#normally my mom says that i’m just too young to get it but when i told her that she looked a little shocked

[the-travelling-witch]

How would Scaramouche behave with his children (possibly his son) :)

like a good dad :)

sorry, i already said it but children aren’t exactly my favourite topic and as a man in his early twenties (to me), scara just isn’t the ultimate dad; i tried my best to indulge the other asks but i don’t really want to turn this into a thing

[spitdrunken]

notes: temporary character death

You were a little kid, when you’d first met him. But so was he. It had been a time before time, when many things did not yet exist, and even more were simply incomprehensible. 

Other kids always talked about Bill and his ‘weird’ eye. You didn’t really get it. Your mom told you to be nice to Bill, but you didn’t really know him. When you asked the other kids why he or his eye was weird, none of them knew what to say. And if they did, they all gave a different answer. You guessed their parents just told them he was weird. Maybe you were weird, too, then. You never really knew what to say or how to approach anyone, and it’d only become a problem when your parents asked you if you had any friends. That was the moment you had realised that you didn’t. 

You didn’t really know why you picked Bill, back then. You didn’t care about him either way. But you did liked his shoes. They were big, a cool colour, and they were squeaky when he moved. What was there not to like? That morning, you had asked your dad what you should ask when you wanted to play together with someone. He had said that, after school, you should get someone’s parents’ permission if you want to play after school. 

“Bill’s mom, can Bill play?” You’d ask who you would later get to know as miss Scalene.

“I don’t know!” She responded, in that slow, sweet tone people who spend a lot of time around young children naturally begin to emulate. “I think you should Billy ask that.”

“Oh. I thought his name was Bill! I’m sorry.” You called out, swaying a little from side to side. 

“It’s Bill,” he’d said. His voice was higher than you had expected. “But mom calls me Billy.”

“Oh,” you started again. “Can I call you that too?” You asked. 

“…Mm.” Billy had hummed. “Okay. I guess.” Even when he’d said the affirmative, he hadn’t sounded entirely convinced. He was hesitant to appear from next to his mom. 

“So. Do you wanna play, Billy?” He glowed a little brighter. 

He was quiet for a moment. You think his mom squeezed his hand. “Sure. But what?” 

You didn’t really have much experience playing with other kids, either. But you weren’t about to tell your new friend Billy that! You’d offered to play hide and seek together, to which he’d agreed. After just a little bit of time together, talking and playing came a lot more easily. 

You would play hide and seek together quite a lot. That was the first time you really came face-to-face with Billy’s mischievous side. He had advantages over you that you simply could not imagine. With his eye, that could see ‘every’ which way, was always able to spot you long before you bumped into him. Yours were always just fixed in a single direction, bumping into other shapes was normal and expected. Billy never did that. He could suddenly appear behind you, and you had no idea how he did it. If you ever found him, it was because he could no longer contain his laughter, or because of the squeaking of his shoes. 

For a while, this went fine. But you grew sick of losing all the time. You’d eventually stopped, swayed violently from side to side (a sight of great displeasure amongst your two dimensional race) and cried big, fat tears. Your purple glow diminished to a flickering.

“It’s not fair!” You mumbled out, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “You always win, and I never, ever do. You’re cheating.”

“I’m not cheating!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, and you cried even harder. “It’s my eye,” he said and pointed at it. “It’s not my fault I can see things you can’t. I’m not cheating.” 

“…It’s still cheating if you’re not doing it on purpose,” you mumbled huffily. Not to mention, he had been way too happy beating you over and over and over again! You sniffle and loosen your arms. “Did you know people call your eye weird? Why is it like that?”

“Yes. Duh. I know people say that… And I dunno. Mom says it’ll be alright when I’m older.” You were too young to know to recognize or maneuverer around a touchy subject. “…Do you think it’s weird?”

“I don’t know yet,” you responded. “What else can you see? And do?” 

Billy told you about the stars. Whereas his parents had tolerated his talks about the stars, had found his enthusiasm for something they couldn’t see endearing and worrying in equal measure, you were fascinated by them. Perhaps exactly because you couldn’t see them, your interest had expanded. Bill and you would exchange drawings. He’d draw the stars for you, while you would show him what the world looked like to you, or other things. Sometimes, you drew the two of you together, too. 

Afterwards, the two of you had become inseparable. And, years later, when Billy’s parents had lost all hope in the possibility that his eye would change, when people started to fear him, you’d stuck by his side like glue. He had told you of his plan to show everyone the stars, and you’d practically vibrated with excitement. You had counted down the hours. 

And, like the rest of them, you had ended up smashed. Into. Pieces, scattered into nothing but the finest of dust, leaving behind a pile of static, writhing blood. Maybe, unlike the rest, you had felt a sliver of happiness when you died. Maybe you’d even gotten to see it. 

--

In another life, many, many, many years in the future, you had been a human. In this life, you were born with the same fascination for the stars, and granted the opportunity to study them to your heart’s content. Maybe the Axolotl had taken mercy on your soul, or something along those lines. You had a good life. A comfortable one. A life that was much, much happier than the one you had lived a trillion years ago. 

But you had a childhood imaginary friend. Perhaps a part of your traumatic past life had lodged itself so deeply in your soul that not even reincarnation had washed away all memories of it. You had a childhood imaginary friend named Billy, who was a floating little triangle with a big, glossy eye and cool shoes. As you grew older, he’d slipped from your mind, and the only remnant of his existence were some drawings you’d kept of him in a forgotten drawer in your room. 

When you had doodled him again once, many years later, the shape was in line enough with his current appearance to allow him a portal of view into your life. He hadn’t been able to explain what it was that drew himself to you. Why he started to infiltrate your dreams, merely to watch from a distance. The design of your mindscape, the big, starry expanse spanning out above it, had felt familiar to him. The desire to watch you go about your day and do the boring, mundane things that every meatbag does every single day. But when he finally decided to show himself in one of your dreams, it had all clicked into place.

“Billy!” You’d exclaimed happily. “Huh… I haven’t thought about you in forever. It’s been a really long time.” It was something in your eyes and the way you’d said it, that had jolted him back all that time. He’d almost forgotten about you. Forgotten your name, and what you’d looked like. Only vague memories of happiness had remained in contrast with the sight of your corpse. “But you look a bit different from what I remember. Well, a dream’s a dream, right?”

“Y…Yeah, well, ahahaha!” It wasn’t often that Bill was thrown off-balance, and it’d made him a little sick. His mind jumped between destroying you from the inside out then and there, and cradling you into a little pocket dimension he could fit in the palm of his hand for the rest of his eternity. “You’ve changed, too, kid. Like you said, a lot of time has passed. So! What are you up to now, huh?” 

Bill knew from the moment he set his eye upon you, that he’d have a soft spot for you. It was dangerous. You weren’t like those others, who he could grow amused with for a little bit, toy around with and, eventually, discard without a second thought. No. The two of you went waaaay back, and he’d already seen you die once before. 

Could he really let that happen again? 

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Daddy’s not bluffing, baby love”

A/N: you know you’re super dedicated when you find yourself at home ✨practicing✨ just so that the smut makes sense and is easy to visualize 👹 and just when I thought that Joel and baby love couldn’t get any nastier…😮‍💨 oh, and just in case anyone gets confused with the addition of Ellie, this is after she’s adopted (spoilers, but not really bc she’s Joel’s kid in every universe let’s be real)

~word count: 2.0k~

Summary: Ellie is away at Dina’s for the weekend leaving you and Joel with the house completely to yourselves

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, established relationship. reader and Joel are pornstars, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, big ole fat daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv, big dom energy from Joel, baby love is acting like brat, sexual punishment, spanking, degrading language but it’s hot, okay?, use of slut, brat, etc, semi-public sex, voyerism (Tommy), language, mentions of alcohol, Ellie exists in this universe!!, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Ellie was away for the weekend with Dina and her family leaving you and Joel with the house completely to yourselves…which was a rare occurrence these days.

You and Joel have since then moved the home studio back to the Miller-Co office. You aren’t doing much filming these days, anyway. This was a mutual decision, and this also gave Tommy the opportunity to show Joel that he could handle the business on his own come the day that you and Joel would eventually retire. But with Ellie gone for the weekend, you and Joel had the time to relax and that’s how you found yourselves spending the morning by the pool.

Joel was comfortably laying poolside, cheaters perched on his nose that was buried in the book he was reading that Ellie had recommended to him. Artemis was laying by his feet, bathing in the sun while you were lounging in the pool. You had discarded your bikini top to the pool's edge to avoid any tan lines while you were lounging on your stomach along one of the extremely comfortable, and extra durable inflatables.

Artemis had grown curious of the water as she watched you float by, and before Joel could stop her, she hopped down from the chair and trotted over to the pool's edge. She was an agile little thing, having no problem jumping right onto your bare back and curling up against your warm, sunbathed skin.

Joel shook his head, muttering under his breath as he reached for his phone so he could take a picture while you reached one hand behind your back to give her a few gentle pets.

He posted the photo to his instagram with the caption: my two sun babies 🌞💓

Ellie had texted the family group chat immediately when she saw the photo:

I hope you’re disinfecting the pool before I get home 🙄

Joel: shouldn’t you be off your phone and paying attention to Dina, kiddo? 🤔

Ellie: u text like an old man lol

Baby Love: lol. He does

Tommy: where was my invite?

Joel: I do not text like an old man 😡

-to Tommy: inappropriate

Ellie: do too 🤭

Tommy: inappropriate that I wanna come over and swim?? Get ur head out of the gutter lol

Joel: do not

Baby Love: you’re not gonna win this one, baby.

Ellie: see, even mom agrees!

Joel: there’s too many gals in this household 🙄

Ellie: yea, man! Ur outnumbered lol

Joel: don’t I know it

Tommy: I’m coming over

Joel: no you’re not

Baby Love: can you bring a case of Modelo’s?

Ellie: I don’t think Tommy knows what those are lol

Joel: how would you know what those are? 👀

Ellie: did I say something?

Tommy: why can’t u just be normal and drink Coors Lite lol

Joel: don’t start gaslighting me young lady

Baby Love: because unlike u, I have taste

Ellie: ooooh burn

Tommy: ouch 😓 I thought we were friends!

Joel: 😒

Ellie: I’m more of a Modelo gal myself

Joel: ELLIE

Baby Love: that’s my girl!

