#that her principal thinks she's a troubled teen

[aster-may]

I think the funniest part about Growing Up Creepie is Ms. Monserrate's view of Creepie's parents.

Like, she thinks Vinnie is an absent father who frequently flies out of town for his work and that Caroleena is an overbearing mother who constantly makes Creepie feel suffocated in her home life, when both accusations are NOT TRUE in any sense of the word.

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 3: Blue Handprints

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 12.2k

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

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Part 3: Blue Handprints {You Are Here}

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Mr. Harris walks down the aisle of students, having just given his sentiments to Jackson Whittemore. “Everyone, start reading chapter nine.” He makes his way to the chalkboard, “Mr. Stilinski, try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry, not a coloring book.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, blowing the yellow lid from his lips and catching it easily in his hand. Instead, he turns to the phone in his pocket, sliding it out to peer at any new messages. He frowns – there were none.

Bouncing his foot on the bar stool, Stiles huffs before leaning towards the fellow lacrosse player in front of him. “Hey, Danny. Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” was his immediate reply.

“Well, I’m going to anyway. You have homeroom with (Y/N), right?”

Danny sighs, trying to read his chemistry chapter. “Yeah, what about it?”

Stiles leans closer, “Was she in class today?”

“No.”

“Has anybody been talking about what happened at the video store last night?”

“Listen, I’m sorry your little girlfriend hasn’t been texting you…”

Stiles’ stool squeaks as he fidgets, “She’s not actually my…”

“… but I’m not the one to look to next. Shouldn’t you be asking Scott?”

“What do you mean girlfriend?”

Danny grips the sides of his textbook with his fingertips, “Just some things I’ve heard on the lacrosse field when she’s there.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was leaning so far forward that he suddenly found himself falling to the tile floor.

“To the principal’s office, Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris says in a loud, firm voice. “Don’t forget your highlighter. You can finish coloring the rest of the textbook in detention.”

Stiles wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and besides Mr. Harris didn’t give him a detention slip. This meant that he could sneak out and spend the remaining minutes of the period goofing off.

Or trying to contact one of his friends.

He dials Scott’s number as he leaves class and makes for the parking lot, “Scott! Finally, have you been getting any of my texts?”

“Yeah, like all nine million of them.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Stiles steps into the sunshine and shades his eyes with a hand. “Lydia’s totally MIA. Jackson looks like he’s got a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy’s dead. And (Y/N) was mauled last night and had to go to the hospital. You have to do something about it!”

Scott was mumbling, “Like what?”

“Something!” Stiles jogs towards his car, hoping to escape any patrolling school staff.

“Okay, I’ll deal with it later.”

Stiles shoves his phone in his pocket as the line went dead. If Scott wasn’t going to help him, then the next best thing was to visit you. While you also weren’t answering his texts, he figures the reason is because of your parents.

After some rest, maybe you are stable enough to answer some questions.

He’s able to sneak his jeep out of the parking lot without any witnesses. The drive to your house is becoming more routine, and he finds it easily. Without even thinking about it, he went to the front door.

It opens to reveal Angela Westbrook. “Oh!” she says with wide eyes, “Stiles Stilinski?”

“Yeah,” he says awkwardly, pointing finger guns at her, “Front desk Westbrook.”

“You haven’t gotten in any trouble have you? You’re supposed to be at school.”

Stiles furrows his brow, “What? No. I’m… I’m here to see (Y/N).”

Angela looks curious, “(Y/N)? I hadn’t realized you two were friends.”

“I was at the video store with her last night.” Stiles tries not to take offense.

“You saw what happened?” she asks, instantly frantic.

Stiles waves his hands around, “No! No, she called me, and I went to help with my dad.”

“She called you first?” It was Angela’s turn to try not to take offense.

“Yeah, my dad pulled me away before you guys showed up.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “So… I can see her?”

Angela puts a smile on her face, “Of course. But not for too long. She still needs her rest.”

He nods, walking inside for the first time. He took note of the piano in the living room, the family pictures on the mantelpiece, and the sound of a little jingle bell. It was coming from the collar of a large gray cat following them up the stairs.

“You have a cat?”

Angela gave a breathy laugh, “He’s (Y/N)’s. She needed a… well, a friend while being homeschooled, I guess.”

Stiles bangs his shoulder into the wall trying to watch the cat follow them. Angela knocks on your door, “(Y/N), sweetie – there’s a Stiles here to see you.”

You were sitting in bed, reading a book and warming your feet underneath a blanket. “Hey, Stiles!”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Angela says with a smile, clasping her hands together. “Just… no funny business.”

“Mom…” you say quietly. “Just leave the door open.”

Once your mom leaves, the cat jumps onto the bed and puts his front paws on your thigh, raising himself to get a pet on the head. He was large with fluffy gray fur and big blue eyes.

Stiles walks over, playing with his fingers. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you sigh, scratching the cat behind the ears, “I’ve been a little on edge.”

He observes your face with his investigative eyes. Your skin was dull, a blue tinge beneath your eyes, even your lips look a little off color. He lingers on that last detail longer than he should.

“How was the hospital?”

“The usual,” you run your fingers down the cats back and up the tail. “Any more stress and I’ll get more bodily damage. I’ll be bed bound… blah, blah, blah.”

Stiles swallows hard, “I think that blah sounds pretty important.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard my whole life,” you wave him off. “How are Lydia and Jackson?”

“Lydia is home and Jackson came to school, although I’m pretty sure he needs to be put in a coma to sleep off his pent up feelings.”

You smile grimly, “Understandable.”

Stiles scratches his shaved head, unsure of how to ask about the video store but knowing he’d have to be careful. He chooses to sit on the bed across from you, crossing his legs and licking his lips. “So… uh – what’s his name?” he points to the cat.

“Oliver,” you smile, “Sometimes I call him Ollie.” The cat was purring against your hand, whiskers perked. “I’ve had him for a couple years. He’s my best friend.”

“That’s what your mom was saying,” he says, watching the cat keep his fluffy tail in the air. Blue eyes found him sitting on the mattress.

You grimace, “Sorry about that. My mom can be…”

“She’s great,” he says quickly. “I thought you slept a little last night.”

“I did,” you say, “Thanks to you.”

The back of his neck suddenly feels hot, “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“The thing every girl wants to hear,” you smile. “Like I said, the hospital wasn’t happy with me.”

“(Y/N), I’ve been doing some research…” Stiles picks at his fingers again. “And you saying there’s something wrong with your heart; and the surgery scar you have…”

You run a delicate finger up the bridge of Ollie’s nose. He closes his eyes and pushes his head into your finger. “I knew you’d do that.”

Stiles licks his lips again, mouth dry, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“I know,” you sigh, “What did you find out?”

“I think you have some kind of tachycardia,” he looks at you with soft eyes, his eyelashes framing them. “That’s something that would make you faint and could weaken your heart if it happens too often. I’m not sure what the surgery was though… I’m assuming it was to stop your heart from getting too weak.”

The room felt heavy, but it was a comfortable heaviness, as in you weren’t afraid to talk to Stiles. “You would be right,” you nod, “I was born with a heart defect. It was an atrioventricular canal defect. It means there was a hole in the wall between my heart chambers. The hole made it so blood flow wasn’t controlled well. I had a surgery to fix it.”

“Just last summer?”

“One of them, yeah.” You smile at him like he knew you were still hiding things. “This is a deep conversation for another day, Stiles.”

“But…” he presses on, leaning forward, “If you fixed the heart defect, you shouldn’t have any heart problems now, right?”

You shrug, “Things happen.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything else today, are you?”

“You got my one personal thing of the day. You know I had a congenital heart defect and now I have ventricular tachycardia.” Scratching under Oliver’s chin, you sigh, “I’m sure you’ll do more research on that later.”

Ollie continues to purr and put Stiles in his line of sight. With soft paws, he walks across the covers and perches on Stiles’ knee.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do, his hands shooting into the air.

“He doesn’t bite,” you laugh, “He just wants a pet.”

Oliver’s tail swishes around the covers, and Stiles lowers a hand. The cat rubs the top of his head into the palm. “He’s so soft.”

You rub your arms, “He’s a great judge of character.”

“(Y/N), the other thing I wanted to ask…” Stiles continues to pet the cat, enjoying the purring immensely. “… was about last night.” He doesn’t like the way you gulp. “What happened?”

“Well, Arnett decided not to show up,” you shrug, “Big surprise. Still hurt though.”

Stiles mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Piece of shit.”

You retell the events leading to the lights flickering on and off over the dead store manager. “Then there was this growling. Like an animal.” A waver enters your voice and goosebumps blossom on your bare arms.

Oliver senses your change of mood and returns to your side, nuzzling your knee.

“I only got a few seconds to look before…” you gesture to the bandages on your left shoulder, “It was some kind of… wolf.” Your watch lit up with a reading from your heart. The rate was rising exponentially.

“Okay,” Stiles says, scooting closer, “That’s good. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Did your dad say anything about it? Were they able to catch whatever it was?”

He sighs, “No. We haven’t found anything. They think it was just a wild animal attack.” He was itching to touch you again, hold your hand and calm you down again. He wanted to protect your heart. “You’re safe here. You have Ollie to protect you.”

That made you smile, and Stiles took great pride in that.

“Did you wish Allison a happy birthday before skipping school?”

Stiles watches your heart rate lower on your watch screen, “I didn’t know it was her birthday.”

“It was kind of a secret,” you pick up Ollie, resting your face against his head. “Lydia and I decorated her locker yesterday after school.”

Stiles smacks his forehead, “That’s where Scott is! That idiot probably took her out for her birthday. No wonder he’s been avoiding my texts.”

There was another knock on the door, “Sweetie, it’s time to change your bandages.” Your mom was there with fresh cloth and something antibiotic.

“I can do it,” Stiles says, “(Y/N) can tell me what to do.” He rolls off the bed, tripping over his ankle as he stands straight.

Angela raises her eyebrows at you, but you nod. “Okay, but if you need help please call me. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

Stiles awkwardly took the supplies from your mom, mouthing a thank you before returning to the bed. “You’re really going to have to help me with this one.”

You grimace, “It’s not going to be pretty.” You pull an arm out of your pajama top to reveal a tank top underneath, one strap hanging off the large white bandages on your shoulder. Stiles flexes his fingers.

“I should wash my hands probably.”

“I have hand sanitizer in my nightstand,” you giggle, already starting to pick the medical tape off the edge of the bandage.

He cleans his hands, helping you remove the bandage. You hiss as he lifts it from the wound, blood weeping from the gashes. Stiles has to stifle a groan of disgust.

“God,” he mumbles, “It still looks so fresh.”

You suck in your lips, amused by his expression, “I didn’t realize you were so queasy around blood.”

“It’s not that,” he threw the old bandage in the garbage. “It’s just it’s… you. I hate seeing you with this.” He looks closer at the claw marks, taking some gauze and catching some pinkish fluid seeping out.

You fidget as he touches the red, irritated skin under the wound. “It still hurts a lot.”

“It’s still bleeding and… wet,” Stiles frowns.

“It’s called serous drainage,” you laugh at his look of shock, “It’s a normal part of the healing process. But too much can be a sign of infection.”

“It might be infected,” Stiles says immediately. “This is a lot.”

You wave him off with your other hand, “We’ll wait to see if I have a fever.”

“Just saying, it would explain why you look like a dead man walking.”

“You’re just full of compliments today, aren’t you?” But you were smiling as you say it.

~~~

A few days later Stiles was sitting in his morning English class, staring at the seat that you normally occupy. He was flipping his phone around his fingers, waiting for your next reply.

He was angry and biting the inside of his cheeks.

“It’s not his fault,” you text.

“He bailed on the date night, and you end up getting mauled. And then he bails on conferences and my dad gets hit by a car. Tell me again how he’s not a shitty friend?”

You take a minute to answer, “Those were all accidents. You can’t prove Scott being there could’ve stopped anything.”

“Yeah, it still would’ve been nice to have him be there.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t of.”

Stiles knits his brow at your message. “You’re hurt. I’m not upset about you not being at conferences. Besides with your luck that mountain lion would’ve went for you.”

“You still don’t think it was the same animal from the video store?”

“I trust you. If you say it was a wolf, then it was a wolf.”

Scott comes walking into class, sheepish in how he sits behind Stiles. Shoulders tense, Stiles sits resolutely forward, closing his phone and avoiding his best friend. Scott sighs, frustrated at more than just himself.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right?” He was grasping at straws, “Some soft tissue damage?”

Stiles was running his tongue along the bite marks inside his cheeks.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” Folding his arms, Scott tries to explain himself, “Okay, what if I told you I’m trying to figure this whole thing out, and that I went to Derek for help?”

Stiles stops his eye twitching to grumble, “If I was talking to you, I’d say that you’re an idiot for trusting him. But obviously I’m not talking to you.”

As the bell rings, Stiles leans forward and contemplates the new development in Derek’s involvement. He stares at his phone lighting up with a new message from you, “Go easy on him.”

He grits his teeth, angry at his curiosity getting the best of him. He whips around, “I still haven’t forgiven you for not being there for (Y/N).”

“I get it,” Scott looks hopeful. “I really do.”

“Lately she’s been there for me more than you have, which is saying something considering we used be connected at the hip. I get this werewolf thing happened and then Allison and now a Derek/Alpha thing… but you don’t just abandon your friends. If anything you should be closer to them when things get hard.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Scott mutters, “I’ll stop by (Y/N)’s place and check on her, alright? I know she deserves better… and that she means a lot to you.”

Stiles sighs heavily through his nose, drumming his fingers on the back of his chair. “Okay. What did Derek say?”

Throughout the day Stiles concocted a plan to help Scott with his anger issues. He spent classes thinking about heart rates and helping Scott avoid Allison as much as possible. After spending a quick minute in Coach’s office, they met outside on the lacrosse field.

“Okay,” he pulls out a heart rate monitor, “Put this on.”

Scott grabs it, “Isn’t this for the track team?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it,” Stiles says.

“Stole it.”

Offended, Stiles set his tone, “Temporarily misappropriated. Listen, I got the idea from (Y/N). She measures her heart rate through her watch, and it sends her readings through her phone. It’s easy to connect through a health app. And you’re gonna wear that monitor for the rest of the day.”

“And it’s connected to your phone?” Scott says, putting the monitor on.

He pulls out his phone and went to the health app, “Yeah, you know your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate.” He shows Scott his screen, “See?”

There were two different heart rates being monitored on the screen. One being Scott’s and the other one being…

“Are you watching your own heart rate?” Scott asks, “Who’s that one?”

“I don’t know, doesn’t matter.” Clearly having messed up, Stiles shoves his phone in his pocket and starts riffling through his duffel bag of supplies.

Scott has a smirk on his face, “It’s (Y/N)’s heart rate, isn’t it.”

“Shut up.”

~~~

After a quick getaway from another heart rate experiment, and a few cuts and bruises for Scott, the pair of them drove to your house for an apologetic visit.

“Dude, you got to wipe all that blood off,” Stiles says, “You look like a murder victim.”

“It’ll stop in a second. I’ll heal no problem.”

“Let’s hope her parents are still at work.”

In front of your house, Scott wipes his nose, hoping you wouldn’t notice too much. The injuries were already healed, it was just the leftover blood that he needed to wash off.

It took a few minutes for anyone to answer, and Stiles checks his phone. Your heart rate is slightly elevated.

The door opens slowly, and everyone has a gasping reaction.

“Oh my god, Scott,” you say in a shallow voice, “Why are you covered in blood?”

Stiles’ mouth was gaping as Scott fumbles for words to say, “Uh, I might’ve gotten in a fight at school. Someone got a bloody nose and… I got it on me.”

If Stiles thought you looked like a dead man walking a few days ago, he didn’t realize how worse you would look today. That bluish tinge to your under eyes was deep and the purple of your lips was like looking at a corpse. Your ashy skin was speckled with sweat around your temples. You look sick… really sick.

“(Y/N)…” Stiles says, hands starting to tremble as he reaches for the door, “What…”

“Let me get you another shirt,” you say tiredly, backing away from the door. “My dad has some old Saturday t-shirts in the laundry room.”

“Are your parents here?” Scott asks, following you and Stiles inside. A quick sound check told him that they were the only ones home.

You sound as though it was hard to breathe, “They’re still at work. I convinced my mom to take her evening shift today. She’s been staying home all week because of me.”

The sight of you shuffling side to side, tank top and shorts on under a robe – the robe tie dragging on the ground – hair falling out of a wild bun… it was disheartening. What was wrong with you?

Scott could smell something. Something sickly. “I don’t need another shirt, (Y/N), really. I just wanted to check on you.”

You turn around in the hallway, ghostly in the dimly lit space. “Oh? That’s kind of you.”

“I know I’ve been kind of distant,” he continues, eyeing the worry enveloping Stiles. “And I want to change that. Life has been chaotic, but I want to make time to see you.”

“Thank you,” you smile, “But I’ve been in good hands.”

“Clearly not good enough,” Stiles says, “When was the last time you changed your bandages, (Y/N)?”

You shrug and then grimace at the movement, “Sometime yesterday.” You were swaying on your feet and Stiles took a step forward, prepared to catch you.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” he says calmly, “Let’s sit down.” He guides you to a dining chair while directing Scott to check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. “You don’t look so good.”

“So you keep telling me, Stiles,” you smile again, “You need to work on those compliments.” You struggle to pull your arm out of the robe sleeve.

“Here, let me.”

While he pulls out your arm, apologizing for causing any discomfort, he mumbles things to distract you as he takes off the bandage. “I like your pajamas.”

White fabric with little lemons and mint leaves printed on them, along with a robe of fuzzy summer fruits. It was just so you. If only he could still smell that wonderful fruity shampoo from your hair.

“Thank you,” you groan as he removes the bandage painfully.

“Oh my god,” he chokes.

The wound underneath was red and aggravated. It was still weeping blood and whatever fluid you had mentioned before. The center of each deep claw mark had a purple-blue color, and he didn’t like how venomous it looked.

Scott appears beside you, following that sickly scent to your shoulder. It smelt worse than infection, it had a familiar tang to it. Something wolfish about it. That terrifies him. “I’m going to call Derek.”

“What?” you and Stiles say at the same time.

“I have a feeling he’ll know what to do,” he eyes Stiles, pulling out his phone, “Don’t bandage it until he looks at it.”

“Is something wrong?” you say feverishly, looking at Stiles with half-closed eyes. He chooses to focus on your face instead of your wound. But his eyes were no longer a honey brown or an amber whiskey.

They were steely like fossilized tree sap.

“I think you just need some extra strength Tylenol,” he jokes, “Or a rabies shot.”

“God, my mom is never going to let me leave the house again if I don’t stop getting sick.” You hang your head, sweat speckling the back of your neck too. Stiles gingerly puts a hand to your back and rubs up and down your spine.

“You’ll get better, I promise.”

“You’re such a liar,” you cough, “I’m not going to get better. This is what it’ll be… just worse and worse.”

Stiles didn’t like the hurt that was developing in his chest. That inflation feeling in his ribcage came full force but was threaded with hurt. It hurt to see you like this.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nonsense,” you say with sorrow, “Don’t listen to me. I’m sick.”

Scott returns with determination in his step, “Derek’s almost here.” He kneels beside your chair, a hand on your good arm. “This is my fault. If I was there for you then this…”

“It’s not your fault, Scott. It’s not a crime to not want to third wheel.”

“What do you smell?” Stiles whispers under his breath. You have a difficult time concentrating enough to hear him.

Scott mutters something back, “Nothing good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?”

Derek comes walking into the house, “This isn’t something the hospital can fix.” His nose crinkles at your exposed arm. “She was clawed by the alpha, right?”

Stiles waves a frantic hand, shushing him while Scott mouths at him to shut up.

“You guys are idiots.” Derek looks angry, “You haven’t told her anything yet?”

“Told me what?” you lift your heavy head. “Derek?”

The boys pull Derek aside and quickly whisper a conversation.

“Did the alpha do something to her?” Scott asks worriedly. He’d feel even worse if your injury was a result of his werewolf business.

Derek folds his massive arms, “If an alpha scratches a human and it makes a deep enough cut, the werewolf change could happen.”

Stiles chokes on his breath, “You mean she could be transforming!?”

“It doesn’t have to be a bite?” Scott whisper shouts.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Stiles pulls at the ends of his shaved hair. “Why is it making her so sick.”

Derek sighs heavily, “Because her body is rejecting the change. It’s trying to fight off the spread of infection. It’s impressive really.”

“You mean she might be fine?” Scott asks, “She’ll get over it?”

“Maybe,” Derek shrugs, “It could just kill her.”

Stiles swallows thickly, “Tell us how to help her.”

“You just have to let the infection run its course. There aren’t any werewolf antibiotics out there for a wound like that. Tell her to sleep it off.”

“Sleep it off?” Stiles says incredulously. “That’s the best you got?”

“I have other pressing matters. Including a meeting with your boss, Scott.”

Scott took a pause, “What has my boss got to do with anything?”

“I’ll let you know when I finish interrogating him.” Subconsciously or not, Derek was flexing his arms in a way that made him look gigantic.

Scott wasn’t intimidated, “If you lay a hand on Deaton…”

“He’s already in the trunk,” Derek says blandly, “You interrupted my questioning before I could finish.”

“Oh my god,” Scott mumbles, chest tight with oncoming rage.

Stiles was flailing his arms around like they were limp noodles. “Hello! Did we forget the sick-because-of-alpha-claws girl right behind us. Let’s handle one problem at a time.”

Derek was already out the door, “(Y/N)’s fate isn’t my problem. And Deaton isn’t your concern.”

“It is considering he’s my boss!” Scott follows him outside.

“Alright, Scott, you want answers?” Derek spins around on the lawn, “Those spirals you’ve been asking about… it’s our sign for a vendetta. It’s revenge. It means he won’t stop killing until he’s satisfied!”

Scott gawks at him, “You think Deaton’s the alpha!?”

“We’re about to find out.”

“No! Derek, listen. There’s another way to draw out the alpha. I’m connected to him remember?” Scott sounds desperate and on the verge of growing claws. Stiles stands on the porch, anxious to keep you from hearing any of this. “I can try to get him to reveal himself.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Derek has a steely blue tinge in his eyes, almost as if they were glowing.

Scott looks around him, jerky in his head movements as he tries to create a plan, “Just give me an hour and then meet us at the school. I’ll call to the alpha and we’ll see if there’s a response.”

Derek, rippling with rage, seems to consider. In the next second he growls under his breath and goes to his car. Scott took that as he was in agreement with the new plan.

He turns around to see Stiles giving him a death glare, hands stuck under his armpits as if he’s stopping them from throwing punches.

“Are you forgetting about our teensy-weensy other problem, Scott? Maybe our other friend currently dying inside?”

“She’s not dying,” Scott says as he stomps toward the house again.

Stiles shoves his shoulder as he walks past, “I don’t feel right leaving (Y/N) here while we go tango with the alpha at the school.”

“We could call her mom,” Scott suggests, making his way back to the dining table.

“She’ll hate that,” Stiles mumbles, meeting him at your chair. He kneels beside you again, careful as you were dozing off. Leaning against the table, your chin rests in your hand – your mouth slightly open as you take small breaths.

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, then who do we call? All our other friends are occupied with themselves.” It suddenly dawned on him that he was supposed to meet Allison for a study date. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Finally realized that did you?” Stiles says sarcastically, “Who else do we trust?”

“Someone from the lacrosse team?” Scott says with a wince, “She’s gotten close with a couple of the guys there.”

A flicker of red hot flame licks up Stiles’ side. “Sure, yeah – one of the potential lacrosse boyfriends.”

“Oh please, we could call Danny,” Scott waves him off. “Although Andrew Wickstrom would probably be more willing.”

Good guy Andrew Wickstrom? Stiles did not like that idea. Not because he was just another blockhead lacrosse guy… but because he was genuinely a nice guy. And the possibility of you falling for him was very high.

“He’s better than leaving her here alone,” Scott says, going through his phone. “At least until her parents get off work.”

Stiles curses him, but he agrees. He rests one of his hands on your good shoulder, “(Y/N), hey…”

You stir in your daze, “Where’s Derek?”

“He left, don’t worry,” was his reply. Licking his lips he starts to prepare fresh bandages for your shoulder. “Listen, Andrew is going to come look after you until your mom gets home.”

“Who?”

“Andrew Wickstrom? From the team,” Stiles says, trying to keep the disdain from his voice. “Scott and I need to handle something at the school. And you need to stay here and get some rest.”

He applies pressure on your shoulder with disinfected gauze and you gasp with pain.

“You just have a 24-hour bug,” he continues to distract you. “And in the morning you’ll be right as rain, I promise.”

“Again you’re such a liar,” you smile painfully.

He loves your humor. “I’ll come check on you when we’re done. Just don’t go falling in love with this guy, alright?”

