#allison was dead before thanksgiving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years

Text

Decay: part II

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: this talks about alcoholism, implications of sex, mentions of technical assault (Jessie kissed Warren while he was drunk and she made him think she was Mother Nature!), also we get into Warren’s backstory a bit. I’m not trying to make anyone out to be a villain, but the story overall is much more upsetting than usual.

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Not exactly the mood needed right now— I am very sorry, but I’m working on a much happier piece for Mother Nature and Warren! I’ll try to have it out before the end of the month!

Part 1 if you need a refresher!

Warren didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened. He wanted to pretend it never happened. To just hole up the memory of the night deep into his mind. He always hid and pushed away trauma. Why should this be any different?

His friends wanted to get Alex or maybe even Charles involved, but he protested.

“It’s my word against her’s.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to support you, and Jean and Charles are telepathic—”

“What can I really do? Press charges? If I do that then and use Jean or Charles to back me up, it becomes a whole mutant’s rights issue. It’s not worth it.”

(Y/N) hated seeing Warren look so defeated. Jessie going about Xavier’s unscathed by everyone who wasn’t close with Warren, and him thinking it was his fault.

(Y/N) had said she must have eaten something bad at the Halloween party, causing her to feel sick and sprout poison ivy. Also why all the plants died.

If Hank and Charles could tell she was lying, they didn’t say anything.

Rumors started amongst students about what had happened at the party— if Warren had actually cheated on (Y/N), if he did something to Jessie, or if Jessie forced herself onto him.

Warren didn’t like the rumors involving (Y/N) in the mess. He didn’t like the stares and whispers they got when people saw them together.

“Poor girl, staying with him even after he cheated.”

“Maybe she’s too naive to realize.”

“I knew they’d never work out— (Y/N)’s too good for him.”

“I bet he forced her into going out with him.”

“I mean… he’s not ugly—”

“Yeah, but he’s not a good person and (Y/N) is!”

It made him sick to his stomach. Warren didn’t force her into anything— and he thought he had changed, that people were finally trusting him.

Guess he was wrong.

—

Warren wasn’t even paying attention in his environmental sciences class. They were watching a video on how a plant species can be invasive, required to take notes on it.

Warren was texting (Y/N), phone brightness turned down all the way. He just wanted to go to bed for a while and ignore the real world.

When the bell rang, dismissing students, Alex told everyone they’d finish the video, next class.

Warren got up to leave, but Alex stopped him.

“You doing alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” He lied. “I’m not in trouble am I?”

Alex hesitated to answer.

“No.”

Warren nodded, noticeably nervous.

“There’s a rumor going around saying you assaulted Jessie Rowe.”

Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. “I didn’t.”

“Okay… But something happened, didn’t it?”

Warren didn’t respond.

“Warren, you have to tell me what happened.”

“I got tipsy and she kissed me. I thought she was (Y/N), but then (Y/N) walked in and Jessie tried to act like I tried to kiss her.”

Warren’s eyes were pleading— pleading for Alex to not get mad at him for drinking, or mad at him for not speaking sooner.

“Um, no one got hurt, and now there’s just a rumor going around, so you can like, give me detention for drinking or whatever it’s fine—”

“I’m going to have to tell Professor Xavier,” Alex told him.

“Please don’t tell him I was drinking! I can’t— I won’t—”

Alex could see the desperation in his eyes. Warren had nowhere else to go. He, like many other students, depended on Xaiver’s entirely.

“You’re a good kid Warren— you’ve opened up to others, you were sober for almost six months, you have a good group of friends and even a girlfriend— Charles isn’t going to punish you. I just don’t want you to spiral down and lose all the progress you’ve made…”

“I just,” Warren rubbed his eyes. “Don’t wanna make a big deal about it. I’d rather it just blows over. Everyone will eventually forget about it anyway.”

“Are you aware of the rumors involving (Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, this involves her and Jessie. I know—”

Alex and Warren turned their heads to the door. Someone was opening it.

(Y/N) stepped inside. Warren hadn’t shown up to the library during their shared free period like he said he would, so she was worried about him. Plus, he hadn’t been doing too well since the Halloween party…. Neither of them had been.

Her eyes were pink and purple— she was full of worry for her boyfriend.

“Oh!” She gaped, soon as she saw Warren and Alex sitting at his desk, in the middle of what looked like an important conversation.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” She asked.

“No. You can stay.” Warren told her. (Y/N) dragged a chair over and sat next to him.

“Right, as I was saying, Charles isn’t going to expel you, but he might want to make a police report. I’m not sure what good it will do, but—”

“I don’t want to. It’s not going to do anything but cause problems.”

(Y/N) was immensely confused. She had no idea what they were talking about.

“We’re gonna talk to Jessie, maybe a few of your friends, and knowing Charles, he won’t expel either of you. We’ll do everything we can to get the rumors to stop…”

Oh! It finally clicked in her mind.

It was about the party.

“Okay… Thank— thank you, Alex.”

“Yeah, we should go to Charles’s office— what class do you guys have next?”

“I have lunch.”

“AP art.”

“That’s… Ms. Burnwood, right, (Y/N)?”

She nodded.

“I’ll make sure your absence is excused.”

“Thanks.”

Alex took them up to Charles’s office. Warren then explained everything that happened, while trying to not get his friends in trouble for also drinking.

Jessie was brought up to Charles’s office and questioned. She caved pretty easily, with (Y/N) glaring at her the whole time, and amid their telepathic principal, lying wouldn’t do her any good.

Jessie was “grounded”— she couldn’t leave campus during the semester until after Thanksgiving break— she was also to stop encouraging the rumors, and had to talk with one of the school counselors once a week until they deemed it no longer necessary. Jessie’s parents weren’t in the picture, so notifying them wouldn’t do any good.

Warren’s punishment was less severe, he couldn’t be out later than nine on weekends, (just until Thanksgiving break) and he was required to go to group therapy to help him deal with his former alcoholism and past traumas, for the rest of the school year.

—

“You don’t have to tell me what goes on at group therapy.” (Y/N) told him.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone.”

Warren smiled a little, “I know.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) kisses his cheek.

Warren wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I hope it goes well… it should.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah… Here,” Her hand was in a fist. When she opened it, she revealed a daisy and a four-leaf clover.

“You don’t really need luck or anything but, um, I thought, you know—“

Warren accepted the small gift, taking it from her hand. “Thanks, baby. I love it.”

—

Group therapy was awkward. Warren hated it. He knew it would be good to talk about… well, everything, probably, but he had a hard time opening up to total strangers.

“Alright, in case you’re new or don’t remember, my name is Allison… We have a new member with us today, he’s going to be with us for a while.” Allison looked at Warren. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Okay… Um, my name is Warren.”

Everyone replied with, “Hi, Warren.”

“And um, I’m a mutant.”

Allison smiled, “That’s great! Do you go flying a lot?

“Uh, yeah.”

“What kind of metal are your wings made of?” A girl with washed-out blue hair asked.

“Titanium, I think.”

“Well, Warren, welcome to the group,” Allison interjected, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Now, we’re going to do an ice breaker of sorts, and then just have like, regular conversation. We can all go around and say our favorite color and why.”

Warren blinked. He didn’t— he didn’t have a favorite color.

“And don’t say you don’t have a favorite color. If you can’t pick a favorite, choose one you hate the least… We can start with Trey.”

Warren thought of color options—

Black? No. Black wasn't his favorite, despite being 95% of his wardrobe. It absorbed the most light, helping him blend in with the darkness and look tough, something he needed in Germany.

Blue— The color of Kurt— his roommate and friend, who he tried to kill. Twice. Something he still felt remorse over. And Apocalypse. The man who gave him the metal wings and tattoos, forcing him to aid in mass destruction, only to leave him for dead when he was no longer useful.

Red— the color of Alex’s plasma beams. And how the Horsemen were a result in him almost dying.

White and Silver— the colors of his wings. Past and present. How each reflected hardships from Warren’s life. How he hated them and a child and almost resorted back to that self-deprecation when they shifted into metal and the consequences finally sank in.

But what about green? The color of healthy plants that thrive. The color of (Y/N)’s eyes when she’s happy.

Warren liked the color, despite (Y/N)’s eyes rarely being green around him. However, it didn’t mean she was unhappy with him.

Her eyes were pink around him. A way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it. The pink meant she cared about him more than most people— that she trusted him, accepted him for who he was despite his past, and that she would be there for him when he needed her.

Not many people could say they would do those things for Warren, or that they had.

His father cared more about the family name and how his son couldn’t possibly be a freak. His mother didn’t want his wings to tarnish her image, and while she was still his mother, she left him on his own most of the time.

And how all his past relationships and flings— they didn’t have much meaning. There was never any real affection behind them. They saw the cage fighting king and wanted a piece of that.

(Y/N) looked past all of that. She saw how he responded to what life threw at him. She saw the tough guy act, the big softie, the broken boy who ran away in fear, the man who thought he wasn’t good enough— she brought out his good side, making him realize he deserved happiness, love, and a home, that when you hit rock bottom, you can only go up from there.

He decided pink was his favorite color, because it showed someone cared for him in ways he wasn’t used to. He would do anything to keep it around forever.

“Warren, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pink.”

He got a few funny looks. They were probably expecting him to say black, based on his general aesthetic.

“And why is that?”

“Um, it’s my girlfriend’s eye color… she’s also a mutant.”

Allison smiled, “That’s very sweet.”

She moved on to the next person, “Rose, what’s your favorite color?”

She said, “Green.” But Warren wasn’t paying attention to why.

The ice breaker eventually ended, and Allison shifted the discussion to other things.

“Now Warren, since you’re new, usually new members spend most of their first meeting talking about themselves. Just so we can get to know you and whatnot.”

“Okay… um… anything specific you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Okay… So, I was born into a really small family. Just me, my mom, my father, and his brother. I don’t really know what happened to my grandparents. I never asked...

When I was three we moved from Westminster to Centerport.”

“Where’s that located?”

“Oh, uh, Westminster’s close to London.”

Allison looked impressed.