-to Tommy: we are friends 🩷 you just have shit taste in beer

Joel: where are u getting beer from

Ellie: that’s none of your beeswax

Joel: Ellie Miller, I will ground your ass so fast the second you get home

Baby Love: it was me. I’m the culprit

Tommy: I don’t forgive u

Ellie: don’t punish mom! She said I can drink as long as I’m safe 😇

Tommy: lol I’m not coming over, I changed my mind!

Baby Love: but my Modelos :(

Joel to Baby Love in a private chat:

“Who the fuck do you think you’re callin’ a pussy?!” He growled from the chair, completely sitting up now with his legs swung over the side just as you quickly tucked your phone underneath your left boob and looked over your shoulder at him with a faux innocent expression on your face.

“I am, pussy.”

“Wanna say that a third time?” He challenged you, standing up with his hands planted on his hips as he approached the edge of the pool. Even Artemis sensed the tension rise so she quickly hopped off your back as soon as the raft was close to the pool's ledge.

“Artie.” You frowned, “come back. Daddy’s only messing! He’s not actually gonna do anything!” You grabbed your phone from under your boob and carefully placed it on the pools ledge so it wouldn’t get wet, and just as you were about to push the raft back to the middle of the pool to float away, Joel hand crouched down and grabbed ahold of the corner of the raft, yanking you towards him.

“I said, wanna say that a third time?” He snipped.

Oh he’s mad now, alright.

You let out a huff, rolling over onto your back so your bare tits were on full display with your arms languidly crossed behind your head as you peered up at him through your sunglasses, smirk plastered on your pretty lips, “daddy’s a pussy and he’s not gonna do anything about it.” You chimed.

“Fuckin’ little brat.” He muttered as he pushed your raft away from the ledge before he dove in underneath it.

You quickly flipped over onto your stomach, pathetically attempting to paddle away just as he resurfaced with his face inches away from your dangling ankles. You let out a playful squeal when he nibbles on your calf as his big hands and broad arms easily slide up your thighs, thumbs looping through the flimsy strings that are barely holding your bikini bottoms together. Even in the deep end of the pool, Joel is standing, more like…looming over the raft and casting a dark shadow over your bare back.

“Don’t think ya heard me the first time, baby love.” He rasps, yanking your bikini bottoms down swiftly over your ass and thighs, “said that you had ‘bout five seconds to take these flimsy ass bikini bottoms off before I did it for you.” He tuts, grasping the outside of your thighs as he pulls you further down the length of the raft as if you’re just a measly rag doll. “And then what do ya do?” He asks, not needing a response.

“You call me a fuckin’ pussy.” He bends over, harshly biting at your left cheek, leaving visible indentations in your skin from his canines, “slutty little brat my girl is, hmm?” He teases, biting down on the right cheek as you let out a squeal.

He pulls back, marveling at his work before he brings the palm of his hand down against the meatiest part of your left cheek hard enough to send your back arching in surprise. He watches your plush skin recoil before he does it again, and then the same to the right cheek.

“I’m—I’m sorry, daddy! You aren’t a pussy! Not even close to being one!”

“You ain't sorry, baby love. Cus’ this is what you wanted all along, right? Wanted your daddy to come in here and teach his bratty little slut a lesson? Well, your wish is comin’ true!” He chuckles, using his thumbs to spread your cheeks apart before he spits a glob of saliva between them, watching it drool and drip between your ass and thighs. “Show me your fuckin’ pussy, baby love. Be a good girl now for daddy.”

“Yes, daddy.” You mewled, “you got me. It was my plan all along.” you suppress a giggle, lifting yourself up on your elbows as you spread your thighs apart, arching your back further so he had a clear and direct view of your pussy. “You gonna give my pussy a kiss daddy? I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t need to see your face to know that you’re pouting.

He scoffs, dropping his hands down from your ass to spread you open further. He intently watches the way your little hole pulses under his harsh stare, begging for any form of stimulation. “You think I’m gonna give your pussy a kiss, baby love? Think you deserve that?” He snickers, leaning in to drag his nose right through your slick folds, inhaling deeply before he pulls back, “think you oughta just take whatever daddy fuckin’ gives ya, sweet girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” You whimpered, dropping your head between your shoulders, “Daddy, please. I’m so sorry for calling you a pussy! I’ll—I’ll never do it again, I swear!”

“Hush up, baby love. Quit your whinin’ and take what daddy fuckin’ gives you.” He growled. It was a miracle that even with his added weight to the float, the damn thing didn’t pop from the pressure as he wasted no time to slip two of his thick fingers inside of your pussy till they were knuckle deep with his palm pressing flat between the apex of your thighs. You felt the weight of his chest and shoulders pressing into your back while his fingers shallowly thrusted inside of you at a merciless pace, scissoring you open with each thrust, creating ripples in the water below the raft.

O—oh—oh fuck! Fuck! Fuccck!” You cried out, lurching forward as his fingers pistoned inside of you, “daddy, please! Please! I’m sorry!” Your eyes rolled back in your skull when he crooks his fingers, curling them against the spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing spots of stars cloud your vision.

He’s leaned over you completely now in a possessive manner. His lips at your ear, teeth nipping and biting anywhere they can, “if you’re a good fuckin’ slut for daddy, maybe he’ll reward you with his cock, because you and I both know that’s what my girl wants is her daddy’s thick cock splittin’ her in fuckin’ half. Ain’t that right, baby love?”

“YES!” You yelled, voice strained and on the verge of cracking as you started to roll your hips back against his hand, meeting the harsh thrusts of his fingers just as the back gate opened—

“Hey! I brought the Modelos—OH FUCK!” Tommy yelled in surprise, nearly dropping the case of beer in his arms at the sight of you coming undone around Joel’s fingers.

“GOD DAMMIT, TOMMY! I FUCKIN’ SAID YOU COULDN’T COME OVER!” Joel snapped, thrusting his fingers faster as he briefly glanced over his shoulder at his brother, “can’t ya damn well see I’m a little busy punishin’ my girl for bein’ a fuckin’ brat?!”

You weakly waved in Tommy’s direction, before completely giving into the pleasure with a blissed out look plastered on your face, “pass me one of those when we’re done! I’m parched!”

“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ parched alright.” Joel growled against your ear.

“Some things never change, ain’t that right Artie?” Tommy snickered as he attempted to crouch down and pet her, but she hissed and swatted at his hand.

“TOMMY!” Joel snapped, using his freehand to push his swim trunks over his hips so that he could replace his fingers with his cock. “Make yourself useful and gimme one of those beers, would ya!” He spit into his palm as his cock sprang free and slapped up against his stomach. He gave the base of his cock a few quick pumps before he slipped his fingers out of you, your pussy made a wet squelching noise as he slowly fed you his cock, inch by inch, stretching you open till he was bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed against your ass. The float had deflated considerably, but man, it was a trooper.

Tommy walked over, beer in hand, doing his best to not smirk at the scene unfolding before him as he held the beer out in Joel’s direction. “What did she do this time?” He mused.

Joel snatched the beer from his hand, twisting the cap off with his teeth before he took a swig, bringing his freehand down against your ass.

“I called him—fuck.” You moaned deeply, lip harshly taken between your teeth when he stretched you open. God, did you love your man’s cock.

“She called me a fuckin’ pussy.” Joel snapped his hips forward with his hand acting as an anchor around your hip. He took another swig from the bottle, blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “now fuck yourself on daddy’s cock like the good little slut that you are, baby love.”

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[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 2) - toji f. x reader

previously titled: leave us

masterlist.

part one. | part three.

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, gun violence, harassment, physical violence, mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), teen pregnancy (reader and toji are both 18-19 range), mentions of abortion, mentioned that toji sold drugs, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, toji initially denies megumi is his, i aged up gojo, geto, and shoko so you can have some frens, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.7k

4 years later..

You pull Megumi’s hat over his ears to protect them from the cold and squeeze his body closer in your arms. “My mom can’t watch him today, she’s got a doctor's appointment. Shoko and Geto are working right now, too! I promise he won’t cause any trouble. He can sit in a booth while I’m working. Pleeeease, Nanami! You know he’s a good kid!” You beg your boss. He looks down at you and your son, contemplating which rules this would violate. 

It’s Gojo who comes to your defense.

“Come on Nanamiiii, I can help her keep an eye on him! You won’t have any problems, my Megumi is the sweetest little thing, aren’t you baby? Aren’t you?” He leans over to squeeze Megumi’s cheek until Megumi turns his head into your chest to escape Gojo’s teasing. 

Gojo had taken up working at the diner with you after he dropped out of college on account of, “My family has enough money for me to never have to work again. Why would I waste it in college when I can spend my youth working a minimum wage job for fun?”

You and Shoko had punched him in the face for that one. 

“Any disruptions to the customers and you’ll have to figure something else out, Y/N. This is a one time thing. Gojo, don’t let the kid be a distraction to you. You need to stop forgetting you have tables all the time.” You smile and give Gojo a victory high five. “Are you excited to spend the day with mama, Megumi?”

Megumi had turned four a couple of weeks ago. You two now lived in your own modest apartment. It was close to your mother’s house and your job. Usually your mother would keep Megumi for you during work hours, and when that wasn’t available Gojo, Geto, or Shoko would help you out. With all four contenders busy, there was no choice but for you to bring Megumi with you to work. Babysitters and daycare were out of the question on your salary of shitty tips. You could barely afford the apartment. The only way you could get furniture into it was on a loan from Gojo (which he refused to let you pay back). 

You, Nanami and Gojo walk into the back of the building through the kitchen to punch in. “Our little Megumi’s gonna be joining us today!” Gojo announces to the kitchen staff, mainly comprised of high school students and Hakari. You hear various coos as you walk Megumi through the kitchen. “Can you say ‘hi,’ baby?” You whisper to Megumi through his knitted hat. 

He pulls his face from the interior of your sweater and meekly waves to the staff, who all burst into bright smiles. There had been a few times your mother had brought Gumi to the diner to see you during hours, meaning the staff had not only heard of, but had seen Megumi around quite a bit. 

Megumi, unlike his father, was incredibly shy and quiet even for his young age. He was one of the best babies you could ever ask for. He cried of course, even had a nasty case of colic when he was little, but on average he cried far less than a normal kid. For a while you were concerned, bringing him to every doctor your insurance would allow to get second opinion after second opinion. Their conclusion? It’s just his personality. 

"It seems like he cried all his tears out during his first couple of weeks!" One doctor had joked. Yeah, so had you.