You laugh, “No promises.”

~~~

You were cuddled on the couch, pulling up your favorite forest green blanket to your chin. You try to fix your hair bun, but it was still falling out in wavy strands. The television was set low, a true crime miniseries on.

Andrew returns to the living room, a gatorade in an iced glass with a straw. He went back to his spot on the ground, propped against the couch arm and near your head.

“Did I miss anything?” he lifts the glass over his shoulder and directs the straw between your lips.

You take a few sips, humming your thanks. “I think the husband did it.”

“But there was all that text evidence showing how the wife verbally abused him. I think he’s a scaredy cat.”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have lashed out and killed her.”

He grins, “You’re way into these true crime cases.”

“They’re interesting,” you snuggle further into the blanket, “And I like to see the medical side of things.”

“Can I check your fever?” he gropes under the pile of supplies Stiles had left them and found a thermometer. He brushes your wispy fly-aways into your bun and put the thermometer to your forehead. After it beeps he looks at it, “102.3, that’s a little high.”

“We don’t need the hospital until it’s 105.”

He got comfortable again, crossing his arms. “It’s weird. I hadn’t imagined the first time we hang out was going to involve playing nurse.”

“I appreciate it, really,” you say tiredly. “It’s nice of you to spend your night here. I’m pretty sure my parents would pay you like a babysitter too.”

“It’s no problem,” he smiles, dimples showing. “I don’t mind. I like this, spending time with you. Even if you are super sick.”

You giggle but end it in a cough. “You know I was kind of hoping you’d come talk to me at lacrosse practice.”

Andrew turns so he’s facing you cross legged on the ground, “No way.”

“A perk of TAing for Coach is that I get to watch all you handsome lacrosse players play,” you wink, “I might’ve had my eye on you a couple of times.”

“I’m flattered,” he grins back, “You were always surrounded by a crowd, and I wasn’t sure you wanted another guy forcing his way in.”

You prop your head up a little, “You wouldn’t have needed to force yourself in. I would’ve just welcomed you.”

He bows his head, brown curls hanging in coils. “I wish I would’ve figured that out sooner. Maybe our first night together would’ve had you feeling better.”

“No, this is better,” you smile, “This is more memorable.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I asked to see you again…” he rubs his hands awkwardly on his knees, “… outside of school.”

“Please!” you say, “I’m so sick of being stuck at my house. Any plans I can look forward to is a blessing.”

He fixes the edge of your blanket, pulling it up a few inches. “Then I’ll think of something really fun.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he plays with his hair. It’s cute. “Maybe something with a bookstore.”

Your sunken eyes widen a bit. “How did you know I like to read?”

“It might’ve been the book you always have with you at school,” he laughs, “Or the time Coach yelled at you because you were reading in the bleachers instead of grabbing more helmets.”

“Well, if you’re buying then I won’t say no to a bookstore.”

Andrew grins, a beautiful smile with his curly hair and warm, green eyes. “It’s a date.”

~~~

“It’s a what?!” Stiles was whispering as loudly as he could.

You were sitting up in bed, limp and frail but with a little more life in your cheeks. “I think he asked me out on a date.”

Scott shut the window behind him, “That’s great, (Y/N).” You miss the pitying look he sent Stiles’ way.

“What did you say?” Stiles asks, sitting on the bed next to you.

You shrug, “I kind of just smiled and we kept watching the true crime.”

“Oh god,” Stiles grumbles, “You’re going to fall in love with him.” He watches a blush rise in your cheeks, “No… no – there’s no falling in love right now. You’re just getting over a fever.” He starts to fan your cheeks, making you laugh.

Scott pulls your desk chair over, “But you do feel better?”

“Completely – Andrew cured me!”

“It was that gatorade I left.”

You try to hide a smile, “Or it could’ve been the goodbye kiss.” Stiles jumps on the mattress, slamming the headboard into the wall. You smack his arm, “God, Stiles I was kidding. My fever just broke.”

“How did your parents take it?” Scott asks. He seems a little put out in comparison to earlier that day.

“My mom was really grateful.” You flicker your eyes between the pair of them. “So are you going to tell me what was going on with Derek visiting to check on my wound?”

“Oh, you know…” Scott says instantly. Stiles was flapping his gums like a fish out of water. “He’s seen animal attacks considering… his sister… was killed that way. He just said to sleep it off.”

You lean against the headboard, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles. “Well, he was right.” The jumpiness in Scott’s fidgeting made you suspect some lying. It irks you to know that there were still secrets they were keeping from you. “Hey, I thought you and Allison had a study date. What business did you have at the school?”

“Um…” Scott was picking at his fingernails, “That’s where I decided to surprise Allison with our studying.”

Your brow knits, “But the school is closed and locked at night.”

Stiles has his hands running over his head, “Scott, the others are going to tell her what happened.”

“Meaning?” you nudge Stiles with your shoulder.

Scott was full of conflict, whipping his eyes between different spots in the room. “Derek told us of a hunch that led us to the school. He spotted that monster wolf you saw at the video store. Allison got a strange text that might’ve come from Derek too.” He looks to you with slight panic, “It told her to meet me at the school. She was with Lydia and Jackson, so they came too.”

“I crashed my car and everything trying to get away,” Stiles says, trying to cover all their assets.

“I missed quite the party,” you whisper, searching for tells of his lying in the words.

“We were chased and attacked. A janitor died. We weren’t sure if it was the wolf monster or Derek.”

You lean away from Stiles and he darts his head to you, “I thought Derek was innocent of everything.” An ache was in the pit of your stomach, it made you feel empty and distrustful. It was plain how much they were hiding from you.

Of course you were also being a hypocrite because you hadn’t told them everything either.

“There might be more evidence,” Scott tries to continue.

“Like what?” you fold your arms, “You have any proof?”

Stiles was piecing together you shrinking away from them, “Enough that we called my dad in on it.”

“You know, I’m tired,” you say, “I think you guys should go.”

The boys share a look, and you miss the worry enveloping Stiles’ face. He pulls his wide shoulders inward to avoid touching you.

“Sure,” Stiles says, “You’ve had a long day.”

“We’re glad you’re better,” Scott adds, standing to open the window again. “Hopefully you’re well enough for school on Monday.” He slides himself outside while Stiles stops at the sill.

He licks his lips, a habit of his especially when he’s thinking. “Hey, listen, I’m going to try to fix my jeep this weekend. If you’re free maybe we could do it together.” He wipes his hands along his pants, fidgety in how he was looking at the floor, then at you, then at the floor again. “It’s no problem if not.”

You nod but avoid looking at him as he slips out. You sit there with your peachy lamp on, upset and confused. You like Scott and Stiles. They were some of the first friends you made when you started public school. Stiles had been so attentive and gently nudged you to be more open.

But the achy feeling of emptiness in your stomach was becoming more prevalent. It had been an on and off feeling since getting to know the boys. Stiles had been swooping in to calm your nerves with small nuggets of truth.

A few more lies and you weren’t sure it was worth it anymore.

A couple of days later and fully recovered from your infectious fever, you eat lunch on Saturday afternoon. Your dad slides a BLT your way and sits down with his own.

He nibbles on a piece of bacon, “Any plans for your post sickness weekend?”

“Catch up on the homework Allison brought me,” you take a sip of soda, “And try not to kill Scott for hurting her.”

“Are they okay?” Tom asks.

You shake your head, “She broke up with him. He snapped at her when she was scared. Kind of a dick move.”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” you grimace, wiping the tired from your eyes. “I’m mad at him too.”

“What a dick,” he says, winking at you.

It makes you smile, “I know he means well. I think he’s just being a stupid teenage boy.”

“Having been a stupid teenage boy myself I can vouch for him.” He eats the larger pile of bacon on his plate, “What about that other boy that visited the other day?”

“Stiles?” you sigh, “I’m upset with him too. I think they’re hiding something from me.”

Both you and your dad say at the same time, “Stupid teenage boys.”

“But that Andrew is nice,” your mom enters the kitchen, gardening gloves in hand. “I like him.”

“You like that he was taking care of me,” you roll your eyes. “You know Scott and Stiles were here doing that same thing earlier that day.”

Angela went for the shoes she wore in the garden by the back door, “Do they know about your heart?”

“I told Stiles some things and he’s told our other friends,” you shrug, “Just about the heart defect and my tachycardia.”

Your parents nod – your dad finishing his lunch much faster than you, “That’s better than nothing. I feel better knowing you’re out with kids that can help you if you feel faint.”

Your mom leaves for the backyard and your dad goes to get you another can of soda.

“Maybe I’ll stop by Stiles’ place today.”

“The Sheriff’s house?” Tom says, “You must not be that upset with him.”

You stand, your heart stuttering, “Eh… I’ll let you know if I need a getaway driver.”

The walk to Stiles’ house was long but nice with the California sun out. Your skin soaks up the warmth, unstiffening your bones from the sickbed. The birds twitter past and trees shimmer their leaves above you.

If your mom knew you were walking such a long way, she would have given you house arrest. But you monitor your heart rate through your watch the whole way.

The house was a little shabby but homely. It screams ‘bachelor pad’ in more ways than one. The grass was trimmed, but the flowerbeds neglected. The BBQ was greasy with use and left out in the open. The house was tidy but nowhere near clean. The old décor was most likely remnant of Mrs. Stilinski, and the boys don’t dare change it.

Stiles was running out of the door, tripping down the steps when he saw you. “(Y/N)! You came.”

You nod, hands in your jean pockets, “I wanted to see the damage.”

The jeep was in the driveway, towed there the night of the school attack. The hood was laying on the concrete and completely smashed in.

Stiles jogs up to you and looks about ready to give you a hug, but you keep your arms down as a signal. He scratches at the back of his head instead.

“I just picked up a new hood from the junkyard. And my dad helped me buy a new battery.”

“What happened to the old one again?” you look inside the engine and see more duct tape than rubber tubes. “Do you usually fix this guy up yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles had a funny look on his face, hands on his hips, “It’s cheaper that way. When I hit the school sign it crushed the battery box. It needed to be fully replaced.”

You give him a side eye, “You hit the school sign?”

“I was in a hurry to escape, okay,” he says exasperated, throwing his arms down limp at his sides. He was always lanky and fidgety. “I have spray paint in the garage for the new hood.” He looks at you with a hesitant gaze, “Do you want to help?”

You fold your arms, trying to hide a smile. “Do you have a tarp for the paint?”

“Why would I need a tarp?”

A small laugh escapes you, “Your dad will thank me later. Come on.”

The pair of you lay an old blue tarp down and set the junkyard hood on it. You convince Stiles to sand the metal and prime it before the paint. Thankfully the jungle that was the garage held nearly all the equipment you needed.

“I think it’s funny you have the exact shade of blue you need for your jeep,” you say, shaking your head. “Makes me think you need to touch it up more often than not.”

“If you’re making some kind of assumption about my driving skills, you’re wrong. I happen to be an excellent driver.”

You shake the spray paint can, ready for last touchups, “Anyone is an excellent driver when they’re the only driver in the friend group.”

“Excuse me?” he says with mock offense, screwing his face up comically.

“You’re not exactly comparing your skills to Scott and me since we don’t have cars,” and in a moment of weakness you point the can towards Stiles.

“Hey, woah!” he held up his hands, getting a blast of blue paint on his palms and fingers. “Mayday! Mayday! Paint in mouth!”

You start laughing, shaking the can some more as Stiles spits at the grass. His hands and forearms were coated in shiny, dripping paint.

“Now you’re in for it.”

He ran at you, hands outstretched. You didn’t fight it much as you squeal at the cold wet paint. He hugs you from behind and starts rubbing his hands all down your sides and front, coating your arms and shirt.

He was careful to avoid your chest. “There, now we’re both a masterpiece.”

“Wait a minute,” you say, out of breath from your giggles. You raise a coated finger to his rosy cheek and write your initials, “There. An artist always signs their work.”

He blows out a choking breath, shivers prickling the back of his neck. He has to clear his throat before doing the same to you, raising a long finger to your cheek. A double ‘s’ is painted along your cheekbone, beneath your sparkling eyes.

“Should we put the battery in while the paint dries?” you were closer than you thought, just inches between you. You could have sworn Stiles flickers his eyes down to your lips, no doubt smeared with paint.

“S-Sure,” he stutters, wiping at his nose, “It’s right over here.”

You help lift the heavy black box and slide it into the car. You giggle at the blue handprints all over the battery sides.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get a wet rag.”

“No!” Stiles grabs your arm, “I like it. Let’s let it dry. Our signature touch.”

You look at your handprint on the top and Stiles’ on the side below yours. “Whatever you want, Stilinski. This is your jeep.”

“Damn right,” he mumbles, connecting wires, “This baby needs to last me through college.”

The duct tape didn’t look very promising, but you had to admire his persistence. “I’ll get the topcoat ready then.”

It took another hour to get the hood ready for screwing in. You help with holding tools and holding pieces in place. Stiles makes sarcastic remarks and tries not to swear when he pinches a finger. You laugh at his jokes and ignore the unevenness of your heart rate.

When the hood was in place and the spray paint on your skin dry and cracking, the pair of you walk inside for some lemonade.

Stiles keeps staring at his initials on your cheek. “Thank you for helping me. It wouldn’t have turned out half as good without you.”

“It was fun,” you nod, a hand to your chest. A pain was flaring there. You try to breathe past the tightness, “I think I need… I need a second.” Your watch beeps the exact same time as Stiles’ phone.

You share a confused glance with the boy as he blabs, “I can explain!”

“One second,” you say, leaning forward and closing your eyes. You nearly collapse in a dining chair, and a moment later you feel large hands on your knees, squeezing gently.

“Try to ground yourself,” he whispers to you, “Remember… what do you hear?”

It takes you longer to answer, holding your chest like it’ll keep your heart there. “The refrigerator running. Birds outside. And your heavy breathing.” You crack a smile despite the frantic fluttering in your chest.

Stiles scoffs, “And what do you feel?”

“My heartbeat,” you put your free hand on top of Stiles’, curling your fingers around his. “Your hand. And the cracking spray paint.” It was getting easier to breathe.

Stiles was rubbing his thumb along the inside of your knee. His own chest was inflating again, that powerful warmth that only happened when he was near you. His throat bobs as heat floods his cheeks – thankfully he was covered in spray paint.

He checks your watch screen as your heart rate went down, “That’s it.”

“Thanks,” you say, letting go of his fingers. He pulls his hands away quickly after that. “I think I should head home and shower. All this paint is making my skin itch now.”

He laughs awkwardly, standing, “Well, uh… you could always, you know… shower here.” His eyes widen and he starts to ramble on further as if to stop you from saying no, “I mean, I have extra clothes and I was planning on taking Scott out tonight to get his mind off the breakup. You could stay and we could all go together?”

You let the silence go on just for your own amusement. He was practically shaking waiting for your answer. “Sure, that’d be great.”

“Yay… I mean, yeah sure – cool cool.” He gestures to the stairs and leads the way, “There’s everything you need in the bathroom. I’ll just… jeans probably won’t fit, and I don’t believe in shorts…”

“Sweatpants are fine,” you say, enjoying every second of his rambling.

“Right, good,” he was pinching the ends of his shaved hair. You wonder if he was one to run his fingers through his hair when it was long. “I assume you don’t need boxers…” he chokes on his laugh, probably thinking about you in that very item of clothing. “But I’ll get you a shirt and a towel. Wait right here.”

You spy into the hallway bathroom and giggle at the few items of clothing strewn about the floor. A toothbrush was thrown onto the counter and leaving white, foamy scum on the counter. A deodorant stick was open and toppled over. A 2-in-1 shampoo was leaking in the shower. Overall, about as much as you expected.

“Oh god,” Stiles yells, spotting the same things you were, “I’m so sorry. It’s such a mess in here.” He starts to bang against the walls, picking up clothes and fallen toiletries along the way. “Clearly I wasn’t expecting company.” He steps on a sleeve and trips to the floor in a colossal crash.

You stifle a laugh as you bend to help him up, “So you really didn’t expect me to show up, huh?”

His cheeks were a blotchy red, a terrible sinking pit in his stomach. “It’s a wonder you haven’t run out of here the first chance you got.” His arms were full of clothes and a sneaker and a couple stiff washcloths that you didn’t want to think about.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” you smile at his red face – the picture of embarrassment. He was so endearing in the sweetest way. The spray paint was starting to chip from his skin and flake onto the clothes he was holding. “I like you this way.”

Stiles figures he better leave before he does anything else stupid. “I’m going to use… my d-dad’s bathroom downstairs.” He fumbles the sneaker but catches it by the laces. “I’ll be super quick, so you have all the hot water.”

You nod, closing the door on his bright blotchy face. You step into the shower, not planning to use up the hot water either, and investigate any other hygiene products. The 2-in-1 must have been used as a body wash and face wash as well because there was nothing else to be seen. Shaking your head you use the bottle to clean all the spray paint off your body.

You had to scrub your skin raw, but the blue finally came off. You were quick to realize that the woods smell that Stiles usually had came from this shampoo. It was mixed with the strong scent of tea tree oil. At least the Sheriff knew a thing or two about antibacterial soap and how much a lacrosse player needed it.

The mirror wasn’t even fogged up with steam when you step out. You found the pile of clothes Stiles brought before he fumbled with cleaning.

Some dark sweatpants and a gray t-shirt with a star wars logo on the front. He even threw in a green and blue flannel to keep your arms warm when they went to get Scott.

You thread your fingers through your wet hair, carrying your ruined day clothes over your shoulder. Down the stairs you find Stiles making sandwiches in the kitchen. His shirt was a little damp from the shower, and he had goosebumps running up his arms.

“You look cold,” you say, sauntering in and catching the sweatpants before they fell a few inches. You tie the strings to make them tighter around your waist and find Stiles staring at you slack jawed.

“Um… uh – yeah. Sure, maybe a little.” He shrugs repeatedly as if that would calm the tension he was feeling.

You lean against the counter, watching him avoid your gaze, “Did you take a cold shower?”

“What – I like them!”

“No one likes them,” you scoff, “There was enough time for us both to shower fine.”

He stuck out his bottom lip, tilting his head to a shoulder, “I just wanted to make sure you had enough hot water.” Before you could make any other retort, he says in a louder voice, “I figured we could eat something and then pick up Scott.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, watching him work. It seems he wanted to busy himself, so he didn’t get caught staring at you again.

“Have you talked with Andrew at all since him babysitting you?”

You wince at the word ‘babysit.’ “We’ve been texting a little bit. I’m waiting for him to tell me when our date will be.”

“So he did ask you out.” Stiles cut his tomato with a little more force than was necessary.

“I guess, maybe,” you smile, feeling a little rosy in the cheeks.

Stiles sees the sudden flush and he flexes his jaw. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I mean – Andrew is actually a good guy compared to most of the boys at school.”

“Ah – shit!” Stiles drops his knife and holds his index finger.

You round the counter, “Are you okay?”

He waves you off, going for a band aid in a cupboard, “It’s fine, blood is red, tomatoes are red… no harm done.”

You laugh, snatching the band aid from him, “Let me see that.” You peel back the plastic and pull his hand towards your face.

He’s obviously upset about something, but that didn’t stop the red splotches from reappearing on his face. His long fingers were shaking slightly – from Adderall or his usual fidgets, you weren’t sure – but he was standing still as you gently apply the bandage.

You’re soft as you wrap the adhesive sides and push down to keep it stuck to the tip of his finger. “There,” you lean down and place a little kiss on the bandage, “All better.”

Stiles huffs an awkward laugh, almost shaken by your make-it-better kiss. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says testily, making the sandwiches a little more roughly than before.

You squint your eyes, upset that he was holding back. “Are you going to give me a ‘you-shouldn’t-date-him’ speech like you did with Josh Arnett?”

Stiles takes a deep breath through his nose, and it seems to calm him enough to say in an even tone, “Like you said, Andrew is a good guy. He’d be lucky to date you.”

The sincerity in his voice put a little hitch in your chest, and you had to remember that he had access to your heartbeat.

“Moving on,” you say quickly, “Are you going to tell me how you got ahold of my heart monitor?”

Stiles plates the sandwiches and goes for a couple bags of chips in the pantry. He was stuttering the whole way and came back a little pink. “After the video store and I… stayed the night. I – couldn’t sleep. After a couple hours and me trying to read your latest Harry Potter book…”

“You can’t start reading the series on the sixth one, dummy.”

He waves you off, presenting you with dinner. “You turned over in your sleep… and your hand was – was resting on my arm; the hand that had your watch.” He takes a big bite of his sandwich and rushes through the rest, “It turned on when your heart rate went up a little bit in your sleep and I thought… it would m-make sense to share that monitor with other people so they can take care of you in an emergency.”

You quietly eat your meal as you listen, a warmth in your stomach at feeling looked after and cared about. Stiles took it upon himself to help you and strangely… you didn’t mind it like you did when it came to your parents.

“Your watch doesn’t have a password on it so…”

“My parents thought it’d be easier if someone needed to access my heart monitor app if I fainted.”

He nods, “So I opened it while you were asleep and connected my phone to the app.���

“Why didn’t you just ask?” you say softly, watching him with that warmth you were feeling. It was comforting and you realize how comfortable you felt around Stiles – especially when talking about something so personal to you.

“I was afraid you’d be all stoic and say you’re fine,” he smirks at you, “And that you can take care of yourself.”

You shake your head and huff a laugh, “Smart man.”

The two of you share a few more laughs before Stiles goes on to apologize again, “I’m sorry this isn’t the greatest meal. I’m no chef (Y/N).” He waves his hands around as he says it, “But…”

“It’s good,” you say, smiling. “I don’t like to cook all the time.”

You get off topic as you continue to eat. You discuss your science project and the upcoming chemistry test on Monday. Stiles tells you the made up story about what happened at the school. You ask more questions about Derek. Sherrif Stilinski had contacted state police to handle a possible serial killer. School had been closed Thursday and Friday to deal with the damages, so you hadn’t missed classes while being sick.

The sun starts to set as Stiles cleans your plates. “There is one more thing about tonight that I forgot to mention.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans in, “What do girls usually do during breakups?”

“Well, Allison, Lydia, and I had a night of crying as we watched The Notebook and Titanic. We ordered takeout and ranted about every stupid thing a boy has ever done to us. We ate chocolate and contemplated possibly being alone forever. And then we passed out after doing our hair and giving each other facials.”

Stiles was not expecting that, “You did all of that in one night?”

“Hence why we passed out at three in the morning.”

He shakes his head, “Well for Scott… we’re going to get him drunk.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“We’re going to get drunk and make sure he has a good time.”

“Cause no one has ever been considered a sad drunk before.”

He gives you a deadpan stare. It makes you giggle – he was so open with his facial expressions.

“I just want to take his mind off of it.”

You consider him, “Where are we going to get alcohol?”

Stiles holds up a finger and goes to rummage in a side cabinet near the dining table. He returns with a full bottle of Jack Daniels. You smile to see the comparison you had made multiple times. Stiles’ eyes were sometimes like sunshine through whiskey.