“I went to a private all-boys school when I was little. I don’t remember the name of it though.”

“Were you born with your wings?” Allison asked.

“No.” Warren responded. “They started to grow when I was eleven… I was terrified. I spent almost every day trying to rip them out… but once all the feathers are gone, you’re left with nothing but bone. It hurt like hell, but I used a pocket knife and a razor to try and cut them or at least file the bone down.”

“It wasn’t hard… but it hurt a lot. I spent so much time worrying about my wings and if people would discover them, that I started to fall behind in school… I wasn’t like failing or anything, I had access to all kinds of tutors and everything, but my parents quickly found out I was falling behind. My father was barely aware, telling my mom to ‘deal with it.’ She tried her best, but I was so scared of them discovering my wings…”

Warren sighed, “My parents had a beach house in Italy, and we were supposed to go there for my fall break. I was so terrified. I couldn’t go swimming, they’d see my wings… But I couldn’t find a way out of the trip. I was twelve at the time and my mom… She saw my back when I came out of the shower...”

“She screamed, and my father came running to us. When he saw my back, he was disgusted. The look on his face was drilled into my skull for years. And it wasn’t even that bad, they were just growing back after being cut, so they weren’t even that big… but I just remember how scared my mom was, and how disgusted my father was… I just started crying and apologizing, but it didn’t do anything.”

“We left our trip four days early and I was pulled out of school. My parents decided to homeschool me, which basically meant, cut all contact with everyone from school and have a few tutors come to the house.”

“Did you have contact with anyone outside of your home?”

“I saw some family friends, and one or two kids of my parent’s friends… my parents hired countless doctors and all kinds of people, doing tests on me, trying to find a “cure”. Every time they failed my parents just got more upset— I was becoming a waste of time and money. They were becoming more distant and cold, wrapping themselves up in their work, and I was locked up.”

“What happened to your wings?”

“My mom said the scars they would leave were ugly, but I was forced to let them grow out.”

“My parents were arguing a lot, always sad or angry… mostly because of my wings… I was getting tired, tired of hiding, tired of the arguing, I wanted it all to stop…”

“Can you please stop?” Warren thought he was going to cry.

His father glared at him, disgusted by the wings, and how his son was on the verge of tears.

Warren could hear his parents arguing from down the hall. That’s all they seemed to do when they were home— fight.

Warren blamed himself. If he was just normal. If he didn’t have those damn wings!

He wanted them to stop. He’d do anything to make them stop.

Warren thought about getting on to the roof and jumping. Not even flying down, just falling to his end. His end of suffering, and his loveless, lonely existence.

“Are you going to do it?”

Warren looked over his shoulder to find his father standing behind him. Watching him peer out the highest window in the house.

“No! I— I’m sorry! I wasn’t—”

His father scoffed. “Did I raise a coward?”

Warren couldn’t look him in the eyes. “No sir.”

“I’ve scheduled for you to have spinal surgery next week. Your doctor is coming to prep and evaluate you for it. This surgery should fix you.”

Warren’s eyes were closed, trying not to imagine the pain, trying to not cry in front of his father.

“Or you can fall out the window… in a freak accident.”

“So I jumped out the window. I didn’t fall to my death as he had hoped, but I flew. I flew far away. I flew across the Atlantic for a few hours before I started to get tired. I spotted a ship and I got close. It was a fishing boat, a large one. The crew let me stay for the night until they went back to land… After that, I flew from São Miguel to Cascais. From there I just kind of fucked around Europe.”

Warren sighed. Allison told him to take all the time he needed and he could stop if he wanted for the day. Let someone else talk.

Warren nodded and kept quiet for the rest of the meeting.

—

Alex picked him up when the meeting ended. Alex didn’t ask about the meeting. It wasn’t his business and he knew Warren would talk when he was ready.

“Where do the others think I went?” Warren asked.

“Training. They’re busy anyway, most didn’t notice you were gone.”

Warren silently nodded.

Alex pulled into Xavier’s garage, parking and letting Warren slip out and go up to his room.

Warren kicked his shoes off and laid on his bed, putting in his earbuds and playing some soft songs.

(Y/N) was heading up to Warren’s room to use his shower. She was covered in paint, for she helped clean up after the fourth graders used the art room.

(Y/N) knocked on the door, making sure no one was there before she entered.

Warren didn’t hear her and (Y/N) almost didn’t notice him laying on the bed. When she did, however, her entire demeanor changed.

“Hi, Angel!” She went over to practically smother him in light kisses.

Warren pulled out his earbuds and smiled. “Hi, Flower.”

“When did you get home?” She asked, scooting over to the open side of the bed.

“Like ten minutes ago. What have you been up to?”

“I got paint all over me,” (Y/N) frowned. “I was going to take a shower and wash it off.”

“You can do that. I was just kind of laying here.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“If you disassociate your whole day will feel off. You should take a nice relaxing shower with me, instead.”

Warren chuckled.

“Not like that, Bird brain!” She exclaimed. “We can use one of my lush bath bombs and my rose-scented exfoliator.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Warren joked.

“Eh,” (Y/N) shrugged before slipping her bra off and throwing it in the hamper.

Warren scoffed and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), peppering her neck in kisses. “How dare you!” He teased.

“Ah!” (Y/N) laughed. Warren’s lips on her neck tickled her skin. “That’s why I’m going to bathe.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll join you.”

(Y/N) hummed in victory, wiggling out of Warren’s grip, and headed into the bathroom to grab her stuff.

The last time she used the girls’ communal showers was before they were even dating. (Y/N)’s toothbrush made its way into Warren and Kurt’s bathroom, then her shampoo and conditioner, and then eventually most of all her other hygiene products.

(Y/N) set her soap and other things on the edge of the tub and drew up warm water, filling the bathtub up about halfway.

She sprinkled in rose petals and got Warren into the bathroom. They both stripped off their clothes and stepped in the tub. A bit difficult, for Warren had to fold his wings back and get in first, with (Y/N) practically sitting in his lap, face to face, but they made do.

(Y/N) dropped an orange bath bomb in the water and grabbed her jar of exfoliating scrub, rubbing it on her arms and legs to help remove the paint.

Warren closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“How’d it go today?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it onto her skin.

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry…” She murmured.

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t terrible… I talked a little bit about my parents.”

(Y/N) nodded as she applied her rose exfoliator onto Warren’s skin.

“I’m really sorry…” Warren let out. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

“Baby,” (Y/N) looked into his eyes. “it’s okay.”

“I— I just—“ Warren hiccuped, letting out a choked sob and releasing some tears from his eyes.

(Y/N) rubbed his back, avoiding the tender spot around his wings, whispering, “Let it out, it’s okay, Angel.”

Warren silently cried into (Y/N)‘s shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him in comfort. The emotions he felt almost made him sick— love and affection— and a lot of it too. He couldn’t remember a time before when he felt like that. He never wanted to leave (Y/N)‘s embrace.

Warren lifted his head up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry— um—“

“It’s okay.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, leaving a kiss on each cheek. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Warren nodded.

“C’mere—” (Y/N) grabbed the shampoo from the bathtub ledge, pouring some in her hands, and then lathering it into Warren’s mop of curls.

Her hands gently massaging his scalp felt like a touch of heaven to Warren. He didn’t want to cry again, but he couldn’t help himself. (Y/N) was heartbroken at her boyfriend’s demeanor, but it was good he was letting it all out.

She finished washing his hair and drained the tub— them both getting out— Warren holding onto (Y/N) as she gently dried them both off.

“Thank you, He mumbled.

“Of course, Baby…”

—

Most of their dates shifted to either being at the mansion or during the day. Warren felt bad, having to limit things for them, but (Y/N) didn’t care.

“We can do more stuff during the day… And at night all our friends will be gone… We’ll be all alone…” (Y/N)’s tone was almost teasing. Warren had to chuckle to himself, she was doing her best to make the situation work.

His second group meeting was set a bit later in the day, around 6 pm on a Saturday. Warren told (Y/N) he probably wouldn’t be back until after dark.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be here—” She motioned to her empty bedroom.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” He teased.

“You too, Baby.”

Warren drove himself to his second group therapy meeting. Alex offered to drive again, but Warren felt bad having him taking time out of his day to drive him to group therapy.

Not everyone who was at the first meeting was at the second one— but Warren saw some familiar faces.

“Hey, Warren! Welcome back,” Allison greeted him.

“Hi.”

He took a seat near a guy in a grey hoodie with an eyebrow piercing.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to go around, say our name, and if we have any pets. If you don’t that’s okay! You can say, what kind of animals you’re interested in. Let’s start with Collin…”

Warren zoned out for a bit until it was his turn. He didn’t have a pet, and he didn’t really have an interest in a specific animal. People made jokes about him being a bird, but he didn’t necessarily have a connection with them.

“I don’t have a pet… My girlfriend has a lot of plants though…”

“Ooo! What kind?”

“Um… Almost all kinds— her mutation helps grow them and stuff…”

“That’s cool.” Someone commented.

Warren awkwardly nodded. The ice breaker continued around the circle, and when finished, Allison had some people give updates on how they had been since the last meeting, others talked about how they were feeling in general.

“Warren—”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Do you want to continue talking from where you left off last week?”

“I can, sure.”

The floor was given to him, and Warren continued his “backstory”.

“I ended up in Germany. Messing around, staying overnight on stranger’s couches. I tried to find work, but it was hard being almost 15 at this point and no papers… I ran into muggers and they tried to, well, rob me, but I fought back. I wasn’t very good but it got them off and away from me… I ended up in a bar… The last thing I remember was falling asleep and then waking up in a locker room of sorts. A bunch of men shouting in German, um, some in English, but basically I was told to go out into ‘the ring’. People were watching— shouting and cheering, for the other guy in the ring. He was kind of short and hairy, but he had these claws, and he could really kick ass. I barely made it out of there— I didn’t win— but I didn’t die. People enjoyed watching us. They cheered, calling him Wolve-something, and they called me, Angel.”

