
paul’s overprotective nature kicked in as he introduced you to the band – his closest friends.
ace, with his signature grin, was the first to speak up.
"hey there, little sis. paul's been keepin' you a secret," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
paul shot ace a warning look. "ace, this is y/n. my sister. and she’s off limits, got it? and that goes for both of you too." he said looking over at gene and peter.
ace raised his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright. sister is off-limits, i hear you loud and clear."
after that, surprisingly, they respected his wishes. and from that day forward, the band welcomed you like an honorary member.
as the years rolled by, your friendship with the band, especially ace, got a lot deeper, and the once-clear lines of "off-limits" became a really blurry mix. late-night parties turned into lingering glances, and inside jokes became a secret language only the two of you understood.
one day, during a rehearsal break, you found yourself sitting next to ace. he leaned in, a sly grin playing on his lips. "y'know, y/n, if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're flirting with me."
you shot back with a playful smirk. "flirting? me? never. must be your imagination."
ace chuckled, his eyes lingering on yours. "imagination, huh? well, it's either that or you're developin' a serious crush on the spaceman."
you nudged him playfully. "please, ace, i think you've been spending too much time with those guitars. they're warping your sense of reality."
he leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "or maybe," he whispered, "reality’s finally catching up with the both of us."
a sudden throat-clearing sound broke the intimate moment. both you and ace turned to find gene and peter standing behind you, wearing knowing smirks.
"well, well, well," gene said, a wicked grin on his face. "looks like the lovebirds are finally figuring it out."
peter joined in, chuckling. "about time. we've been placing bets on when you two would stop dancin' around each other."
you shot ace a look of disbelief, and he just shrugged, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "guess the secret's out, huh?"
gene raised an eyebrow. "oh, please. we've known for ages. paul, on the other hand, is a bit slow on the uptake."
peter nodded in agreement. "he's been clueless about the whole thing. you might wanna break the news to him, ace."
ace scratched his head, looking a bit guilty. "yeah, about that..."
gene and peter erupted into a chorus of exaggerated groans and mock complaints. "oh, great. just what we needed," gene lamented, rolling his eyes dramatically.
peter chimed in with a mock whine. "seriously, we're gonna need a whole new set of rules for this. 'off-limits' my ass."
you exchanged amused glances with ace as the duo continued their exaggerated complaints, their reactions more akin to little boys than seasoned rockstars.
ace raised his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright, settle down. it's not like we planned this."
gene shot ace a deadpan look. "not planned? with those looks you've been giving each other, it's like a soap opera around here."
peter added, "next thing ya know, we'll be playin' at weddings instead a' concerts."
as the banter reached its peak, the door creaked open, and in walked paul, looking as stern as ever. the room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to him.
for a moment, paul just stood there, a confused expression on his face, scanning the room with a raised eyebrow. gene opened his mouth to say something, but before a single word escaped, peter delivered a swift punch to his arm, shutting him up instantly.
paul walked around the couch slowly, eyeing each of you with a piercing gaze, but still pretty confused. the tension in the room was palpable as he approached, his eyes locking onto ace and you.
without a word, paul continued to stare for what felt like an eternity. the room was filled with an awkward silence as paul made his way towards the door behind you guys.
as he exited and closed the door, the silence exploded into something else. gene and peter immediately started throwing hurling insults at each other.
"what the fuck, paul's gonna kill us!"
"did you see the look on his face?"
"fuck you!"
"what!?"
ace shot a glare at the duo. "you couldn't keep it together for two minutes, could you?" he grumbled.
peter shot back, "well, maybe if someone knew how t' control his fuckin' hormones!"
gene chimed in, "yeah, ace, keep it in your pants."
ace shot back, "at least i have hormones. there's no sign of any in your pants!" ace laughed, and peter joined in
"you guys are unbelievable," you sighed, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. "paul doesn't even know what's going on, and you're acting like a bunch of teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't."
gene scoffed. "you think he won't find out? he's got a sixth sense for these things."