He took your smile as a good sign, “You up for it?”

~~~

You and Stiles were leading the way past the park entrance and onto a cliff face with Scott trailing behind. The moon was out and very nearly full, shining a perfect light around the outcrop.

The ground was uneven and layered with rock, sparse pine trees growing between the cracks. There was a bonfire barrel just ahead that Stiles went to light.

“Where are we going?” Scott grumbles.

He was looking a little worse for wear. After your night of girl talk and general anguish, Allison seemed to be faring better. It was strange to see how each party handled the breakup.

“Cause we really shouldn’t be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school.”

Stiles sighs, “Well, your mom isn’t the sheriff, okay? There’s no comparison, trust me.”

“It’ll be fine, Scott,” you say, “It’s been quiet since Wednesday.”

Your friend was over it. “Can you at least just tell me what we’re doing out here?”

“Yes. When your best friend gets dumped…”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Scott butts in, “We’re taking a break.” He looks to you as if asking you to prove it.

You shrug, breathing in the cold air and swinging your arms in the too-long sleeves of Stiles’ flannel. “She’s pretty decided.” It was Scott’s fault after all that Allison made the decision. “She’s already given you a second chance.”

“Not helping!” Stiles snaps, “When your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they’re taking a break…” Stiles stops walking next to the bonfire barrel, moon shining right above his head. “You get your best friend drunk.”

He holds up the bottle of amber, proud of himself for taking it from his father’s stash.

Scott sighs but doesn’t fight it. He was more interested in talking to you about the situation, which tells you how he really wants to handle the breakup. While Stiles works on lighting a fire in the barrel, you sit on a rock and pat the spot next to you for Scott.

He slumps down as if his body is heavier than usual. “Thank you for being here.”

You lean into him a little. It was cold and his body was warm. “I’ll always be here for my friends.”

“I mean, especially since you’re one of Allison’s best friends too.” His voice lowers when he says her name, like it was painful.

“Of course, I’m not picking sides, Scott. I have my girls… and I have my boys.” You wrap an arm around his shoulders and squeeze him to you. Your head lays on his shoulder, and you could almost feel the hurt he was feeling. It wasn’t as teary as Allison’s, but it was still very plain to see.

He takes a deep breath and stares out past the cliff at the rest of the forest below. It was almost like the moon was putting him in an even worse mood.

“Has she…”

“No,” you cut him off. “We had our night talking about it and she hasn’t brought it up since. But it’s only been a few days and you know Lydia is trying to swear her off of boys for a while.”

Scott nods, sinking into you a little more. “What do you think about it?”

You rub his shoulders a little, “I think what you did was done out of fear and anger, but it was still very stupid.” You feel him swallow thickly, “You shouldn’t have taken it out on her.”

He hangs his head, moving his hands up to hold his face. “I know.”

“If I’m being completely honest though… it’s going to be hard for her to get over you.” You lean closer to talk quietly as Stiles whoops at his roaring fire from behind. “Just give it some time to settle and try to apologize again. Try to give her more of a reason why you acted that way and she’ll understand. She’s very understanding if you don’t hold the truth from her.”

Scott turns his head sideways in one hand and looks at you with glassy eyes. You could tell he wasn’t going to cry, but he was heartened to hear your words.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

You nudge him around a little, “Anytime.”

Stiles jumps off another large rock and lands with the bottle in his hands, already taking a swig, “Let’s party!”

Scott grumbles again but takes a couple gulps of the bottle before handing it to you. As you raise the rim to your lips, Stiles starts shouting.

“Hey, hey! You’re not supposed to be drinking that.”

You take a big swallow, the burning liquid stinging your throat as it goes down to warm your churning belly. “Because why?”

“Because alcohol can increase arrhythmias,” he says matter-of-factly, “I read that in my… research.”

You shrug, taking another gulp, blowing out a breath as if it were on fire. “Hasn’t stopped me before.” You mock the boys’ shocked silence with a muttered, “You’re not the only one that has stolen a drink from your parents liquor cabinet.”

Stiles still looks worried as you hand the bottle back, “Make sure you check your watch.”

“You have that on your phone now,” you stretch back, leaning on your hands, “You can worry about it.”

Scott gave half a smile, “You found out about that?”

“He hadn’t exactly hidden it well,” you giggle, already rosy from the alcohol.

You and Stiles continue to share the bottle, laughing at each other as you tell Scott about your day. You mock the state of the blue jeep while Stiles makes fun of your little crush on Andrew Wickstrom. You whisper (basically shout) about the old washcloths found in the bathroom while Stiles splutters his next swig all over the ground. And you finally laugh about how any of you were to take chemistry tests seriously when the school has been in disarray.

Scott stops drinking after his few sips and continues to stare off into the distance, hurting as he watches you and Stiles fall over each other on the ground. Stiles slams the bottle down with a tink of the glass and you shush him.

“You’ll break it,” you slur, words feeling funny in your mouth. You fall back and hit your head on the rock Scott was sitting on still. “Ow!”

Stiles rolls over from where he was laying and cups your head, pulling it from the rock, “Oh no…” he sounds just as drunk, “Did you get an owie?”

You rub at the slight egg forming on the back of your head, “The rock decided to punch me.”

“I’m sorry,” and he kisses your hairline, “There, all better.”

You laugh like that was the funniest thing in the world, “You gave me a make-it-better kiss!”

“I learned from the best,” he let your head go and you both fell onto your backs, laughing.

Scott closes his eyes and takes a shallow breath, tense from his friends having a flirty experience without them realizing it. He ignores as Stiles lifts his bandaged index finger and declares how “(Y/N)’s make-it-better kisses could cure cancer.”

You look up, laughing at that, and notice Scott folding his arms to keep the cold away. “Oh no…” you lean to whisper (again – basically shout) at Stiles, “He’s thinking about her again.”

“Dude, you know she’s just one… one girl. You know, there are so many… there are so many other girls in the sea.”

“Fish in the sea,” Scott corrects.

You gasp, “I should make a shrimp scampi.”

“Shrimp are not fish,” Stiles giggles, “Why are we talking about fish? I’m talking about girls.” His voice gets quieter, “I love girls. I love them.” He stares off at the moonlit sky while you try to contain your laughter, cheeks blooming red.

You tap out, refusing more drink but still overly drunk. Instead you wrap a hand around Scott’s ankle as if that was still giving him silent support.

“I love…” Stiles continues to ramble, “Especially ones that are super smart and like true crime and books and… and can cook super well and have a history of serious heart conditions.”

“Like (Y/N)?”

You lift your head but decided the motion was going to make you sick.

“Like who?” Stiles mutters before smiling wide, “Like whom? What was I talking about?” He looks up to see Scott brooding over his crossed arms, “Hey, you’re not happy. Take a drink.”

“I don’t want any more,” Scott says.

“You’re not drunk?” Stiles asks, only to hear you fall into giggles again.

You lean your head towards him, “I’m drunk.” You still had one hand on Scott, running your fingers weirdly around his ankle in an absentminded gesture. Scott didn’t care – he still found it somewhat comforting to have you there.

“Hey, maybe it’s like… maybe it’s like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know.”

You tug on his pants leg, “You used to need an inhaler?” You were starting to sound sleepy.

“Maybe you can’t get drunk as a wolf.”

Scott picked up a pebble and threw it at Stiles’ face.

“Hey! What the hell…” he rubs at his face harshly, throwing his arms out afterwards. One of his arms lands across yours. “Come on man, I know it hurts. I know. Well, I don’t know,” he chuckles, his fingers subconsciously finding the skin of your wrist just under the flannel sleeve. They’re light and lazy as they trail up your wrist and down to your palm.

You hardly react, too drunk to really care. “I don’t really know either. Never had anything past a situationship before. They always leave when things get too serious.” You shiver, tickled by Stiles’ fingers. “They get all scared about me dying.”

Stiles rolls his head around the rocks he’s laying on, too far gone to really register what you’re saying, “I do know this though! I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” He laughs quietly, “That didn’t make any sense.”

His long fingers were overtaking the space of your hand now, tracing the skin there as he drifts off. Scott was staring at the two of you with mixed emotions, that is until a mystery guest appears to steal your bottle of whiskey.

“Well,” a sinister older looking boy says, “Look at the little bitches getting their drink on.”

Scott sets his face in cool indifference, “Give it back.”

Stiles’ fingers are no longer light and lazy – they grip your hand and pull you closer to him, half sitting up as he tries to clear his head. You hardly register the movement of your hand, only the distant panic starting to rise in your throat at the newcomers.

“What’s that, little man?” the guy had to be a senior or even a freshman in college.

Another guy of similar age was just behind him, “I think he wants a drink.”

Stiles was trying to stand up, “Scott, maybe we should just go.”

“Woah, woah – wait a minute,” the first guy whistles, “The party is just starting.” He eyes you down, “What’s your name, baby?”

You swallow hard, “We were just leaving.” Your head was terribly clearer now as a thrill of fear went down your spine. You try to stand too, “Enjoy the drink.”

“Oh, we will,” the guy says, approaching your standing figure, “But only if you enjoy it with us.”

“Hey, back off man,” Stiles says, wobbly as he holds onto you, “We don’t want any trouble.”

The guy goes for your free arm, slow but tight in how he grabs you, “You don’t want to spend the night with these losers. We can show you a better time.”

“Let go of me,” you say fiercely, but fear was shining in your eyes.

Stiles starts rambling off sentences of retort, pulling on you and pushing the guy away. Until you were yanked sharply, and a squeal escapes you.

All bets were off after that.

Stiles throws his drunken arms towards the guy, eventually punching him on the jawline closer to his ear. Scott, his eyes gleaming a strange yellow light, grabs the bottle of jack from the senior’s hand and throws it with incredible speed against a faraway tree.

His voice is deep and strange as he says, “Get out of here.”

And the two guys run off back towards the woods, passing the tree now drenched in whiskey and glass.

Your teeth were chattering, heartbeat rapid, and a look of fear plastered to your wide eyes. Stiles was shaking your shoulders, “You okay?” Then he pulls you into his embrace, guiding your head to rest under his chin, “You’re okay.” He rubs up and down your arm as he watches Scott stomp away towards the jeep.

“Hey, woah – Scott!” he holds you to him, kind of like a support for both your drunken bodies, but you’re grateful for the warmth his body provides as you head for the parking lot again.

Scott drives you all home, angry as he watches you sleepily lay in Stiles’ arms. The fidgety, sarcastic boy was slumped against the door and had his arms wrapped around you, snoring and completely unaware of how lucky he was.

He was going to lose his mind when he wakes up and doesn’t remember it all very well.

~~~

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

[sadhours]

Bully - Part 1 of 3

anonymous said: I'm imagining bully!billy who secretly has a crush on fem!reader but doesn't want it to be known cause she's a "nerd" and not very social.

I took this idea and ran with it. Loved this request so much I decided to turn it into a short series. hope you like it!!

tag list; @bbyhargrove

warnings: 18+ minors dni, bully!billy, innocent nerdy!reader, bullying, name calling, blood, virginity mentioned, also perv!billy I couldn’t help myself

Icy blue eyes watch your Ked’s kicking gravel, traveling up your leg warmers and stop at your thighs. He’s watching as your skirt lifts with your steps, hypnotized by the sight and how it’s making his chest and stomach tighten.

“You got the hots for that geek?” Tommy teases, nudging his shoulder.

Billy averts his eyes and flicks his lit cigarette at Tommy, who quickly inspects where the cherry made contact with his sweatshirt, brushing off the ash and glaring up at his friend.

“Think you’re projecting,” Billy chides, but it’s all a facade. He does have the hots for you, thinks about your legs when he can’t sleep at night.

Tommy snorts, “Yeah, totally. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a nerd like that.”

Billy likes the idea of corrupting an innocent, dorky girl like yourself but he won’t admit as much. His ‘friends’ wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So when it seems like they’re catching on to his lingering eyes, he panics and starts overtly messing with you. It’s grade school bully stuff too.

His group follows his footsteps in the hall and when he sees you closing your locker with a mountain of textbooks and binders in your hands, he curves his path and knocks them out of your hand and to the floor. An all too easy, malicious smile curling his lips up as you make a small, offended noise. The gaggle of teens surrounding him erupt in vicious laughter. He’s not sure why but the way you look at him floors his attraction to you and Billy finds himself looking forward to any time he can terrorize you.

In class, he chews on his gum while he stares at the back of your head. He considers for a moment smooshing his gum between the wavy strands but then you might have to cut it and he doesn’t want that. He settles for pinching a pencil thin chunk of your hair and pulling. You head pulls back abruptly and you cry out in pain. All the heads in the class turn to the two of you, Billy looking pleased with himself and a scowl painted on your face as you also turn to look at him.

The teacher sighs, setting the text book down and tilting her head at you and Billy, “Why are you disrupting my class, y/n?”

“Billy pulled my hair!” you tattle, rubbing your fingers over the sore spot at your roots.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, you did!” your voice is shaky as you raise it, afraid of getting in trouble but so sick and tired of his constant harassment.

“Did not,” he bites back like a child.

The teacher rubs her eyebrows with her hand, “I don’t have time for this. Both of you, principals office. He’ll deal with you.”

“But—“ you start to protest.

“Now,” she seethes, scribbling on two passes and extending them out with her hands.

Heaving a sigh, you stand from your desk and start gathering your things. Billy purposefully bumps into you as he walks up to the front, knocking everything from your hands.

When you exit the classroom, you expect him to already be down the hall but your luck would have him waiting against the hallway wall, grinning mischievously at you. Billy takes this moment to scan his eyes up and down your body, which unfortunately for him, goes unnoticed by you. You just think he’s an asshole, bullying you because he bullies all the nerds.

You say nothing, tightening your grip on your backpack straps as you hurry down the hall. Billy’s behind you, watching you way your skirt flutters against your thighs with every step you take. He decides he’s not done having fun, walking very closely behind you so he can step on the back of your shoe and declare, “Flat tire.”

Before you can comprehend his annoying joke, you’re stumbling forward and landing on your hands and knees.

“Ow,” you curse, thanking silently that you were able to catch yourself. You glare up at him, “What is your problem?!”

His smile doesn’t falter but he shrugs, “Oops.”

You stand up, no help from the blonde prick who’d caused the tumble in the first place, and dust yourself off.

“Why do you have to harass me so much?” you demand, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re so mean to me and I’ve never even talked to you!”

Billy frowns, amused by your reaction and shamefully, a little turned on by the tears glistening in your eyes. Billy did get off on some light sadism during sex but this was something entirely new and something he wanted to keep provoking.

“It’s fun,” he says, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. He chews on his bottom lip, watching how his answer clears nothing up and you look at him with hurt painting every detail of your face. He imagines looking down at it in his bed, imagines what kind of noises you’d make and if he could get you to beg for him.

You wipe the tear that breaks free and turn back around, not wanting give Billy the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

In the principals office, he pleads innocence and even suggests your hair had gotten pinned against your back and the seat.

“I think she’s got a crush on me or something,” he invents, “She’s always making stuff up, saying I’m doing things when I’m not.”

Your jaw drops. You do not have a crush on Billy Hargrove. In fact, you hate him. He’s been making your life a living hell since he showed up.

“Mr. Anderson,” you plead, “I am not making this up.”

The principal is conflicted. You have a good reputation, you’re never in trouble and you make great marks. However, he’s seen how gaga all these teenage girls have gotten over the new guy from California and he seems to think you’re probably no different. He doesn’t know who to believe so he gives you both lunch detention for a week.

“That is so not fair,” you complain when he sends you on your way.

Billy looks at his watch, he’s got another few minutes alone with you until the bell rings. He decides to spend that time following you to your locker, leaning against it before you can get to it.

“Can you just leave me alone?!” you exhale, frustration bubbling through your body.

Billy loves seeing you so bothered, he wants to follow you all day and provoke it out of you.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. See you around, geek,” he pushes passed you, nudging your shoulder hard when he does.

-

The classroom is buzzing when you walk in, kids are bouncing off the wall and you scan around to find an unbothered desk, tucked away in the corner away from everyone. You take solace in it, sinking into the seat and pulling out your homework folder before placing the paper sack containing your lunch at the corner of the desk.

Lo and behold, Billy decides to sit at the desk in front of you and for the life of you, you can’t figure him out. You see he has a couple friends suffering the same fate of detention but yet, he chooses to spend this hour harassing you. He swipes the paper bag and opens it up, peeking in to see it’s contents.

“What am I having today?” he wonders aloud, dodging your hand as you attempt to grab for your lunch. He pulls out the sandwich and opens the baggie, bringing it to his nose to get a sniff. He winces, exaggerating his disgust as he quickly pulls his head back, “Ew! Tuna?”

You’re able to grab the sandwich from him, meekly replying, “I like tuna.”

“Disgusting. You can keep it,” he mumbles, his eyes back in the bag.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he pulls out the bag of celery and carrots and tosses it onto your desk.

“There’s nothing good in here,” he announces, tone dripping in disappointment.

With a sigh, you reach into your backpack and offer him the pack of Snoballs you’d bought on your walk to school. He snatches them greedily, smiling wide and you don’t know why you even gave them to him.

“Why were you hiding these?” he asks around a mouthful of the pink pastry.

You shrug, “My moms kind of a health nut.”

That was an understatement. She would freak if she knew you were sneaking sweets whenever you could.

“Poor thing,” Billy pouts sarcastically and turns his attention back to the front as the principal walks in and rattles off an excuse why he won’t be in the room but says he’ll be checking in every ten minutes.

Great. With Billy being here you won’t be able to at least make this time productive and do a bit of your homework. You attempt anyway, shoving your lunch in your backpack because you’re suddenly embarrassed to eat it around Billy. You pull out your math worksheet and start at the first problem. Then there’s a mess of blonde curls on the paper and soon after, Billy’s entire head. He’s kicked his legs up over his desk and leaned completely back, looking up at you curiously.

For a brief moment, you admire his chiseled features. His thick eyelashes, bright blue eyes, adorable button nose, pink lips, and his sharp, strong jawline. You feel a slight twinge in your nether regions, something you’d only felt once before when flipping through a copy of Teen Beat at a sleepover. You know you’re blushing because Billy laughs, his adams apple bobbing up and down with the sound.

“Can you move your head? I’m trying to do my homework,” you choke out, trying to ignore how attractive he is.

“No,” he says it so casually, because he doesn’t want to move his head. He likes looking up at you like this, how flustered it’s making you.

However, his neck is starting to hurt and he fears this might look like flirting to someone else. But he’s kind of frozen there, smirking up at you.

“Please,” you whisper, hating the way your voice sounds on your ears.

Billy loves it, smirk turning into a pleased grin and he’s sure you’re soaking in your panties just from looking at his face. Not the safest thought at school, he thinks as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans and sits up, tucking his legs back under the desk and ignores you for the rest of the hour.

You’re relieved but shocked, catching yourself glancing up at the back of his head repeatedly. You’re sure he’s planning something sinister. The warning bell rings and you start to pack up all your things, pulling your lunch out so you can toss it in the trash on your way out. As it turns out, Billy was planning something but it wasn’t as thought out as you’d expected. He waits against the doorframe and as you’re walking past him and Tina, he sticks his foot out. Yours gets caught on it and you fall forward, unable to catch yourself this time as you face plant out into the hallway. Your nose stings, and it’s wet.

“Walk much?” Tina sings and you’re not sure which stings more, your chest or your nose.

You lift yourself up and look down to see blood on the floor, bringing your hand up to your nose and feeling thick fluid pouring out. Then you taste the blood, metallic on your tongue as it seeps down to your mouth.

You expect more laughter, and there is laughter but not the hyena-like laugh you anticipated.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Billy’s voice and feel his hand on your back.

You brace yourself for a shove to the ground but his other hand wraps around your bicep as he helps you to your feet.

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” he says to his buddies, ushering you down the hall and when they give him a confused look, he offers, “Not trying to get more detention.”

That makes sense. Why the hell would he be nice now?

“I figured you would’ve caught yourself,” he mumbles as you head toward the nurses office.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t speak. There’s too much blood and you really don’t like the taste of it. You were naturally clumsy, tripping over air most of the time but Billy doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s reaching for paper towels and holding them to your nose for you.

“Oh, no!” the nurse exclaims, standing from her desk and rushing over, “What happened?”

“She tripped,” Billy says, “Landed right on her face.”

The nurse nods to Billy, “Thanks for helping her down here. I’ll get her cleaned up. You can go to class.”

He shifts on his feet, “I’d actually like to stay. Make sure she’s okay and all.”

The nurse looks over at you and you nod slowly. You figure he’s making sure you don’t tattle on him again. Billy’s genuinely concerned though, he feels like his father and it makes his skin crawl. He didn’t intend to actually hurt you. Plopping on the cot beside you, he sits so close your arms are touching. His skin is warm, you notice, and it’s weirdly comforting. You think you actually want a hug from him even though he’s the reason your nose hurts so bad.

“Is it gonna bruise?” Billy inquires. He couldn’t forgive himself if it did.

“Too early to tell,” the nurse mumbles, tilting your head back to speed up the process.

The metallic taste drips down your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to get sick from it. You feel Billy’s fingers brush against yours for a brief second and he pulls away quickly. He eyes your face, his brows furrowed. God, he feels like an asshole and you totally think he’s one. A cute one but still an asshole.

“Does it hurt?” he asks when you’re walking to your respective classes, hall passes in hand.

“Yes,” you mutter.

The bridge of your nose aches dully. You also pray it doesn’t bruise, not sure of how to explain it to your mother. If she knew you were being bullied, she would march right up to the school and raise hell. Especially if she found out a boy was the one bullying you.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, rushed before he walks into his class.

You can’t tell him it’s okay and maybe that’s for the best. It should be okay but you’re honestly not that mad at him.

-

After the awkward apology, you expect the torment to end. Wishful thinking. Billy’s at your locker when you get to it and he extends his hand. You look down at it confused and then back up to his eyes.

“Snoball,” he grunts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He’s just as bad as your mother. You heave a sigh and reach into your backpack, pulling out the packet of Ding-Dongs you’d excitedly purchased at the corner-store.

He laughs childishly as he snatches them from you, “You like Ding-Dongs, eh?”

“Stop,” you can’t handle the innuendo, cheeks on fire.

“I assumed you’d never had one before,” he looks at you with raised brows.

You falter, eyes widening as you push hm away from your locker and begin to enter the code. You haven’t. Ever. You’ve never even kissed a boy.

“And I was right,” Billy muses with another cackle, “You’re a fucking virgin.”

“Leave me alone,” you plead with a mumble, grabbing your textbooks and binders for the first four classes.

“As if that’s news to anyone,” Carol snorts as her and Tommy walk up.

Billy laughs harder, seemingly fueled by his friends joining in on the fun. Your stomach churns. All you want is for them to leave you alone. Sure, you’d dealt with teasing here and there since grade school but this was excessive. You didn’t even understand why they were doing it. Yeah, you were categorized as a nerd and a loner but there had to be another reason why Billy was picking on you so hard. You’d seen him get in fights with guys but you hadn’t seen him be so cruel so anyone else. Or obsessive.

“See ya around, geek,” he shuts your locker before you’re finished getting your things, strutting off down the hall with his friends. Magnetically, your eyes follow his ass in his extremely tight jeans. You catch yourself and press your forehead to your locker, groaning out loud.

-

He had been sure you were a virgin, but now that you’ve confirmed it, his mind is racing. He sits back in his chair, the teachers lecture going in one ear and out the other as he ponders if you’ve even kissed someone before or if he’s the first man to give you any kind of attention.

The thought is odd though. You’re definitely not unattractive. Yeah, you focused on school and when you dressed provocative, he could tell it wasn’t your intention to have eyes on you. God, he loved when you wore skirts. Which, with the season changing and the temperature rising, you did most days.

The bookworm thing kind of turns him on which was new. He’d never been into it before he saw you. All the girls he’d hooked up with in the past ran in the same social circles with him. You were quite the change of pace, maybe that what his fascination with you was about. Who was he kidding? It was your thighs.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the bell rings, indicating it’s lunch time. Another hour with you. He’s pleased to see you in the same seat as before. He takes the desk in front of you, snaking his leg around the seat so he sits facing you. He picks up the lunch sack placed at the corner and dumps the contents out onto the desk, pursing his lips as he pokes around at what your moms packed today. Not much of it looks good enough to eat. He sees your cleavage peaking up from your shirt and grins, now that’s appetizing.

“That’s a low cut shirt,” he points out, hooking his finger in the collar and pulls the material down.

Your eyes widen as you pull back and slap his hand away. He smirks, watching as your cheeks redden. You pull your shirt back up, willing the warmth spreading up your thighs to subside as you squeeze them together. You liked this kind of teasing much more and wished he’d just stick to that stuff.

“Can I put my lunch away now or are you not done picking through it?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His mouth scrunches up to the side, like he’s thinking it over before he delicately picks up the baggie filled with apple slices. He opens it and pulls one out, inspecting it carefully before taking a bite of it. He keeps his eyes on yours while he eats it and his gaze gets too intense for you to hold. Shoving the various baggies of food back the paper sack, you keep your eyes focused on your hands. In your peripheral, you notice Billy holding out an apple slice to you. As you peer up, fingers extending to accept the offer, he pulls his hand back and laughs. You give him a defeated look.

“Get it with your teeth, not your fingers,” he instructs, his tone condescending as he offers it again.

You don’t know why, but you listen, taking the apple slice with your teeth. You hate the way he smiles at you, like he knows he could get you to do anything for him. Worst of all, you hate that you would, hate the way he excites you, the way you want to do what he says. You’re worried you might be a whore.

Your mom had warned you about boys like Billy. Boys with pretty eyes and smiles that could corrupt you. Perhaps that’s why you’ve never entertained the thought of being involved with any boy in that way.

He grins sadistically, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His words only making that rising heat harder to ignore.

You’re saved by Mr. Anderson, “Billy. Sit in the goddamn seat properly and stop antagonizing Ms. Y/L/N.”

Billy’s snatching your pencil before he follows the principals order. You think you see him blushing when he’s yelled at but you can’t be sure, it happens too fast. You reach into your pencil case to replace the one he’s stolen, getting started on the chemistry homework you were dreading. You wish he’d distract you again, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say another word to you the rest of the hour and you don’t see him the remainder of the school day.

[rxmqnova]

Hey

Love your work. How about lizzie, daughter reader ?

(Set during WandaVision filming)

Lizzie's really annoyed with us because R got suspended from school for skipping class and giving the teachers 'sass' so we have to spend time with her on set.

We attend the on set school with the other child actors. But it soon becomes clear we can only read at a 2nd grade level (we're a teen).

Lizzie gets informed during her break and feels horrible for giving us a hard time, and being too busy to notice how much we're struggling.

So that night she asks us to help her run her lines. We're really anxious about it, so Lizzie sits us on her lap, tells us she knows about our reading troubles and helps us to read the tommy and Billy lines.

It becomes clear we're a 'chip off the old block' so she gets us a part in the t.v show.

Hoping that acting will help with our dyslexia

Feel free to change or add anything here 😃👍

Thanks. Your the best 👌

Reading problems

Y/N: 13 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "Mom, I-"

"Y/N, don't. I'm really mad right now" Lizzie gives her daughter a stern look, continuing her way to the car while Y/N's following behind.

"But I-"

"I said no, Y/N… Skipping classes. What were you thinking?" Lizzie shakes her head, not even turning around to look at her daughter.

Lizzie and her daughter only just left the principal's office. Y/N got suspended for skipping classes and not being really nice to her teacher about it which, of course, didn't make Lizzie exactly happy.

The entire car ride home has been nothing but super uncomfortable for the young girl. Lizzie hasn't said a single word, still being really mad and disappointed which is something Y/N absolutely hates.

And unfortunately, the rest of the day happens to be pretty much the same, Lizzie talking only when it's necessary and Y/N better hidden in her bedroom.

———

The morning comes sooner than Y/N would like and Lizzie's already sitting on her daughter's bed, attempting to wake her up.

"Mom, I'm suspended. Did you forget?" Y/N groans, hoping her mother would let her sleep.

"I could not forget that. Did you really think I would leave you home alone after yesterday?" Lizzie raises an eyebrow. "You're going on set with me and you're going to attend the set school with Jett and Julian" Of course Lizzie earns a whine from her daughter on those words. "Get ready and come downstairs"

Hearing a nod Lizzie leaves the room, leaving her daughter to get ready. Y/N better does what her mom said and gets ready, meeting Lizzie downstairs.

Well, and after breakfast and getting everything that needs to be done before leaving, the pair gets to the car and heads on the set.

Once they arrive, Lizzie immediately leads her daughter to where the boys and the teacher are currently waiting for Y/N so they could start.

And as soon as Y/N joins them, they get into work. They start with some math which is luckily not that hard for the young Olsen. She's older than the boys and had already done this at school.