Every time you looked at Megumi, you saw Toji. Their resemblance was undeniable. Sometimes it felt as if he hadn’t inherited a single genetic trait from you. Some days, it made you more sad than others. You hadn’t seen any baby pictures of Toji, didn’t think his family even owned any, but if you had to guess, Megumi had to be the spitting image. You’d see old classmates you hadn’t talked to in years only for them to comment on how much they resembled each other. Not knowing about you and Toji's dramatic breakup.

You and Gojo punch in and take off your coats to hang them up on the rack. Yuki, one of your newer coworkers, bursts through the door with a few empty water glasses. “Agh, thank god you two are here!” She exclaims, setting them down by the sink. “I’ve got this table of guys that are driving me batshit. The kitchen guys don’t get it. I need a freakin’ break.” 

You giggle at her and take off Megumi’s hat from where you’re holding him on your hip. “I can take the next one!” You hang up Megumi’s hat next to your coat. “Just let me get him situated.” Yuki gasps and runs over to you. “Hi Megumi! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Yuki! Oh my god, Y/N he’s so freakin’ cute!” She exclaims. 

Gojo and Yuki get to talking shit about her table while you walk out onto the floor to choose a booth for Megumi to sit. You choose the one furthest from the door and closest to the kitchen and set him down on a side where you’ll be able to see him clearly for the majority of your shift. “Okay Gumi, I’m gonna be working but I’m gonna come over and check on you a lot too, okay?” You set your bag next to him and pull out a few toys and a coloring book. “I’ll get the kitchen guys to sneak you some food, okay?” He nods and grabs a blue crayon from his half empty box. “Okay, mama.” He replies in the sweetest voice you've ever heard.

You give him a kiss on his forehead and move a piece of his hair behind his ear before moving to the other side of the booth and adjusting your waist apron. “Y/N, you got table three.” Yuki announced. You looked behind you to see Gojo and Yuki approaching Megumi’s table. “Megumiiiii! What are you coloring?” Gojo slid into the seat next to Megumi and his toys. 

“How many?” You asked Yuki. “Just two.” She responded, “The one guy’s hot, maybe you could get laid tonight.” You scoffed. “First of all, don’t say shit like that on the floor when we have customers who may hear you.” You give her a pointed look, “secondly, you’re too young to be talking about intercourse. You’re like twelve.” You smile at her and turn around to go greet your table. 

“I’m literally 18!” Yuki exclaims as you walk away.

“Exactly the point!” Gojo responds for you.

You pull out your server book as you approach your table and click your pen. “Hi, I’m Y/N, welcome to-” when you look up, you freeze. 

First, you see Jinichi, Toji’s brother. When your eyes move over to the other side of the booth, you see him in the flesh for the first time in five years. 

He’s looking down at the table, so you can’t see his face, but from his build alone you can see he’s almost doubled in muscle mass since you last saw him. His hair is longer, bangs falling over his eyes, and he sports a black muscle tee to show off how much he has bulked up over the years. He's intentionally avoiding your gaze.

All the feelings you’ve felt over these five years, anger, rage, resentment, loss, pain, sadness. They all come rushing back at once. Five years of wondering what he was up to while you stayed up with Megumi as a newborn when he had colic and wouldn’t stop crying for almost a month straight. As you operated on auto pilot and almost cried when you saw him smile again. As you cared for him through his first flu, which you had eventually caught too. Rushing him to the hospital for a slight rise in temperature as your mother convinced you over the phone that everything would be okay and you sobbed hysterically. When Megumi took his first steps, when he said his first word. You always thought of Toji. 

How would he have reacted? You may not have trusted him, but you don’t think he’d be a particularly bad father if he were to put in the effort. Every time Megumi smiles, every time he frowns, it looks like Toji has walked right back into your life. When you two talked about kids, it was never very serious. You always talked about the idyllic. How many you’d have, what their names would be, if you’d move out to the countryside so they’d have space to play. You never discussed how you wanted to raise them, how you two would afford it, if Toji would stop dealing.

“Well, well, fucking well!” Jinichi starts. “This is just fucking hilarious!” You can see Toji tense up where his elbows rest on the table. Jinichi leaned back in his seat looking back and forth between you and Toji. “High school fucking sweethearts! Look at this shit, Toji, that's your girl right there! Hey Y/N-” Before Jinichi can finish his sentence, Toji bangs his hands on the table, making the condiment bottles rattle loudly, and bringing the entire restaurant's attention towards the three of you. Toji mumbles something under his breath that you can’t pick up. You’re still physically frozen in place.

Jinichi had always been an asshole. Toji didn’t like you to go over to his house for multiple reasons relating to his family, but one of the major ones was because of his brother. Jinichi always had a smart mouth. Liked to put dumb ideas in Toji’s head, one of which was the one that eventually got him shot and bleeding out on your bedsheets.

“Ahh, come on little brother. You’re so intense nowadays. We’re here for a good ol-”

“We’re here for fucking business, Jinichi. Shut the fuck up. We don’t want nothin’.” Toji says, finally addressing you without even looking your way. You feel someone grab onto your shoulder and quickly turn to see Gojo. He gently pulls you away from the table. 

“I- I didn’t-” you begin, before Gojo can even get you five feet from the table, Jinichi is back at it. “Hey, what the hell, don’t take my waitress! I ain’t ordered nothin’ yet! Hey Y/N, you look good by the way! Usually girls get ugly after they have babies!” 

It’s so sudden and quick that if you weren’t five steps away, you wouldn’t have seen it at all. Toji leans over the table, somehow calmly and aggressively at the same time, to grab his brother by the collar of his shirt. “That’s enough. Don’t make me fucking tell you again.” He says, his tone quiet and deadly. 

All you can think about is Megumi, where the fuck is Megumi? He’s your priority right now. Your head whips toward Megumi’s table, where you see Yuki with her hand on Megumi’s shoulder as he watches you intensely. 

“Fuck. Gumi.” You whisper to yourself. 

You pull away from Gojo’s grasp to race toward your son. “Mama..” he whispers as you reach him and pull him tightly into a hug. “It’s okay honey. Don’t worry about it.” You firmly grasp the back of his neck to ground yourself. This is exactly why you had said all those things you said to Toji all those years ago. You didn’t want your child growing up in an unstable environment. You didn’t want Toji’s issues to be a cause of stress for yourself or for Megumi. It'd be slightly different if these were two random guys in the diner. Sure, you'd shield Megumi if it got intense, but the fact that one was his father made the hair on the back of your neck stand up at the slightest movement.

“You look sad mama. Did the big men hurt you?” You laugh at his innocence. “No, baby. They didn’t hurt me.” They did hurt you. In a deep emotional way that you didn’t feel like explaining to a four year old right now. “Let's go honey, little kids shouldn’t see this.” 

“I’m a little kid, right?” He asks. “Yes, you are.”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear a booming voice come from the kitchen door and see Nanami walking towards Toji’s table. “Nothings going on!” Jinichi yells. “You know how the little brothers are, always got a goddamned inferiority complex goin’ on or somethin’!” Toji still has a grasp on his shirt as Jinichi is yelling at Nanami. 

“I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.” Nanami says calmly. “I ain’t fucking leaving. I came here for some fuckin’ service from my brother’s old-” Suddenly, Jinichi’s head is being slammed onto the table, and a collective gasp is aroused from the restauraunt. 

“Come, Gumi.” You pick him up in your arms. “Yuki, can you pack his stuff up for me please?” You ask as you contemplate your next move. “Of course, of course.” You can’t head to the front or kitchen door without Gumi potentially seeing more violence. You would have to rush past in the hopes that nothing else happens while you’re moving by. The kitchen door is closer from here, less potential for Megumi to see anything. 

“Ok, Gumi. Can you close your eyes for me real quick, baby?” You ask, rubbing his back. “Ok, mama.” You move Megumi so that his face is pressed to your chest and book it toward the kitchen door. You hear more commotion as you pass by, but will yourself not to turn around and check. Gojo and Yuki follow you in from behind with your bag. When you’re in the kitchen, you’re quick to set Megumi on the ground to grab his hat and secure it on his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I never would’ve given you that table if I knew.” She apologizes as she hands you your bag. You laugh. “It’s not your fault Yuki. By the way, remember what I said about no intercourse? You wanna implement that policy because of fuckers like him-” “Mama!” Megumi chastises. “Sorry, bad word.” Yuki lets out a relieved sigh.

“I didn’t even see them walk in, Y/N-” Gojo starts. “Oh my gosh guys, it's not a big deal! Seriously, I’m just worried about Gumi seeing anything.” Even as you say this, your hands shake as you attempt to zip up Megumi’s coat. Gojo gives you a knowing look and grabs your own coat off the rack for you. 

“I just, um, need a little break. I can’t afford to lose out on the money tonight.” You say, grabbing your coat from him and sliding it on. “I’ll cover you-” Gojo starts, but you interrupt. “I’m not taking money from your family, Gojo!” You pick up Megumi and hold him on your hip. “I’m not saying that. I’ll split the tips from tonight with you. My apology for not seeing them before.” 

“No, Gojo.”

Nanami walks in the kitchen door. “Take the day off,” he says to you before walking back to his office. “No, Nanami I’m ok I’ll just take him to my mom’s really quick-” 

“You’re too shaken up to do anything else today. I’ll schedule you more next week to make up for it.” Nanami supplies. “Thank you.” You say, silently relieved. Was your distress seriously that obvious? You would have to tone it down in front of Gumi.

“Wooow Nanami you’re such a good manager-” 

“Can it Gojo, you’re gonna have to pick up the slack tonight.”

You’re already making your way out the back of the building when Gojo responds with a whine.

“Hey what the hells going on out there?” Hakari asks as you walk by. “Some bullshit.” You respond. “Mama!”

You weren’t even in the building for thirty minutes today, but it feels thirty degrees cooler when you walk out. The trek to the bus stop is gonna suck. 

It's a ten minute walk from the diner to the bus stop. You cling onto Megumi for warmth, making sure he's buried not only in his own coat, but in yours. When you get to the bus stop, you realize it’s gonna be another fifteen minutes before the bus comes. Megumi isn’t one to complain, but you can feel him shivering under you. “Just a little longer baby.” You soothe him, rapidly rubbing his back and arms in an attempt to warm him. 

It must be some sick joke for an old pickup truck to pull right in front of the bus stop and roll its window down. 

“Do you need a ride?” Toji asks.

You've gotta be fucking kidding.

part two is up! thanks so much for all the love on the first on! 70 notes is crazy!

pls send requests or questions to me! and also let me know if i missed anything in the tags!

thank you guys !!!