“I wanted to leave, but the people running the ring gave me some money and I found a place to stay for the night… the job offers weren’t exactly lining up… so I agreed to more fights. I got really good, fighting other mutants, probably in the same situation as me, but I quickly realized, kill, or be killed…”

Warren quickly realized people had very concerned looks on their faces. “I didn’t kill anyone! But I did beat them up pretty badly— the more fights I won the more money I got— and it was that or die… I did it for about two years before I met someone…

I was alone at a bar, I was bruised and a bit bloody, and this girl with purple hair came up to me. She was one of the guards in the fight club— she worked for some guy named Caliban, I think. I don’t remember… Anyway, her name was Betsy. She said she’d been watching me for a while, saying my fighting was impressive but could be improved… Uh, She offered to help me out, and we went back to her place. She helped clean up the blood on me, and um, then we made out, and I spent the night… This went on for a while, she’d watch me fight and give me tips and pointers, and we’d make out and stuff…”

“How long is, awhile?” Allison asked.

“Um, Like two-ish years? I don’t know— but um, we had this like thing going on, and I thought we were maybe dating? I dunno. But whatever we had I fucked up.”

Warren groaned as Betsy aggressively pressed her mouth against his. He had just won another fight and went back to her place to “celebrate”.

“God, B… I love you...”

Betsy froze, her body tensing up.

“What?”

Warren panicked, her face did not seem pleased. “It slipped out— I’m sorry—”

“No… You don’t mean it… We can’t be together.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought we were together.”

“Angel— this isn’t a relationship— we just fuck while I give you some pointers on your punches.”

“I know this isn’t traditional, we don’t go out on dates—”

“You don’t love me! We’re too young— I’ll lose my job. I spend all this time one you so I don’t lose my job, you’re the best fighter—”

“You keep me trapped here?” Warren asked, slowly piecing things together.

“It’s not like that—” She tried to explain.

“I’ve tried to quit fighting for almost a year now! I told you I wanted to leave, and this whole time you’ve been keeping me here?”

“You’re young and naive, and I’d lose my job, everything—”

Warren stood up, ignoring Betsy’s excuses.

“Where are you going?”

“Away. Since we’re not together and I don’t love you.” Warren slammed the door behind him and headed back to the ring. He needed to let out his anger.

—

Warren went on a winning streak— he won ten fights in a row— the feeling was borderline euphoric, the crowds cheering for their champion, Warren getting to sink someone’s teeth in or watch them fall to the ground.

Warren was amped up for his eleventh fight— the announcer was talking about his next opponent—

“The Incredible Nightcrawler!”

A lanky, devil looking, blue boy fell out of a cage onto the floor of the ring. Warren circled him for a moment before meeting him on the ground.

He wasn’t fighting, just teleporting around the cage in small bursts.

“Fight!” Warren yelled at him. “Or they’ll kill us both!”

The blue boy looked terrified, but he fought back when Warren attacked him.

At one point he managed to drag Warren against the side of the electric cage, burning his wing.

“Ah!” Warren cried out in pain. Suddenly he saw the blue devil escape from the bottom, so in a risky move, he flew up and ripped off the upper walls of the cage, and flew out. His flying was wonky and jagged for one of his wings was broken.

Warren had nowhere to go, so he went back to the one place he shouldn’t have—

Betsy’s place.

—

“I was drunk as shit and angry and this blue wrinkly man came with Betsy and some other girl I didn’t recognize, and he just held his hand out and metal grew out of my back and on top of my wings. I was healed, in a way, but also it kind of ruined my life. The blue man also just held his hand out and gave me these tattoos…”

“You weren’t one of the horsemen with Apocalypse, were you? Like last spring I think… Out in Cario?” One girl in the circle asked.

“Yeah… Um, I never killed anyone, and I don’t do that anymore. The X-Men took me in and I’m trying to get my shit together.”

“We don’t judge here, and from what I’ve heard, the X-Men do great things! Like the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man.” Others in the group murmured in agreement.

“You’re built like a transformer dude,” The guy sitting next to him commented.

“Thanks…”

“I think you can do a lot of good, Warren. You’ve spent a lot of time running from your problems, but you seem like you’re grounded now… I was told you came here because you relapsed.”

“It was an accident— I haven’t drank since.”

“And that’s good! It can be really hard to open up and talk about your past, but you did it…”

Warren nodded along to what Allison said.

“I think you can do even better if you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them… and don’t be afraid, don’t push them into the back of your mind… I think— if you haven’t already— talk to your girlfriend about some of this. Doesn’t have to be a lot or all at once, but being open and honest does good in relationships.”

“Yeah, um, sounds good.” Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. He was terrified to talk about all of this with (Y/N).

She didn’t deserve the burden. (Y/N) was this innocent, happy, light in his life. Warren didn’t want to ruin that.

He thought (Y/N) was too good for him, and she would eventually realize that and leave him.

But he trusted her. He trusted (Y/N) with his life. Perhaps a bit foolish, but he rarely ever felt sure about those types of things. He decided to trust his intuition.

—

Warren drove home in silence.

He pulled into the garage and put the keys on the key rack before heading up to (Y/N)’s room.

He didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He just walked right in and flopped onto the bed, in (Y/N)’s lap.

She was surprised, but she quickly came to her senses and tried to figure out what happened.

“Baby?...” (Y/N) looked down at Warren’s face as she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear.

“I…” Warren burst into tears, all his bottled up emotions coming out at once.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Warren sat up and (Y/N) hugged him tightly.

“I have… things… I want to tell you… about my past…” Warren scrunched his nose.

“My parents and other stuff… but I’m scared.” He admitted.

“Warren, baby, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me whatever you need to, whenever you feel ready, okay?”

He slowly nodded, still crying.

(Y/N) kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, being silent and supportive.

“Can… Can you promise me… Promise me you won’t leave because of my past. I’ve done really bad shit and—”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.” She reassured him.

Warren wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his tears slowing down.

“Thanks…” He mumbled.

“Of course, anything for you, Angel.”

#warren worththington x mother nature #warren worthington #warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #x-men oneshot #x-men x reader #xmen x reader #ben hardy x reader #xmen oneshot #warren worthington iii x mother nature #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington x you #mother nature reader

168 notes · View notes

sunsetsintandem · 3 years

Text

TUA Thanksgiving Headcanons (Domestic Hargreeves #1)

It's their first Thanksgiving back home as a family. No apocalypses, screwed up timelines or assassins behind their backs + 1 ex-dead brother and the girl whose mother threatened to kill them all. Overall, could be worse.

It gets better instead.

For instance, Patrick had suggested they spend Thanksgiving together, and Allison had jumped at the opportunity to have Claire meet her uncles and aunts.

It would figure, though, that between 8 emotionally stunted adults raised by morally incompetent parents, only one of them knew about the holiday.

Knew, loosely, because Allison had mostly follow her in-laws instructions and her Hollywood friends' advices. So really, they were all at a disadvantage.

But hey, that's what Google's for.

They set everything up a week before Thanksgiving.

Diego still ends up forgetting the turkey, and he and Luther stumble their way through 8 different stores the morning of.

"Can't we just replace it with a chicken? I don't think we've ever had turkey. "

Klaus is surprisingly capable in the kitchen.

"Are those pies? Since when can you bake?"

Bakers and chefs are good with their hands (which wasn't suppose to be dirty, goodness, Allison, get your head out of the gutter) although, for some reason, they always tried to Hansel and Gretel-ed him (it's because you are built like a twig, Klaus; you activate my fight or flight response).

Allison and Klaus aren't too worried about Ben and Lila helping out.

Until Allison catches them measuring an obscene amount of sugar, and she is violently reminded that Ben has a sweet tooth, and the ex-Sparrow version of him was not different on that regard.

Vanya, maker of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, is appalled.

Five does not cackled at watching two physical adults wallow in self-pity at the dinner table.

He also doesn't offer any help, but he still taste tests Allison's dishes, and blinks to the supermarket for whatever forgotten ingredient Vanya had asked to retrieve.

And then, he finds Diego and Luther wrestling an older woman for the last turkey. He records the whole thing.

When he returns, breath hitched and face pulled, his siblings are easily worried.

He shows them the video.

Suffice to say they end up having a 45 minute impromptu break. They don't tell 1&2 of their new development.

Vanya's mostly relegated to more "simple" dishes like mashed potatoes and roasting veggies, not that she's complaining, specially after the monster thing Diego and Luther brought back home (That doesn't even look like a bird!)

Allison lets Lila cut the "turkey" for fun.

"Ally, I love you, but have you considered replacing that thing with... I don't know... tofu?"

"At this point, I might."

Klaus teaches Ben how to make stuffing. It takes them three tries to get it right, none of them speak about the first two attempts.

Five saves those dishes because they are still good, and they can't be worse than an expired Twinkie (He hopes).

Somehow, by the time the bell rings, they are all done.

Claire barrels in, straight into Luther's arms. "Spaceboy! Spaceboy!" If he tears up, yes, he did.

Claire loves Luther from the getaway, even if he is a little awkward. She immediately asks him about space and the moon, and throws in some things she learned in school.

Patrick is understandably worried about what's going to happen in the next 3 days (A whole weekend! They are staying a whole weekend!) which in turn makes Allison anxious.

It doesn't get better once Klaus steers Patrick away from them. She is half-tempted to follow, but then Claire tugs at her sleeve.

Lila and Claire get unsurprisingly well. Lila braids her hair, teaches her some cool moves, none of which involves a lethal weapon. Allison is grateful.

When the family makes their way back to the kitchen, she isn't expecting Klaus and Patrick cracking up like a pair of madmen.

There's no alcohol in the table, not even on the sink.

"I guess this is something we can be grateful for."

"Vanya, I think our brother broke my ex."

They stuffed themselves full. Ben had claimed an entire pumpkin pie by himself, and Vanya, sweet little Vanya, had almost fought him for it.

10 minutes after Luther had taken the first bite of the turkey, the rest of them eventually picked some up (He never thought one day he would be relegated to meal taster, but there they were).

Diego had attempted to cut mashed potatoes with his knives because he missed them.

Unthinkingly, they had left an open space for Pogo and Mom, as if they were both coming down at any given point.