But then comes some reading and that's something Y/N absolutely hates. It is actually the main reason why she skipped her classes.

It's just the fact that for some odd reason the words are so hard to read for the young Olsen. She has no idea why, but sometimes she just misses out a few words when reading, or adds some. Or sometimes she mixes up the letters in a word.

And of course that didn't go unnoticed by her classmates. Now their just making fun of her that she can't read fluently, and especially when the teacher chooses her to read out loud.

Though now it's time for the boys to get ready for filming, so Y/N gets dismissed too. And just like Lizzie told her, she makes her way over to her mother's trailer to meet Lizzie there once she has a break.

Meanwhile Lizzie finishes her scene, so as planned, she starts walking towards her trailer.

"Miss Olsen, do you have a minute?" The teacher rushes to Lizzie once she sees her.

"Oh, sure. Is everything okay? Please don't tell me, Y/N got into some trouble again" Lizzie sighs.

"No, no. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but Y/N's quite struggling. Especially with reading" The teacher starts, explaining everything to Lizzie who is more than shocked she hasn't noticed anything before.

When the two say goodbye, Lizzie starts walking to her trailer again, wondering how is it possible she hasn't found out about Y/N's troubles earlier.

"Y/N/N?" Lizzie calls, stepping into her trailer.

"I'm here!" Y/N calls back. "Working on the papers to school!" She adds.

Of course she got a stack of papers to do over her suspension, so she wouldn't be behind the others when she gets back to school. And to not make her mother mad even more, she decided to work on them. There's nothing much she can do anyway.

"That's good. Was everything okay at the set school? Did you understand everything?" Lizzie asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter's head on which Y/N furrows her brows in confusion. Is not Lizzie mad anymore?

The truth is that she feels horrible for being so mad at her daughter. Sure she's been busy with work, but she feels guilty she hasn't noticed how much Y/N struggles at school.

"All good" Y/N nods.

———

"Y/N/N, sweetheart, can you come here?" Lizzie calls from the kitchen, sitting at the table with a script in front of her, hearing a 'coming' back.

Y/N leaves the living room, walking to the kitchen where her mother called from.

"Could you help me to run my lines, please? Could you read Billy and Tommy's lines for me?" Lizzie asks, patting the chair next to her.

"I-Hm. I-I don't know, mom" Y/N says, nervously playing with her fingers and looking down at the ground.

"It's only a few sentences, honey. Please" Y/N ends up nodding, though she's really not ready for her mom to know about her reading difficulties. "There's no need to be anxious or worried. Come here, sweetheart" Y/N walks closer to her mother who pulls her to sit on her lap. "I spoke to the set teacher. She told me you have little troubles with reading. But that's completely fine. We're gonna practice together, yeah?"

"You're not mad?" Y/N asks quietly, still playing with her fingers nervously.

"Of course not, honey. I should have noticed earlier. I'm sorry how I acted earlier. If you ever have any problem, you can always come to me, okay?" Lizzie questions, earning a nod. "Let's practice a little now" She smiles, taking the script. "Could you read this for me?" She questions, pointing at the sentence with her finger.

The pair sits there for quite a long time, Lizzie helping her daughter to read every single word Y/n has a problem with. And to be honest, Lizzie's actually impressed how good of an actress her daughter is. The way Y/N repeats the sentences Lizzie had helped her to read like she's actually acting gets Lizzie thinking.

She promised herself she would not let her child to step into the film industry until she's 18, but if learning the script could help her daughter with her dyslexia, maybe just a small role wouldn't hurt. If it's something Y/N would want, of course.

----------------------

Elizabeth Olsen masterlist

Masterlist

[mylarena]

god. ik usually its ghost who doesnt believe hes lovable but fuck does the thought of soap not thinking hes lovable get me.

like. he believes hes too much to love. he believes he isnt worthy of someones love. he hasnt worked hard enough or done enough to warrant it.

because all his life he's needed to complete a goal to be told hes done good, or needed to reach a milestone to be told that someones proud of him, or that he needs to make someone happy before they love him. and if he disappoints that person, its back to square one. hes only loved when hes good. and no matter how fucking hard he tried as a kid, he was rarely ever good enough.

when he hit his teens, he stopped trying as hard. mainly with the people he didnt care about. teachers, store owners, police- authority in general.

with people he liked, he behaved. he never disrespected the kind old lady who lived down the street from him. she always gave him a candy when she saw him walking home from school, accompanying it with a joking finger in front of her lips and a quiet 'shh!' as though she would get in trouble for offering the candy, instead of him for taking it. he was always nice to his friends and most of his peers, and they never took his sarcastic jabs as serious and they even threw their own back at him (though sometimes he worried that they were being serious about them.)

he could never fully shake the desire to try and make his parents proud, no matter how hard he tried to hate them. they were his parents, he had to love them, right? that was how it worked. everyone loved their parents, unless they were shitty. and his parents werent shitty! they were just raising him how he should be raised. they never hurt him or yelled at him, just gave him disappointed looks and asked why he didnt get an A+ instead of the A he had gotten.

even if he didnt like his teachers, he always tried his best to do good work. he studied and got good grades and never openly disrespected them. he always insulted them in ways that could be insults, ways that could be taken as them misinterpreting his actions or words. he was always nice to the cafeteria workers and the principal and the staff at the front desk, everyone who mattered, at least in terms of avoiding punishment. if the teachers complained, he could plead his case of not meaning it the way they took it, and the principal thought he was a delight, so they tended to take his side because seemed like he could do no wrong.

(he didnt think that the cafeteria workers could really get him in trouble- he just didnt think they deserved another rude kid picking on them when some of his schoolmates already did that. they didnt do anything wrong. and they usually gave him an extra bit of his favorites for being kind. they were nice.)

his disrespect carried him through the military. he barely managed to scrape by after he punched that one dickhead, but he lucked out.

then he met price, then he joined the taskforce, and then he had people he liked. people he wanted to make proud. so he was good. he treated price with respect, he joked around with gaz, flirted with ghost.

he wasnt sure that last one counted as good, but the man didnt seem to mind it and sometimes he got ghost to flirt back at him, which felt almost just as good as someone being proud of him, so he (selfishly) kept doing it.

he was ok with the light words of affirmation and the pats on the back from his teammates and the occasional hair ruffle he got from price. god, was he okay with the few "nice work, sergeant"s and the "good job, johnny"s from ghost.

but he could tell, he knew, he wasnt doing enough to be fucking loved. he kept trying. did the best he could on his missions, (every injury sustained by his fellow soldiers felt like a bullet in his own heart, another failure to the tally,) he trained the rookies how he was told, (he made sure to tell them they were doing good work after a hard day, even if ghost gave him a strange look he couldnt decipher every time he did,) he filed his paperwork, (even when he was frustrated to tears at how he couldnt fucking focus on the words and he couldnt figure out what they wanted from him-) he did everything right-

and it fucking got to him. hes gone years without it, hes been fine. but now he fucking cares about his teammates and he wants and he knows that he wants too fucking much but he cant stop.

he doesnt even bother with wrapping his hands before he hits the punching bag. he doesnt stop when his hands hurt. he doesnt pay attention when his fingers bleed. he doesnt hear the person speaking behind him, but he does notice when a hand grabs his wrists and turns him to face them.

ghost stares at him with eyes just as wide as his own.

[marislittleworld]

Soooo glad that you’re back!!!💕💕

I was thinking teen!reader gets bullied at school, fights back and then chris and jill are called into the school?

ohoho !! I did a lot of roleplays of this with Character.ai Chris and Jill and their reactions were so funny LMAO. Here it is, dear anonymous

Class fight

WARNINGS: OC!daughter, bullying (but Ana fights back), Father!Chris Redfield and Mother!Jill Valentine, Ana is 13 years old, the principal doesn't like Ana :(

It all started when the school's principal called Jill's phone. As soon as she heard the principal mention Ana, she became worried and angry. After thanking the principal for the information, she hung up and made her way to Chris's office.

Walking through the corridors, Jill stopped right at Chris's office door and knocked. Chris, noticing the angry expression on her face, let her in immediately.

"What's wrong, Jill?" Chris asked, concerned.

"I got a call," Jill answered in an angry tone, "from Ana's school. She got into a fight with a boy in her class."

Chris was shocked and cleared his throat. He'd never imagined that his little girl would get into a fight, though he hoped there was a good reason. He sighed and told Jill they needed to go to Ana's school right away.

When the couple arrived, they headed straight to the principal's office. They saw Ana sitting in a chair in front of the principal's desk, her face bruised. Jill's anger grew at the sight. Wasn't there a school nurse? Why hadn't they taken Ana to the nursery to treat her wounds, and those of the other student?

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Redfield, I'm glad you came," the principal said, gesturing for the couple to sit next to Ana.

"What happened, Mr. Anderson? Why did Ana get into a fight?" Jill asked, worriedly holding her daughter's face carefully.

"No reason apparently. Your daughter has been showing some bad behavior these days. Some... delinquency," the principal said in a mocking tone.

"He's lying!" Ana tried to interject, but her father silenced her with a look.

"Shh," Chris shushed her gently.

Jill sighed and asked, "Why do you think it's Ana's fault? I mean, there could be a reason for this fight—"

"Reason?! Why would there be a reason? It's already clear that your daughter is a delinquent. My son would never do that!" the boy's mother protested loudly.

Chris scoffed as he heard the accusation. “Delinquent? Well, you can be sure we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Jill turned to Ana, her eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Ana, tell us what happened. We want to hear your side.”

Ana took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears. “I was with Iara during recess when this boy started mocking me, calling me names and pushing me around. I tried to ignore him at first, but he wouldn’t stop. He even started saying things about you and Dad.”

Chris’s eyes darkened, and he clenched his fists. “What kind of things?”

“Just nasty stuff, Dad. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stood up to him. But he pushed me first. I only fought back because I had to.”

Jill looked at the principal, her voice steady but cold. “Did you see any of this, Mr. Anderson? Or are you just taking the word of one student over another without any real evidence?”

The principal shifted uncomfortably. “Well, we have witnesses who—”

“Witnesses? Or just friends of that boy who would say anything to keep him out of trouble?” Chris interjected, his anger barely contained.

The boy’s mother stood up, pointing a finger at Ana. “Your daughter is lying! My son is a good boy!”

Jill stood up too, meeting the woman's gaze fiercely. “And my daughter is a good girl. She doesn’t lie, and she certainly doesn’t start fights for no reason. We will not sit here and let you accuse her without proof.”

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “Enough! We will have a thorough investigation. Until then, Ana is suspended from school.”

“Suspended? Without a fair investigation? Absolutely not,” Chris said firmly. “We’ll be contacting the school board about this. Come on, Ana. We’re leaving.”

As they walked out of the principal's office, Jill held Ana close, whispering to her. “We believe you, Ana. We’ll get this sorted out. You did the right thing standing up for yourself.”

Ana nodded, her tears finally spilling over. She holds her dad's hand as they leave the school.

[herofics]

hii would it be possible for you to do an x reader with gojo where the reader has been struggling a lot w depression and some suicidal thoughts and everyone around her is telling her that she needs to take accountability for herself and try harder and get through life but she just... doesn't really care anymore? like she doesn't see a point in pushing through and struggling through life just for the sake of living, things will just get bad again or stay bad so what's the point? i'm rambling, but yeah, basically she's exhausted with life and how he'd comfort her if that's okay? sorry thanks

A/N: This took longer to write than I meant to, because I’ve been so damn busy, but I hope it ended up okay. This is them at the end of their time in high school, so the reader and Gojo would be 18. This is a non-curse au and Geto has not gone anywhere here, but that doesn’t really play into this. I decided to go with the whole non-curse AU thing, since I didn’t want to deal with the whole fighting thing on top of the normal teen stuff that’s going on. I did do fem!reader specifically this time around, though I don’t know if it really affects this other than the pet name

It was the last day of school before spring break, and you were already dreading it. Sometimes it was worse to stay at home than keep yourself busy with school. Some days were worse than others, but nowadays, it seemed like it wasn’t even fluctuating anymore, everything was just going steadily downhill. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering if there was even a point to it all. It didn’t feel like living anymore, it just felt like surviving. Every day was the same. You just had to push through, keep going, fight for things that you weren’t even sure really mattered. It all just felt so purposeless.

The school day was about to end, and you were wondering why Gojo hadn’t been around since lunch. For all you knew, he might have gotten himself into some kind of trouble yet again, and ended up in the principal's office. He might have been the most popular guy at the whole school, but that certainly didn’t stop him from getting into trouble from time to time, or all the time.

You were dreading going home, a whole vacation week to spend with your family. You couldn’t really think of anything worse at that moment. You just wanted to talk to Gojo, he was the only one who didn’t just tell you to “try harder” or that everything that was going on was your fault. Everyone else around you just kept pushing you closer to the edge.

“Hey princess!” came a shout from behind you, as you were walking towards the school’s gate.

“Hi Satoru” you forced a smile as he jogged up to you.

“Something wrong?” he asked with a puzzled look when he got to you.

“I don’t really want to talk about it here” you sighed.

“But you do wanna talk about it, right?”

“Yeah” you nodded.

“Let’s go to my place then. My parents are both out of town, so we can talk in peace” Gojo said as he grabbed your hand and started walking.

You just followed behind him in silence, holding his hand and wondering if you actually wanted to tell him what was going on.

Gojo’s place wasn’t very far from the school, so it didn’t take the two of you long to get there. You were obviously not feeling well and there was something bothering you, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He was aware of your struggles with depression, but you didn’t talk about it that much, so he didn’t really have a good grasp on how bad the situation actually was.

You took your shoes off and put on some slippers, before hanging up your jacket. You followed Gojo to his room, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him for you to sit down.

You did and with a deep exhale you said: “So I guess I should talk to you…”

“Yeah, I want to know what’s going on with you” he said, grabbing your hand again, drawing circles on the back of your palm with his thumb.

“I guess I’m just gonna say it… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I’m so freaking tired of just surviving” you sniffled, looking down at your feet.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what that’s like, but I wish you didn’t feel that way. I want you to love life as much as I love you” he said, squeezing your hand.

Gojo hesitated for a moment, before bringing his other hand under your chin and turning your face towards him. You looked so exhausted, and he didn’t doubt for a moment if what you said was true. He was also angry, angry at himself that he hadn’t noticed how much you’d declined lately. It’s not like something like this happened overnight. He’d had time to do something, but he hadn’t.

“I don’t want to be a burden either… What if I’m just not meant to be here? What if I’m not doing enough to deserve to be here?” you said, starting to tear up.

“Don’t say that princess, of course you’re meant to be here, and you don’t need to earn a right to live. You’re infinitely worthy, no matter what you do” Gojo said, pulling you into an embrace. "You’re not a burden, not to me, and not to those who love you"

You didn’t want to cry and by some miracle managed to hold back the tears, but your breathing was a tad unsteady. You clung onto the back of his jacket as you hugged him, and just let him hold you, leaning your head on his shoulder. You just stayed like that for a while, until you were able to breathe steadily again. You pulled back, separating yourself from him a little bit.

“Thanks Satoru, you’re my rock” you smiled softly.

It’s not like this was going to take the pain away, or make you feel like it was all worth it, but it did help. Hearing someone tell you it was okay, that you didn’t have to work yourself to death to be worth something, to earn the right to be here. That you were enough, just you.

“That’s what I’m here for!” Gojo exclaimed with a smile.

He truly did wish you didn’t feel that way, he wished you wouldn’t feel like life was such an uphill battle. That someday you would love life and feel like it was worth living. Gojo at least hoped you knew he would love you, no matter how many bad days you had. No matter what you’d have to go through, you’d go through it together.

[countrymusiclover]

20 - Man of the House

Part 21

It’s About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2 @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @herondale-lightworm @afraidofshrimp @rawrrnata

Georgie’s pov

I had gotten called out of class this morning and was asked to report to the principal's office where I knew I was in serious trouble. Entering the principal's office I take a seat asking him. "You wanted to see me?" 

He responded intertwined his hands on the desk. "Yeah. You've been skipping school for the past couple of weeks. Care to explain that. Is it drinking, drunks..."

 I cut him off rubbing the back of my neck bringing up work. "It's actually about work.  My boss has been letting me work more hours...even though he doesn’t know I got someone pregnant." 

“What’s her name?  I have something to help her out.” The principal questioned me. 

I simply muttered her name. “Y/n L/n.” 

The principal grabbed a book from his desk, sliding it towards me. Reading it over I see it's about teen pregnancy figuring Y/n would want to read this. "So you're dropping out of school to raise this child?" 

He asked leaning back in his chair before someone at the front desk called someone down to the office. "Ms. L/n is coming to your office, sir."

“Georgie, what are you doing here?” I recognized my girlfriend's voice entering the room. 

Getting up from my chair I rushed over to her thinking something was wrong.  “Is everything okay?  Are you and the baby?”

“It’s okay, we’re fine.  My teacher has been marking my me absent a lot so I got called in for that.  Why are you here?” 

Principal Inn spoke up. “He’s been skipping school and now I know why.  This is for you Ms. L/n.” 

“A pregnancy packet.  You told him, why!” She whipped her head around taking the teen pregnancy packet from his hand staring back at me with a glare on her face. 

I nodded my head slowly yes. “Yeah I did.  I’m sorry.”

“Georgie.” She covered her face with her freehand groaning. 

The principal rose from his chair clearly seeing that we may or may not about to be starting a fight.  He gently gestured his hand towards the door showing us outside. “Y’all should take a look at that panflat and decide what you want to do.  But you should know that a diploma is important even if just one of you can earn one.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?  Are you saying because I’m carrying a baby I can’t graduate high school!” Y/n spun around on her feet snapping back at him. 

He raised his hands up in defense. “Ms L/n, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yes it is.  Otherwise why would you say only one of us could earn one.  If you think that because I’ll have a baby that I can’t possibly finish high school.  Well you know what go to hell!” She storms out of the room with me chasing after her heels through the school hearing her start crying. 

She grabbed her backpack from her locker busting through one of the emergency exit doors heading to my car climbing inside and burying her face into her knees.  Getting inside on the driver's seat I touched her arm. “Hey, what's wrong?” 

“I can’t he thinks it'd be better if I dropped out of school.  I mean of course it ain't gonna be easy but I at least thought somebody would think I should finish my last year of high school.” 

Touching her arm she finally gave me a tearful look. “I'll help you finish school.” 

“Georgie, I care about you but - well - what about you getting yours?” She asked me through sniffing tears. 

Shaking my head I didn't care about me getting done with school.  She's always been the smartest person I've known and she should stick it to them for thinking any differently just cause she's pregnant with my kid now. “We both know I'm not graduating valid-dick-tator-tourion.  Even one of us should have a high school diploma it should be you.” 

“Thanks, Georgie.” She smiled leaning forward about to kiss me until her stomach grumbled loudly. 

Putting a hand on her growing stomach I chuckled knowing we only had about an hour before school let out so we could head back to my house now for dinner. “Let’s go get you some food.  I bet my mom's already started cooking.”  

Y/n and I entered through the back door where we saw my mom and dad who weren't talking to one another. “Who died? Whoa, did somebody really die?”

“No one died.” Dad grumbled. 

I looked at my mother. “Cool. Where's dinner?”

“Anyone who wants dinner can make it for themselves.  I am not cooking.” She muttered in an annoyed tone. 

Dad told her. “Don't take it out on him.”

“Ooh, take what out on me?” I smiled seeing them fighting and it was interesting for sure. 

Dad snapped. “Stay out of it.”

Y/n went over to the fridge grabbing a piece of cheese sitting down at the kitchen table silently eating it. “You really want to start this up again?” Mom got up from the table, getting frustrated. 

“Wait, are you asking me what I want? Well, that's a first.” Dad rolled his eyes sitting in his living room chair. 

Mom stands beside me with her hands resting on the countertop. “Oh, please, your whole life is doing whatever you want.” 

I replied looking at my girlfriend who gave me a nervous expression. “I can just leave.”

“Did I want to get stuck coaching high school football? Did I want to live across the street from your mother? Did I wanna spend my evening getting yelled at by my daughter, my son and my wife!” My father stomped up to the kitchen island angry. 

Mom rolls her eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't realize you were so unhappy.” 

“Because you never bothered to ask.” Dad snatched his keys storming out the back door we came in through. 

Y/n was laying flat on the couch with her hands on her belly taking a nap while it had been a little while since dad had left the house angry.  Pulling out the tray of tater tots from the oven I put them in a popcorn bowl bringing it to her where she curls up into my side sticking her hand into the bowl. “You feelin’ better now?” I asked her, running my freehand over her hair. 

“Yes, thank you.” I let her eat the majority of the tater tots since she was eating for two now.  She dropped the empty bowl on the carpet before I felt her cuddling up underneath my arm about to go to sleep causing me to see how late it was from the clock on the wall making me worry about my mom and if she had eaten anything before we got home. 

“Hey, I should make sure my mom eats something.  I'll be right back.” Getting up from the couch I quickly went and made her some food going down the short hallway to my parents room.  Pushing the bedroom door opened with my foot I carried a food tray in my hands to my mom. “I figured you didn't eat.  I made you some soup.” 

“Oh, thank you. But you didn't have to do that. Everything's fine.” She was sitting on the bed. 

I sent her a half smile knowing she was trying to protect me.  But I needed to be the man of the house when dad wasn't here.  “I ain't a kid.  You don't gotta lie to me.”

“Okay.  Honestly, I'm upset with your father.  And I'm upset with myself.” She sighed heavily. 

Raising a brow at her. “Why?”

“'Cause... he's right. Maybe I do think I know best, and I can be critical.  But thank you for making me soup.” She began stirring around her spoon in the soup bowl. 

“You're welcome.” Smiling at my mother before I exited the bedroom seeing Y/n crying in the hallway clearly listening to our conversation. “What's wrong, darlin’?” 

“You're gonna be an amazing father.” 

Extending my arms outward for her she ran into my embrace wrapping my arms around her waist. “Sssh it's okay.  We're gonna get through this together.” She buried her face into the fabric of my tea shirt, clutching her fingers into the fabric. 

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Growing Pains Part 5

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~6.6k

Summary: Little Nat is almost 13 and school’s a bitch. Retired mob boss turned stay-at-home mom Wanda has to figure out how to deal with bullies at her daughter’s school. 

A/N: Credit to @rianncreates for this fic idea.

Warnings: Fluff, teen angst, injury, reference to previous injury/trauma, bullies, and pranks

You’re in an appointment when Wanda calls you so she leaves you a voicemail that tells you to call her. Your watch shows the missed call, but you’re too preoccupied with the cute family of rats to notice until about 20 minutes later. By then it’s three missed calls and as soon as you’re out of the room you leave your assistant to finish up as you rush upstairs. 

Wanda had thought about it for a while after getting off the phone with the principal, and she was suspecting that Natalya was acting out for a reason. She was a pre-teen and although this type of behavior could be common for most, she knew it wasn’t her daughter. The brunette was more concerned with the rules than either of her parents, hell her entire family. She used to cry when she was younger because she thought she broke the rules, and although she’d improved, she still felt massive amounts of anxiety at the idea of doing anything that could get her in trouble. 

Wanda wondered why her daughter had pulled this seemingly random prank. She didn’t know who her daughter had targeted, but the principal had indicated that her parents would be present as well, and that alone made her hope that you’d be free. She didn’t like the idea of facing off parents alone, but she supposes she may not have a choice. When you answer the phone, she’s quick to get to the point because she’s sure you’re busy. 

“Wands? What’s wrong?” 

Wanda sighs and you can’t help but feel a little anxious about what she has to say. You wonder what could have happened since you last saw her, but you’re not even close to guessing it right when Wanda speaks up. 

“Natalya’s principal called. Apparently, our daughter played a prank on a girl, and she’d like all of us to come by at the end of the day for a meeting.” 

You’re as shocked as Wanda had been because despite being a little mischievous at home, you never would have guessed that Nat would do something like this at school. She was annoyingly inflexible when it came to the rules, and you can’t help but wonder who made your daughter do this, and why. Instead of asking this because you figure Wanda would have told you if she knew, you ask something else. 

“Who is ‘all of us'?” 

When Wanda tells you that both of you and the girl’s parents should be present, you can’t help but grimace at the idea. You haven’t had to do something like this before with Nat and you were definitely ill-prepared. You always would have thought that you’d be meeting with another teacher to discuss your daughter’s forgetfulness, not something like this. 

“Okay. That sounds…fun. I will be there. Hopefully we can figure out what happened.” 

Natalya was beginning to lose her resolve by the time the last period started, and she could barely pay attention as she considered the consequences of her decision. She could have done something else, but this was the only way she and Taylor could think of to get the administration’s attention on her feud with Stacy without Nat directly going to them. Well she ran right to her office, but this prank was a good excuse to get the necessary people in the room to try and get Stacy in trouble for everything she’s done. 

Except things hadn’t worked out quite as planned. She’d only been able to say the bare minimum before she was told that the rest would wait until after school. When she’d be back here with both her and Stacy’s parents. The idea of having to tell her moms and Stacy’s parents at the same time was freaking her out, and by the time the last bell rang she was sweating. She raced out of the classroom to find her friends before they went off to practice, and before she had to go to this meeting. 

She sees Alyssa first and she nearly runs into her locker as she opens it right in front of her. 

“This is going to be so bad.” 