(i'll make a masterlist maybe when pt 3 goes up but im too lazy rnnnnnn)

[togrowoldinv]

First Date

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

You pick Wanda up at her home for a date and learn a lot about the woman by the time she goes back inside that night

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, mommy kink (oops), thigh riding, oral (R receiving), Wanda’s first time with a woman

Note: Milf!Wanda, am I right? Y’all enjoy this one!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You take a deep breath and knock on Wanda’s front door. You fiddle with the flowers you bought her as you anxiously await for her to open the door.

The woman had agreed to go out with you after you met her in the coffee shop you work at. You weren’t usually one to ask customers out, but you felt drawn to her in some way. And she seemed to have felt it too.

The door opens and there’s a young child standing there.

“Hi,” he says to you. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m y/n. Is this Wanda’s house or?” You are asking the question when the woman finally makes her appearance.

“Tommy! What did I tell you about opening her door?” Wanda scolds him lightly.

“Not to do it,” the little boy says, his eyes avoid Wanda’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Mom. That’s not a piece of information you knew about the woman.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. Try to remember, okay?”

“I will!” The boy promises. Wanda kisses his head and he runs off inside the house.

Wanda finally can turn her attention to you.

“Hi y/n,” she says. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” you reply. “These are for you.”

You hand her the flowers and she holds them to her heart in awe.

“Come on in and I’ll put these in a vase before we go,” Wanda says.

“I’m assuming that’s your son?” You make small talk as you follow her inside.

“Oh, yes. That’s Tommy. He’s my rambunctious one. Billy is much more calm.”

“Right. Okay, so two kids then?”

“Yes. Twin boys. Is that a dealbreaker?” Wanda asks, her voice only half indicating she might be joking.

“Of course not. I love kids,” you say. She breathes a sigh of relief. “Plus, that means I’m dating a total milf.”

Wanda laughs so hard at that comment that she can barely breathe. You smile at how beautiful she is even when she’s cackling.

“I needed that laugh,” Wanda says as she finally gets her breathing back to normal. “I just need to tell the boys goodbye and I’ll be back, okay?”

“Perfect,” you say.

You give the woman the space to go and tell her sons goodbye. You can’t hear much through the walls but you hear a chorus of I love yous as Wanda leaves the hall and finds you again.

She follows you to your car and you open the door for her. The car ride goes quickly and you’re at the restaurant and seated in record time.

The talk between you and Wanda flows easily and it’s like you’ve known each other for a long time. Dinner is a delight and on any normal date you’d want to take her home that night, but you don’t want to rush things.

Still, you park back in Wanda’s driveway and neither one of you necessarily want this night to end.

“Wanda, I had an amazing time tonight,” you say. You look over at her in the passenger seat. She’s absolutely glowing in the moonlight.

“Me too, y/n.”

Wanda leans in just a few inches closer to you, but she stops.

“You’re going to have to kiss me because I’m too scared to kiss you,” she admits, her eyes gazing into yours.

“You don’t need to be scared, baby. How long has it been?” You ask. She knows what you mean.

“Far too long.”

“Let’s fix that.”

You take Wanda’s face into your hands and kiss her. You put everything you have into the kiss and Wanda melts into a puddle from the feeling. Your hands and your lips and your tongue make Wanda feel like a brand new woman.

“Is it always that good?” She asks once you break for air.

“No ma’am it is not,” you reply.

“I really want you,” Wanda says. She gasps at her own bluntness. “Sorry, I just- that was amazing, but I don’t expect anything else.”

“Wanda, I really like you,” you assure her. “If you want me right now, you can have me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Come here,” you say, moving your seat back and tapping on your lap.

Wanda moves to your lap and her skirt slips further up her legs. Creamy thighs reveal themselves to you.

“Wanda, you’re so beautiful,” you tell her. You run a hand through her hair and she shivers. Pulling her down for a kiss, you’re sure to let your other hand wander over her.

It slips under her shirt and up her abdomen to her chest. Wanda moans into the kiss when you fondle her breast under her shirt.

She pulls away and lets you pull her shirt over her head. You go for her neck this time, kissing and leaving bites that make her let out delicious sounds.

You notice the woman is desperate to relieve the feeling between her legs.

“Wanda, baby, ride my thigh,” you instruct her.

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Definitely. Let me help,” you say.

You pull her skirt further up her hips to reveal her lacy underwear. You slip your fingers across the wet material and pull them to the side.

Wanda gasps at the sensation of her naked pussy rubbing against your pants for the first time. Once she gets a rhythm, she feels better than she has in years.

“I love seeing you like this, Wanda,” you encourage her. “You’re doing so well.”

“Fuck,” Wanda moans. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah I know it does, mommy,” the word slips out, but the way Wanda has to grip your shirt harder to keep herself from falling over with pleasure tells you that it’s okay. Even that she likes it.

“I’m going to come,” Wanda says, her words mixing with moans of pleasure.

“Come for me, Mommy,” you say.

Wanda comes hard against your thigh. Her legs shake as she leans against you.

“Fuck that was so good,” Wanda says. She grabs your face and kisses you passionately. It almost feels like a thank you kiss.

Wanda smiles at you when she pulls away. You swear you’ve never seen such a beautiful woman.

“Can I- do you need to-“ Wanda stumbles over the words.

“Only if you want to,” you say to her. “I’m more than happy to just please you.”

“No. No, I just haven’t- with a woman before,” Wanda admits.

“Oh, well you just did pretty damn amazing. You’ve got this,” you say.

Wanda chuckles and she situates herself on her knees in front of you.

“May I?” She asks, gesturing to your pants.

“Please,” you say.

Her deft fingers work to pull your pants down your legs with your underwear as well. Wanda hesitates, so you guide her to your center. She licks through your folds slowly, but once she gets comfortable she picks up the pace.

“Just like that Wanda, fuck,” you say as she keeps going. She gets the hang of what makes you feel good quickly.

When she uses her thumb to brush against your clit while her mouth is still at work, you grip her hair tight.

“Are you going to come for Mommy?” Wanda pulls her mouth away just enough to speak.

“Yes ma’am,” you reply.

She grins devilishly and puts her mouth on you again. She’s successful in just a few more minutes.

You ride out your high and Wanda climbs back up into your lap.

“Thank you for tonight,” Wanda says. “I haven’t felt this good in- well maybe ever.”

You kiss her lips softly. A reminder that you really like her.

“I feel good too, babe. Can I see you again?”

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She asks.

“Tomorrow night sounds perfect.”

Wanda moves back to the passenger seat and you two get dressed again. With one more goodnight kiss Wanda goes inside her house, and you drive home with a smile on your face.

Best first date ever.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I told my mom she loves a cat more than her own children.

I do feel like an asshole for this. I’m 17f and I have a younger sister 15F. My parents are married and for the most part good. When have a 12 year old cat that my mom just adores.

This part is all speculation, but when I very young like I was 5 or something my mom had an event that changed a lot. She stayed with her parents and would visits us. My grandparents would help out and no one really ever explained what happened to her but she lived there for like a year, she did move back in with us. My dad got her a cat to cope while she was away. The speculation is she had really bad post partum depression and had a break down. The reason I believe this/and this is my own theory, was when I was struggling mentally, my mom encouraged me to go to a therapist and they asked family history and she said she had struggled with depression/episodes and had tried medication but never stayed on. She just said when she was younger she had a hard time regulating emotions, and she wants me to worry about me and my own emotions. The post patrum comes from the fact that I asked my dad why did you two have kids and he admitted he wanted kids and my mom was more on the fence. I also find it weird she gets really nervous around Mother’s Day and will often try to not celebrate. (She always says she could be a better mom)

My mom is a good mom don’t get me wrong. She’s always encouraged my sister and I to try and do our hobbies. She’ll drive us where we gotta go. I know she works overtime when she wants to make sure we can do stuff for the family. It’s just sometimes, she seems more like a distant mom. She’ll listen to us, do anything asked, but idk how to put it into words.

But she really loves this cat. And I do love our cat too, but this cat and my mom are bonded. The second my mom comes home and the cat greets her and my mom picks her up and kisses her. She calls the cat her pretty princess and a hundred other nicknames. She calls me my dad and sister honey, bunny, and sunny. I know the cat actually makes my mom happy. Her eyes light up when she sees the cat. I know she looks forward to coming home to the cat. When we go on vacations she’ll miss the cat, or if she goes on a work trip she’ll always ask for pictures of the cat or ask to see the cat on FaceTime. She throws a small birthday party for the cat every year and makes a cake. For our birthdays she’ll ask what we want and sometimes she resorts to store bought desserts.

So this is where it gets bad. Our cat is now sick and probably has a year left to live. The vet told my mom she’s a good cat owner and has always done right for her, but with her age, treatment isn’t really the route because it’s not gonna prevent death, so just focus on making the cat happy and comfortable (this vet appointment was her 6 month check up.) My mom hasn’t been doing well mentally. She’s always struggled with mental health. She just seems to have a shakey mind at times if that makes sense. She very much before would hide her struggles, but we knew she’d have them. Before she would like stand still just gripping the counter with one hand. Now my mom is definetly depressed. She will come home be greeted by the cat, and go to her room and cry with the cat. She’s been just not happy.

My sister and I kinda decided to see if telling her we got good grades would cheer her up, and she’ll say good job and will sometimes offer to cook something or get something for us, but her eyes are just like very tired. (There is also an app she can use to check out grades but she never once used it and will just take our word face value) We’ve talked to my dad about this and he basically said that our mom has always loved animals (she use to work with her grandpa at a pet store he owned, but apparently her grandpa wasn’t a good person to most people in the family except her, so that was hard on her). I asked my dad what he thinks and says it’s normal for someone to be sad about this and that he’s gonna work hard or make sure we get all our needs handled. Which is nice, but I kinda wish it was my mom. I don’t feel dire need of anything, I’m just annoyed/jealous a cat can destroy my mom mentally.

My mom has gone over load for the cat. She cooks for her, makes her dinner buys the best food and mixes then. She often cries while cooking, and asks the cat if she likes the food.The cat doesn’t even know what’s happening.