They have a sleep over, Diego, Ben and Five building the world's biggest blanket fort for all of them.

And even though there's plenty of space left, they cuddle next to each other, pointy limbs and tickling hair. Ben settles down with a book, reading it loudly for Claire, Diego pressed at his side, and Lila draped over both of them.

Generally speaking, Five doesn't like to be touched, but if he curls up at Klaus' side because his brother has vivid nightmares and Five is the lightest sleeper of them, no one has to point it out (maybe it's just because he's feeling soft, and Klaus is the less likely to question him about any sort of physical manifestation of affection Five is willing to throw out).

Luther can't reach all of them, but he tries. He ends up just hugging Vanya and Allison, though.

It's good enough.

For their first Thanksgiving back, Allison thinks it's a success.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #claire #tua claire #theumbrellaacademy #klaus and ben #tua patrick #headcanon #thanksgiving #domestic hargreeves #hargreeves siblings #team zero

80 notes · View notes

emzalot · 4 years

Text

What a Furry Ride

Chapter 11 Set in Episode 9

Author’s Note: Hello everyone. I know I’m extremely, extremely, extREMELY, late on this, again. I’m sorry. I’m in mourning right now as well as being a full-time student and trying to get my work done, and that’s all I’m going to say. Monday all class at the college are canceled so I’ll be working on the last part of chapter 8, part 4 and that will be it! After that I’m wanting to do a special chapter on Dani’s dreaded birthday celebration and Thanksgiving. Then we hit episode 10. Now for the people who are still following this story- Y’ALL ARE SOME TROOPERS! You’ve survived my months and months long hiatuses, I mean- I can’t even describe the amount of respect and gratitude and love I have for y’all. I love y’all so much now let’s get it!