Alyssa jumps in surprise at her appearance, but she quickly shakes her head before she smiles kindly at her strung out friend. This wasn’t exactly the plan, but the truth would come out soon and she was sure that someone was going to do something about it. If not the principal or Stacy’s parents, she knew damn well that Nat’s moms wouldn’t just let it go. She could certainly see Mrs. Maximoff plotting revenge for her daughter. 

“It will be alright, Nat. Just tell the truth and don’t let Stacy get to you.” 

“Yeah, and don’t let her mess with you, or we’ll mess her up.” 

Nat turns at the sound of Taylor’s voice a she feels her anxiety increase at the sight of her friend’s gym bag reminding her that she’s going to be late if not missing practice today. She tries to believe what her friends say. She’ll be able to tell the truth about Stacy, and she’ll be killing two birds with one stone since her parents were there. She tries not to think about how mad her moms might be about the whole thing. She’s not sure if they’ll be angrier about Stacy’s behavior, or her refusal to tell them. She’s afraid it’s going to be the former. 

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll probably not be at practice today. Can you tell coach?” 

They just nod before figuring they’ll say she’s sick. They have a game tomorrow and Nat may not be able to play if she doesn’t come to practice today, but they’ll just have to see. They hug her and offer to walk her to the office so she doesn’t have to go alone, and Nat jumps on the opportunity. 

You can’t help but be a little flustered by the time you arrive at school. You see a flood of students leaving and you realize you’ve missed the last bell. It took you longer to get away from work than you thought it would, and you forgot that you’d have to take Boone with you unless you wanted to drive back to work. You contemplated letting him roam around but you were worried he’d be bothered so you’d decided to leave him in the car with the AC on. This only lasted for a moment because as soon as you left, he started to howl and it was definitely noticeable. For this reason, you decided to throw on his service animal vest and let him follow you around. You told him to wait outside of the cafeteria as you walked through the doors and toward the front office. You spot your wife standing next to Natalya who’s looking incredibly tense. 

“Hey detka.” 

You accept a kiss on the cheek before you turn to your daughter to see she’s looking even more unsettled than you expected. You figure she’s worried about getting in trouble, but you’ll save any scolding until you hear about what happened. 

“Hey, there, so this is new.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes and Nat shoots you a confused look before looking back toward where you came. You realize that Boone is staring at you and you shoot him a look before pointing back toward where you’d left him. 

“Boone’s here?” 

You nod despite it being obvious and you claim that you came straight from work which makes Nat cringe a little. She knows you would have been at work for at least two more hours, and she’s not sure if you’re going back after this. She feels guilty for disturbing both of her parents’ days, but she’s hoping this is worth it. 

Nat opens her mouth to apologize but she’s cut off as the principal’s door opens and she steps outside right as Stacy arrives with her parents. You’re a little surprised by her appearance, and you don’t miss Nat smile slightly at the sight of the blonde still very glittery. 

“Mrs. Maximoff, Dr. Y/L/N, thank you for coming. Let’s get started shall we.” 

Nat and Stacy are sitting beside each other against one wall, while all of the parents are sitting directly in front of Ms. Lewis. It seems like an interesting set up until you realize that the kids are going to be the ones doing most of the talking. You realize quickly that Natalya is responsible for the blonde, Stacy’s appearance, and you can’t help but be a little surprised by this. 

“So girls, I know we touched on it earlier, but can you tell everyone how this all started?” 

Nat considers trying to speak up but she knows that Stacy’s going to start because she always needs to go first. She resists the urge to roll her eyes as she listens to her bitch about her dumb prank again. 

“Natalya broke into my locker and put a glitter bomb in there!” 

You have to stop yourself from cackling at the ridiculousness of this statement while Wanda tries hard not to frown. Wanda’s always been the tougher parent, but you also just took a little longer to pass judgement. Your wife’s temper hadn’t cooled at all since she left her job, and it was usually your job to remind her to take a breather or not go postal about something relatively minor. You still weren’t sure where this fell considering your limited knowledge. You watch as your daughter sighs before scowling at Stacy with a barely restrained eye roll. You’ve seen it enough to know, and you can tell by your wife’s deepening frown that she can too. 

“That’s not where it started. This started when you decided to torment me for no reason months ago.” 

There’s silence for a few seconds as Stacy just shakes her head and crosses her arms as she stares at her feet in order to avoid the gazes of everyone in the room. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Nat’s getting fed up with the blonde and she practically throws her arm out in front of her as she asks her a rhetorical question. 

“So you don’t remember shoving me and causing me to burn myself?” 

Your eyes widen as they go to the mostly healed burn on your daughter’s hand. She’d told both you and Wanda that it had been an accident, and you’d believed her. You’re not sure why she would lie, but you have a feeling that Nat’s about to get to it. Wanda sits up straighter and her eyes flicker to the principal who speaks up before Stacy can. 

“Ms. Jenkins, is that true?” 

Stacy just shrugs as she continues to avoid eye contact, but she makes sure to glare at Nat’s arm as she lowers in back into her lap. 

“No. I’m sure she just tripped. She’s a klutz and everybody knows it.” 

Wanda decides that she does not like this girl. She’s rude and more importantly she hurt her baby, and she’s going to suffer dearly for it. She’s about to speak up, but the only man in the room beats her to it as he addresses his daughter with a stern look. 

“Anastasia, tell the truth. Have you been harassing Natalya?” 

The use of her full name has a similar effect to when you or Wanda use Nat’s in a certain tone and the teen winces before she unconvincingly shakes her head. Realizing they’re not getting anywhere; Wanda decides to address her daughter. If Stacy’s not going to tell them anything, she can only hope Natalya will.

“Natalya. How long has this been going on?”

Nat only considers not answering for a few seconds before she catches her mom’s gaze and she realizes she really has no choice. She bites her lip before she looks to her moms and speaks in a quiet voice.

“A couple months after the school year started.” 

You feel your heart sink when Nat says this because that was nearly 5 months ago. You can’t stop yourself from glowering at Stacy who’s now looking at the ceiling and pretending not to listen. You are speaking up before you can stop yourself, but no one objects to your question. 

“And your burn…was that the first time you were hurt?” 

Nat looks to her hand and runs a finger over the mostly healed pink skin with a frown. It had hurt a lot but luckily it had been small and her mom did a good job of taking care of it so it healed well. She shakes her head before mentioning that she’d been shoved and tripped a few times. When Stacy doesn’t deny it, everyone’s decided that she’s guilty. 

“I mean she’s shoved and tripped me a couple of times, but mostly she just makes fun of me for being a loner.” 

Wanda hates to hear this because it confirms her suspicion that Natalya had been trying to tell her something last week. She’d been trying to tell her about what she’d been dealing with at school. She was irrationally angry about this to overcompensate for the fact she’d been so oblivious. She had told her daughter that being a loner wasn’t a bad thing, but here someone was giving her grief about it. She was hurting her daughter because she was different. That made Wanda see red and she’s about to say something she shouldn’t when Stacy grumbles under her breath. 

“God you’re such a wuss.” 

This time Stacy’s mom speaks up and she looks more embarrassed than upset with her daughter, but you don’t have the capacity to care about this right now. 

“Alright, that’s enough, young lady.” 

Ms. Lewis decides to take it from here because she’s heard enough to make a decision. She’s going to try to give Nat a reprieve for a while. 

“Alright, I’ve heard enough. Ms. Jenkins you’re suspended for three days while we investigate Natalya’s claims. Thank you for coming Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. We’ll touch base again next week.” 

Wanda is about to speak up but as the trio stand up, and Stacy practically storms out she realizes that they weren’t dismissed. She wants to know what an investigation entails, and why she’s not just taking Natalya’s word for it. You understand the need to do a little digging, but you wish that Ms. Lewis could understand that your daughter wasn’t lying. 

After the family is gone, Nat releases a deep breath as she slouches in her chair. You frown and you consider asking Nat to move next to Wanda, but the principal is speaking up again before you have a chance. You’re not sure if you’re more discouraged or grateful for what she says. 

“It’s standard to do some digging and make sure that someone can corroborate Natalya’s story, or at the very least not refute it. For the record, I believe you, Stacy’s always been a problem, but her parents have a lot of pull here. I’ll try my best to keep her out of school for as long as possible.” 

Nat somehow looks more defeated by this because she knows that keeping Stacy away for 3 days will be the extent of it. Her parents have donated close to $300k since Stacy started here, and they would probably just throw more money to keep their daughter from being disciplined further. The thought was discouraging and you and Wanda feel the same way, but they hadn’t gone to the trouble of setting all of this up in hopes of getting Stacy truly reprimanded, or at worst expelled. 

“Okay, thank you.”

Nat says this despite not really knowing what she’s thanking the older woman for, and she misses the smile she gets in return before they’re all dismissed. You stand up first and you reach out for your daughter to lead her out after thanking Ms. Lewis for her time. Wanda does the same, but she’s a little more upset by the outcome of this meeting. She follows you and Natalya out before checking her phone and realizing that meeting was less than 30 minutes. She wonders what they should do next, but you beat her to it as you look to Nat before glancing at your wife. 

“Little Nat, how about you head to practice, and we can talk about this more at home?” 

Nat likes this idea because she wants some time to process it all and figure out what she’s going to do next, but she looks to her other mom for approval. She seems more upset and she usually likes to get difficult discussions like this done sooner rather than later. 

Wanda sighs as they arrive outside and Boone’s quick to jump up and greet them. He goes for Natalya first, and the brunette smiles as she reaches out to pet him with a sigh. She mutters a greeting before kissing his head and scratching his ears. 

“Hi buddy.” 

Wanda looks to you and you watch her reach a decision fairly quickly. She wants to talk to Natalya about this more, but she needs some time to think. She’ll go home and think on this as she makes dinner, and then she’ll come back to pick Nat up. 

“That’s a good idea, especially since you have a game tomorrow. I’ll come back to pick you up, okay, milaya?” 

The term makes Nat look to her mom immediately, and she hesitates for only a second before she nods and risks a hug. Wanda accepts it quickly and she holds her daughter tightly as she lets her grief at the situation overwhelm her for a moment before pulling away. They’ll figure this out. Even if they can’t get the school’s support, she’ll figure out how to make this right. 

“Okay, Mama. See you soon.” 

After receiving your hug, you and Wanda watch Nat walk in the other direction toward practice. If you weren’t so distracted by your thoughts, you’d offer to drive her, but she’s already well on her way by the time the thought occurs to you. You and Wanda walk to your cars with Boone on your heels, and you sigh before opening the back door for Boone. You help him jump up before turning to your wife with a frown. You can tell she’s equally disappointed by how everything just went and you both need some time to think it over. You’re going to try and work out some things on the ride home, but you’re sure it will take longer than that. 

“Are you going back to work?” 

Wanda watches as you shake your head before reaching out to pull her into a hug. You can tell she’s a little dazed and you don’t want her driving while she’s so distracted. 

“No, I’ll meet you at home, and we’ll talk there. We’ll figure this out, okay?” 

Wanda sighs before she shakes her head and looks back over to where Nat disappeared. She holds you tighter before letting you go and wiping her eyes. She hates that her baby has been dealing with that little brat for so long. She thinks back to the conversation she’d had with you recently and despite what you’d said, she feels like she’s let Natalya down. 

“I just hate that she’s dealt with this alone for so long.” 

You frown as you think about this and you agree with Wanda’s sentiment. At least the part about hating that Nat hadn’t been able to come to them about it. This thought reminds you of dinner last week and how Yelena and Pietro had talked to your daughter at some point. Apparently they’d given her advice. This makes you realize that she probably talked to them about this, and you try not to be upset by this. You shake your head before starting your car so Boone can sit in the AC after you shut the door. You take Wanda’s hand and lead her to her car which is only a couple of spots away.

“I hate it too, Wands, but we’ll talk to her after practice and we’ll come up with a plan.” 

Wanda just nods wordlessly as she opens her car and gets in. She lowers the window and looks over to you with a small smile. She’s glad that you were here with her and she decides to believe you for now. She kisses your hand before starting the car with a faraway look. 

“Okay, detka. I’ll see you soon?”

You smile at your wife before heading back to your car to follow her. You didn’t have a lot of faith that the principal would be able to do much about Stacy. You decided to figure out all you could about the kid and her parents to see why things had been able to go this far without any intervention. Hopefully they would have more answers after talking to Nat, but for now they were just going to have to wait.

Nat’s scowling by the time she arrives at the softball field. She’s so disappointed by how poorly that meeting had gone. She’d told everyone what happened, but Stacy had only gotten suspended for three days. As of now, there was nothing stopping her from coming back to school and making her life a living hell. She sighs in defeat as she walks into the dugout to see it’s mostly empty. Everyone is doing drills and she doesn’t even know what her friends told coach about her absence. She runs to the bathroom to change and she’s back a couple of minutes later to find Taylor and Alyssa waiting for her. 

“Hey, you’re here!” 

“How did it go?” 

Nat just shakes her head as she throws her bag down and just grabs her glove to join the outfielders. She doesn’t quite make it before their coach calls her over. 

“Horribly. I told them everything, and she’s only going to be suspended for 3 days.” 

Taylor curses and Alyssa groans under her breath as she tries not to admit that this isn’t surprising. She instead just shakes her head and mutters something uncomplimentary. She shoots Natalya an apologetic look but she doesn’t notice as she jogs over to the older blonde.

“Hi, Coach Frost, sorry I’m late."

The blonde just offers her a smile before asking something that Nat is luckily too distracted to react to immediately. 

“Don’t worry about it, Nat. How are you feeling? Your headache gone?” 

Eventually Nat nods before she claims that she just drank a lot of water and started to feel better. She goes off to try and catch up on what she missed, and she misses the three looks she gets as she tries to distract herself. She’s going to have to find a way to explain everything to her moms when she got home. She hoped they wouldn’t be too mad at her. 

“Wands, come on don’t be mad.”

Wanda shakes her head as she continues to angrily stir the batter in the bowl that she’s holding in her arms. You have already tried to take it from her, but she’d snatched it away and you didn’t dare try again. After all you were hoping to get some of the cookies that she was baking. You glance around the kitchen briefly at the mess that Wanda’s made in an effort to vent and get dinner ready. However, you’re sure that there is enough food here for multiple dinners. 

Your wife brings your attention back to her when she turns to you with a glare and an unconvincing response. 

“I’m not mad, Y/n. I’m not mad.” 

You just nod as Wanda starts to pour the batter in to a pan in several layers. Oh, she was making brookies. You sneak a little closer toward her as she turns to practically throw the pan into the oven and shut the door. You sigh in defeat before trying a different approach that will hopefully calm her down. You’d expected her to be upset like she had been when she left school, but apparently the drive was enough to change this to anger. 

“Wanda, I’m annoyed too, but I’m more concerned about Little Nat. Until the principal gets back to us, we should just focus on her.” 

Wanda wants to argue more but she knows you have a point. She’s annoyed that Stacy’s parents were able to keep her out of trouble, but she was mostly worried about her daughter. She hated to say it, but she wasn’t really surprised that Natalya let it go on this long. She loved her daughter so much, but she took after you when it came to conflict. She wasn’t the most intimidating teen but Wanda never thought she was going to suffer for it. Maybe that was shortsighted of her. 

After setting the timer, Wanda sighs tiredly before turning back toward you with an angry pout. She opens her mouth to speak, but she quickly changes her mind and just walks toward you until she runs into you. You take the hint and wrap your arms around her before kissing the top of her head with a sigh. You can’t think of the last time that you and Wanda had to deal with something like this. Natalya rarely got in trouble unless her uncle was involved, and you think that the last time you’d sat down and talked to her like you’re going to tonight was when she started middle school. 

You had wanted your daughter to be as prepared as possible for the horrors that she might face. You didn’t word it like that of course, but you made sure to mention that people could be horrible and mean, and then others can be amazing. She’s made good friends and you’re grateful for that, but somewhere along the way she’d also attracted Stacy’s attention. It made you angry and if she weren’t just a cruel kid, you’d consider threatening her. 

“It will be okay, Wands. We’ll make sure our Natalya is taken care of. One way or another.” 

“That’s bullshit! We’ll figure something else out, Nat. We’ll make her pay.” 

Taylor’s pacing angrily as she and Nat wait for their moms to pick them up. Alyssa had left earlier to meet with Luke to work on a project, and most everyone one else had already been picked up. Taylor had finally gotten Nat to tell her everything that happened, and she was angrier than Nat was disappointed. She knew that it would be difficult to get Stacy in trouble, but she was hoping that this would do it. She should have known better, but she wasn’t going to give up. 

“I don’t know. It seems like her parents are just going to be able to get her out of anything.” 

Taylor wants to argue against this but she hesitates as she considers other options. Their stunt this morning was just to get the administration’s attention. They could do a lot worse to Stacy, but now they would be the ones to get in trouble. The brunette groaned loudly before she kicked her backpack a few times. 

“It’s just not fair! She’s such a--.” 

Taylor trails off as she hears a car pull up behind her. She sees it’s her mom and she almost wishes she wasn’t here yet. She wanted to wait with Nat so she wouldn’t stress alone, but it ended up not mattering because as soon as she hugged her friend and got in the car, they drove past Nat’s mom on the way out. 

“Hey, Little Nat. How was practice?” 

You decided to pick up Nat because Wanda was still cooking when it was time to leave. You wanted her to continue making dinner and try to calm down before Nat got home. She’d been better until she decided to research Stacy’s parents and she realized how difficult it would be to get any justice for her daughter. 

Apparently, Stacy’s mom, Deborah Jenkins, was the president of the PTA, and she had brought the school close to $1 million last year. She also funded the replacement of all the computers in the labs at school. It really wasn’t going to be easy to go up against her. Then there was her husband, Mitch, he was the CEO of a fortune 500 company, so the couple probably had an obscene amount of money. Even more than she did. 

Wanda was a little discouraged by this, but she tried not to dwell on it as she waited for you and Nat to get home. She’s finished cooking at this point and she was laying down on the couch with Fletcher and Rogue as she tried to relax. The sound of the garage door opening though causes her to sit up straight and she waits impatiently for her daughter to appear. 

You can tell Nat is dawdling as soon as she gets out of the car, and you sigh as you grab her bag from the backseat and meet her at the front of the car. You reach out for her with a smile before putting your arm around her shoulder. 

“She’s not mad at you, kiddo. We just want to talk, okay?” 

Nat nods and she hugs you before she pushes open the door while taking a deep breath. 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

You smile as you watch Wanda stand up from the couch and practically come running as Natalya and you walk into the kitchen. Wanda smiles back as she rushes forward to pull her daughter into a hug with a heavy sigh. 

“Hi milaya. Are you hungry? I made some…” 

Wanda made a lot of food. After the brookies were finished, she’d made a pie that was still cooling on the counter. Despite the wonderful smells, Natalya shakes her head because she wants to get his over with. She can tell that her mom has been stressed because that’s the only way to explain all of the food that she’s made. She was used to her mom stress baking, and she usually enjoyed this and got to benefit from it, but she couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to come clean first. 

“No thanks, maybe later. I wanted to um...I wanted to talk first.” 

After briefly greeting your dogs, you follow mother and daughter to the living room. Wanda sits Natalya down on the couch and she moves beside her quickly. You decide to sit across from them, and you stretch out as Wanda just nods and has to resist the urge to bombard Nat with questions. She has about a thousand, but she decides to let Nat find the words herself as she carefully rubs her burn. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Stacy. I was hoping that she would get bored.” 

This doesn’t surprise you at all but you’re still a little disappointed about how Nat hadn’t told you. You don’t say anything though as you watch Wanda frown and reach for Nat’s hands to stop her from messing with her burn. It’s started to itch as it heals and Wanda’s had to remind her multiple times not to scratch. 

“We’re not mad that you didn’t tell us, Natalya. Maybe a little confused, but mostly worried that you’ve been dealing with her on your own for so long.” 

You see Nat look away toward the dogs that have come to sit at her feet. She hadn’t really greeted them properly and they were waiting for pets as they snuck closer and closer with each passing second. That said, they seemed to realize that something is up, so they’re not jumping all over her excitedly. They’re looking between the three of you, and Rogue whines quietly as he rubs his face against Nat’s leg. She reaches down eventually to scratch him before she decides to tell her parents the truth. 

It's been a difficult few months for sure, but she wasn’t completely alone. She hesitated to mention her friends because she didn’t want to get them in trouble. She knows that Taylor occasionally gets in trouble, and she honestly was almost immune to it at this point. Well, that wasn’t true, but she usually let the groundings she got roll off of her back. She couldn’t understand that. The few times she’s gotten in trouble, she felt so guilty that she basically begged for forgiveness. You were always a little faster to forgive than Wanda, so it was usually her that Nat was groveling to. 

Nat pushes these thoughts aside as she shakes her head and sits back so she’s closer to her mom. She has to resist the urge to smile at what she says next, but she wants her parents to believe her. She’d had support but maybe not from everyone she needed it from. 

“I wasn’t alone. I mean I told my friends, and…” 

Nat trails off as soon as she realizes what she was about to say. She would be fooling herself if she thought that her parents didn’t suspect it, but telling them that she’d gone to her aunt and uncle instead of them seemed cruel. Both you and Wanda know what she’s going to say, but you hate to see how guilty your daughter looks, so you decide to help her out. 

“Your aunt and uncle?”

Wanda has to stop herself from scowling at the mention of her brother, but she must not do a good job because you turn to look at her with a frown. Natalya cringes slightly but she speaks up quickly to hopefully make her mom less annoyed. 

“Well, I went to Aunt Yelena, but Uncle Piet overheard.” 

This doesn’t surprise you at all and you just laugh before patting your lap so Boone will come over to you. You smile at him as he puts his head in your lap, and you scratch him for a minute before Wanda speaks up. You’re not surprised by her question, and you’re glad that she’s starting here. You’ve only wondered what they’d told Natalya to do since you found out they gave her advice. 

“Did they give you any ideas?” 

Nat nods before she mutters most of what she says under her breath. You barely hear it, but Wanda’s already scowling at the idea of what her friend and brother recommended. 

“Well, she told me to talk to someone at the school who could help, or talk to you. Then something about hitting back. Uncle Piet thought I should hit her in the face.” 

Which I did.

Natalya doesn’t say this but she knows that her parents realize this, and you are once again trying not to smile at the idea of the blonde’s face covered in glitter. You were as averse to glitter as your daughter was, and the idea of getting that much on you made you shiver. You’d have to bathe for hours and you’d probably cry the whole time. 

“Did they suggest the glitter thing?” 

This time you have to smile because the idea of Yelena coming up with something like that is ridiculous. She would never and you’re fairly certain that Pietro wouldn’t either. He’s more of the ‘punch in the face’ type of guy, and you’re just grateful that Natalya hadn’t resorted to this. 

Your daughter shakes her head before she mentions that she came up with it herself. It seemed like an appropriate punishment at the time. This makes you consider what you think Natalya should face as a consequence to pulling a hilarious prank. You’re sure Wanda has something in mind, but you haven’t really talked about it much. She’d been lost in her thoughts for most of the evening, but she doesn’t waste any time sharing them with you and Natalya now. 

“I can understand that all of this is difficult, and that you don’t like asking for help but you shouldn’t have done that, Nat.”

Natalya can only nod in agreement because she knew as soon as she decided to pull this prank that it was a bad idea. She should have gone to her parents earlier, but what’s done is done now. She just had to make sure that everything she’d done so far wasn’t going to be for nothing. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Was she though? She was mostly sorry that it didn’t work out for her and that she’d gotten in trouble. She was sorry that her parents were upset with her, but not about glitter-bombing Stacy, that had been great. 

At least Wanda suspects that she’s not sorry about what she did, but she doesn’t mention it for now. Instead, she focuses on the fact that she’s going to have to punish her daughter for the first time in years. Ground her at least. Wanda’s about to say this, but you speak up first when you decide you have one more question before sentencing. 

“Why did you do this today, Nat? Were you just fed up?” 

Wanda’s not sure why you’re asking, but Nat immediately stiffens at the fact that she’s been caught. Despite wanting to get everything out at once and having everyone important there, things hadn’t gone as planned. She hadn’t hidden her disappointment well, and she’s sure she won’t do any better now. She only considers lying for a moment, but she doesn’t want to get grounded for any longer. 

“I wanted a reason to get everyone together. I thought maybe if I could get Stacy’s parents there she’d get in trouble, and then having you two there would mean I only had to admit to putting up with her for too long, once.” 

This confirms your suspicions and you frown deeply at the thought of your daughter putting herself in this situation in hopes of getting someone’s attention. She didn’t choose the best way for sure, but she’d risked getting in trouble just to get Stacy called into the office. She’d certainly hoped for more than 3 days suspension when she’d committed to this. You can tell by her pout that she certainly feels this way, and you can’t deny that you want to go easy on her. She is your baby and she’d simply cried for help, but you had to be a good parent. Well, you had to let Wanda be a good parent.

“Well, you certainly got our attention, and we’re going to do our best to see that she’s held accountable, but you need to be too, Natalya.”

The youngest Maximoff represses a shudder at her mom’s tone, but she just nods as she braces for whatever her mom’s going to say next. She tries not to look like she’s bracing to be hit, but it’s been a while since she’s gotten in trouble and she never could get used to it.

“You’re grounded for the rest of the week. Including this weekend.” 

Natalya waits for her to say more, but Wanda just looks to you to see if you have anything to add. You just shake your head because you have nothing else to add. You honestly think that Natalya’s failure to get any real punishment for Stacy was punishment enough. This was just a formality. To your daughter though, it probably felt like being kicked while she’s down. 

“Okay. Can I go upstairs to clean up?” 