I was looking at prom dresses online and asked my mom to look with me and she was just out of it. She would just say she’d like one or she’s not a fan but don’t let that discourage me. She’s just kinda lifeless. I try talking to her about it and she’ll aplogize and says she’ll get better. (It’s been like a week)

It boiled over when my mom’s sisters came over. (She’s the youngest. One sister has kids and one doesn’t) My mom tried to be happy and perky but ended up crying about the cat. Her sisters kinda said that she’s gotta be strong for her family and my mom just cried saying everything’s gonna be so much harder without the cat. I wasn’t in the room, they were in the basement, and there’s a vent where you can hear everything down there. My sister and I do easedrop to see what they say (her sisters are loud but we can never hear what my mom is saying without the vent. Normally we do it because my mom is a more different interesting person and again we don’t know our mom well. Away from us she kinda puts down the facade and actually talks). I was just angry. Her life isn’t hard. We’re middle class, if she wants to go to therepy she can afford it. We all deal with grief and loss. Yes I’m gonna be sad when our cat passes, but she is an older cat. I don’t imagine my life becoming “harder” other than my mom being depressed, but she is an adult who will heal from this.

After her sisters left and she was doing her night routine, I asked her if she loves the cat more than my sister and I. She said that’s not true and if she could do something more for my sister and I please name it. I told her that that’s the problem is that she does stuff for the cat without thinking, but for us it’s all asking us and she’s the adult she should know. She’s said she’s not a mind reader and she’s gonna rely on the information I give her to help me out where she can. I went to my room because ovbiosuly that conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I feel like my mom understands a cat more than her own daughter.

My dad came in a little while after and we talked. He assured me my mom loves me and this cat has been like an emotional support animal through the years. He mentioned my one friend who has an emotional support dog and compared them and told me that the cat has helped my mom emotionally with emotional regulation and just helps her steady herself. I asked if we were enough, or if my mom regrets having a family and she would just be happier if she just left us for the cat and lived by herself. My dad told me she loves all of us, but depression can be hard to navigate. I asked him about how he wanted us more than our mom and he just said that he was more excited, but my mom wouldn’t have had us unless she wanted us (which I don’t think is totally true.)

I went into my parents room and my mom was there with the cat. Again going to the cat for comfort. I told her I was sorry for saying she loved the cat more than us and she apologized for how her treatment towards the cat can seem that way and if I ever need anything please ask. It made me mad because she again is relying on me to know what’s wrong/ or ask, instead of her just idk taking initiative. I didn’t say that.

I get people can be mentally ill, but she’s also my mom. I do feel bad about telling my mom she loves a cat more than me, but I also don’t feel too reassured.

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.4k

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

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend {You Are Here}

Part 3: Blue Handprints

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pout grew instantly, “I am careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had unruly hair and sunburnt cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

“I’ve started TAing.”

Allison gives you a strange look, “What?”

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

“Who will you TA for?”

You hold back a grimace, “Coach Finstock.”

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

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

“What, like a waterboy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just happy to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

You return your eyes to Scott and furrow your brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, trouble,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You may leave, Miss. Westbrook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even some of the time?”

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

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

He liked you.

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

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

Is that why you wanted to keep it a secret?

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

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

~~~

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

But there was still that garden trellis outside your window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean into him, “I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “You’re right.”

“And if you faint again?”

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

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

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

“Why 90 seconds?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

“My dad!”

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

“What about Scott and Allison?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Scott even bowl?”

He snorts, “Never.”

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

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

“Stiles?”

He slips on the roof tiles, “Yep!”

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but you don’t know if…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, I’m watching Atlantis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Parsley?”

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

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

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

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

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

You lean closer, intrigued, “Sweet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the appeal is?”

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

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

“Oh, it feels real though.”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Like…?”

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

Scott and Stiles spoke at the same time:

“I’m Allison’s lacrosse boyfriend?”

“You’re getting a lacrosse boyfriend?”

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

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

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

“No,” Scott mumbles, “She’s scary.”

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

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

“WESTBROOK!”

You close your eyes, “Yes, Coach!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, (Y/N). See you in gym.”

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

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

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

“Hanging in there?”

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

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

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

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

“Josh Arnett,” he says.

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

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

And you just said, ‘hi there.’

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we have our winner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a big movie date tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because of our argument?”

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

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

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

 ~~~

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

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

It did not feel good to be stood up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meaning it’s just us three tonight?”

Jackson sighs begrudgingly, “Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

Lydia was quick with her reply, “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cross your arms, “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

“Did they forget my curly fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unit One, do you copy?”

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

“Got a report of a possible 187.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan, “60% chance.”

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

“What do you hear?”

You hum, “Sirens. People. You.”

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

“Rubbing alcohol. And you.”

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

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

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

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

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

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

“Okay, bad question.”

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine.”

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

You sniff, “I’m tired.”

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

“I’m not going to sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think about Molly Weasley?

I have a lot of thoughts about Molly Weasley. I think she’s a fantastic character,  just not in the way that JKR intended. 

I think the intention was to make Molly kind of a mama bear. Fiercely loving, fiercely protective, hot tempered… but you know. In a cute way. In a warm way. I do think that Movie!Molly threads this needle. (I also think that her bear-ears hairstyle is perhaps intentional.) 

Movie!Molly gets her big duel with Bellatrix, she gets (reasonably) annoyed at the boys for stealing the car. Her only spicy moment is the Howler… which is softened and made more comedic by 1) including a nice message for Ginny at the end 2) including a tongue-sticking-out moment, which turns the whole thing into more of a joke on Molly. Now it’s your mom being kind of weird and embarrassing… versus her public shaming you, toxic tik-tok mom style. The Howler is much worse in the book: “​​I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS.”

So let’s talk Book!Molly, because there’s a lot there. She’s a Prewett, growing up in a more *typical* pure blood family as opposed to being a “blood traitor” Weasley. (Cedrella Black was disowned for marrying a Weasley, Lucretia Black married a Prewett no problem.)  Molly also married Arthur really young, and really quickly. It’s even lightly implied they married too quickly - 

“I just think [Bill and Fleur] have hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”  “They’ve known each other a year,” said Ron (...)   “Well, that’s not very long! I know why it’s happened, of course. It’s all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center —”  “Including you and Dad,” said Ginny slyly.  “Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley.

There’s some psychological truth to that. (Also, Molly and Arthur were 100% hooking up while at Hogwarts:)

“[The Fat Lady] was here in my time,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning —”  “What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?” said Bill, surveying his mother with amazement. Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling.  “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said.

And the timeline’s too fuzzy to know for sure…  but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Molly getting pregnant with Bill was one of the reasons she and Arthur got married so fast. 

It’s hard to say, because you never get a great sense of their relationship, but I’m actually not sure how compatible the two of them are, or if they would have gotten married at all if it hadn't been for the war and all these external factors. There is an ongoing conflict between them: Arthur is a political radical who seems to enjoy upsetting the Malfoys - he’s not playing nice, he doesn't have a prestigious job, he’s not getting a promotion anytime soon, and he’s fine with this. His interest in muggles is fringe counterculture stuff, and his hobby is illegal. And Molly… is pretty establishment. She wants her sons to be Head Boys and Prefects, and then she wants them to get jobs at the Ministry:

“Mum went mad at [Fred and George after finding their prank candy.] Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. . . . She’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.” “And then there was this big row,” Ginny said, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.”

Like we hear about this interaction secondhand, which softens the emotion, but I’m sorry? Molly burned their order forms? She wants them to do jobs they very clearly have no aptitude for, instead of being entrepreneurs? Arthur sides with the twins, and of course he does. They’re anarchists just like he is. But it *really* bothers Molly, and this conflict just keeps coming up. 

[sidenote. You cannot tell that Arthur Weasley, once he was in his late 20s/early 30s, once he had grown into himself a bit. Tell me that this man didn’t once think “you know, I really should have married a Muggle. That would’ve been perfect.”’]

But back to Molly Weasley, nee Prewett. She wants a big family, and there is no way this doesn't have something to do with the fact that both her brothers were just brutally killed. She’s trying to distract herself, fill some void, find some meaning. The fact that it doesn’t work (because how could it, she’s got just buckets of unprocessed trauma) is maybe why she is so set on having a girl. Maybe a little baby girl is what she needs. 

In the main timeline of the book, Molly 100% needs enrichment. She needs to start breeding alpacas or join a book club or get a job. (Job could be cool, especially since she has no kids at home and money is an issue.) Like come on, Molly is intense, Type A, and powerful. Possibly one of the best duelists in the entire series. She takes out Voldemort’s number two, and Bellatrix has already defeated Sirius - incredibly talented and powerful in his own right. I do think that the reason JKR made this choice (instead of letting Neville have a confrontation with Bellatrix, which would have been more narratively straightforward) is because (whether consciously or unconsciously) she doesn’t like the idea of one of her good-guy GUY characters hurting a woman. So Molly defeats Bellatrix with magic mom powers, which is the same reason Narcissia can lie to Voldemort’s face I guess.

What Molly definitely does NOT need to be doing is obsessing about her kids' significant others. Like take Fleur. (Who I think we as readers were meant to dislike more than we actually did?)  Fleur is great. So when Molly has a problem with her… then starts trying to matchmake Bill with Tonks… until Tonks (another fan favorite) also starts annoying her… it makes Molly looks really unreasonable. Also, let Bill have his long hair and earring. 

She gets weird about Hermione in Book 4, after she believes Rita Skeeter’s write-up that she's some sort of temptress playing Harry and Krum off each other. Instead of, idk, asking Harry (who she thinks of as a surrogate son) she sends Hermione a passive-agressive comically undersized chocolate egg. Harry and Ron get huge ones. That’s not cute, or funny.

Also, Percy and Penelope Clearwater. I know the real-world reason Percy hides his relationship in Book 2 is so he can be a red herring acting all suspicious… but in universe, I guess Percy just wants to date someone without his mom being weird about it? Like Penelope Clearwater is nice and normal and fine. Why is he hiding this relationship?

Then there’s Molly the disciplinarian, which we mostly see in the context of Fred and George (although there is also Ron being public-shamed by the Howler.) She is constantly giving the twins a hard time about their life choices, their jokes. Ron says “I remember Mum walloping Fred with her broomstick." Then yeah, she burns their order forms. She does feel bad about this later, and after the whole thing at the Quidditch World Cup hugs them and says, “What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough O.W.L.s?” It’s meant to be a sweet moment, but this would annoy me just a little. It’s a little like saying, “I’m glad I don’t have to think of myself as being a bad mother.” 

I also want to point out Molly's pretty clear favoritism. Fred and George are the problem children, Ginny is the baby (although we almost never see her and her mother interact, so it’s actually very hard to say what their relationship is like), and Percy is the golden child. We see how this sort of sets him apart from all his siblings, how he's described as pompous and full of himself, but also how he’s secretive and hides things from his family. It’s kind of precarious being the golden child, and when he finally does stop pleasing his mother he falls hard. (Although I will always be a big believer in Daddy Issues!Percy. That has to be why he commits that hard to Barty Crouch Sr that fast, and then ignores that many red flags.) 