Warngings: ANGST, heartbreak, sobbing, grab tissues if you’re soft

~~~~

Dani pulls into her driveway, parking her car at the top of the driveway. She sits there feeling drained, but oddly refreshed at the same time. She feels better now that she’s talked to Chris, but there’s so much more built up inside that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She leans forward with a groan, dropping her head against the steering wheel. “I want…I don’t know” Dani murmurs to herself. She snorts at herself for her lack of words and thought process.She’s so overloaded with emotions she’s just gone blank. She can’t deal with anymore high stress situations today or else her lungs might start buffering. She lifts her head and purses her lips, zoning out. “I’ll just go inside” she murmurs after a moment.

Dani slides out of her car, bookbag in hand as she makes her way up to the front door. She fumbles with her keys, trying to push it into the lock except it’s not going in. “Wha-?” She looks down, seeing that she’s trying to unlock the door with her car key. “Oh...” she fumbles for the small gold key, mentally rolling her eyes at herself. “Come on, get it together” she whispers to herself as she unlocks the door. She steps inside, slipping her Vans off her feet before slowly ascending the stairs. Dani stops halfway up the stairs, slumping against the rail. She rests her head on her arm that’s gripping the rail and takes a few breaths. Her chest is getting tight again, like earlier. She slips her inhaler out of her pocket, inhaling a slow puff. She straightens up, dropping her head back with a groan. “I’m not gonna make it,” she says.

Dani reaches her door, her bookbag feeling so much heavier than it did when she got out of the car a few moments ago. She enters her room and finds a tall figure standing next to her bed and she screams, gripping the door frame for dear life. Her vision blurs as her lungs compress so fast it feels like she’s trying to suck air through a straw. Trembling in the doorway, the figure rushes toward her and she stumbles back into the hallway in fear. “Dani!” the voice calls. Derek? She isn’t getting enough oxygen even as she’s desperately gasping for air. Dani’s vision begins to fade rapidly. The last thing she remembers is the hallway spinning sideways and a dull pain in the back of her head

Derek curses under a breath as he drops to his knees beside Dani’s unconscious form. He couldn’t believe he just caused her to faint. “Dani?” He shoves her bag away from her and leans over her, gripping her shoulders. “Dani wake up!” the panic becomes evident in his voice as he gently shakes her. “Dani!” Nothing. His eyes frantically scan her face and down her body as he tries to think of what he needs to do. Her bed. He needs to get her to her bed. Derek gently gathers her in his arms. Looping his arms under her legs and her back, slowly curling her against his chest. Derek pushes off his knees, trying to stand. In that moment Dani’s consciousness returns and she grabs his shirt, eyes wide and alert. Derek freezes, keeping her on the hard-wood.

Dani’s eyes are frantic as they search the person holding her until they land on his face. It’s Derek. Relief floods her entire body and she practically deflates against his chest. “Are you okay?” his voice is gentle, but she caught the fear laced in his words. Dani stares at her hand that’s bundled a portion of his shirt in a tight fist. Her mind feels scrambled, making it a struggle to form sentences now. She slowly shakes her head before resting her forehead against his chest. “Okay” Derek breathes. His hold on her tightens and he lifts her off the floor. Dani squeezes her eyes shut and holds the back of her head. A dull pain pulsing there causing her to groan and Derek freezes again. She must’ve smacked her head on the floor when she collapsed. He tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat and re-enters her bedroom.

Derek slowly crosses the threshold, listening to Dani murmur incoherently. “Der…” Dani trails off, unable to complete his name. Derek looks down at her, watching the confusion flash across her face. He reaches the bed and carefully sets her down, as if she’d shatter if he wasn’t more careful. As soon as she’s on the mattress she slips out of consciousness again with her head lolling back. Derek’s entire body tenses as Dani goes limp in his arms. He didn’t dare move. His eyes remain on her face, hoping that she wakes up shortly like before.

After a few moments, nothing changes. Derek is still frozen like a statue, and Dani is still very unconscious. Derek hangs his head, letting out a sigh in defeat as his shoulders slump. He lays Dani back against the pillows, slipping her shoes off her feet and pulling the comforter up, tucking her in. Derek looks around the room, spotting a small recliner in the opposite corner and pulls it up next to the bed. Derek sits down quietly, propping his elbows on his knees. He stares at her gentle features, waiting.

Derek is determined to not move until she wakes up. He’s not leaving her alone. Not for a second. Something is very wrong with her. He knows that for sure. She reeked of so many emotions it was too much to pick apart. Her chemo-signal was so strong and concentrated he could sense her emotions from the driveway. There’s so much going on he can only pin it as one thing: a broken heart.

Derek has been there, he knows what that feels like. He hasn’t sensed such raw desperate emotion since he lost his family. Since he lost...her. He wants to know what happened, but he must wait. He must sit there, and stare at Dani, waiting for her to wake up. And it makes his blood boil. He wants to know who hurt her and why they did it, now. Why she’s feeling this way and attack the source. To make them pay. He hates the thought of someone going through something like this. Something like he felt all those years ago. Especially someone he cares about. Derek has never been a very patient person, but he’s willing to sit and wait for her.

As the seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into an hour, Derek’s mind wanders to a memory. It’s from a week before, on the night of the full moon after walking Scott home…

“I can’t do this,” Scott says. Derek stays quiet. “I can’t be this, and be with Allison,” Scott says. “I need you to tell me the truth...is there a cure?” Scott asks. “For someone who was bitten?...I’ve heard of one, I don’t know if it’s true,” Derek says. “Well, what is it?” Scott asks. Derek hesitates and looks off to the side for a moment. “You have to kill the one that bit you” he says.

Derek steps out onto the front porch, closing the door behind him. When he turns to face the driveway, he stops in his tracks. Dani’s standing next to her car, staring at him in complete utter shock. Her purse slips from her hands, hitting the concrete. Derek swallows hard, holding her gaze. “Derek…” she breathes out, her eyes like saucers. Derek dips his head in a small nod. Her lips slowly pull into a bright smile, her eyes watering as she stares at him. “Oh my God!” She shrieks, taking off, up the driveway. She runs up the steps, colliding with Derek a lot harder than she intended, but she doesn’t care. Her arms find their way around his torso, squeezing him tightly.

Derek stands there, frozen, eyes wide. It’s his turn to be a deer in headlights. He takes in a deep breath, recovering from her small frame colliding into his. He’s not used to this sort of contact. It’s been so long he’s forgotten what it’s like. Feeling a strange swell in his heart, he slowly wraps his arms around her. He pulls her flush against his chest, feeling her relax into him along with the tears soaking into his shirt. He breathes in her joy that mingles with her scent, letting it overwhelm his senses.

Her scent is completely unique. It’s sweet like a perfume. Almost like sugar covered strawberries, but there’s a warmth that’s completely...her. His arms tighten around her, nuzzling into her hair as he memorizes her scent. He could certainly pick her out of a lineup. “You’re okay...you’re not dead” she whispers, burying her face in his chest. Derek lets himself smile against her hair and then he hears her groan. Groan?

Derek blinks, snapping back to reality. Dani groans into her pillow, shifting in her sleep. Oh. Derek slides to the edge of the seat, watching Dani slowly come to. Dani rolls onto her side scrunching her nose for a moment. Her eyes slowly flutter open, finding Derek’s. “Hi” she breathes out. Derek stares at her with an unreadable expression. Dani studies his face, the memories from before she fainted returning to her. Dani slowly sits up. Derek rises out of the chair, helping her. She swings her legs out from under the covers, her toes brushing against the carpet. Her nose is a few inches away from his. “What happened?” she asks. “You passed out” Derek answers. Dani nods and chews her lip for a moment. She meets his gaze. It’s intense to say the least. She has the feeling that he knows something’s wrong. The look in his eyes makes it seem like he knows exactly what was going on and that makes her uneasy. She takes in a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair, thinking. “I’m guessing you’re...hiding out here?” she asks. Derek nods, “For a while.” Dani nods, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

Derek stares at her expectantly. He rakes his eyes over her face again, studying every little movement. The aching in her heart becomes evident in the fear wafting from her pores. She’s afraid to talk. Derek sighs, caving. He just wants to know what’s going on. “Are you okay?” Dani’s heart practically stops. There’s no way she’s going to lie to him, but she just doesn’t want to go there. She’s spent the whole day trying to bury it all. Cocking her head to the side, she changes the subject. “Do you remember what I said about the next time you came over?” she asks.

Derek clenches his jaw, his eyes burning into hers. He knows what she’s doing. He knows she can’t keep this all bottled up, but she’s too stubborn for her own good. “To use the door” he answers, playing along. “Uh-huh” Dani gives a nod, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. Dani stands up and stretches. “I’m gonna...change” she says. She needs to create some distance between her and Derek. There’s this thing he does with his eyes, the way he stares at her that makes her want to just gush to him and that scares her. She’s never been that vulnerable with someone before.

Dani walks over to her closet, feeling his eyes on her. She sighs as she sifts through her shirts, biting her lip. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Because if she starts, she won’t stop. It will all come out in the open, at his feet and she shudders at the thought. It terrifies her. Dani pulls a large long sleeve and a pair of grey leggings and slips into the bathroom before Derek could get a word out. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to hear his words. Feel his stares, his eyes. God his eyes are so intense and they’re so hard to get away from. She quickly slips into her more comfortable outfit and exits the bathroom throwing her jeans and t-shirt on the floor.

Dani glances at Derek, catching his eyes. She quickly adverts her gaze, tucking a strand behind her ear as she moves over to her book bag. Dani digs through the front of her bag and pulls out her charger. She plugs it into the wall by her bed and attaches her phone to the other end, dropping it on the bed. “We’re home alone right now so...we don’t have to stay in here the whole ti-” Dani cuts herself off when she turns back around, her stomach drops at the sight.

There’s Derek, standing in the middle of the room. In one hand are her jeans and the other are the bracelets. If Dani could will herself to just die right there on the spot she would. The pain, the anger, the sadness, rising in her throat all at once. She feels like she can barely breathe. Dani’s eyes fill with tears as she stares at the bracelets in his hand. Specifically, the one cut in half. Derek lifts his head to meet her eyes. He finds the pain he sensed from her earlier. Derek’s gaze softens considerably. She looks like she’s about to fall apart.

Dani draws in a deep breath, smoothing her hands over the curve of her hips, letting out a heavy sigh. She doesn’t want to talk, but the sad fact about this entire thing is that Derek is the only person she can talk to. She can’t talk to her mom or Allison for that matter, because they don’t know about Scott being a werewolf. She couldn’t completely open up to Chris because if he knew about Scott that could put everyone in danger. She couldn’t talk to Scott or Stiles because she simply doesn’t want to.

Dani moves over to her bed and sits down, staring at the floor. “I-” Dani closes her eyes, dropping her head in her hands. As Dani runs her hands through her hair, Derek pulls the chair over in front of her and he sits, carefully studying her. She rubs her face, struggling to swallow the ball of emotions that seems to be lodged in her throat. She can’t take it. Dani opens her eyes, finding Derek’s boring into hers. They’re so intense and striking and captivating. “I grew up with sisters…And if something happened, or they were upset...I would come into their room, they’d sit on their bed like you are right now and I’d sit with them and stare at them until they started talking.”

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Dani’s lips. She can see him doing that. It warms her heart, thinking of him as an affectionate older brother, checking on his sisters and wanting them to open up. It brought him into a new light and explained a few things about his character. “Did they cave?” she asks. “Eventually” he says. Dani gives a small smile, holding his gaze. “This is your way of telling me you’re not leaving me alone isn’t it?” she asks. Derek slowly nods. Dani returns the nod, her eyes falling to his hands.