When you just nod and Wanda waves her upstairs, you both feel a little defeated. However, as you watch Natalya retreat upstairs with her shoulders dropped and her head held low, you realize she probably feels the worst of all. 

Masterlist

[sookiesookie]

swim good₊˚.༄ shuri udaku pt.1

titled inspired by “swim good” by frank ocean

paring: shuri udaku x blk fem! reader

summary: (a cliche) in sitcom-like fashion, an unathletic shuri udaku attempts to join the swim team to impress a girl she likes.

part summary: shuri is smitten and her lovesick ass gets into trouble.

word count: 2.5k

content will include: third person story-telling + reader goes by all pronouns, nerd!shuri, pining!shuri, athlete stem!reader, reader is aware of shuri’s efforts and finds it adorable, the reader is a huge tease, reader’s a flirt but they’re rlly sweet too, reader is shorter than shuri but stronger, college au, swim sports au, peter parker and friends cameo as her lil nerd group (???), shuriri are besties and dormates, swim teacher!namor, t’challa is alive and he’s the wrestling team coach :’), wrestling team co-coach!m’baku, fencing teacher!okoye mentioned, literature teacher!nakia mentioned, shuri’s hair is the short coily undercut in this story, I refer shuri by like six diff nicknames for fun bc it’s funny and we having fun, by “purple-clad” shuri I mean purple flannel and not the tracksuit, y’know, bc she’s a nerd /hj, I call them teens bc they’re still eightTEEN and nighTEEN, a good chunk of the story is just the other characters dogging on shuri for her sitcom ahh decisions and lines lmao, lots of banter, sitcom-like corniness and humor, sexual jokes but not rlly any content, some tension tho, pretty much fluff, just a lil fun🤷🏾‍♂️

a/n: i didn’t know whether to make this a college au or high school au bc technically I’m bout to leave high school but I’m also not in college yet so idk what id get right or wrong sooooo I’mma play it safe and go freshmen in college???

tags: @bellaallebbella1 for the dt @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @generallysapphic bc they’re the pioneers and my favs fr, and @vampzxi cuz it’s lowkey inspired the shuri high school headcannons even tho it’s not rlly even close but shoutout fr

alsooooo since just getting back into writing like this outside of school direction and im not used to writing a straight shot one shot, this gon be multiple parts IM SAWRIIIIIIIIII, it’s only 2 parts tho

AGAIN THIS IS MY FIRST FF IN A WHILE AND I DIDNT HAVE ANYONE PROOFREAD IM SAWRI IF THE PACING OR THE PLOT COMES OFF INCOHERENT😭😭

#1

[MONDAY AFTERNOON]

Her smooth silk brown skin glistens

under the sunlit illuminated windows

as the water trickles

down her broad shoulders

to her god-crafted muscles,

flexing with every step they take

ever

so

slightly

out the pool.

Their chest heaving,

a slightly tired

yet heavy gaze

as they skim around the room at their peers,

eyes landing on one particular figure

with a similar look in their eye.

Her stoic demeanor is slowly replaced

with a playful smirk as she eyes...

wait…

SHE’S LOOKING AT ME-

SHIT!

Shuri snaps out of her internal monologue, jumping from the huge glass that peered into the school’s aquatic center, and quickly bolts through the double doors that lead to the hallway. When she’s out of sight, she slumps over, catching her breath. “Wow, Ms. Nakia would have either granted me an A+ or sent me to the principal’s office with the type of words I was thinking,” Shuri chuckles to herself.

After a brief pause at her words, her face heats up as she quickly facepalms in shame.

“What the hell am I saying?”

Reluctant, she trudges down the hall in embarrassment, making her way to the place she considered her third home: the science building computer lab (her second home was chemistry lab 2b).

In there resides Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, sitting around a desktop clicking away at some first-person shooter game, with an unwavering MJ Watson sitting a couple of seats away from the boisterous boys, head in a book per the usual. All three teens lined up in typical geeky fashion. Shuri slumps her book bag over a computer table, the sudden noise breaking the immersion of the boys who then looked up from their game, spotting the presence of their purple-clad friend.

“Dude, what have you been doing all this time?” Ned scowls. “We didn’t have any clubs today and we’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes to walk to that new milk tea cafe MJ’s been telling us about.”

Not lifting her head from her book, MJ snarkily remarks, “She’s probably been too busy ogling the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.”

Shuri’s face heats up as she’s quick to defend herself. “Cut it out! Of course I wasn’t!”

MJ smirks, still not looking up from her book. “Sorry, lemme rephrase that better: she’s probably been too busy eye fucking the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.” Blood rushes through Shuri’s cheeks as she sputters incompressible excuses from her mouth, MJ giggling at her discomposure from her book.

“You’re such a mess, Shuri! When are you gonna finally buckle down and rizz her up– or at least go up and talk to the girl instead of borderline stalking her almost every afternoon?” Peter playfully pokes the purple-clad.

Shuri sucks her teeth, swatting him away. “One: the word ‘rizz’ sounds extremely uncanny coming out of your mouth. Please refrain from using that word around me again.”

Collective snorts bounce off the embarrassed white teen whose shit-eating grin twists into a poker face.

“Two: I don’t eye Y/N almost every afternoon.” Shuri pshaws and waves everyone off.

“Oh, my bad!'' Peter dramatically gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “It’s every morning, lunch break, assembly, dinner break, class transition, and EVERY afternoon.” Collective snickers break out as Shuri backhands Peter, not harshly, but hard enough to derive a strained “ack!” out of him.

“But seriously, Shuri, it’s about time you try and get this girl’s number.” MJ goes on, finally looking up from her book and putting it on the table spine up. “It’s no use for you to keep on hopelessly pining after this girl from afar and not putting in the effort to actually pursue her.” Shuri slumps into a chair and releases an exasperated sigh.

“I do, but what would a versatile and talented girl want with a one-trick pony nerd like me?” MJ visibly cringes at the purple-clad’s words. “Ewww man, this isn’t the 80s! We are NOT living in a Disney Channel sitcom. There’s a lot of people would go for somebody as smart and intelligent as you, you know that.”

“Yeah, maybe to do their homework for them,” Shuri retorts. MJ pauses. “Hmmm, now that claim, I won’t completely disagree with...” “MJ!” Ned dramatically gasps as he lightly slaps MJ on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her, Shuri. You are perfectly capable of winning Y/N over just the way you are.”

The purple-clad snickers. “Now THAT was something you could’ve sworn was straight out of a Disney Channel sitcom.”

About 15 minutes later, the eccentric group of teens close up the computer lab and continue down the hallways with milk tea on their minds… except for Shuri. She trails behind the bunch, head hung low, peeping at Y/N’s Instagram.

As her walking gets slower as she’s gaping at her phone, the coil-haired nerd brushes her shoulder against what she thinks is just a wall. She lifts her head to notice the shorter, dark, and gorgeous swimmer— the same one on her phone that she still had in open view.

“Oh! Whassup, Miss Shuri!” Y/N’s eyes light up as he greets the taller.

Shuri’s breath hitches at the lovely emphasis put on her name, blood running cold as she quickly checks her peripheral to make sure the gang wasn’t around to humiliate her more than she already was.

Meanwhile, the teens heard what was going on behind them, but chose to continue on their merry way, intentionally leaving the two alone in the middle of the hallway.

She looks back at the short athlete and returns the greeting with a bashful smile. “What brings you here, Y/N?” The nerd quickly asks in a desperate attempt to carry the conversation, forgetting that people don’t need a reason to just roam the halls, something she mentally facepalms herself for right after.

“Nothin’ much,” Y/N chuckles at Shuri’s nervous efforts. “I’m just coming out of my swim practice. Mr. Namor was runnin’ me dry today.”

The athlete pauses as if she’s recalling something, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a knowing smirk.

“I saw you peeping me over at the center earlier,” she drawls, “figured you wanted to speak to me about somethin’?” The athlete’s tongue subtly swipes across her bottom lip, as she gazes up at Shuri with a particular look in her eye, irises occasionally shifting down to the open Instagram page still on her phone, waiting for an excuse.

It was enough for the poor nerd to melt into a puddle, knees buckle and collapse, and lay sprawled across the hallway floor right then and there, but luckily for her, she still possessed a pinch of dignity left within her. With fleeting composure, gripping her backpack strap with strain, Shuri gives a weak pshaw.

“Me? I was just passing by! I just really like watching the team…”

You…

“...practice.”

As Shuri desperately attempts to form more words that can potentially save her, her eyes flicker to a *very convenient* bulletin board behind the shorter athlete. There, plastered on the brown surface was a poster: “CALLING FOR NEW MEMBERS! Swim Team Tryouts This Thursday at 5 pm! Swim Your Way To Success!”

Oh, Bast…

“In fact, I’m thinking of trying out for the swim team myself,” the nerd straightens up and states proudly, hoping she masked the way she winced at her words.

Y/N, who was expecting a different answer, gapes at the helpless girl in slight shock. “Oh, for real? That’s crazy! I never pegged you as a swimmer, Shuri.”

The nerd’s mouth forms a goofy grin. “And why is that?” She dramatically slaps a hand on her chest. “Is it because I’m of the darker persuasion?”

This derives a hearty cackle out of the shorter athlete, Shuri’s stomach fluttering from the fact that she made the girl laugh.

“Negro, please,” Y/N catches his breath and straightens up. “It’s because… I mean…” The shorter athlete trails off, eyeing Shuri up and down, the nerd’s cheeks heating up in the act.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can’t blame you for wanting to try. Hell, I’ve been swimming since 4 years old, the feeling’s exhilarating.” Y/N sighs off into the distance, as Shuri internally gushes at the shorter athlete’s passion.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance and backtracks on the words of the other girl.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to ‘try’? Are you still assuming I can’t swim?”

Y/N waves his hands in defense. “No! I’m just saying–”

“Well I’m GOING to try out, I’m GOING to swim like a pro, and I’m GOING to get on the team!”

After a brief pause at her sudden outburst of competitiveness, Shuri reels it back in with a small “...respectfully,” and a cheeky smile.

Amused at the nerd’s sudden wave of confidence, Y/N clasps their hands together in accord. “Sounds like a plan then! I guess I’ll be seeing you Thursday then.” The shorter athlete readjusts the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and starts to walk closer to Shuri, laying an encouraging, yet, knowing hand on the taller’s shoulder, and leans into her ear.

Shuri could have sworn she was imagining what was rasped next.

“Word of advice: work on that backstroke… I know I will.”

Y/N then pulls away with an innocent grin and brushes past the appalled nerd, continuing on their merry way, but to suddenly turn around to yell one last thing:

“And your phone’s still on!”

Frozen in place, the girl slowly peers down to her cellular (one she made the mistake of changing the display settings to go into sleep mode after 5 minutes) still on Y/N’s Instagram page.

Once the athlete was out of sight, Shuri’s knees buckled as she grips the nearest wall, releasing a sigh of relief, quickly washed over with a wave of anxiousness.

What have I got myself into?

#2

“Y’know a backstroke is a type of swim move, right?”

Riri chuckles at Shuri as she clicks away on her calculator, doing her homework on her bed. The young prodigy lifts her face from it being buried in her pillow and whines.

“But she said it so… sultry like… and her voice was so… raspy… it felt INTENTIONAL!”

“Or maybe your horny ass misconstrued her words and heard ‘backshots’ instead of ‘backstrokes’!” Riri giggled as Shuri proceeded to throw a pillow at the girl.

“Regardless, either word could be used as an innuendo, she did it on purpose,” Shuri retorts.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Sooo, what are you gonna do?”

Shuri flops back on her bed with a sigh. “I will try out for the swim team, like I said I would. I mean, she sounded so intrigued when I mentioned I was interested, and the passion in the way she speaks about it— I should at LEAST try.”

“Aww, I guess that’s fair,” Riri begins to coo. “If you knew how to swim.”

“Huh?”

“Shuri, I have never seen you TOUCH water unless it was for drinking or an experiment, let alone be EMERGED in water outside of taking showers and baths in it. We’ve had campus water activities and pool days before and each time you’ve said ‘I’m busy, I’m busy.’”

“Well I was, you know I have school work as my top priority.”

“We have them during school breaks, Shuri, you don’t work on a school break!”

Riri releases an exasperated sigh. “Shuri, can you swim or not?” The prodigy gives her friend a hesitant look. “I mean, I’m not the worst at it…”

“Shuri, just say you’re shit at swimming.”

“Fucking hate it.” Shuri blurts out. “Haven’t stepped foot into a pool since I was 6.”

“Damn it, Shuri!”

“You wanted me to be honest!”

Riri chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s not even it, Shuri! Swim team try-outs are on Thursday, that’s in THREE DAYS! You barely know how to swim, what makes you think you’ll be ready within the next three days?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” Shuri stresses, trying to calm herself down. “I mean, you seem to know how to swim. Why don’t you teach me?”

“One: you dug this silly lil’ hole yourself,” Riri wags her finger at the prodigy, “I’m not helping you with shit. The most I’ll do is braid your hair back the night before so it can fit better in the swim cap you’ll have to put on. Two: I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to because I wouldn’t have time, I’m stacked up on homework for the next few days.”

Shuri groans in her pillow, flopping back down on her bed once again. The young prodigy felt hopeless with no more ideas left… except for one last hope.

“No.”

“C’mon, brother! This is my love life on the line!”

T’Challa chuckles, crossing his arms. “You got yourself into this mess when you knew you couldn’t swim.” He raises is hands in defense. “You have a death wish, I am not helping you.”

“But that’s what Riri said!” Shuri whines.

“Well Riri is a good friend, keep her around. As for me, I have a gym to organize so I am going to continue what I was doing.” T’Challa does just that as he starts to pick up idle weights off the floor.

“I’ll pay you!”

“I have a job, and you’re a broke college student.”

“But with an internship!”

“An unpaid internship.”

“I’ll be your very best friend!”

“I’m your brother, and I already have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, like that old brute that works alongside you?”

“I heard that, you oversized midget!” A snarky coach M’baku scowls from the connected office.

“I’m 5’5!”

“And I’m 6’5, midget!”

Shuri rolls her eyes waves him off. “You work with that oversized man baby,” she sneers to T’Challa.

The older chuckles as he continues to tune out his sister’s persuasions while he tidies around the ring.

“Brother, please!” Shuri drops to her knees dramatically, rubbing her hands together in impatience. “I’m becoming desperate, I REALLY need your help!”

The younger continues to plead as the older man begins to cringe at the pathetic display, checking his peripheral to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene for unwarranted pedestrians that may walk past the gym.

“Okay okay, I will help you! Just stand up, PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me!” T’Challa quickly reassures the girl on the ground.

Shuri’s pleas quickly halt as she jumps to her feet, showering her brother with “thank you”s.

“Ahh, don’t thank me yet,” the older waves the girl off. “And I’m only going to be RE teaching you the basics. Any extra stunts you want to pull for your little girlfriend besides that will be on your accord.”

“Deal,” Shuri clasps her hands together.

“Now will you please leave me be? I have a gym to attend to.”

“Whatever,” Shuri remarks as she starts to head for the exit, “But just know I will be at the gym pool, bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning!”

The girl slaps the doorway wall and points at her brother, who both chuckles and cringes at her enthusiasm.

Once the bubbly teen was out of sight, M’baku wheels himself to the office doorway in his rolling chair.

“You know she’s going to drown herself.”

A reluctant T’Challa sighs. “Yep.”

To be continued headass…

[xjereby]

Hey fellas! Its been a hot minute so let me introduce you all to my Hazbin Hotel High School AU!!

also known as Grimstone Academy (edgy.) Its a private school for gifted manipulators- i mean. thinkers :)

since the parents are paying a shit-ton of money for their teens to be at this academy the students can kinda get away with anything…

except murder… probably…

inspired by Mean Girls, Class of ‘09, and Heathers :)

characters, in order of appearance

Charlie Morningstar - Daughter of the principal, Lucas Morningstar. Homeschooled most of her life until her dad got this job offer, so she’s socially unaware.

Vicky Rivera - Gifted athlete, Coach Adam’s (2nd) favorite student. Generally an outcast due to her standoffish demeanor and interesting fashion choices. She has a personal history with nearly every student listed— almost all are negative.

Anthony (Angel) Ragno - Theatre kid! Generally speaks his mind and one of Vickys only friends because of this. Has been dating Valentino for 2 years.

Harry Petrova - Gifted violinist and fluent in Russian. He keeps to himself and knows to keep away from the crazier students— even though he’s Alastors closest (whatever that means to him) friend.

Alastor Guidry- Top of his class at the academy. Tries to keep close ties with every authority figure he knows— yet he’s frustrated that Charlie gets special treatment. He’s mysterious and weird to most of the students. Most.

Virgil Parr - Alastors’ academic rival. President of the school council and son of two relatively well known actors, he’s spiteful and short tempered, but uses blackmail to get out of any trouble.

Vicky says he could be smarter than Alastor if he wasn’t so emotional.

Oscar Valentino - A major bitch. He cuts class and talks back to authority figures, but his dad is the owner of a major, very bougie fashion company. Thinks very highly of himself and disapproves of Anthony’s friends. He continues to string him along, despite not being all that into him anymore.

Velvette Williams - Self proclaimed queen bee, and best friends with both Virgil and Valentino. She keeps every secret the two share with her, though she may use those secrets against them some day. Also a major bitch.

i got a little too silly w the descriptions LOL but uhh anyway hope everyone enjoys… I will be posting some doodles soon and may even make a whole blog for this au… hehe >:3

[sebbypowell]

WinterWidow's Family

Summary: Katie got into an argument with the man who took her in after what Hydra did to her. Bucky and Natasha find out what's really going on with Katie at school so they will pay a visit to the principal at the school.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, and bullying on social media

Part 2

"It wasn't my fucking fault! They came after me first!" Katie argued.

“That’s not the point, Katie!” Bucky retorted, his fingers running through his hair. “You got into a fight. Again! For the 5th time this month!”

Natasha sat quietly, watching the two of them argue like they were a married couple.

“They were making fun of me again!” Katie argued back “It’s not my fault they don’t know when to shut their mouths!”

“So you FIGHT them?!” Bucky questioned, “Do you not realize you can get into a lot of trouble for fighting? They could press charges, call your school, god you could get expelled!”

“OH LIKE I CARE! IT’S NOT EVEN LIKE I’M GOING TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL!” Katie retorted with a scoff, leaning against the wall stubbornly.

“Katie!” Bucky yelled again, his patience growing thin. “Don’t give that BULLSHIT excuse! Of course you’re going to finish high school!”

“Oh yeah? Then how am I supposed to finish high school when I’m going to get put in jail for fighting?” Katie retorted back, crossing her arms over her chest “Oh wait! You both wouldn’t care if I got put in jail.”

Bucky was at his limit. He started to walk up to the girl, but Natasha placed a hand on his chest to hold him back. He paused for a moment before looking over at her.

“James, go cool down.” Natasha told him softly, “I’ll handle this.”

Bucky let out a low huff, his eyes locked on the teen for a moment longer before walking off to their room. As he did, Natasha turned her full attention toward the teen who continued to lean against the wall stubbornly.

"Do you really think we wouldn't care if you went to jail?" Natasha questioned, tilting her head at the girl slightly.

Katie looked up slightly, a stubborn look still on her face “Of course you wouldn’t, I’m just a stranger that’s been placed into your lives and all I do is cause trouble all the time.”

Natasha’s heart sank when she heard those words. She never knew Katie felt like this. To her, Katie was more than a stranger that was placed into their lives. But rather, she was family.

"Katie…" Natasha started, a sad look in her eyes, "You're not a stranger to us. You're family. You're our kid, and that’s never going to change.”

Katie looked away from the woman, looking down at her hands instead. "If I'm really your kid, then why do I still feel like a stranger in this house?" Katie asked quietly, her tone shaky.

Natasha was heartbroken more and more with every word that left the teen’s mouth. She never wanted Katie to feel like a stranger in their home, and now she’s finding out that the girl does from their constant bickering.

"Katie.. you are not a stranger in this home. You've never been." Natasha started “You-"

Just then, Bucky emerged from the hallway, stopping when he saw the two.

Bucky, who had now cooled down after a few minutes, realized the conversation between the two was getting pretty deep and emotional.

"Bad time?" He questioned awkwardly, a sheepish look on his face.

Natasha shot a look at him, a look that could almost say "shut up for a moment", and she continued her conversation with Katie.

"You have always belonged here. In this house and with us." Natasha said firmly, looking back at Katie whose gaze was still on the floor.

Katie was trying to blink away the tears that began to well in her eyes, but when Natasha continued, they began to fall.

"We wouldn't have adopted you if we saw you as a stranger. We love you, you are our kid."

When Bucky heard those last few words, he suddenly felt guilty about his previous outburst earlier.

Natasha slowly and carefully approached Katie who was now crying silently. She gently wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"You are our daughter, our kid, our family." Natasha whispered.

The next day

It was early in the morning. The sun had just started to rise, the sky being painted a beautiful shade of pink as sunlight slowly began to shine through the windows in Katie room. Though, it didn’t wake her up.

Natasha knocked on her door gently “Hey Katie, wake up. You’re gonna be late for school.”

When there wasn’t a response from Katie, Natasha slowly poked her head in the doorway. She noticed the girl’s form was still lying in bed, the blankets wrapped around her.

“Katie..?” She gently called out once again “It’s time to wake up dear.”

Natasha walked into the room hesitantly, her eyes falling onto the girls phone on her bed. She picked it up carefully, taking a glance at the screen and seeing it was on Instagram and her eyes widened.

"James!!" she yelled.

Bucky came out from his and Natasha's room, a look of worry on his face. "What? What happened??"

"I need you to look at this." Natasha replied sternly, walking over to him with her phone.

She showed him the phone screen, the Instagram app opened and showing multiple comments. None of them were very pleasant at all.

Bucky looked down at the screen, reading over each comment. His eyes darkened the more he read. Whoever was bullying his kid, was in big trouble.

"Is Katie still asleep?" He questioned, his gaze shifting to the girl who was still peacefully sleeping in her bed.

"Yeah, I tried to get her up but she won't budge." Natsha answered, her eyes still on Katie. "I think after yesterday, she really doesn't want to go to school. Ima call Yelena over to watch her so we could go to the school and deal with this."

Bucky nodded silently, his eyes still on the girl. He knew that yesterday was a lot for her and now adding the comments she's been receiving and the fact that she was now refusing to go to school, it was not good.

"Alright.. we should be quick though. She needs us."

"I know.." Nat responded quietly before dialing Yelena's number on her own phone. She placed a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder before placing the phone up to her ear.

Yelena picked up quickly, a loud screech coming from the other side of the phone.

“Natasha! Oh my god, you will not believe this one time when I-”

“Yelena.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yelena could tell from the tone of Natasha’s voice that the situation was serious, and she immediately dropped her excited tone. “What's wrong?”

“We need you come here and watch Katie..” Natasha replied, her eyes still on Bucky.

Yelena was silent for a moment before speaking. “Did something happen? Is Katie ok?”

There was a moment of silence from Natasha as she let out a quiet sigh. “Physically she’s fine.. mentally though..” Natasha started quietly, “she’s not doing well. We’re gonna go to the school cause she’s being bullied. And after yesterday.. yeah.”

Yelena went silent again, absorbing the words Natasha said. "Someone's messing with my own niece?"

"Unfortunately," Natasha responded, a sad look in her eyes. "We're going to go to the school and deal with it, I just need you to watch her because I don't want her to be alone."

"Of course. I'll be there in a few." Yelena replied before hanging up the phone.

Bucky took deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously. He hated seeing Katie upset and unhappy, and the thought that she was being bullied on top of their argument from last night filled him with a type of anger he couldn’t describe. He knew they need to deal with it fast.

"Nat.. " Bucky started quietly, looking over at Natasha who still had a worried look on her face, “if I'm too rough with the people who've been bullying Katie.. just stop me."

Natasha gave Bucky a nod, her eyes locked with his. "Of course, but be careful with your strength James."

“I will.” Bucky replied with a firm nod.

Suddenly, a knock was heard from the front door followed by a voice. “Natasha! Bucky! I’m here!”

Natasha immediately went to the front door to let Yelena in, a small look of relief on her face as she did.

Yelena stepped into the apartment, a look of worry and anger on her face as well. She immediately noticed how the atmosphere changed when she entered.

“Where’s Katie?” She asked quietly, shutting the door behind her.

"In her room." Bucky stated, his voice sounding tight as he spoke. "She's still asleep. We're about to go deal with this whole thing.”

Yelena nodded firmly. “Good.. whoever’s been messing with my niece needs to get their ass kicked.”

“They’ll get much more than an ass kicking.” Bucky said lowly, crossing his arms over his chest and his jaw clenching.

Yelena looked over at Bucky, her eyes slightly wide at his tone. She hasn’t been there to see the whole thing but judging by how Bucky was acting, it was bad.

Natasha seemed to noticed the look Yelena was giving Bucky and looked over at him as well. “James..” she started “Calm down.”

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Sorry..” he mumbled as he opened his eyes again “It’s just.. the things I read on her phone, Nat, it was awful. And I’m going to make sure whoever did it gets every damn ounce of payback.”

Natasha gave him a nod, a sad look in her eyes. “I know, but I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Yelena then stepped in, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nat’s right. You going absolutely ham on the poor souls might seem a little over kill.”

Bucky looked over at Yelena, a glare in his eyes “Oh I don’t think it’s over kill. I think it’s what they deserve.”

Natasha gave him a sharp look, her eyes slightly narrowed. “James.. we don’t know everything that's going on. We do this in a smart and calm manner.”