"no he doesn-"
ace cut you off. "well, if he didn't know before, he sure as hell knows now. thanks, guys."
peter rolled his eyes. "was bound to happen sooner or later."
as time went on, your relationship with ace continued to progress. you managed to keep it a secret from paul, and surprisingly, peter and gene were respectful of your privacy.
one evening, as you and ace snuck from the band's after-party to have a moment on the rooftop, peter casually approached, pretending to be absorbed in his drumsticks.
peter smirked, glancing up from the sticks. "enjoyin' the view up here?"
ace chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "yeah, it's not bad."
peter raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between the two of you. "so, how long has this been goin' on anyway? like when'd you guys become official?"
you shot him a skeptical look. "you knew about us actually getting together?"
peter grinned. "of course, we fuckin' knew. we're not blind, y'know."
ace added with a smirk, "apparently, gene n' peter are still runnin' a betting pool on when paul would finally catch on."
you rolled your eyes. "figures."
peter leaned against the rooftop railing, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "you guys betta' be careful. if paul finds out, he might lecture ace on the dos and don'ts of dating his sister."
ace laughed. "i can handle paul. besides, he's still clueless. we've been.. discreet."
gene appeared out of nowhere, joining the conversation with a smirk. "discreet, my ass."
gene's comment was met with a collective eye roll from both you and ace. "yeah, yeah, laugh it up." ace retorted, waving him off.
peter added, "he's just jealous he's not parta' the love story."
the rooftop banter with gene and peter had lightened the mood, and the two troublemakers left you and ace alone under the night sky. as they vanished from sight, ace turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"well, that was interesting," he said, a playful grin on his face.
you laughed, shaking your head. "yup. those two are something else."
ace leaned in, his lips close to your ear. "you know what would be even more interesting?"
you raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "enlighten me."
without another word, ace closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. the world around you seemed to fade as the rooftop became an intimate space just for the two of you.
when you pulled away, the grin on ace's face told you everything you needed to know. "now, that was interesting," he said.
you chuckled, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "very interesting."
the tender moment between you and ace was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a slamming door. both of you turned to see paul standing there, a furious expression etched on his face. the atmosphere shifted from sweet to tense in an instant.
"paul," ace began, attempting to defuse the situation, but paul held up a hand, cutting him off.
"don't.," paul seethed. "you thought i wouldn't find out?"
ace glanced at you briefly, then back at paul. "did gene and peter tell you?"
"what!?" paul's eyes widened in disbelief. "gene and peter knew? and they didn't tell me? what?"
you couldn't help but interject, frustration creeping into your voice. "why are you so mad? i'm an adult, and i can do whatever i want. it's not hurting me or anyone."
paul's anger seemed to waver as he looked at you, realizing the truth in your words. he took a deep breath and sighed, the tension in the palpable.
"i can't believe they knew and didn't say anything," paul muttered, his initial fury giving way to a sense of betrayal.
ace put a hand on paul's shoulder. "look, it wasn't their secret to share. we wanted to tell you when the time was right."
paul turned to ace, a mix of frustration and curiosity in his eyes. "so, when did this happen? how long have you two been… you know?"
ace grinned, sensing a change in paul's tone. "well, it's been a while, but we were tryna figure out the best way t' tell ya."
paul's expression softened. "you two? really?"
you nodded, a small smile forming. "yeah. he's been my best friend for so long, and we just realized that we care about each other in a different way."
paul's initial frustration gave way to a subtle grin. "ace, you sneaky son of a bitch. of all the people, it had to be you."
ace chuckled. "yeah, well, you know me."
paul laughed, shaking his head. "can't believe I didn't see this coming."
you playfully nudged paul. "surprise! now, are you okay with this?"
paul looked at both of you, a genuine smile on his face. "honestly, i'm sorta relieved. at least it's ace. i'd rather have my best friend dating my sister than some random guy. just promise me you'll take care of her, okay?"
ace gave him a mock salute. "you got it."
paul clapped ace on the shoulder. "alright, okay. now, go be happy or whatever."
#ACE FREHLEY#gene simmons#peter criss#paul stanley#kiss#kiss x reader#kiss band x reader#kiss band#ace frehley x reader#y/n#reader insert#x reader#ask#kissblr#space ace
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MASTERLIST #2
Navigation!
Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)
MARVEL:
☆ Tony Stark
☆ Steve Rogers
☆ Bruce Banner
☆ Natasha Romanoff
☆ Clint Barton
☆ Bucky Barnes
☆ Sam Wilson
☆ Peter Parker
☆ Thor Odison
☆ Loki Laufeyson
☆ Dr. Stephen Strange
☆ Peter Quill
☆ Gamora
☆ Drax the destroyer
☆ Rocket the Racoon
☆ Mantis
☆ Groot
Poly Requests:
STRANGER THINGS:
☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**
☆ Robin Buckley :
☆ Nancy Wheeler:
☆ Eddie Munson:
☆ Johnathan Byers:
☆ Argyle:
☆ Billy Hargrove:
☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader
☆ Dustin Henderson
☆ Will Byers
☆ Lucas Sinclair
☆ Eleven Hopper
☆ Max Mayfield
☆ Jim Hopper:
☆ Joyce Byers:
☆ Dmitri Antonov:
Poly Requests:
HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:
☆ Harry Potter:
☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader
☆ Hermione Granger:
☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader
☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader
☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**
☆ Draco Malfoy:
☆ Blaise Zambini:
☆ Enzo Berkshire:
☆ Mattheo Riddle:
☆ Theo Nott:
☆ Pansy Parkinson:
Marauders Era or Lighting Era:
☆ Lucius Malfoy:
☆ Narcissa Malfoy:
☆ Severus Snape:
☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:
☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :
☆ Evan Rosier:
☆ Pandora Rosier:
☆ Zahara Zambini:
☆ Regulus Black:
☆ Sirius Black:
☆ Remus Lupin:
☆ Lily Evans:
☆ Marlene McKinnon:
☆ Mary McDonald:
☆ Dorcas Meadows:
FANTASTIC BEASTS:
☆ Newt Scamander:
☆ Thesus Scammander:
☆ Jacob Kowalski:
☆ Queenie Goldstein:
☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):
☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):
Poly Requests:
CRIMINAL MINDS:
☆Aaron Hotchner
☆ Jason Gideon
☆ Spencer Reid
☆ Derek Morgan
☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau
☆ Elle Greenaway
☆ Penelope Garcia
☆ Emily Prentiss
☆ David Rossi
Poly Requests:
BRIDGERTON:
☆ Anthony Bridgerton
☆ Benedict Bridgerton
☆ Colin Briderton
☆ Daphne Bridgerton
☆ Eloise Bridgerton
☆ Simon Basset
☆ Penelope Fetherington
☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)
☆ King George (Young)
Poly Requests:
Queen charlotte x reader x King George
TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:
☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet
☆ Raphael:
☆ Donnatelo:
☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader
☆ April O'Neil:
☆ Casey Jones:
Poly Requests:
Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚
Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud
TOP GUN:
☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"
☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"
☆ Jake Seresin "Hangman"
☆ Natasha Trace "Phoenix"
☆ Robert Floyd "Bob"
Poly Requests:
THE HOBBIT/LOTR:
☆ Thorin
☆ Bilbo
☆ Fili
☆ Kili
☆ Dwalin
☆ Bofur
☆ Bard
☆ Legolas
☆ Tauriel
☆ Thuranduil
Poly Requests:
TWILIGHT:
☆ Carlisle Cullen
☆ Esme Cullen
☆ Emmet Cullen
☆ Rosalie Cullen
☆ Alice Cullen
☆ Jasper Cullen: CG!Jasper Hale x nb!little!reader
�� Edward Cullen
☆ Bella Cullen/Swan
☆ Jacob Black
☆ Garrett
The Volturi:
☆ Aro
☆ Caius
☆ Marcus
Poly Requests:
THE HUNGER GAMES:
☆ Katniss Everdeen
☆ Petta Mellark
☆ Finnick Odair
☆ Johanna Mason
☆ Haymitch Abernathy
Poly Requests:
LUCIFER:
☆ Lucifer Morningstar
☆ Mazikeen
☆ Amenadeil
☆ Chole Decker
☆ Linda Martin
Poly Requests:
How To Train Your Dragon:
☆ Hiccup Haddock
☆ Astrid Hofferson
☆ Snotlout
☆ Ruffnut
☆ Tuffnut
Poly Requests:
Across The SpiderVerse:
☆ Miles Morales
☆ Miguel O'Hara
Spider thoughts!
☆ Peter B. Parker
Spider thoughts!
☆ Hobie Brown
☆ Gwen Stacy
☆ Spider-Noir
Spider thoughts!
Poly Requests:
Descendants:
☆ Mal
☆ Evie
☆ Carlos
☆ Jay
☆ Gil
☆ Harry
☆ Uma
Poly Requests:
MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:
☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup
☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup
꧁〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎꧂
I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗
#b00inazkaban#fanfiction#tmnt bayverse#tmnt fandom#fantastic beasts#stranger things#harry potter#poly marauders x reader#bridgerton#lucifer fanfiction#lucifer tv#hunger games#twilight#the hobbit#lotr x reader#lotr fandom#middle earth#top gun maverick#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#bayverse tmnt#marvel#marvel x reader#marauders#httyd#across the spiderverse#descendents#atsv
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