Dani takes in a shaky breath, her vision blurring with tears. She reaches forward, taking the bracelets from his hand. Dani lets out that breath in a rush, struggling to keep herself together as she stares down at the bracelets in her hand. Derek leans in closer, his eyes gently fixed on her pained expression as he slides his fingers around the back of her knee. He runs his thumb back and forth across the side of her kneecap, trying to coax her into talking. He’s figured out the physically touching her tends to put her at ease. He only hopes that it works this time.

The warmth of his hand pulls a soft whimper from Dani, her stubborn resolve crumbling down inside her. Her hands start to shake as she stares at the bracelets. She sniffles, tucking some hair behind her ear. She can’t do this anymore. Dani lifts her head, finding Derek’s eyes much softer than they were before. He almost looks worried. Dani takes a deep breath and nods, dropping her eyes to the bracelets once more. “Okay…okay…” she whispers.

“Jackson knows about Scott.” Derek remains very still, his posture tensing slightly. “I don’t know how, but he knows. He’s been coming after Scott for a while, but now he’s blackmailing him. He wants the bite and he’s threatening to tell Allison and her family or something like that if he doesn’t figure out a way to turn him.”

“I know that Scott’s not a kid anymore...And I’ve tried so hard to leave it alone and let him fight his own battles, but Jackson’s gone way too far. Today, me and Jackson got into it and he does this-” Dani’s voice cracks as she opens her hand, holding up the bracelets.

“We made these friendship bracelets in third grade! And he got so upset about me not telling him about Scott and how I’m an awful friend and he cuts his bracelet, telling me it’s over and he doesn’t want me in his life anymore!” Dani continues sobbing, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. “I just can’t believe I’m being punished for something my brother didn’t even want in the first place!”

Dani reaches for her inhaler and wipes her eyes as another sob escapes her. She sniffles and inhales two puffs, feeling her body relax instantly. She wipes her eyes again and shakes her head. “Now I’m dehydrated” Dani stands up, taking a deep breath before heading for the door. Derek follows her out into the hallway and down the stairs. “And after all that-” Dani says, entering the kitchen. She moves over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water before continuing.

“Like a sad little puppy, I run to the Argent’s house.” She takes a swig of the water, setting the bottle down on the table in the center of the kitchen. “And I gush to Chris, about me and Jackson’s friendship breakup, expecting him to play daddy.” Dani sets the bracelets on the table. “And he did…” Derek stands in the doorway of the kitchen, quietly. His gaze soft as he absorbs her words.

“He asked me this question...He said, ‘Do you think a part of why you are so upset is because of your father?’...Boy did he nail that right on the head…” she says. Dani pushes off the table, facing Derek. “When I was little...My father was everything to me. He was my whole world...He did everything with me. Every day was special...He loved me and Scott more than anything.” Dani takes a deep breath, moving around to the end of the table. “When I was eight years old, his mother and his sister died in a car accident...And that’s when he started drinking…”

“Once he started, he didn’t stop. He was either drunk or hungover, there was no in between. He never played with me or Scott…It was like we didn’t even exist most of the time. He’d scream at my mom...” Dani’s voice cracks as a tear slides down her cheek. “I was so young...I just couldn’t understand why my papa didn’t want to be with me anymore, why he didn’t want to spend time with me anymore...why he was always so angry at us.” Dani sniffles, her vision so blurred with tears.

“I remember...I remember wanting to show him this drawing I made for him and... And I accidentally knocked over his beer.” Dani says softly, the memory playing in her head. “He just...erupted. I was so scared I couldn’t move. I started crying and he...and he...hit me.” Derek’s entire body goes rigid. Dani pushes the strand of hair by her left ear out of the way, revealing a small pink scar by her ear. “His class ring did that.” Derek stares at the scar, an icy chill settling in his bones. He couldn’t understand how a man could put his hands on his daughter.

“Mom saw...she told me to run and I did. I could hear their fight all the way upstairs. The screaming, slamming doors, and all the crashing and breaking...I woke up the next morning and he was gone.” Dani lets out a heavy sigh. “If Jackson wants to leave, I won’t stop him. I’m not gonna beg him to stay. If he wants to walk out, he can go...I mean, my dad did.”

Dani scoffs, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like I’m still nine years old, staying up every night and asking my mom ‘When is papa coming home?’ Who needs him? I don’t, Scott doesn’t, mom sure as hell doesn’t! He wasn’t there to teach me how to take care of Scott, but I learned didn’t I? I got through my first breakup without him! I learned how to drive, how to handle boys, how to stand up for myself without him! I had nine great birthdays without him! He’s never sent a card, no letter, no nothing, so TO HELL WITH HIM!” Dani screams, throwing her water bottle at the wall.

Derek lowers his head. He felt her pain. The brokenness, the anger, and sadness that’s been radiating from her so intensely has seeped into him. He’s so shocked and overwhelmed by Dani’s childhood he can’t even speak. He can barely wrap his head around the fact that these things were a reality for her. Dani inhales a puff from her inhaler, trying to calm down, but her emotions have gotten the best of her. She’s held all of this in for so long and she just can’t do it anymore. It all hurts so bad. Every year since he left, she’s gone out to the mailbox on her birthday, hoping to find something. Hoping that he might care to send his baby girl something on her birthday, but it was always empty.

Dani turns around, facing Derek with tears streaming down her face. “Why doesn’t he want me?” She whimpers. A broken sob rips from Dani’s throat and she crumbles to the floor. Derek quickly drops down next to her, pulling her against his chest and enveloping her in his arms. Dani sobs against his chest, holding onto him so tightly as if he’d disappear if she let go. Dani’s cries shake Derek to his core. His arms tighten around her and gently rocks from side to side. “Don’t leave” Dani croaks. “Please don’t go away” she sobs. “I’m not going anywhere” he whispers into her hair. Derek presses a kiss on her forehead as she dissolves into her heartache in his arms.

#wafr #what a furry ride #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x oc #derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x oc #derek hale x daniella mccall #derek x dani #dani #dani mccall #scott mccall #scott mccall imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine

39 notes · View notes

jemej3m · 5 years

Text

leisuring

directly caused by by @mini-minish‘s andrew in jenna marble’s leisuring suit, i present to you this:

a stupid short fic where andrew is jenna and neil is julien

(based loosely on her videos i want to be tall, i try hot glue crafts, cooking vegan thanksgiving food, giving my boyfriend acrylic nails and how many balloons does it take to lift my dog off the floor and maybe a few others)

Andrew frowned at the video. He almost ignored it: He ignored a lot of things on the internet, except for the video suggestions that truly stuck with him. And Neil’s texts.

Even then, sometimes he found himself so lost that spiral that was the internet that even Neil didn’t draw him out.

He’d seen shit like this all over the place already: Shane Dawson, all those pathetic beauty gurus, where edits brought their best (worst?) moments all together for a ten minute long shitshow.

And here was Andrew’s ten minute long shit show. Appropriately titled “andrew and neil annoying each other for ten minutes straight”, it was posted by some random person. Nicko. Weird.

Andrew almost didn’t click on it. Almost.

Then he did, and it unfolded like this:

“Andrew,” Neil said, exasperated. “What are you doing.”

Andrew was sat in a dark corner of the house, playing the electronic keyboard. It had a choral overlay, like a church choir was humming along to him. He said: “I want to be tall.”

Neil snorted. “Neither of us have grown since sixth grade.”

He played another chord. “I want to grow a whole eight inches, Neil.”

Neil arched an eyebrow, holding the camera in front of his chest. Andrew looked up at him instead. “You want to grow a whole eight inches.”

“Then I will be average height.” He played his third and final chord. “I want to be tall.”

Neil sighed. “Fine. Come on.”

cut screen

[andrew and neil annoying each other for ten minutes straight]

“Neil.” Andrew leaned into the study, where Neil was curled into a ball with a hood drawn over his head. He probably had woken up at six-am to go for a jog and hadn’t bothered to shower since, considering Neil was disgusting and nothing Andrew did would ever change that.

Neil looked up from the computer screen and immediately frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that.”

Andrew thought he was looking pretty dead-pan. Fuck Neil for being able to see right through him. “How would you feel - ”

Neil put his head in his hands. “Give me the sweet release of death already.”

“- about me giving you a full set of acrylic nails.”

Neil’s head dropped to the desktop with a loud bang.

“Neil.” Andrew snapped. “Neil. Quit that. You’re making a mess.”

“It’s fine.” Neil grinned, flipping a glass bowl and snatching it mid-air with his hand. The camera zoomed into Andrew’s eye twitching, every time Neil threw and caught that infernal bowl. “It’s fine. What’s wrong? Everything’s fine.”

“I fucking hate you.” Andrew growled.

“How many times did we have to go back to Party City to get these balloons?” Andrew wondered aloud.

“Six times.” Neil informed him, looking at how his cat (Sir, not King - King was way too hyperactive) was relaxing about three metres above the ground. She was suspended with seventy-two helium balloons, because Andrew wanted to know how many balloons it took to lift their small cat.

“She’s sleeping, ‘Drew.” Neil murmured grinning behind his hand. “Oh my god, she’s so relaxed. She’s sleeping.”

“It’s because King can’t reach her, and thus, can’t taunt her or wake her up.” Andrew looked at the dozens of balloons that now filled their living room with satisfaction. “It’ll be her safe space.”

Neil slung his arm around Andrew’s shoulders, still filming as their cat spun meaninglessly through the air.

“Ow!” Neil hissed, inspecting his now inch-and-a-half long acrylic nails. “Ow. What the fuck. What the fuck!”

“Calm down.” Andrew berated him, finishing the acrylic on his second last nail. “You’re being a wuss.”

“I want these off, now.” Neil moaned.

“Well, I don’t have pure acetone, so we’ll see if we can get them off at all.”

“Wait, what?” Neil yelped, glaring at Andrew. He widened his eyes. “What?”

“I’m going to give you a Brazilian Blowout.” Andrew menacingly waved his hairdryer around. “You’ll look like you’re compensating for a lack of an emo-phase in your teenage years.”

Neil grinned up at him from where he was sitting. “You never moved on from that phase, did you?”

Andrew almost stabbed him with the hairbrush. “I’m compensating for you.”

Neil settled into the chair. “Do what you want. Just don’t bring the FBI running.”

Andrew snorted.

Andrew walked out from the corridor in eight-inch heels, hair sprayed upright.

“Oh, damn.” Neil said, softly, looking at the leather boots and purple trousers that were tight around his thighs.

“Keep it in your pants, Josten.” Andrew said snipily. “Eyes are up here.”

“Don’t worry,” Neil grinned, craning his neck up to look at him. “That orange jacket is really turning me off.”

Andrew stared dead into the camera with a hat made out of hot glue to his head. The camera zoomed in. He slowly help up a different piece of hot glue.

“See, Five-Minute-Crafts? I can create random shit out of hot glue, too.”

It read fuck you.

“Neil, that’s too much cinnamon.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Neil.”

“Yes?”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m angry.” Andrew said.

“Well, no shit.” Neil remarked. “You just spent six hours making a chair out of jeans, with nothing but staples to put it together.” He threaded his fingers through Andrew’s hair as his boyfriend looked up at him in misery. “It’s completely rational.”

“Should we bring her down?” Neil whispered. Sir hadn’t woken up from where she was napping, mid-air.

“Why are you whispering.” Andrew said flatly.

“She’s asleep. Don’t wanna be rude.”

“It’s a cat floating in midair. Somehow, I don’t think it cares.”

Andrew slowly turned his face towards Neil as he glittered with rhinestones. He’d never felt more itchy in his life, and he’d put on a hundred layers of fake eyelashes once.

“Pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass,” Andrew winked at him and Neil grinned. “Smash.”

Neil stabbed a banana with his terrifyingly long nails and grinned at Andrew as disgusting banana goop got stuck under his nails. Andrew wanted to retch.

Then he bent down and tried to feed it from the cats, and Andrew hated his boyfriend so much.

“Are you satisfied, now?” Neil looked up at Andrew, who was a little unsteady in these eight-inch boots. His head hurt with the amount of hairspray they’d used to stand his hair up, even though his hair wasn’t even that long.

“This is now my permanent state.” Andrew replied.