Bucky let out a quiet huff of frustration before biting his tongue. He knew Natasha was right. This needed to be done as smoothly and as calmly as possible. Otherwise it wouldn’t get any better.

“Fine. I’ll.. I’ll calm down. I won’t do anything stupid.” He replied.

“Good.” Natasha responded firmly, giving the man a nod.

Natasha turned her attention back to Yelena, her expression growing serious again. “We won’t be long at the school. Katie might be up by the time we’re back.”

Yelena nodded in understanding, her features growing a bit stern. “Alright. Go deal with this.”

. . .

Bucky and Natasha made their way inside the school with a determined and stern expression. The school building itself was fairly big. There were a few students walking around, mostly heading to class.

Bucky looked around the hallway, his eyes scanning the place. He was trying to figure out where the principal’s office was.

Natasha, who was currently walking beside him, noticed this and placed a hand on his shoulder, catching his attention. “Office is that way.” She pointed down one hallway.

Bucky nodded silently, his eyes still glancing around. “Got it.”

They started to make their way towards the office. Students who passed by them either just simply minded their own business and kept walking, or they glanced at the two and gave the couple a look of both fear and awe.

Bucky and Natasha didn’t pay them any mind. They had a mission.

Soon they arrived at the large office doors. Bucky put a hand on one of the door’s handle and opened it without knocking, walking in followed by Natasha.

When they entered, the secretary sitting by the front desk immediately looked up, her eyes growing wide as she saw the two.

“C-can I help you?” she stuttered out, clearly intimidated by their presence as she sat up a bit straighter in her chair.

“Yes, we’d like to see the principal please.” Natasha responded in a firm yet polite tone, her eyes scanning the woman in front of her.

The secretary was silent for a moment, visibly gulping before nodding quickly and pointing to the door on the other side of the small waiting area.

“P-principal is through there. Second door to the left.” she said quietly.

Bucky and Natasha both nodded, giving the woman a silent thank-you before walking towards the door and opening it.

They walked inside the principal’s office, closing the door behind them. The principal, a middle-aged man whose nameplate on his desk read “Mr. Johnson”, looked up at them with mild surprise.

“Hello, how can I help-“ he started to say before he cut himself off, clearly recognizing the two who just walked into his office.

His eyes widened a bit in surprise and a hint of slight fear. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. My, this a surprise. What brings you two here?”

Both Bucky and Natasha kept their expressions serious as they stood in front of the man’s desk. It was quiet for a moment, the atmosphere in the office growing tense before Bucky spoke up.

“We’re here because we need to discuss something about our daughter.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes widened a bit further, clearly not expecting the two avengers to be having any problems. He quickly composed himself before sitting up a bit in his seat.

“Very well, what seems to be the problem?” he questioned, his expression growing a bit serious.

Natasha clenched her jaw slightly as she tried to keep her temper under control.

“I think you already know the problem, sir.” she spoke, her tone growing a bit sharp.

Mr. Johnson’s expression turned to one of mild confusion. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking abou-“ he started to speak before Bucky cut him off.

“Cut the bullshit. We know those bastard students and teachers have been bullying our kid.” Bucky said firmly, his voice low and cold.

Mr. Johnson was completely silent for a few moments, clearly caught off guard with Bucky's words and tone.

He tried to start up a response, “…I.. I’m sure you’re mistaken-”

“Do we look like we’re mistaken?” Natasha cut him off, her expression now stern.

Mr. Johnson quickly shut up, looking between the two, both were basically glaring right at him. He could see that there was no room to lie or argue this matter.

Bucky took another step forward, his hands clenching into fists at his side, “You’re seriously gonna sit there and act like you haven’t noticed the students and staff treating our daughter like she’s just some charity case, mocking her name, picking on her, insulting her-“

Natasha placed another hand on his shoulder as a silent gesture to try to keep him calm.

Mr. Johnson was watching Bucky's expression, his words, and his body language. He was clearly not pleased with what he was hearing.

“Alright.. look, Mr. Barnes, Mrs. Barnes, I promise I’ll look into this matter. I-”

Natasha interrupted him with a sigh, her patience running a bit thin. “With all due respect sir, we would like this to be dealt with now. Not a week or two weeks from now.”

Mr. Johnson quickly snapped his mouth shut after hearing Natasha's words, swallowing the lump in his throat silently.

He was quiet for a moment, thinking over what to do. He obviously didn’t want to deal with the two powerful Avengers in front of him.

“Well-“ he started, “-there really isn’t much I can do. There’s a protocol-“

Bucky scoffed and gave the man a cold look, “Screw the protocol.”

Mr. Johnson shut his mouth and didn’t speak for a few moments, Bucky’s words clearly intimidating him further.

He then spoke up in a quiet voice, “I promise I’ll get this matter solved as soon as I can-“

Natasha let out a loud scoff, her patience running thin. “We don’t want it ‘solved as soon as you can.’ We want it solved, period. Today.”

Mr. johnson could tell there was no arguing against the two. He held eye contact with them for a few moments longer before slumping his shoulders and letting out a defeated sigh.

“Very well, I’ll have a meeting with the problematic students’ parents as well as the teachers who have been.. mistreating your daughter. And I’ll handle the whole situation from there.”

Bucky and Natasha were quiet, their expressions still stern as they kept eye contact with the man. They needed to make sure he wasn’t bullshiting, that he wouldn’t just lie about what he just said.

Mr. Johnson began to feel uncomfortable under their gaze and broke eye contact, looking down at his desk.

“May I ask…” he started quietly, pausing for a moment, “What exactly is the full extent of this ‘mistreatment’?”

Bucky gritted his teeth a bit in anger before speaking in a low tone, “Well, she’s been getting called nasty names and insults. They’ve been making her feel bad and outcasted. They’ve been mocking her physical features and just her in general.”

Natasha glanced over at Bucky before looking back at the man, “Not to mention the teachers who’ve been calling her ‘a charity case’.”

"Well, she is from the baddest group in the world. Hydra." Mr. Johnson said.

Bucky’s eyes instantly went cold at the man’s words. Suddenly, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side, his shoulders and back going tense.

“What did you say?” he asked lowly.

Mr. Johnson was immediately caught off guard with the man’s shift in expression and tone. He tensed a bit, a bit of nervousness filling him.

“Well, your daughter is from Hydra-“ he started.

Bucky cut him off with a deep glare before he could finish, “I heard what you said.” he started, taking a step forward and leaning forward a bit to look down at the man, “But I’m going to repeat my question. What. Did. You. Say?”

Mr. Johnson tensed up further, a look of slight fear in his eyes as he replied, “S-she’s from the organization Hydra..”

Bucky’s entire body went rigid, his jaw clenching tight. It took a lot for him to keep himself composed.

Natasha noticed this and quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him, despite her own expression growing cold and stoic.

“She’s not ‘from Hydra’.” Bucky said firmly, his eyes narrowing at the principal. “She’s a victim of Hydra, so don’t you dare try to associate her with those bastards.”

Mr. Johnson was silent for a few moments, looking back and forth between the two. He was clearly caught off guard with Bucky’s harsh tone and words.

He quickly collected himself and tried to speak, “Yes.. o-of course, I didn’t mean it that way..”

Natasha narrowed her eyes further. The principal’s choice of words clearly didn’t help the situation and only made Bucky’s anger worse.

Bucky’s glare hardened at the man’s response, his face turning a bit red.

“If it weren’t illegal I’d knock your damn teeth out.” he said lowly, taking another step forward.

Natasha clenched her jaw. She could tell that Bucky was getting close to snapping. She placed both hands on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

“Buck..” she said lowly, keeping her voice calm but firm, “Calm down, please.”

Bucky’s expression stayed the same, his hands clenching to the point where his knuckles turned white.

“I am calm.” he snapped lowly, his eyes staying trained on the principal.

Natasha knew he was just lying, but for now she decided to let the situation play out.

“It appears to me you’re not.” Mr. Johnson said quietly, a hint of sarcasm laced in his voice.

That made Bucky’s eyes flash, his expression growing darker. He wanted nothing more than to lunge over the desk and grab that man by his collar.

Natasha gritted her teeth a bit, silently frustrated with how much the situation was escalating.

“Listen here, I will say this again, and you better listen carefully.” Bucky said firmly, taking another step forward, towering over the man.

Mr. Johnson was a bit taken back, looking up at Bucky's deadly expression and cold glare.

“She wasn’t raised by HYDRA, she was a hostage of HYDRA.” Bucky continued, “And if you so much as make another comment like that again, I swear to god -“

Mr. Johnson was speechless, fear filling him. He could see that Bucky was serious. His glare and cold dark eyes made it obvious.

Natasha was watching the scene in front of her. Her heart was starting to pound in her chest. Her expression was still stern, but her chest was tightening with anxiety from seeing Bucky practically seconds away from snapping.

Mr. Johnson grabbed his phone and called security.

Both Bucky and Natasha heard movement out in the hallway. It was security coming.

Natasha quickly put a hand on Bucky’s arm, pulling him back a bit and standing right beside him. “That’s enough Bucky.” she warned lowly, even though she was on the edge herself.

Bucky’s expression was still angry, but he knew that she was right. He stepped back from the desk, his fists still clenched tight.

The security guard came in, looking between the principal and the couple.

Mr. Johnson was holding himself together somewhat, but he was still clearly shaken.

He gave the guard a small nod, silently telling him what he needed to do.

The guard then turned to Bucky and Natasha, “I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.” he said firmly, gesturing to the door.

Mr. Johnson stood up. "I'm sorry, but your daughter deserves it. If you don't like it then she doesn't come here."

Bucky’s eyes instantly became cold when the man spoke.

Natasha clenched her jaw, her expression not showing it but she was seething on the inside.

"Excuse me?" she questioned, her voice growing cold.

Bucky’s body was tense and rigid. It took everything in him not to jump over the desk and beat the principal to a pulp.

Mr. Johnson looked at Natasha, his expression turning to confidence. He was probably getting a kick out of this.

“You heard me. If you don’t want your daughter having to deal with some comments and ‘mistreatment’ as you put it, maybe she shouldn’t come here.” he said, a tone of mockery in his voice.

Bucky let out a low scoff, his jaw clenching tight. He really did not like the man in front of him.

Natasha’s expression grew stern and cold at his words. Her heart was pounding in her chest from anger. She didn’t exactly have the best control over herself when she was angry.

“Are you threatening us?” 

Mr. Johnson leaned forward, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Threaten? No, I’m just giving you a choice.” he started, his voice sarcastic. “Let your daughter continue to be ridiculed and tormented by other students and staff, or don’t bring her here at all.”

By this point, that statement made Bucky practically see red. His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

Natasha’s hands clenched into tight fists, her nails digging into her skin. She was about to snap herself, but her priority right now was keeping Bucky together.

“Bucky..” she said lowly, trying to get his attention.

However he didn’t hear her. Instead he let out a scoff, his expression growing darker.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind.” he said lowly.

The guards both grabbed Bucky by his arms and grabbed Natasha by her wrists. They forcefully pulled the two out of the room.

Natasha’s face was still stern and cold, but she didn’t offer any protest as she was dragged out.

Bucky, however, was furious. He struggled against the guards pulling him out of the office, his eyes filled with anger.

The guards continued pulling them out, practically having to drag Bucky since he was fighting against the hold they had on him.

“Get your goddamn hands off of me, you assholes.” Bucky growled, still struggling to get out of their grips.

The guards paid no mind to Bucky’s words, continuing to pull him and Natasha towards the front doors, their grips on the two tight.

Natasha was relatively calm, but only because she was focusing on making sure Bucky didn’t snap and attack the guards.

Bucky was fuming at this point. These men were forcefully dragging him and his wife out of a building like they were common criminals.

He continued to struggle against the guards, trying to break free from their grasps without going too far as to attack them. "Nat, they have the serum in them."

Natasha clenched her jaw, her expression turning a bit frustrated. "Don't." she warned lowly, shooting him a firm glare.

She was frustrated too, especially with the fact that she was being escorted out of the building by force, but the last thing they needed was for Bucky to fight the guards. The situation would easily escalate, and he’d most likely get arrested.

. . .

They were both silent during the car ride home. The only exception for Bucky’s low grumbles and muttered curses.

Once home, Bucky parked in the driveway before shutting the jeep off, sitting in the driver's seat in complete silence and clenching the wheel tight.

Natasha was quiet too, her expression stoic but her mind was running at a million miles an hour. Their daughter’s principal was a complete ass bag.

The entire situation was just so stressful. It had all escalated so quickly and neither of them saw it coming.

Natasha then turned to look over at Bucky. He looked pissed.

Bucky was seething. His knuckles were white from how hard he was clenching the steering wheel.

He was struggling to contain his anger. All he could think about was that goddamn principal and how he just told them to either send their daughter to a school where she’d be ridiculed and ostracized, or not at all.

Natasha was about to speak, but Bucky beat her to it.

"I am this close to snapping Nat.” he said lowly, looking at her. “I want to beat that man senseless. That damn principal is lucky I didn’t rip his throat out when I was in that room." Bucky then got out of the jeep.

Natasha’s mouth snapped shut at Bucky’s words. Her expression was a bit surprised.

She followed his lead and climbed out of the jeep, walking up to him as he slammed the door.

"I know you’re pissed, I am too… just.." she started, her voice firm but soft at the same time, "do not do anything stupid."

Bucky’s face stayed stoic, his hands clenching to fists.

"I’m not making any promises.” he said lowly, before walking towards the front door.

Natasha was silently frustrated at his words, but she kept her cool, following behind him and entering the house.

Once they were inside, Bucky shut the door behind them and walked over to Katie's bedroom.

Natasha’s expression was still stern and frustrated, but she followed Bucky silently, standing behind him as he approached their daughter’s bedroom door.

Bucky saw Yelena sitting at Katie's desk.

Yelena looked up from her laptop just as Bucky and Nat walked in. She noted the frustrated expressions on their faces instantly, immediately knowing something was up.

"Is everything okay?" she question, her expression slightly concerned as she shut the laptop closed and turned her chair towards them.

Bucky’s expression stayed blank, his expression cold.

Natasha’s was the same, although she did offer a small tired sigh before she spoke.

"Katie’s principal was an absolute ass today.." she muttered, crossing her arms. "Looks like she's still sleeping."

Yelena's brows furrowed slightly at her words. "What happened?" she asked, rising from her seat and walking over to them.

Bucky was still stoic, his expression showing no hint of emotion.

Natasha sighed, "he basically threatened that we either keep sending Katie to school where she’ll get ridiculed and treated like a black sheep for the rest of the year or don’t send her in at all."

Yelena's expression was one of disbelief at what she had just been told.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, a slight hint of anger in her voice.

Natasha nodded, her expression growing dark.

Bucky just stayed silent, his knuckles clenched tight and white.

Katie shifted in her bed a bit, slowly opening her eyes.

She looked over to the three and instantly knew that they were all upset.

"Mom, dad? ..Aunt Yelena?" she questioned tiredly.

Natasha’s expression softened when she spoke, some of the anger fading just from hearing her voice.

"Hey baby.." she sighed, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "We're gonna take you out of school. For good."

Katie’s eyes widened in response, her body instantly becoming alert.

"What..? Why?.." she said, sitting herself up and looking at the three of them.

Bucky walked over to her bed and sat on the other side, a stern expression on his face.

"Because the principal is a dumbass and decided to threaten us." he started, his voice stern but gentle, "he pretty much told us to either send you back to that school and allow the other kids to bully and torment you for the rest of the year… or to not send you at all.”

"What.." Katie muttered, her expression a bit shocked. Her heart started pounding in her chest as she was given the two options.

Natasha’s jaw clenched. She didn’t like either of the choices.

Yelena was still standing beside the bed, a slight look of disbelief on her face. "What a prick…" She muttered.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. Anger still bubbled within him.

Natasha sighed in frustration before speaking, “I’m sorry baby..” she started, giving her daughter an apologetic look. “But we aren’t dealing with another year of those kids tormenting you.”

“B-but.. what am I supposed to do then..?” Katie questioned, her eyes filled with worry.

Bucky and Natasha exchanged worried and silent glances between each other. Neither of them knew how to answer the question.

[picturejasper20]

Thoughts on The Fairly OddParents: A New Wish

Today i watched the first episodes from The Fairly Oddparents reboot (semi sequel?) that starts a new kid protagonist, this case being Hazel Wells, who Cosmo and Wanda grant her wishes.

I can't give a total confirmation that this series is good or not because only a few episodes have come out and this opinion could change with time depending on how things turn out. Leaving that aside here are my first impressions:

In first point, yes, what most people have pointed out. That the animation style of this show is quite pretty to look at. It is a mix between 2D and 3D elements i haven't seen much lately in animated series. It kinda gives the series a ¨stop-motion¨ vibes to it. So, i do appreciate that in that area the series manages to separate itself from others visually speaking.

Moving on to the characters, i do like Hazel as main character. She is energetic in some ways but in not in way that can come off as too annoying in contrast to main characters i have seen from other animated shows. She is quite intelligent and more mature than kids at her age. She can give the feeling that she a bit older than 10 but i think that's the intention considering it is part of her personality.

And it isn't like she knows everything. She is flawed in her own way, can getting too caught up in what she wants, has trouble with working under pressure and doesn't think thinks through (she tried running away to see her older brother in the first episode). But she isn't a selfish brat. She is a balanced character.

On last point about her character, you can see that she has things hard since she moved to a new city without her brother and she doesn't have friends at the start but her parents are overall well meaning and care about her. She doesn't have this habit that kid-teen main characters have in Butch Hartman shows that are mistreated like garbage and everyone hates them for some reason. It feels more realistic in that regard.

For Cosmo and Wanda, I do enjoy the way they have been written so far. For once Cosmo is potrayed as someone who is more to get easily distracted but he isn't exactly dumb and Wanda is allowed to have her moments she messes things up as opposed to always being right. I do like how they see Hazel struggling and feeling sad and jumped at the opportunity to help her in spite of being retired. (This itself brings a problem to them because their magic backfires for lacking practice).

The first three episodes set up some interesting things that are going to come back later: -Hazel's father being a paranormal investigator, already putting a good potential conflict in there, -A fairy named Cookie that was supposed to be Hazel's oddparent but she gets rejected because of her not listening to what Hazel wants -The school principal is already getting suspicious about Hazel hiding something.

I do like the lessons in the first episodes too. There seems to be an going theme in this series about how adults can be unfair to kids (If i recall this was a bit of a thing in the original show) but kids can be still immature and have things to learn. So it isn't ¨adults bad and kids good¨, there is more nuance to that.

In overall the series has a good start and i'm looking forward to see how it plays with the elements that has established these first episodes.

[paperbackribs]

In the Darkest Corner

A halloween side-story for the Witch Steve AU series. POV outsider.

Andy joined his teammate, Jason Carver, to terrorise the young members of the party while they 'hunted the freak' over Spring Break. Steve Harrington ensures that Andy will receive the justice he deserves for hurting one of his kids. A spooky story set over Halloween as Steve uses his Witch powers to make Andy regret his actions.

Andy can’t help the strange shiver that comes over him as he passes the Hellfire Club members in the school’s empty hallway. The echo of his footsteps gives way to the exuberant noise of the no-name freshmen and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson as the latter trails behind Sinclair.

Apparently, Coleman is allowing Munson to visit in the new school year as part of an apology and so that the club can do a proper handover. Andy mentally sneers at the Hawkin High principal; what a pansy reaction just because Jason had got them all a little riled up after Chrissy's death.

Munson’s talking to the younger girl, she’s in a pink jacket thrown over some turquoise outfit — Girl Sinclair? Erica, he abruptly recalls, remembering Chief Hoppers’ glower as he’d dressed down Andy in front of his folks at his role in capturing Sinclar's sister along with the rest of the satanist freaks.

Or, at least, Andy had thought they were satanists. Jason had seemed so right and true over Spring Break, pointing to the obvious wrongness of Munson and how weird the little freaks around him were.

But these days... well, Lynda and the rest of the girls in the Cheer Squad were saying a few things about how poor Chrissy had been afraid of Jason before she died and...

And Patrick... he was law-abiding and respectful, a decent power forward and loyal to the Hawkin’s basketball team. But what had happened to him, the horror of what Andy had heard had been done to his body, and Jason had been right there...

It’s not his business, Andy thinks firmly, moving to walk past the young teens boisterously jostling opposite him in the hallway.

The orange and black of the recently decorated Halloween ornaments on the walls create a fitting background to the black leather-clad leader of the nerd brigade.

The grimacing smile of the sickly orange pumpkin faces mocking him as surely as the group’s laughter as they chatter amongst themselves, ignoring Andy.

He scowls at their indifference, striding past with his fists firmly planted in the pockets of his green and white varsity jacket. But none of it is his business, not really.

Not anything about Jason and Chrissy anyway, he assures himself, ignoring the uneasy memory of how much he had made it his business when Chrissy was reported murdered and they’d decided to hunt down the trailer park trash and freak.

What happened to her and Patrick though — really, that was up to the cops. Nevertheless, he doesn’t feel right about hanging out with Jason anymore. The cheerleaders definitely don’t, and no one is going to have a half-decent party if the cheer squad decline to turn up just because Jason was invited.

Munson easily smiles at something the girl, Erica, says and Andy averts his eyes from the freak. It’s far more fun to taunt the psycho nerd when Andy has his friends around. Watching Munson carefully choose his words, so he doesn’t get pinged by the authorities is incredibly satisfying whenever the team baits him around town.

So far, the former leader of Hellfire has restrained himself, but Andy isn’t sure that he wants to push it yet since Hopper had taken him for a ‘ride along’ a few days ago.

He swallows hard at the memory of Hopper outlining exactly what he would do to Andy if he tried to stir up the same trouble that Jason had done over Spring Break. As he does, he catches the gaze of little Sinclair. Her deep brown eyes flash up and meet his before dismissing him to look back and respond to Munson’s question.

Andy bristles at the disrespect in Erica’s attitude. She should remember how easily he had shown her who was in control of the situation when he’d chased her down and grabbed her in front of the old Creel house. Little shit had been scared enough when it was just him and her in the dead of the night.

He’s tempted to reach a big hand out to her shoulder and give her small shoulders a little shake so she can appreciate her current freedom, but she glances behind her again and Andy inexplicably feels his body freeze. Munson follows her gaze to look at Andy with a cool and unwelcoming expression.

The hairs at the nape of Andy’s neck rise and cold lock his joints from moving  from his spot in the hallway. It’s not until the group of the dweebs round the corner, the faint sound of their laughter hanging in the air, that Andy feels his bones give way.

He unclenches his stiff jaw, shaking it off and determinedly striding away. He has dribbles to practise if he wants to make point guard.

---

“It’s called a Spirit Week for a reason, Ron,” Lynda sulkily frowns down at her banana milkshake, angry at her boyfriend for failing to get into the Halloween festivities. The bustle of folks at the Soda Fountain almost drown out her words.

Andy rolls his eyes over Lynda’s head to Ron sitting next to her, but he’s not even listening to them. His teammate has an arm thrown over the back of the booth by Lynda’s shoulders while disinterestedly looking out of the large windows to the autumn afternoon. The fading sun casts golden fingers of light onto the red and green Formica tables.

Ever since Chrissy had died the girls on the Cheer Squad had been high maintenance, prone to being overly emotional and, honestly, complete downers. So what if Ron doesn’t have a preference for their couple’s costumes on Wednesday’s Wacky Tacky Day?

Andy ignores the flickering of the fluorescents above him as he continues to scold the girls in his head. The fragmented light is barely noticeable in the busy post-school rush. Laurie, his  sister, works here some afternoons, but she’s not behind the counter today.

The lit-up jukebox behind him faintly plays the eerie pulsating synth of Rockwell; the lead calls out that it’s close to midnight, evil is lurking, and somebody is watching him from across the darkness.

Andy rolls his eyes again, but this time at whoever’s getting into the Halloween mood with their music choices.

Ron is just going to dress up in whatever costume Lynda decides anyway, Andy knows. She’ll figure it out and doesn’t need to be so over the top just because Ron hadn’t magically come up with some incredible, romantic idea by himself. Andy looks over at her frozen expression, scoffing again.

His chips are halfway between the red basket and towards his open mouth when Andy realises that Lynda’s frozen expression is literal. She’s not moved, her soft, shining lips parted, light brown eyes averted, and elbows locked.

Andy flicks his gaze beyond her and sees that Ron is frozen too as if by an invisible hand, just like Jesse and Grady in the booth behind them. The sea of green and white outfits of the basketball team is eerily stopped in place.

Ron’s long column of his neck is bare and defenceless as his head stays tilted up towards the high ceilings in a stretch. Jesse’s jacket gapes open, laying bare the thin shirt over his chest, with his hand reaching behind as if to scratch his back. None of the boys, or the girls at the end table, move. All motion is arrested. Silent and uncanny like a film paused mid-action.

His heart beating irregularly in his chest, Andy dares to turn his eyes to the rest of the parlour.

The open space is unnaturally soundless. The servers in their white and blue dresses paused in the act of serving drinks or bussing tables, their arms outstretched, leaving the naked skin of their arms and legs exposed.

Andy is the only one awake for this strange and impossible moment. As he looks further, he notes a scarlet tinge that inexplicably seeps further into his world.

The checkered walls subtly bend and warp, crimson bleeding below his sneakers to coat the white plastic in a nasty, faded pink. The corners of the room become shapeless and dark, twisting amongst the frozen figures of his peers to sinisterly embrace them.