And of course Ron is the invisible child. Almost the first thing we hear him say is, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.” I’ll let that one slide. Molly’s got five kids at home, she made corn beef sandwiches, not everyone is going to be equally happy. But Ron’s clothes.  Molly makes her own clothes, she's defined by her facility with household magic. She knits Ron sweaters... but at least two of them are maroon despite the fact that Ron hates maroon. His room is  plastered top to bottom in bright orange Chudley Cannons merch. She couldn’t make him an orange sweater? There’s also the issue with the dress robes. Ron clearly doesn’t like them (“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress.”) But he is the one who cuts off the lace trim later, and he doesn’t do an amazing job. I know that it's a joke, but like. That sounds like a job for Molly.

We do get Horcrux!Hermione telling Ron that he is the “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter,” so this idea of Molly picking favorites is *kind of* in the text. But Horcrux!Hermione is wrong about Harry/Hermione being a thing, so maybe we’re meant to read this as Ron’s baseless anxiety? It doesn’t feel like that though. What it actually feels like is an unresolved plot thread. 

So here’s my take on Molly Weasley. This is someone who is pretty high-powered, who suffered a period of emotional upheaval, then got married and started having kids because she kind of thought that was what you do - and it wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it would be. I think a lot of her comments come off as *meaner* than JKR intended, because let’s face it - JKR has a kind of mean sense of humor. And if I want to speculate further… I think there are quite a few parallels between Molly Weasley and JKR. I don't think she put them there consciously.

[unfinishedslurs]

RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

[explosionkatsu]

“Age doesn’t matter.” 1

Dad!Bakugou x FBabysitter!Sensei!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

The day that Katsuki married her, most of his friends kept advising him it was not a good idea, she was a walking red flag, and she only loves him for his wealth since being the second-ranked hero he is and holding his own agency, money isn't a problem to him.

Until he got her pregnant. After giving birth to his son, recuperating, and finally moving on her own again, she left him without any notice, not any letter. He just got home and frantically made his way to his wailing child in his crib. Katsuki immediately picked him up and made his way to the kitchen preparing his child a bottle for his formulated milk. As soon as he felt the milk was lukewarm, he tap the nipple of the bottle on his child’s lips and saw how his son starts sucking it.

That made Katsuki leave work for a month until he was able to ask for help. With the help of Mitsuki and Masaru, they took care of their grandchild in daylight, and when Katsuki got off from work, he would pick up his child and take care of him by the night. Even though his mom insisted to take care of her grandchild full-time, Katsuki declined and said that he wanted to take care of his own blood as much as he can.

Years passed and his now 7 years old son adores him very much. He saw how his father beat up the villain and save people. It makes him want to be a hero like him. Every time Katsuki would come and pick him up from his grandparents, he would reenact the moves Katsuki did making Katsuki smirk.

“Alright brat. Stop with that and pick up your stuff. Let's head in.” Katsuki said parking his car in his garage as he opens the door for his son to get off.

“You look so cool! And you went kick! And then bam!” the kid said as he went and pick up his things from the back seat.

“I know I am. Now let's go inside.” Katsuki said locking the car door and going inside their home.

Once they both settled, Katsuki changed from his work clothing to his normal clothing and starts preparing their dinner. “Oi. Don't forget to work on your assignment!” he yelled, receiving awe in response that made him chuckle.

Katsuki watched his son drag down his school bag making his way to the living room where the center table is.

“I heard from your teacher you’re doing well,” Katsuki said as he chopped the ingredients.

“I need to be good so that I can be strong like you!” his son said making Katsuki smirk.

“You think I’m strong?” Katsuki looked at his son who was working on his homework by himself.

“Mhm!!”

Katsuki took his time watching his son count his fingers before saying aha as if finding out the answer. When Katsuki continued his chopping, little did he know his son suddenly went quiet and stopped writing. He stared blankly at his unfinished homework before speaking up.

“Dad,” he called out softly.

“What?” Katsuki replied thinking that he might need his assistance with his homework.

“Why don't I have a mom?”

His question made him halt his chopping. He knows the answer to his question and yet he was hesitating to say it. He's too young to know that his mom suddenly left them when he was still a baby.

“I saw my classmates being picked up my their mom.” His son added.

“I could pick you up after school.” Katsuki glancing at him.

“I hate being left alone at school when Grandma can't pick me up.. Sometimes, Ms. Y/n would take me out with her and eat in a cafe.”

This he didn't know. “What?”

“Sometimes grandma and grandpa can't pick me up because they have a lot of clothes to make so I'm always left alone at school with Ms. Y/n”

Why doesn’t his mom tell him this?

“How long do you usually wait for them to pick you up?” Katsuki was pissed.

“It gets dark outside. Ms. Y/n would take me to her home and would cook for me! She's a great cook, dad!”

Katsuki will make sure he’ll discuss this with his parents.

“Sometimes, Ms. Y/n is like a momma to me! She take care of me. She wipes the dirt off my knees whenever I tripped. She has a small apartment though. But it's very clean!” Katsuki stared at his son as he rambles about his teacher. “And, and, Ms. Y/n has a healing quirk! It's very cool whenever I watch her heal someone, her hands are glowing! Although if it heals, she’ll get a wound out of nowhere..”

Katsuki is now interested. He has this eagerness to meet this teacher his son is talking about. He's been too busy being a hero to the point he relies on his parents to drop his son at school. But after what he heard, this is the first time he’ll drop his son to school.

[fallstaticexit]

When your Gen X, boomer cusp boy mom mother can't read the room to save her life.

AN: If anyone is interested in some more Lyric lore, you can check out my TikTok for part one and part two of her backstory. Trigger Warnings: pregnancy loss, depression.

prev / next

Myrah: Oh, my sweet boys! I missed you so much!

Sonny: So you went and got married, huh? Didn’t think to tell us, mama?

Olive: [whispers] Girl, not your mom getting her groove back.

Lyric: [groans] See, this is what I’m talking about...

Nina: [whispers] This was not on my Myrah visit bingo card.

Ernest: We eloped. Nothing too fancy, since it’s both our second marriage. I can send some photos your way, just got to get them developed.

Mel: Developed?

Myrah: My Ernie is an old soul. Very old school.

Sonny: Uh-huh. How old exactly?

Lyric: Isn’t there a dinner we’re supposed to be eating or something?!

Myrah: Oh, that’s right! Everyone sit, I’ll bring out the food.

Sonny: Yeah, maybe get this man a shirt while you at it..

[awkward silence]

Sonny: How’d you meet my moms, man. What’s all this about?

Mel: This isn’t some life insurance scam, is it?

Myrah: Boys!

Ernest: We met at a Divorce Support Group.

Lyric: [sucks teeth] Why are you still going to those? You were divorced over 30 years ago...

Myrah: There’s no expiration date on support! I can still go. We take a trip to Cancun every year.

Ernest: She was telling her story about being a young mom in a loveless marriage, and I really felt that. I was a young father, too.

Sonny: [grumbles] Tuh. Ya don’t say?

Ernest: I asked her to join me for coffee one day, and well, the rest is history.

Myrah: Ernest completes me. We don’t let things like our age keep us from being happy. Ernest satisfies me in ways you can’t imagine-

[Everyone groans]

Ernest: Meeting your mom really changed my life, kids.

Olive: I get it. It happens to the best of us. I fell in love with a beautiful, elegant, rich older woman, and my life has never been the same. I’ll probably never fall in love again.

Sonny: ?????

Myrah: Thank you, Olivia. Kids, I just want you to be happy for me. Don’t I deserve that?

Lyric: This is weird! You get married without telling anyone, and it’s to some guy who’s like half your age. Why would you think we wouldn’t be upset about this?

Myrah: Well, honey, you’re not a little girl anymore. I can do as I please and not have to tiptoe around what my children think. I’m allowed to live my life however I want.

Ernest: Your mother’s right. And I think if you gave me a chance, I could show you how I can be a great father figure and role model to you and your brothers.

Lyric: Am I in the twilight zone?? What the hell is happening right now??

Ernest: Ah! Little man’s burgers! Must of slipped my mind. I guess age is catching up to me.

Sonny: Mhmmm, which is how old again?

Myrah: I’ll get it. Sit tight, baby.

Lyric: [sneers] You! Did you know about this?

Sonny: What! No!

Mel: I mean, you did say you talk to mom everyday. She never mentioned this?

Olive: Can we get these dishes passed around or...

Sonny: I mean, she mentioned having a friend name Ernest once but I’m thinkin’ he’s some old guy she met!

Ernest: [chuckles] Yeah, I get that alot. I normally go by EJ. Ernest Sr. is my father’s name.

Sonny: Uh-huh... and who yo daddy? Probably went to school with him...

Myrah: Alright, got one burger for my big strong, handsome grandson!

Myrah: What? What’s the matter?

Lyric: Mom, there’s cheese and stuff on it! He doesn’t like that! He’ll only have it plain!

Myrah: Ok! Ok! No problem! I’ll just pluck it off! I-I didn’t know-

Lyric: You would have known if you’d bothered to get to know him at all! You don’t know anything about any of your grandchildren, Mateo especially! All you care about is that he’s a boy.

Lyric: You don’t listen to me when I tell you about things that overwhelm him. You don’t listen to me at all! I’m not going to let you make him feel invisible like you did me.

Myrah: Lyric, wait! Please don’t leave like this! Talk to me, Sunshine!

Olive: Um. Thanks for the to-go plates, Mrs. M. I bet it would have been really good when it was fresh.

[tires screeching]

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I’ve always wondered why I’m so harsh on Zoe outside of just her character being used to it’s simplest degree (ie just being a replacement for Chloe) and I think I get it now.

Zoe is a perfect example of the “good/perfect victim”. The writers literally used her to downplay Chloe’s own abuse experiences by saying “See? Here’s a teen who was also abused at school and she turned out to be a sweetheart who’s so much better than Chloe in every way” blatantly ignoring She and Chloe possibly different home lives because Zoe had a different father.

As someone with experiences of toxic home lives I don’t appreciate it when abuse gets undermined especially parental and Zoe being used as a mouthpiece for what I guess can be summed up as abuse apologia made me think so lowly of her as a character.

Thoughts?