Neil rolled his eyes.

“Guess who’s man isn’t here to be the idiot?” Andrew pointed at himself. “My man. Guess who’s going to compensate for Neil’s idiocy by dyeing his hair bright red?” He pointed at himself. “This bitch.”

“Neil.” Andrew said, voice on the absolute edge of losing it. Neil fucking threw a piece of cannoli dough into the deep fryer, getting hot oil everywhere. “If you’re going to go and be a tornado all through the kitchen, then fucking tornado your way out to the living room.”

Neil coughed in his ear on purpose, and Andrew grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Aw,” Neil was laughing too hard to be taking Andrew serious. “You’re no fun!”

Andrew shoved him onto the couch. “Stay there till the deep fryer is off.”

Andrew gazed out the window. “The sun has set since I started doing this.” He then turned, gazing straight into the camera. “The sun’s setting on the opportunity for me to do something with my life.

Sir lazed on the chair that Andrew sat beside, reading out the mean comments that the internet had spared her. She was the ‘dead’ one, an old cat who barely moved or even blinked, whilst King was the more challenged one, to say the least.

“Oh, look.” Andrew said icily. “It’s a comment from Allison Reynolds herself. Keep talking up your cats, Reynolds. We all know they can’t manage anything more than purely aesthetic function, just like yourself.”

Neil whistled lowly. “Not sure your best friend would appreciate you calling her girlfriend a trophy wife.”

“Is that not what Reynolds is?” Andrew snorted. “My mistake.”

Neil made kissy noises. “You lookin’ like a snack.”

Andrew brandished a kitchen knife. “Say that again, I dare you.”

Neil just grinned and mouthed love you.

cut screen

[thx for watching]

Andrew slapped his laptop closed.

“Neil,” He called over his shoulder. “I’m quitting Youtube.”

His boyfriend leaned over the back of the couch to loop his arms around Andrew’s shoulders and press kisses to his cheeks. “Uhuh. Because I’ve never heard you say that before.”

Andrew grumbled, grabbing Neil by the arms and throwing him over the back of the couch. He partially landed in Andrew’s lap.

“I’ve been jiu-jitsed!” Neil rolled off the couch with a melodramatic thud. “It’s all over. Tell my father I love him!”

“He’s dead and you hate him.” Andrew said flatly. Neil grinned up at him.

“You know me so well.” He sunk into the couch beside Andrew, curling into a ball against his side. “Will you show me this video of us?”

Andrew sighed, opening his laptop. He let himself droop his head down to Neil’s shoulder, somewhat nuzzling into the familiar scent of his shirt.

He’d quit another day.

thx for readin lmao

#andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #youtube au #jenna and julien au #all for the game #jem writes

197 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The following contains spoilers for Psych 2: Lassie Come Home.

As fun as 2017’s Psych: The Movie was, its 2020 sequel Psych 2: Lassie Come Home will likely supplant it in Psych-Os’ hearts, because it’s got 500% more Carlton Lassiter (Timothy Omundson). But how does it stack up to its predecessor in terms of Psych callbacks and pop culture homages? Using our Spencer powers of observation, we’ve tried to catch every recurring inside joke between Shawn (James Roday Rodriguez) and Gus (Dulé Hill), plus all the episodic-specific bits. It’s a feature-length Hitchcock homage, but it’s also the toughest Easter egg hunt of your life. C’mon, son!

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Eggs and References

The title is a reference to Lassie Come Home, the 1943 Lassie movie about the beloved dog making her way home from Scotland. A German-language remake came out early in 2020.

It’s always a treat to hear the Psych theme song “I Know, You Know,” performed by creator Steve Franks and his band The Friendly Indians.

Lassiter wakes up to Shawn and Gus hovering above him at the recovery clinic is a throwback to when they kidnapped him for his bachelor party in “Deez Nups” and he came to with them screaming “Surpriiise!”

Morrissey the rescue dog reprises his role from Psych: The Movie in being adorable, incredibly nosy, and oblivious to Shawn’s hissing commands.

Sarah Chalke’s nurse character Dolores is most likely a nod to San Francisco’s Mission Dolores church and cemetery, the location for Carlotta Valdes’ grave in Vertigo.

Right out the gate, Dolores is treated to the requisite Gus nickname: “My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner Bill Poopingtons.” However, Shawn and Gus take a sidebar for a very meta argument about their ongoing bit (while fitting in another bit):

“Gus, don’t be the night your dad fell asleep inside your mom. We can’t just stop doing bits we’ve been doing for ten years. We have fans, they have expectations, there’ll be a huge backlash.”

“Shawn, we are two dumbasses, we do not have fans.”

Compromise: Gus gets right of refusal until they land on a nickname he prefers. And so:

Bill Poopingtons > All the Pips in One

Ding-Dong Ditch > Claude O’Dern > Big Poppa Pump > Lemon-a Lemon-a Lemon-a Liiime

Leggo My Eggo > Norman Brown Butter > Dijon Hounsou

Gus also calls himself Jermajesty, channeling some Jackson Five energy.

“Black Jello” was Gus’ nickname in their adult dodgeball league.

The Herschel House is likely a nod to Herschel Daugherty, who directed over two dozen episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents…

Gus and Shawn are still bickering over driving the drivers ed car, even if we don’t see it in the movie. They do manage to be just as bad at turning the right direction when riding a motorcycle together.

“Now I know this ‘goofy little white guy/sexy black dude’ routine the two of you have going like the back of my scrubs.” Sarah Chalke played Elliot on Scrubs, whose JD/Turk bromance walked so that Shawn/Gus could run.

Shawn calls Dolores “the nurse from Color of Night,” the 1994 Bruce Willis erotic mystery thriller that won a Golden Raspberry for Worst Picture.

The boys get Jamba Juice because you never turn down an opportunity for a Jamba.

Shawn likens Gus’ pubic hair to Eddie Murphy’s mustache in his 1987 stand-up film Raw.

Shawn offers the dismembered hand to Gus to “knuck it up softly,” per their penchant for fist-bumping.

They later do fist-bump outside the old Psych offices, but not before channeling Han Solo and Chewbacca in Star Wars: The Force Awakens: “Gus, we’re home.” “[Wookiee sound]”

Psych has become a French-themed cat café… for now, at least. It’s not an alternative universe from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, but the current subletter’s pop-up business. The proprietor (not the girl from Orphan) is played by Allison Miller, James Roday Rodriguez’s co-star in A Million Little Things.

“I am a psychic. He is a sympathetic pooper.” Poor Gus’ intestinal system gets called out again.

Henry’s (Corbin Bernsen) put-on voice gets compared to Tom Waits, Kathleen Turner, Harvey Fierstein, and Diedrich Bader.

Shawn neglected to tell his landlord that he’d moved, which tracks with his behavior in the series finale “The Break-Up.”

Henry reveals that in addition to telenovelas, he enjoys zeitgeist-y sobfests: “You left behind a slow cooker with a three-pound roast in it. You nearly This Is Us-ed the entire block.”

“This Is Us—Dad, why are you watching that show? They have the same show on ABC but newer”: Shawn’s shoutout to A Million Little Things.

Lassiter mistakes Reese Kessler, his supposed shooter, for country music singer Conway Twitty.

Lassiter’s to-do list includes “tape Galavant,” the short-lived musical comedy fantasy series created by Dan Fogelman (This Is Us), in which Timothy Omundson played King Richard. It also includes items poking fun at Lassiter’s crankiness (“yell at nature,” “chirping bird d-day plan”) and tenacity (“solve black dahlia”), and heartstring-tugging items (“pre-register for ironman” as in the triathlon). He also has written down Shawn’s S.E.I.Z.E. mantra from his short-lived career as Lassiter’s life coach in “S.E.I.Z.E. the Day”: Seize Eggs I don’t know Zebra Eighties.

Juliet (Maggie Lawson) lying to Shawn sounds strange, though not as strange as Lupita Nyong’o—the Tethered Lupita—in Jordan Peele’s Us.

Shawn’s “romantic dinner” for Jules is the menu from A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (jelly beans, pretzels, buttered toast, popcorn, and ice cream sundaes) because it’s all they had at the gas station on the way home.

That prompts an iconic “C’mon, son!” from Gus.

Gus’ ringtone is “I’m Mr. Bootyman,” which is both Henry’s ringtone and the song featured in Buzz McNab’s bachelorette party stripper routine in “Deez Nups.”

Gus’ (technically Jules’) green snuggie bears a striking resemblance to official Psych contest merch.

Lassiter spotting mysterious bleeding figures out his window is an homage to Rear Window.

Richard Schiff (as Dr. Herschel) was Dulé Hill’s co-star in The West Wing.

Potterhead Gus wants to know if there are any people hiding in the pipes of the Herschel House, “speaking in their own tongue, perhaps Parsel.”

The Psych boys’ map of suspects briefly includes the Hell Hag from Gus’ dreams in “A Nightmare on State Street.”

Shawn has only been to Norway once with his brother-in-law Ewan O’Hara (John Cena), but they don’t talk about that… Maybe that’s where Psych: The Movie went after its cliffhanger ending?

Ova’s Norwegian song/chant toast at the Viking’s Ice Den is very similar to the Swedish toast in “Right Turn or Left for Dead.”

Ova’s violent son Per is first described as “the bearded Daryl Hannah.”

Shawn’s excuse to Detective Buzz McNab (Sage Brocklebank) for being in Santa Barbara is that he forgot a frisbee signed by German writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.

Shawn’s first reaction to Jules potentially being pregnant: “You know the windows in the loft don’t even fully close, right? I’m gonna have to replace them, otherwise this is Baby’s Day Out all over again.” As Gus reassures him, he always did get worked up over John Hughes’ worst idea.

At the old Psych offices, Shawn pulls out the jousting lance from “100 Clues”—as well as a pineapple! He looks about to ask, “Should we cut this up for the road?” (his question during the pineapple’s first appearance in the pilot, plus at the end of Psych: The Movie) but stops himself.

When Lassie believes that fellow patient Mr. Wilkerson (Kadeem Hardison) has been walking around, Shawn and Gus have to go “full Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” to interrogate the supposedly catatonic patient.

Shoutout to Jessie Spano’s infamous “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so scared!” speed speech from Saved by the Bell.

If it’s not Scrubs, the boys are getting compared to Ren and Stimpy.

Mary Lightly (Jimmi Simpson) returns in another incredible, extra-hallucinatory look into Shawn’s brain… this time as a baby, since Shawn’s got fatherhood on the brain.

“We got jackaled!” Gus shouts upon learning that Wilkerson can walk—a reference to “hitting the jackal switch,” or going into stealth mode.

Shawn has always had a thing for singer Jewel, even after the Civil War movie (1999’s Ride with the Devil) and the Bollywood song.

Of course there’s a nasty dance when Shawn and Gus figure out who they think is behind everything.

Gus declares that “I am not going to let you shoot Shules’ baby!” only for the Chief (Kirsten Nelson) to ask, “What’s a Shules?” That’s the fans’ name for Shawn/Jules, a cute nod to a series OTP.

And of course, we can’t forget the fact that Jazmyn Simon, who plays Selene, is Dulé Hill’s real-life wife.

More than once, Shawn quotes The Handmaid’s Tale in reference to Gus and Selene’s baby: “Praise be” and “Blessed is the fruit.”

Dolores compliments Lassiter’s “chest of hair plentiful enough to wake all of Destiny’s Child.”

Shawn comes up with possible names for Gus’ child: Shaft, Shaftie, or D’Shaft—just like Gus’ nickname Sh’Dynasty (with a “God’s comma,” or apostrophe) from “Santabarbaratown.”

They also both coo “c’mon son” to Selene’s womb.

Selene’s proposal to Gus includes his negotiation that he and Shawn have adjacent homes with connecting pools, a callback to Shawn and Gus talking about their dream setup in “The Break-Up”; as well as Pluto! She asks, “Will you make me the happiest woman on this planet, on Eres, and Pluto?”

Shawn tells Juliet that “you’re my person,” the iconic Grey’s Anatomy line (though one would argue that Gus more accurately is his person).

When Lassiter stands (shut up, you’re crying) to meet Marlowe (Kristy Swanson), they place their palms together—like they did when he would visit her in jail, like they did at their wedding. My heart.

Join us on the Easter egg hunt—let us know what references we missed!

The post Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2CDgzPr

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

4 notes · View notes

the-sweetest-dragon · 4 years

Text

Things Can Only Get Better - Chapter Two

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles Stilinksi x OC (Evangeline Monroe)

Word Count: 12k (I went buckwild)

Warnings: kidnapping, allusions to abuse, allusions to trauma, anxiety, Stiles being an idiot, blood, wounds, injuries

AN: I am still on my bullshit with this fandom and I don’t know when it will end. This is based on the last few episodes of season one with my own little spin on it

Tags: @nerdsarebetter @audder17 (READ MY STUFF YOU COWARD)

chapter one

________________________________________________

“If you live among wolves you have to act like a wolf.” - Nikita Khrushchev