Andy is helpless, able to move himself but terrified to in case the horror of the room turns its focus on him. The hunted feeling intensifies as though he has become vulnerable like fleeing prey.

The jukebox’s synth bassline is completely forgotten as a whisper starts, forming into the sweet sound of a young girl’s softly lilting voice as she sings:

In the darkest corners, he'll win the race,

Through the moonlight's glow and the shadows' embrace,

He hunts you down, you can’t find a safe place.

Run away, run away—

The enchantment of the child’s voice abruptly breaks away as Andy is jostled by none other than Munson the Freak as he walks past, accidentally bumping into him. The howling of a wolf shatters the silence, and Andy startles until he realises that it’s the beginning of Thriller over the jukebox.

“Sorry,” Munson sneers over his retracting elbow, walking past with a greasy paper bag and absent of all respect for his betters, but the rest of the room is suddenly and blessedly full of loud movement and sound. A glass nosily smashes to the floor and a boy hoots across the space at his friends; the extraordinary hush is broken.

Continued and complete over at Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50672572

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[creative-caramel-coffee]

Exhausting Excursions

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 3.4K

Summary: You get sick on an excursion and Weems is concerned.

TW: vomiting (again), fever, exhustion, illness, changing

A/n I need more Wednesday requests I probs should do some of my marvel ones but I’m loving writing for weems rn, fight me.

The trip to Jericho was important. You needed to go to get the credit you needed for the class. There were three chaperones going, Principal weems, coach Vlad and Ms Thornhill. At first you thought you were just tired; it had been an early start to get to town in time for the convention. It was some plant expo. Ms Thornhill had made sure her class had a field trip arranged to go to Jericho that day.

You had assumed the achy joints and tiredness was from the early start but the further you went into the expo, the longer you sat there between Yoko and Enid the sicker you felt. Your stomach churned and the smell of pollen was making your nauseous. You just had another few minutes and it would be over; the principal had said students could get lunch and meet back to get on the bus at 1pm. It was 12:08 and the convention ended in two minutes. You just needed to hold on a little longer, then you could get out of here and hopefully have something light to drink because you knew if you ate it wouldn’t end well.

You probably should have told one of the teachers, but they looked stressed enough dealing with about twenty odd teens being let loose on the small town. You must have zoned out because the next thing you knew enid was pulling you out of your seat.

“Come on, we have to get our usual booth at the weathervane.” She whined and you chuckled softy.

“Ok enid. Ok.” You said trying to ignore the feeling of sickness that was pervasive in your body.

You stood and followed the group slowly trying to ignore Wednesday’s intense gaze as she analysed you closely. The raven knew something was up, but you would rather eat one of the plants than tell her. She would cart you off to Weems and spill all your secrets. And the last thing you needed was the tall blonde watching you throw up your guts. That would be rather embarrassing. Stepping into the weathervane you took mental stock of your body and decided you probably could manage drinking anything right now, you felt worse than before. Your head was starting to hurt, and your stomach was still doing flips as it tightened and loosened in a random pattern that made your head hurt more.

“I’ll save us our regular booth.” You said and went to sit down. Wednesday shot you a warning look as if she knew what you were up to but then again, she probably did. You sat and stared out the window into the street. You had about five minutes until you needed to be back at the bus once everyone had finally gotten their drinks with you being the exception.

“Do you not want anything Y/n?” Enid asked and you mentally groaned at your actions being noted.

“I left my wallet at home.” You lied easily.

“I can pay if you want.” Enid offered and you swear you saw the corner of Wednesday’s lips turn upward in what would be considered a sizeable smirk for the girl.

“Um no. It's alright. We probably wouldn’t have time to wait for another drink we probably need to head back to the bus soon anyway.” You said shrugging and enid decided to let it go.

Checking her phone for the time, Yoko announced that the group should head back to the bus. You had just made it a few blocks from the weathervane when you felt the saliva gather in your mouth and you knew you were about to be sick.

“Um i think i left my phone in the cafe. You guys go ahead I’ll be there in a minute.” You said and enid shrugged and agreed not wanting to get into uanessacry trouble. You knew the weathervane had bathrooms which would be much nicer than puking in a gutter. You slowly began making you way back trying to keep the feeling at bay. You looked back to see the group was almost out of sight. Feeling better now you knew you weren’t going to be caught. Of course, that meant you let your guard down. You slapped a hand over your mouth and darted into the alley between the shops knowing your time had finally run out.

Meanwhile Weems was tapping her foot, her arms crossed as she scanned the last group back to count for numbers. Almost immediately she noticed one missing. Doing a mental roll call for your group knowing it would be one of the troublemakers she realised with some surprise it was you missing and not Wednesday for once. The raven was standing with enid stony faced as ever as Weems surveyed the group.

“Your late.” The principal said.

“Correct.” Wednesday deadpanned.

“No cheek from you Ms Addams. Now, where is the rest of your group?” She asked growing frustrated.

“Y/n went back to get her phone she left it behind.” Enid said. “But she should have caught up with us by now.”

“Alright. I will go fetch Ms L/n and the rest of you are to get on the bus and stay there.” Weems said and the group filed onto the bus. She checked the watch and went to speak to coach Vlad and Ms Thornhill.

“Nobody leaves i have to fetch a straggler. Please stay with them.” Weems said.

“Alright.” Vlad said.

“No problem.” Thornhill agreed.

“I’ll be back in a minute the weathervane isn’t far.” The principal said as she walked off. She was stewing in her annoyance, usually you were a little bit of a troublemaker. The halfway between the bubbly werewolf and the gothic raven. You had a talent for trouble but a good heart and often had to talk Wednesday out of bad ideas which honestly impressed Weems a lot.

She stalked around the corner and caught sight of the nevermore uniform. She quickened her pace and turned into the ally.

“Ms L/n” she said sounding angry. “I asked all students to be back at 1pm.” She said and you simply turned from where you were lent against the wall taking deep breaths.

You hadn’t thrown up yet but you were very fast running out of time. And honestly you felt that you were too exhausted to care if the principal saw. Through her anger she had yet to realise your state.

You face was pale and your hands were shaking. Your curls stuck to your face with sweat and your eyes looked glazed over. Probably due to your fever.

“Do you honestly-“ the principal's speech was cut short as you turned, your forearm bracing yourself against the wall as you rested your head on it. Your body lurched and your stomach tensed. You opened your mouth and let out a choked sob as you were sick. You were shivering violently as you threw up. Blood rushed in your ears presently you from hearing the principals' stilettos click over to by your side. Your sick splashed onto the pavement of the alley and narrowly avoided your shoes. You felt a hand sweep the hair from your shoulders and be pinned up. Another warm hand rubbed circles on your back slowly.

“Sh shh shhh honey you're ok. It's alright. Get it out. Its ok. Your doing so well darling.” Weems said. Her hair was down as she had used the pins from her own hair to put yours up. You whimpered softly as you stopped the bout of sickness. Your body slumped and Weems was quick to catch you.

“Shh ok it’s alright darling.” She said and scooped you into her arms. You rested your head on her chest and let your eyes drift shut in a fevered daze.

“My goodness you feel warm sweetheart.” Weems said and you felt her carrying you somewhere. You heard a door open, and your body being set down. You were in sat across the principal lap. She had gone into the disabled bathrooms in the weathervane in case you were sick again. This was the stall was big enough for the both of you.

She pulled a phone from her pocket and pressed the number she had on speed dial, the tone trilled once before it picked up.

“Larissa is there a problem?” Ms Thornhill asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” She sighed. “Y/n is sick. Would you be able to take the other students back to nevermore and come back in my car to pick us up?”

“Of course. No problem.”

“Thank you so much Marilyn.” The principal said as she brushed a hand through your hair as you dozed feverishly in her lap your eyes closed trying to stop the light from hurting your head more.

“Where do you want me to pick you up from?”

“The weathervane please.”

“Ok I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

the two finished the short exchange and Weems hung up after hushed goodbyes as you had fallen into a light sleep.

Weems sat on the floor against the wall with you curled into her lap. As she waited, she checked your temperature with her hand on your cheek deciding you were far too hot but unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do for you right now. Sighing she turned to check the emails on her phone as you slept.

About twenty minutes later Weems phone rang.

“Hello?” She answered.

“Hi, I’m outside. Do you need help with her?”

“Yes please.” Weems sighed.

“Alright I’ll be right there.” She could hear a buckle being undone.

“We’re in the disabled bathrooms. She’s sleeping.”

“Interesting choice of place to sleep.” A door slammed shut.

“It was either that or risk her throwing up on something she shouldn’t.”

“She threw up?!” Marilyn exclaimed.

“Yes. In the alley.”

“Jesus, poor girl. Alright I’m here let me in.” Thornhill said and Weems gently maneuverer you into a better position. She held you against her hip like one might a toddler glad her height was working in her favour. You shifted slightly and continued to sleep with your head resting on her shoulder looking fevered and pale. Weems opened the door and Marilyn poorly suppressed her surprise at your state.

“Oh my god, she doesn’t look well at all.” The botanist said and she brought her hand to your cheek eyes widening at the fever she felt raging under your skin. “We better get her back to the school.” The teacher said and Weems nodded.

The two walked out of the cafe and Weems slid into the backseat and shifted you onto her lap. You stirred slightly.

“Would you mind driving?” Weems asked and Ms Thornhill shook her head.

“No problem. I brought a first aid kit just in case, hopefully there are some sick bags in there just in case.” She said and slid into the driver's seat.

weems rooted through the box and was happy to find two sick-bags. She set them on the seat beside you and felt you moving slightly as you started to wake up a bit. The principal gently stroked your cheek as you came around, using her hand to gauge your temperature which was decidedly far too hot. You blinked at opened your eyes slightly, squinting. You turned your face into her hand nuzzling her palm with your face. Your eyes were glassy and seemed to not really focus on anything around you. You whined softly and Larissa hushed you and moved her hand to brush softly through your sweaty curls.

“How is she doing back there?” Ms Thornhill asked, and the principal smiled down at you trying to quell her anxieties about you.

“I think she’s alright. She’s still too warm and far too pale for my liking.” Weems said.

“Do you think she’s going to be sick again?” the teacher asked glancing in the rear-view mirror to meet eyes with the principal.

Weems looked down at you from where you were now lightly dozing.

“What do you think darling?” She asked you, “do you feel like you're going to be sick again?” She asked and you opened your eyes slightly looking up at her and whining, the fever was raging on and making it hard for you to really understand what was going on.

“Is that a yes sweet girl?” She asked and you whined again.

“Do you feel sick honey?” Marilyn asked and you made a noise of agreement halfway between a whine and a hum of agreement.

Weems grabbed the sick bag from besides her and placed it in her lap next to you just in case. You dozed lightly for another few minutes while Weems studied you closely to try and mentally catalogue everything she would be doing when they got back to nevermore. She noticed the growing paleness on your face and gently stroked your cheek with the back of her hand.

“Darling? Are you going to be sick sweetheart?” She asked softly and you hummed a panicked yes.

“Sh shh shh its ok sweet girl. It's alright.” She said and guided the sick bag under your chin as you put your shaking hands over hers as she held it for you. You clutched onto her hand with one of your own the other fisting in her blazer's lapels, holding on for dear life.

You were still half lying down, and the principal was concerned you might aspirate if you did throw up, so she gently propped you up against her chest and arm. Your head was on her bicep as she had one arm around your shoulders. She continued to hush you and whisper words of reassurance as you tried to stabilise your breathing in the hopes of fighting off the increasing sick feeling.

“Darling, breath love. You're ok. Its ok.” She hushed and patted your arm with the hand around your shoulders. She felt your body lurch as you pitched forward in her arms and dry heaved. The principal adjusted the sick bag, so it was under your chin again. Marilyn was glancing in the mirror as she saw larissa looking at you with concern.

“Need me to pull over?” She asked.

“Noooo.” You whined wanting to get back asap to hide in your dorm, but you choked on the words as you finally began to throw up into the sick bag. To her merit Larissa didn’t even wince, she gently rubbed your arm, her other hand still holding the bag for you.

“Sh sh shh its ok Y/n. You're ok sweetheart. It's alright honey.” She said and glanced at Marilyn.

“Yes please.” The principal said. She felt you tug at her blazer as you protested still actively being sick.

“It's alright honey, we’re just gonna try and make you more comfortable sweetie. Just hang tight, you're doing so good for me love.” She consoled and Marilyn pulled over on the empty road back to nevermore.

You heard a door open and close as you felt another set of hands on you. The botanist was holding your hair back as she laid a hand against your face.

“She feels warmer than before.”

“Yes. I was worried about that.”

After a minute you coughed and stopped being sick. Both teachers waited with bated breath to see if you were going to be sick again.

“Are you done darling?” Weems asked and you nodded weakly and pushed the bag away from you with a grimace.

“Think so.” You said.

“What do you mean think sweetheart?” Marilyn asked with a frown.

“Not as bad.” You said. Still very out of it.

“Whats not as bad darling? You still feel sick?” The principal asked.

“Yes, but not as bad.” You repeated.

“Ok we can work with that. I’ll keep another bag here in case. Let me know if you need it hon.” She said.

You gave a half nod and settled back into the crook of her elbow. You closed your eyes and heard the car door open and close as car starts again. You went back to dozing lightly as the two adults talked quietly, shooting you worried glances.

“We need to get her changed and somewhere she can sleep and have someone keep an eye on her.” Marilyn said

“She can stay with me for a bit.” Larissa responded looking down at you with sad eyes.

“Need any help with that?” The botanist asked.

“If you’re sincere then yes please. If it’s not too much trouble.” The blonde responded.

“Anything you need Larissa.” She gave a kind smile and you drifted further into sleep.

After parking at the school Marilyn and Larissa carefully manoeuvred you out of the car and you were soon being carried by the English blonde into the school. You were still pale and quite warm as you continued to sleep in her arms, clearly exhausted from the sickness. The two teachers made it to Larissa’s office in record time and without issue.

Opening the door at the back of her office into her private quarters she gently set you down on the couch in the living room. You stirred but stay asleep.

“I’ll be right back; I’ll just grab everything she needs. Could you watch her for me please?” Weems asked and Marilyn agreed and sat opposite you studying the sweat beading on your forehead.

Your breathing was light as you slept, and the paleness was broken only by the flush on your cheeks.

After about ten minutes the principal returned with a host if things. She came over and knelt next to your head on the floor by the couch.

She placed a bucket down by the bed just in case and pulled out a thermometer. She gently stroked your cheek with the back of her hand and watched you come around slowly. Your eyes were glazed, and you still felt like a furnace was on below your skin. She gently pulled your lip down with her thumb and tucked the thermometer under your tongue. You lolled your head to the side to face her looking miserable and tired. Your eyes were drooping as you looked at the concerned teachers tiredly.

Weems lent down and pulled out a washcloth dipping it in the small bowl of water she had set down next to the bucket. Wringing it out she waited for the beep of the stick before she took it and placed the cloth on your forehead.

She hummed disapprovingly at the number.

“Bad?” Ms Thornhill asked and weems jumped forgetting she was there.

“Unfortunately, so. 102.8 is very dangerous for a child.” She said.

“Anything i can do?”

“Can you fetch her a glass of water from the kitchen, we need to get some medicine in her as soon as we can.”

“Consider it done.” Thornhill said with a nod, and she scurried off.

Weems gently stroked your cheek again and you groggily opened your eyes and hummed in confusion.

“Hello sweet girl.” Weems said, “how are we feeling now? Do you need anything?” She asked gently, still stroking your warm cheek with her hand as she looked into your glazed eyes. You gave a small whine still fever-addled and confused.

At that moment Thornhill returned and handed the principal the glass.

“Thank you.” She said and placed the glass to your lips and tilted it as you drank some.

“Small sips darling.” She said quietly and with her free hand grabbed a blister packet of fever reducers. She popped out the correct dosage and popped them in your mouth chasing it with the glass again.

You complied your shaking hands over hers as she held the glass for you. After you were done you pushed it away and weems complied, sitting it down on the table. Thornhill came over and crouched next to weems. You hummed as she came into your view. Reaching out a hand you patted her knee making her laugh.

“Hello darling.” Ms Thornhill said and took your hand in hers rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. You gave a tired hum and closed your eyes again letting your arm go slack. Weems carefully tucked it back by your side and brushed the hair from your eyes, taking the cloth and dipping it in the water again before wringing it out and placing it back on your forehead. She checked your temperature with her hand, satisfied it was going down some.

Gently she guided your sleepy form upright as you made a mumble of protest. Weems pulled out an old t-shirt of hers and some sleep shorts that looked to be the right size somehow. She guided your floppy arms out of the school blazer and frowned at the sight of your shirt.

“Whats the matter?” Thornhill asked looking concerned at how Weems had paused.

“She sweat through her shirt.” She said slowly.

“Good thing we’re changing her then.” Thornhill chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Weems said and began to unbutton your shirt. After your top half was left in a sports bra, she slipped the shirt over your head and guided your arms through the sleeves and gently laid you back against the pillows going down to your school skirt she slipped it off your hips and slid it down. You were wearing boxers which made Thornhill chuckle.

Weems slid the sleep shorts on-top you like one might a small toddler and you rolled over and snuggled into a pillow making both women smile.

Now you were changed and medicated, they decided to let you sleep for a bit, both teachers planning to stay in the vicinity until you were well enough to be on your own again. And so, they did. MASTERLIST

[specialagentlokitty]

Giles x teen!reader - the family you need

Part 1:

Looking up at school, you turned to the man in front of you, offering him a small smile, and he smiled back at you.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

You nodded your head, and you looked down at the tattoo of the sword on your arm, and pulled down the sleeve of your sweater.

“I have to Colt, I don’t want to be killed for something that isn’t my fault.. I’m tired of the games they’re playing, locking me away for every little thing I do wrong.”

“I know, but what if they find you (Y/N), you will be seen as a threat, they will kill you this time.”

You nodded.

“I know, that’s why I chose Sunnydale, I did my research, with the hellmouth, the slayer, vampires and demons of all sorts, they won’t think about here, they wouldn’t risk coming here. It’s not a fight for exorcists.”

“And if they can track you?”

“The hellmouth is way stronger than my power, it snuffs it out to any tracking demon or spell or incantation they could use. The only time they’ll find me is if I get out of control, if I loose control my power will be way too great, they’ll know straight away.”

He sighed, sitting on the steps and you walked over to sit next to him.

“I know, that still puts you at risk.”

“I know you’re going to erase this from your memory, I saw the sigil in your pocket. When you get back you’ll use it, to protect me.”

Colt chuckled, looking away.

“You’re a smart kid, you know that right?”

“Thanks…”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and he handed you a bag.

“In there you’ll find keys, more then enough money to get you by for a while, and anything else you may need.”

You nodded and set it at your feet.

“I’ve set up a reoccurring fund for you, every month you’ll have funds to get by. The apartment is paid off, it’s yours.”

“Thank you…”

Colt got up, and he crouched in front of you, giving you a warm smile.

“Do you want me to walk you in?”

“Please.”

He nodded, taking your bag for you and you pulled your beanie down a little more to his your slightly pointed ears.

Walking into the school you sat down on a chair outside the principals office while he went in.

A blond girl with came over, sitting a few chairs away from you and she glanced at you before turning away.

“You new?” She asked.

You looked at her, nodding your head and looked away.

“I’m Buffy, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I uh.. (Y/N)…” you mumbled.

The door opened and you looked up.

Colt walked over, kneeling down in front of you and he smiled gently, placing a hand over yours.

“You’re going to be okay…”

“Why can’t you stay too…”

Colt sighed.

“If I go missing they’ll know, they can track me no issue, I have to leave so you’re safe.”

“But you’re.. you’re like my brother.. please…”

He stood up, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sorry… be safe will you? And no trouble, got it? Remember what we practiced.”

You nodded and stood up, hugging him tightly.

Buffy looked at you and she turned away to give you some privacy.

You stepped away, and he handed you your schedule.

“I’m sorry.”

With that he left back the way he came from and you took your back, swinging it over your shoulder and you sat back down.

You wiped a stray tear, and you looked at the pendant he had given you with a fond smile, putting it around your neck.

Buffy got up and she walked over, sitting next to you.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah I.. that was my brother… he’s going away with the army…”

“I’m sorry…”

You gave her a small smile and looked at your schedule.

“Hey, you’ve got most of the same classes as me, do you want me to show you around? I’ve just got to do this one thing but that’s it.”

You nodded your head and sat waiting for her which thankfully didn’t take long, and as you were walking down the hallway the bell went.

“Oh, I guess that can wait. I need to go to the library if you want to come.”

“Okay…”

You quietly followed her, keeping your head down, and Buffy glanced at you.

“You’re not one for talking much are you?”

“I’m sorry..”

“Oh, oh no I’m sorry, not that it’s a uh.. a bad thing or anything.”

You glanced at her before looking away again, following her into the library.

You could sense that the hellmouth was there, as a half demon you had a sort of instinct for these kinds of things.

There was a lot of power in that one room you could tell, and it scared you slightly.

“You can sit down I just need to talk to Giles uh.. Mr Giles, the librarian.”

You nodded, and you sat down, looking around not really paying attention to anything.

You got bored of sitting down, and you got up, heading over to some shelves to look through the books that definitely shouldn’t be in a school library.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned around, making your way back down the stairs, only to stop when you saw Buffy with a man.

“This is Mr Giles, the librarian I mentioned.”

Giles smiled, holding out his hand and you went back up a step.

“Nice to meet me, Buddy told me you’re new is, is that correct?”

You nodded your head and he lowered his hand when he saw you weren’t going to shake it, and he took a step back.

“Well, if there is anything you need, any uh.. any books just let me know, I’m sure we can find them here.”

You nodded again, and he smiled, sitting down at the table and Buffy gestured to the door.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everybody.”

You quickly jogged to catch up to her and left the library as fast as you possibly could.

“You know Giles won’t hurt you right?”

You shrugged a little.

“Not a big fan of new people really…”

“That makes sense, maybe you don’t want to meet the others then?”

“It’s okay if there’s more people, I don’t mind.”

Buffy seemed a little confused but introduced you to her friends anyway.

You didn’t want to make friends, you were apprehensive about it for the most part, but it would help you fit in.

That’s what you needed, you need to be able to fit in.

So that’s what you did, you spent most of your time out them usually quietly sitting, and if they went to the library you would wonder off somewhere else.

“Maybe they’re scared of you.” Oz said.

“I.. I haven’t even done anything, I hardly said anything to (Y/N).”

Buffy shrugged, setting her book down.

“Come on Giles, it’s a new school, you can’t be offended every time somebody doesn’t like you.”

“Well pardon me for just wanting to keep the peace and ensure that everybody feels safe and well looked after.”

They all snickered a little.

“They are very quiet, maybe they’re just shy.” Willow offered up.

“Maybe, it would make sense.” Xander said.

“Right, as enlightening as this conversation is we need to focus on the matter at hand, demonstrating running around.” Giles said.

Everybody got back on track with what they were doing.

While they were trying to research the demons, you were out there fighting them, blood on your clothes, but a fire in your eyes.

Adjusting your grip on your sword, you swung it, blue flames lighting up the alleyway you were in, bright against the dark sky.

Then just as quickly as they came they went, and the demon was gone.

Grabbing the scabbard from your back, you put it away, and you looked to the tattoo on your arm, whispering an incantation to make it glow, and you returned the sword to its place.

It was a handy enchantment Colt had taught you, a way to hide your sword so nobody else could have it, and you always had it on hand when you needed it.

Looking around, you ran towards the wall and kicked off it, gripping the balcony behind you and you pulled yourself up, scaling a few of them before you left the scene.

Jumping from roof to roof you headed back to your own apartment, swinging yourself through the open window.

Heading to your kitchen, you filled the sink and pulled your shirt off, dropping it in, and then walked to the bedroom to put a new one on.

You didn’t have to worry about your wounds, they would be gone by the morning and it would be like nothing happened, all you had to do was clean your blood from your shirt.

Leaving it to soak, you walked to your fridge, pulling out an energy drink and you opened it, walking to the Tv to turn it on.

Your eyes drifted to your arms, you could see the scars as horrible reminders on your wrists, reminders of just what people thought you were.

A monster that should be chained away.

Sneering a little, you looked at the candle, focusing a little so you could light it and put it out.

As long as you were in control it didn’t matter, because nobody else was going to find out.

But you didn’t know that Buffy and the others were hunting these demons as well, and trying to figure out how they were just vanishing.

And didn’t know that you were the one killing then, it was like a dance to hide your other life from each other and everybody else.

Even as you had been at the school for nearly a month, you still didn’t know about one another, but you had grown used to having them around, and they had adopted you as part of your group.

So, when you walked up to the school in the morning they greeted you happily.

“They’re dragging everybody to the library, they want you to come.” Cordelia sighed.

You looked at her a little confused.

“Geek squad, they basically live there, you’re going to have to accept that one day.”

“Cordy!” Xander hissed.

You looked at them all.

“Why the library?”

“It’s just quiet in there.” Buffy smiled.

You nodded your head in understanding.

“It’s okay, I think I’m just going to go to class I’ll see you guys there.”

You walked past them and stopped.

“Oh, oh, before I forget, could you get me that math book you were talking about Willow? I think I might need it..”

Willow smiled brightly at you.

“Of course! I’ll bring it to class with me.”

“Thanks.”

With that you actually did leave, heading to your locker to search through you books, then you closed your locker.

Making your way to the classroom you walked in, taking your usual seat in the back as you waited in boredom.

This was the part of your life you didn’t like, it wasn’t as action packed as it was back at the academy, but this was safer for you at least