I actually just got another ask about my thoughts on Zoe, so I'll schedule this to post the same day since it's topical. In that post, I talked about why she bugs me and it's because she reads like the main character in an escapist self-insert power-fantasy fanfic. Once again, to be extra clear, those types of fanfic are FINE! Power fantasies and escapism are extremely valid things that are popular in professional works, too. For example, they basically dominate isekai and romance stories, but Zoe showcases exactly why characters like this only work as main characters in escapist fantasies. If you try to make them work as a normal side character, they just feel weird. Make them the main character or don't write them. Since she's not the lead, why is she even here?

I didn't consider the perfect victim angle in that other post, but now that you've brought it up, I'm wondering if that was indeed why she was introduced. Is she here to show that someone could have Chloe's mom and still come out to be a good person? The writers do seem really obsessed with that idea as we see from this moment in Derision:

Marinette: (as she goes down the stairs) I just got three more hours of detention on Saturday, and it's all because of Chloé. Rose: Don’t be mad at her. She's this way because her mother left her when she was young. Mylène: So did mine! And you don't see me having fun bullying Marinette. We've got to do something about your pants. I'm afraid they might be ruined for good.

This isn't even why people think that Chloe is the way she is? It's not just because her mother left. It's her father's terrible parenting, her absurd wealth, and the fact that her mother didn't actually leave. Audrey is still very much around, she just ignores Chloe most of the time and insults her on the rare occasions when they're in the same place. That's a recipe for disaster.

Sure, some people are lucky enough to come out being a good person in spite of their messed up home life and those who come out as jerks don't get a free pass to be jerks, but it's not like it's a total shock when bad home lives lead to people being jerks. The bully with a bad home life is a stereotype for a reason.

I'll once again point to The Good Place as an excellent show to watch if you want to see a realistic journey for a Chloe-like character. A journey that acknowledges the struggles that come from a messed up home life without giving the characters a free pass to use that home life as an excuse for their actions. Part of their journey is accepting that they have to stop blaming their parents and take charge of their lives.

Miraculous could have done something similar if it wasn't a formula show. The potential was there. But it is a formula show and the writers apparently don't think that Chloes are capable of change. I get that childhood bullies suck, I had one! I am very happy that she's no longer in my life, but I also don't think that she was incapable of change. She just needed to be put in the right situation where she accepted that change was needed and that never happened when we were kids. Has it happened since then? I don't know! Some people never change, but that doesn't mean that they can't change. Most of us are capable of changing. It just takes the right catalyst and a lot of hard work. People rarely start changing out of nowhere. It almost always has an inciting incident.

That's actually part of why Zoe's story feels so shallow. We're never really told why she was the way she supposedly was pre-canon or what caused her to change into her canon self. This is the backstory we get in Sole Crusher:

Zoé: I'm... really sorry about today. I thought that if I did everything Chloé wanted me to, she'd accept me. I just wanted to meet my family's expectations. Which is why I left New York in the first place. At the boarding school, I was playing a part; being someone else, hoping they'd accept me. But finally, I just couldn't anymore. That's when everyone turned against me, and one day, I found roaches in my locker. They all said I was a loser. Maybe they were right. I get that I'm different, and... I'd understand if you guys didn't want me as a friend.

So Zoe lied about everything and, when she revealed that she was a massive liar, everyone turned against her? Shocking. Why wouldn't they welcome a confirmed liar with open arms? That's so weird! (That was sarcasm.)

Seriously, why are we acting like Zoe was the wronged party here? This is literally Lila's story save for the motivation behind the actions (as far as we know). There are times when motivation matters, but this is not one of them. If you've spent weeks (months? years?) lying to people, then they're not going to trust you when the lies are revealed. Maybe you'll get lucky and someone will be willing to hear you out and give you a second chance, but that's an act of kindness. It's not an act of basic human decency.

This speed run story probably wants us to believe that everyone at Zoe's school was evil and that Zoe had to fake a personality to fit in, but I don't believe that. Writers, if you want me to believe it, then actually show us her story! You had a full New York special to do it! Why didn't you make Zoe the lead there since the specials love to introduce new characters to hog the screen? Have Zoe's school be the American school they go to and have her personality change be caused by Marinette and Co. so that Marinette and Co. trusting Zoe in Sole Crusher actually makes sense instead of feeling like something the plot forced on them! This is the scene I'm talking about, btw:

Marinette: (confused) I don't understand. When I met her this morning, she was so nice. Alya: That's crazy. Chloe's influence is so toxic that she's managed to corrupt her sister in a few hours. Alix: We gotta get her out of there.

Why are you all so sure that Marinette's two-minute-long interaction was the "real" Zoe and that her new personality is all Chloe's fault? Why are you acting like it's impossible to fake being nice but faking being evil is totally reasonable?

It really feels like this show is trying to say that people are either inherently good or inherently evil. Zoe was inherently good and just played at evil, so she's fine, but Chloe is just evil so she's doomed. That is really not how the world works, but now that I think about it, it does match the way the miraculous are often used. There are "evil" and "good" versions of some of the powers instead of just powers that can be used for good or evil. I've never liked that because it makes no sense. Why do akumas need a good form? Why is there an evil transformation phrase? Why do the miraculous even have an evil mode? Who programed that in???

While were on the topic of things that were possibly done just to show that Chloe is evil: is this why they made Jagged Stone an absentee parent to Luka and Juleka and then made the "twins" totally cool with it? Is the show trying to say, "Look! Luka and Juleka are nice! Therefore this is a Chloe problem. Stop blaming her parents!"

Who knows, but your idea certainly has merit. I wouldn't go so far as to claim that this must be what's going on, we don't know and I don't like to treat educated guesses as fact because they're not, but the text certainly has evidence to back this read.

[yandereforme]

OK, I was in a boring lecture with my classes, and my brain came up with an idea.

Everyone knows that trope where the main character is stuck in a time loop. Like, they are stuck, reliving the same life over and over and over again.

What if that situation happened? With the bat family becoming Yandere?

Let me explain. It starts out with the normal story of neglectful bat family. You’re probably Bruce’s kid through a one night stand of his. Then you mom tragically dies and she leaves it in her well that you are Bruce’s. Then you go to live the Manor and none of them really have time for you or pay that much attention to you, etc. etc..

You probably die due to an accident with a rogue or maybe you get into a car accident or something. The point is you die, and instead of going to the afterlife, you wake up in the car driving you to the manner for the first time.

You end up slowly living your life in a loop of one year. Overtime, you become more and more independent of the family. I’m going to say this is like your seventh life, because that’s where things get interesting.

This time, you’ve decided to just throw the whole thing out the window. You’ve tried getting to know them. You’ve tried just actively avoiding them. You’ve even tried running away very young, and you even joined them as a vigilante during your fifth life. Nothing has stopped you from dying every single time. So this time, you deciding to fuck things up. Do whatever the hell you want. And what you want is to cause some chaos.

You deliberately fuck with them. You make references to things you shouldn’t know, but always talk your way out of any situation. You casually mention things about certain vigilante, that you know will cause, drama, and deliberately ask your brothers to be around you during a certain time when you know they’re going to be on patrol. You decided that you’re going to just have fun, and like being a little chaos gremlin.

This sort of behavior is what causes the family to fully notice you. And overtime become Yandere for you. They also keep having these strange dreams where you die in front of them. They remember themselves saying things to you that they never did. All while puzzling at your knowledge of them. 

You become a puzzle to them. And after a while, you have a fully Yandere bat family obsessed with you.

You must be thinking “ OP, if the reader dies again, everything go back to normal?” Well, you are wrong. Because every life that you live after that one, they will remember more and more things, and become more and more obsessed with you even from the get-go.

During the seventh life, you caused some serious chaos and left a giant impact on them. When you return to the manor for the first time in the eighth, they are going to look with you with more interest than they normally would, because something in their gut is telling them that they need to pay attention to you.

Basically, the simple version of this is that they were very neglectful of you in your first 6 lives, and didn’t pay much attention to you until your seventh life, which you decide to fuck with them. Unfortunately, you girlbossed too close to the sun and left an irreversible impression on the soul. No matter what you do, in every single life they are going to become more and more obsessed with you.

[midiosaamor]

❪ ✦ ❫ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: grayson hawthorne x anxiety fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you hate it when your parents scold you. you hate it. good thing grayson’s there to comfort you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: anxiety attack, parent issues, yelling, crying, comfort, comfort over phone, fluff, hyperventilating, scolding, cuddling, kisses, burnout, wholesome praise, nicknames, use of y/n

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 797

𝐀/𝐍: this was requested by an anon here! THIS MADE ME SO SAS BUT I ALSO LOVE GRAYSON AHHHFFKTLDLKDLD STOP also this was based of my panic attacks that i have and a bit of google too. yes, i do have panic attacks, though luckily ive only had one and the rest were just me being close to having one. ANYWAYS ENJOYYT‼️‼️

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle @aaron-warner @reyreadersblog @urbanflorals @nqds @imaseabear (ask if you want to be added or removed from taglist!)

you knew what was coming. you were failing most of your classes, but it wasn’t your fault. you just—couldn’t do it anymore. it’s like you were burnedout.

you were a student with straight, passing A’s, to a student not even trying anymore. it wasn’t your fault, though. no one believes you.

“honestly, y/n. what happened to you?!” your mother sighs, running a hand down her face. disappointment fills her expression as she looks at you.

“you have to get your grades up, young lady,” your father grits out. “i—i’m trying to,” you try to say, “it’s jus—”

“no excuses. you’re just lazy,” your mother scolds. “you need to get your grades up. do your missing work and redo your tests or you’re grounded; from your friends and your phone.”

you look at her in shock. you could handle your phone, kind of, but your friends? “mom—what—no that’s not fair—”

“it is fair,” your father butts in. “there needs to be punishment since you keep on thinking that your friends or your phone is better than doing work. not to mention you keep on using your burnout as an excuse.”

you're on the verge of tears now. you can’t help it. why are they doing this? why don’t they just understand that you can’t do this anymore?

“stop being lazy, y/n.”

right after the scolding stopped you immediately ran to your room, slamming your door shut. you slide down the door, breathing heavily as tears finally fall down your face in races.

but this is different; your breathing is too fast. your throat is too tight—your chest feels like someone is sitting on it and squshing you.

you feel like you can’t breathe even though you are.

breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe—it isn’t working.

you call the only person who could help you with trembling hands. quickly, you take your phone out of your pocket, getting your passcode wrong because of your shaking.

“c-come on—work—” you say breathlessly. you know how this goes. you start to sweat, your palms getting wetter as you go to your contacts and click grayson.

you close your eyes as your breathing gets faster, starting to get dizzy. this is normal for you. it should be normal so why do you feel like you are dying?

the tears that keep on dropping from your eyes aren’t helping you stay calm. you hold a hand to your chest—your breath coming out in sobs.

the phone picks up.

“love?—are you okay?” he asks. he knows that you aren’t the type of person to call instead of texting. you only call in case of emergencies. this time is definitely an emergency.

“i—gray—” you stammer, unable to form a sentence. immediately, he gets it. “hey, hey. where are you, love?”

“room.”

“okay. i want you to take deep breaths for me, okay?”

you start to get hot even though goosebumps travel throughout your skin. it’s an uncomfortable feeling like your skin can’t choose whether to make you warm or cold throughout your panic attack.

you try. you really do, but you can’t.

you shake your head and make an ‘m-m’ sound. “can’t.”

“please, love. for me, okay? just this once, i promise. you could do this,” he says. you hesitantly nod, leaning your head against the door as you try to control your breathing.

“in and out. in and out. in and out,” he directs you, helping you a bit. “i’m on my way, okay? you’re doing so good for me, just wait a little while longer, okay, angel?”

“mhm.”

“good job. just try to continue breathing, okay?”

in; out.

in; out.

in; out.

in; out.

in; out.

in; out.

in; out.

“i’m parked,” he announces. you're glad that you gave him a spare key beforehand. you faintly hear a key rattling underneath your harsh breathing, giving you hope that he’s coming.

soon. he hangs up the call and you try to move to the side so he can open the door. he immediately opens the door and spots you on the floor.

bringing you into his arms, he closes the door behind the two of you. “follow my breathing, baby,” he whispers. you feel the rise and fall of his chest and you try to copy it.

his warm embrace helps you calm down, your sobs stopping into shaky breaths. “you’re doing amazing, y/n.”

after a short while, you calm down, digging your head into his chest. he slowly walks back to your bed, sitting down with you on his lap.

his hand runs down your back comfortably, his other hand around your hips. “you did beautifully, love. you’re so amazing.”

“thank you, gray.”

“you don’t need to thank me, darling. i’ll always be here for you.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Idk if you're still taking requests, but I have one if you do have some time 🥺🥺

I went to see my family after a while, and it was awful. There was no kind words and I had successfully avoided them until they caught me as I was leaving. My only saving grace was my adorable 4 year old niece. On the flight back, it took everything in me to not bawl my eyes out and just pretend to be occupied. But when I came home I just cried myself to sleep. I really just wanted someone there to tell me that I'm worth it and not just a burden. It's tiring to pretend I'm okay and not lonely with no one in my corner.

If this isn't too heavy for you, totally understand if it is. Could you do Steve and Bucky just being there for the reader. Maybe they heard the end of the convo with her family and waited until they got home to comfort her.

Thank you, and please feel free to ignore if this is too much, I can understand ❤️❤️

Not A Burden » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader x Best Friend!Steve Rogers

Summary: Bucky and Steve comfort you after visiting your family.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I had my fair share of awfulness with my family over the years. Just know it gets better, but it takes time🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.

Bucky and Steve knew something was wrong when they heard the tone of your voice when you were talking to your family. They went with you to visit your family for the day. You thought it would be easier knowing that they’re with you. It was, but your family didn’t make it any easier. You tried your best to keep quiet and not start a fight, but your family constantly started fights and arguments when you didn’t want to do that. Bucky and Steve caught the end of the conversation with you and your family before leaving.

“I don’t know why I even came here if I’m just going to get blamed for something I didn’t even do!” You shouted.

They heard the crack in your voice. You stormed past Steve and Bucky, making your way to the car. They watched as you got in the car and slammed the car door. They took that as a sign that you wanted to go home. They said a quick goodbye to your family and left. You were really quiet on the car ride home. Normally you point out the scenery, but this time you didn’t. You just put your headphones in your ears and listened to music on your phone the whole ride home. Bucky and Steve occasionally glanced back at you to make sure you were ok. They knew you weren’t. They brainstormed ways of how to make you feel better when you guys got home.when you guys got home, you immediately went to your bedroom and slammed your bedroom door, making it echo throughout the apartment. They went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door.

“I’m fine!” You say through tears.

Steve and Bucky sighed before opening the door and walked in your room to see you crying in your pillow. Their hearts broke when they seen you like this. They sat down on either side of you and rubbed your back to calm you down. They decided to get you talking when your cries decreased a little bit.

“Do you want to tell us what you and your family were arguing about before we left?” Steve asks softly.

You sat up and faced them, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your cheeks wet with tears.

“It’s always the same argument with my family.” You start. “I’ve always been the family member they didn’t love cause my mom had me at a young age and my dad didn’t stick around to help raise me.” You tell them.

“That shouldn’t be your fault.” Bucky says.

“Try saying that to them.” You sighed. “Everything is my fault to them. They blame me for the stupidest things.” You say.

“Anything they said isn’t true.” Steve says.

“They don’t know how amazing you are.” Bucky says.

“They don’t think so.” You looked down and picked at your nails. “Apparently to them, I’m worthless and a burden.” You say, tears brimming in your eyes again.

You looked up when Steve and Bucky gently grabbed your hands. They watched as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Bucky reached his right hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it and wiped your tears away.

“Never say that about yourself, sweetheart.” Steve says softly.

“You’re definitely not a burden. You’re worth it in so many ways.” Bucky adds.

“Thanks, but you guys are only saying that because you’re my best friends.” You say and sniffled.

“We mean it, doll.” Bucky says.

They’re right and you know it. A smile slowly formed on your face. They always know what to say when you’re upset. You sat up on your knees and hugged them.

“You guys really know how to make a girl feel special.” You say.

“It’s our job to make you feel special.” Steve says.

You kissed their cheeks and sat back down. Then your phone dinged. You grabbed your phone from your nightstand, smiling when you seen a text from your 4 year old niece who most likely stole her mom’s phone to text you. Your smile got wider when you opened the text and seen a cute picture of her.

“Who is it?” Bucky asks.

“My niece stole my sister’s phone to send me a cute picture of herself.” You say, showing them the picture.

Bucky and Steve looked at the picture and smiled.

“It’s nice to know that your niece brings out your happiness.” Bucky says.

“So do you guys.” You smiled. “I love you guys so much.” You say.

“We love you too.” They say in unison and kissed your cheeks.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[with-my-calamitous-love]

FILIPINO READER HCS!

bnha various x reader

general fluff headcanons, some tagalog! i am filo myself so i tried to make this as accurate and appreciative as possible, a few mentions of filipino toxicity and generational trauma

a/n: i’m SOOOOO EXCITED for this one 😭😭 currently packing for bulacan right now to visit my mom <33

a/n: yes i am distracting myself with the new chapter by writing about some light headcanons

IZUKU MIDORIYA

- TEACH HIM HOW TO MANO!! he definitely saw ur younger cousins do it at a party and then he tried doing it and accidentally kissed ur grandmas hand but he’s more than happy to learn for you <3

- is such a nerd when it comes to learning about your culture and language,, as a young hero he knows how important it is to learn basics from other languages so he can help everyone! but it becomes especially important when its with you

- his accent is terrible at first 😭 BUT HE LEARNSS

- will call you mahal <3

- one time he randomly facetimes you and just stutters may gusto ako sa iyo

- AND IT MAKES YOU SO HAPPYYY

- loves the food your titas and lola make SO much, i can see him really liking pork adobo or lumpia

- your titas always pack him SO MUCH extra food whenever he’s leaving your house and baby boy is so grateful he doesn’t even know how to react 😭

- is absolutely shocked with all the gatherings you have. like theres at least 3 groups of relatives in the house, a colossal amount of delicious food and a whole classroom of kids running around and screaming

- let him play with the kids at the party! he’s great with little cousins and it warms your heart when they call him kuya izu

- overall, loves you for who even more for your roots. just wait till the you guys have the huge filipino wedding

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

- i’m gonna be honest… he’s kind of an ass at first 😭

- like, he doesn’t really understand a lot of the things that are normal to you. but its important to you, and thats enough for him to wanna learn

- ask him to pronounce pasko, paksiw or nakakapagpabagabag but he WILL rage when you laugh at his accent ITS SO FUNNY THO

- high key judges you for running on filipino time.. 5 minutes late to everything but BRIGHT AND EARLY for anything airport related

- you have so many relatives he has to learn the names for, sometimes you can’t even remember them all- but he does and treats them with the utmost respect <3

- bakugou’s a good cook but he only gets better after you teach him the sacred secrets… and when i say the finger technique GET YOUR DIRTY MINDS OUTTA HERE

- basically its a way to measure rice perfectly. he sees you doing it and thinks ur absolutely insane for just sticking ur finger inside the rice pot, absolutely LASER focused, but after you explain he does it too

- the rice comes out perfect <3

- also loves the food your titas and lolas make, but he likes yours the most. i can see him really liking sisig because of the spice

- much like midoriya, he definitely tries to learn some of your language, but unlike the other he doesn’t tell you that

- one day he’ll just remind you that he loves you, mahal na mahal kita <3 and ur just there FLABBERGASTED.

SHOUTO TODOROKI

- i strongly hc shouto knows a few languages already, so he’s MORE than willing to learn yours

- already knows mano, and what to call your relatives

- his biggest goal is to be able to call your dad tito and be close with him, and it makes you *so* happy

- but he also really understands filipino toxicity, how you can be ridiculed for the smallest things, constant shamed for just existing.. he’s been there </3

- he sees the way your relatives, mostly the men, will push down their feelings and think that they’re so strong! when really they’re just continuing the same cycles of generational trauma and abuse

- so he’s so quick to validate your feelings, especially when it comes to family issues, like i said he’s been there too ♥️

- he definitely wasn’t used to not eating with chopsticks, but after seeing its a norm for your family and culture he’s very appreciative of it <3

- listen… i know you have at least one manny pacquiao shirt… he has no idea who tf that is at first but he does a lot of googling for you 😭

- HELPS IN THE KITCHEN! winning the approval or your titos and titas, lolo’s and lolas is SO important to him

- i can see him being really into pancit bihon, especially after knowing the significance it has on birthdays and other holidays after learning it grants you longer life he makes the noodles as LONGG as possible so u can stay with him <3

- GET HIM TO DO KARAOKE AT PARTIES oh god forgive his pronunciation 😭 kunin lang ang mga baterya sa kanyang mic

- overall, loves you so so much and loves every part about you <3

- for ppl who responded to my post a while back! sorry if you wanted bsd i’ll write that version too lol 😭 MAHAL KO KAYO <3

@raccoonkaz @ladylapize @strayruway @yumiruhisu @hungergameswho