The months after the party went by quickly. Not much happened. Well, a lot happened but just not to me. Everything had been quickly going downhill; Lydia, Stiles, Allison, Jackson, and Scott had gotten trapped in the school one night while the alpha roamed around and killed the janitor. Which had been one of many murders that had happened since we had been turned. A bus driver had been found, not quite dead but then later passed in the hospital. I did my best to stay out of it. Derek never approached me, thankfully. They eventually figured out that the alpha was Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle who had been horrifically burned in the fire six years ago. Which was terrifying to hear, but made since in the overarching scheme of things.

A few things went down in our social group as well. Allison and Scott broke up mid-semester for reasons unknown to me. I still sit with Scott and Stiles at lunch most days, mostly just to stay in the loop about what was going on. Jackson had (somehow) figured out what Scott and I were, but he wasn’t aware I was one too, thankfully. I could feel the tension between the two boys and ultimately decided it was best if I stayed out of it.

However, it was when I finally heard all the details of the breakup, that I decided to stop sitting with them at lunch and instead moved to sitting with just Allison. We were quickly joined by an apologetic Lydia who missed her friends. I ignored Scott as much as I could, which also meant ignoring Stiles. That hurt my heart a little, a small crush blossoming in the weeks we had spent together investigating the murders.

Stiles still texted me updates when he could and we talked in the halls. We no longer pretend to be dating, or whatever people thought we were doing. A week after Thanksgiving break, Isaac Lahey asked me to go to the winter formal with him and I, of course, said yes. No one else was going to ask me and Issac was cute, with curly blonde hair and blue eyes. He was also on the lacrosse team, though Lydia didn’t recognize the name. I had said yes before thinking about Stiles, but if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t think he really cared if I went at all. Which broke my heart a little, but I did my best to ignore it. He still had a huge crush on Lydia and I didn’t really want to mess around with that.

I tried to focus on Lydia more. She and Jackson had broken up not too long after Allison and Scott had split. Lydia seemed… heartbroken. Her sadness clung to her like a second skin and nearly made it impossible to sit near her. No one else seemed to notice, besides me and maybe Stiles, for obvious reasons. She had really loved Jackson, for whatever reason. I still don’t like the guy, especially after the shit he pulled trying to get the bite. He was reckless and didn’t listen to reason, two of my least favorite qualities.

One day, after a few weeks of refusing to speak to him, Scott stopped me in the hallway. The stench of desperation surrounded me, making me want to gag. I glared at him and he held his hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk,” he said, his brown eyes pleading with me. At that moment I spotted Isaac’s blonde head over the crowd of people and I hurried towards it, Scott meeting me stride for stride. “I need you to get Allison’s necklace for me. We think it may have to do with the murders.” I stop in my tracks and turn a glare onto him.

“So you want me to steal from one of my best friends?” I practically growl at him. His eyes go wide, and I try to calm down. Scott was one of the few people who managed to really get under my skin, and I knew in that moment that my eyes had gone yellow. I collected myself, pushing the anger and panic down. “I am not stealing from her. If you want it, why don’t you ask for it? I won’t be your go between.” He stops following me and I quickly get to Issac’s side.

“Hey, whats up?” he asks quietly. I shake my head. Isaac is shockingly good at reading my emotions, and knowing when I don’t want to talk. He just nods, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. We walked to class in relative silence, only catching a few looks in the process.

Isaac wasn’t the most popular choice in friends, but he was kind. He had a rather bad home life, so in the few weeks we had been friends, he had been over at my house nearly every night. Partially to work on homework, but also to just get away. Mom instantly liked him, and Dad seemed to like him, as much as Dad liked any of my guy friends. I wasn’t sure if Isaac liked me in a romantic way but nothing with him was ever boring, and it felt… normal.

A week before the formal, Lydia took Allison and I shopping for dresses. It was her way of apologizing for everything. Not to mention that Allison is acting weird. We had figured out her family’s secret, that they were hunters. Allison didn’t seem to be clued in on that fact, but I had decided that being her friend was more important. She wouldn’t hurt me.

We walk into Macy’s, heading towards the escalator. We had been talking about formal plans, but I tuned them out fairly quickly. I tune back in when Allison turns towards Lydia with a triumphant smile.

“I’m going with Jackson,” Allison states. I blink a few times, confused as to why anyone would willingly spend time with that snake. Lydia’s face twists with shock and I feel a little bad for thinking such things. “He asked, and I said yes.” I shrug, not wanting to dig too deep into whatever was happening between them. Lydia looked almost mad, her face going red with anger. It was almost comical.

“Is this payback for making out with Scott?” she asks quietly. Allison just smiles and shakes her head, infuriating her more. “And who am I supposed to go with?” Once her question is asked, a familiar scent hits my nose. I groan internally.

“Him,” Allison says, pointing towards the scent I had smelled. Stiles. He leans to sniff something at the perfume counter and inevitably does something klutzy. I laugh softly, covering my mouth with my hand to keep the sound to myself. I turn to see Lydia’s eyes narrow and then turn to me. She raises an eyebrow in question and I just shrug, knowing that I had no claim on him. I push down the small, insecure part of me that is screaming to tell her no, it’s not okay. That pang of jealousy would have to be explored at a later point.

After Allison points him out, Stiles follows Lydia around like a lost puppy, holding her mountain of dresses for her and shooting off sarcastic comments that make me laugh. His eyes meet mine a few times, as if asking if this was going to be okay. I nod, refusing to let that feeling overtake me. We’re friends, I can handle this weird little crush that has been lingering.

We walk around for what feels like hours, Allison disappearing to take care of her car an hour into shopping. Lydia decides on a silver dress with a black ribbon around her waist and Allison decides on a ruffled silver number that really compliments her coloring. They both leaned very heavily on the ‘winter’ part of winter formal with those colors. I still couldn’t find a dress I liked that fit me well, until Stiles waves me over to a rack a few feet from where I am.

“Evie, come here! I think I found something,” he says, a big smile on his face. I hurry over to him, excited to see what he had found. He pulls out a deep green dress with an iridescent overlay on the skirt and bodice. It laces up in the back instead of having a zipper and has some boning in the front, to keep it stiff. I run my fingers over the fabric, a smile creeping its way onto my face. “Well, what do you think?” he asks, a nervous lilt in his voice.

“I love it.” He smiles, relieved and I quickly find my size and head towards the changing rooms. As soon as I slip the dress on, I know it’s the one. I struggle slightly with tying the ribbons in the back, but mange to get it tight enough that it won’t slip off me. Stepping in front of the mirror, I admire how it looks on me. The green makes my hair look more red, and compliments my dark eyes. I twirl, watching the skirt spin with me. It gives me fairy vibes and I’m absolutely in love with it.

I step out into the main area where everyone is waiting. Lydia insists on seeing all the dresses, to help us pick I guess. I hear a soft gasp when I walk out, and my eyes immediately go to Lydia, who has a grin on her face and a look of approval shining through. Allison is smiling, her dimples really coming through from the strength of it. Stiles’ eyes went wide when he sees me, an odd look coming onto his face.

“Wow! You look great!” he says. “Not that you don’t always look great! This is just… wow.” I laugh, a blush heating up my face. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach, trying to squish them before there’s a whole horde of them in there.

“Well, you picked it out. You have a good eye, for a guy,” I say with a grin. “So, this is a yes, right? Please let it be a yes, I don’t think I can handle anymore dress-trying-on.” Lydia laughs, the first I had heard in a long time.

“Yeah, that’s a definite yes. Isaac won’t know what hit him.” At the mention of Isaac, Stiles’ light eyes go dark with what I assume is jealousy, which makes my heart do flips. Maybe he does like me the way I like him. He hurries away, mostly to help Lydia put all the no’s on the return rack, but I can hear his heart beating faster than usual. Stiles avoids me the rest of the night, and I try not to worry about it, though his actions make me nervous.

We go out for a quick bite after we buy our dresses, Lydia insisting to buy both Allison and I’s. I argue slightly, until I see the price tag and know without a doubt that I don’t have that much money in my bank account. Us girls discuss hair and makeup ideas, while Stiles does his very best to not look bored. For his part, Lydia had made sure that he had a tux that would go well with her dress. I made a mental note to ask Isaac about his tux, though I wasn’t too concerned with matching. As long as it was black and white, it would look fine.

Lydia dropped Allison and I off, Stiles going home on his own. I hurry up to my room to put my dress in the closet. I had tried my best to decorate my room in a nice way. We had painted the walls a nice ivory color, nothing too bright. One wall was covered in false ivy and had an oversized chair in the corner, next to my bookshelves. Another wall held my bed, it’s warmth especially inviting after these past few hours of tedious shopping. The weather had started to turn chilly, though not nearly as cold as it had been in Kansas, which I was grateful for. My desk was pushed up to the window, so I could see out while doing homework. Books littered my desk, some for school and others for my own downtime.

I do my nightly routine, making sure to remove all makeup before heading to bed. There had been a night about a month ago where I had forgotten and woke up to a perfect imprint of my face on my white pillow. Needless to say, Mom was not very happy with me for that one. I slide into my warm bed, a feeling of comfort seeping into my bones.

I often have dreams, or rather, nightmares. My brain seems to think that I don’t worry enough while I’m awake, so it creates scenes in my brain to have me react to and become anxious upon waking. Lately, I have been having the same dream over and over again. I was in the woods, a gauzy white gown covering my otherwise nude body, as I ran between the trees. I wasn’t being chased, but I could feel someone following me. We were laughing in the dream, and at some point it felt like I had been tackled to the ground by this person but nothing hurt. I could feel them leave soft kisses on my exposed shoulders and I felt so completely comfortable. It didn’t make sense, and I had no clue who the person was but I found myself searching for them upon waking. The urge to find them was so strong it was almost painful.

Tonight is no different. As I fall asleep, the scent of the woods hits my nose immediately. The same dress covered my body, and I could almost see the person behind me before we started sprinting through the woods, my speed surprising me. I turn back to see the person, but they’re far behind me. I slow down so they can catch up and their scent hits me. Sweat, but something else, something… manly. Before I could place the smell, I was being tackled to the ground. This time though, I was facing the person and I felt a slight pain in my back, making me close my eyes in discomfort. A hand gently cups my face and his thumb gently caresses my cheek. I lean into the touch, savoring it before the dream melts away into darkness.

I wake slowly, wanting to stay in my dream as long as possible to gather any more clues about the person. The sun hasn’t even rose, and yet here I am, awake. I sigh, deciding that if I have to be awake, I might as well use the time efficiently. I take a long, hot shower, trying to get the scent of the man out of my nose. Everything about him felt so familiar and yet I couldn’t place it. Closing my eyes, I try to mentally put it in a folder to look at later; focusing on it now would do me no good. I take a few deep breaths and turn off the water, stepping out into the cool bathroom. Wrapping a towel around myself, I head back to my room. I flip on the light and pad to my closet when I hear a soft sound.

I turn slowly, spotting a man sitting in my desk chair. I freeze, much like a deer caught in headlights as the man stands.

“Hello, Evangeline.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I rub my eyes, yawning as I pull on my jersey. I hadn’t slept well last night, partially because of this recurring dream that left me feeling exhausted and partially because I didn’t fall asleep until very early in the morning. My phone buzzes relentlessly in my pocket, the buzzing catching the attention of both Scott and Coach, which is unfortunate for me.

“Stilinski! If you can’t shut that thing up, I’ll shut it up for you!” he yelled from across the locker room. I wince and fumble for it, nearly dropping it onto the hard concrete floor.

“Yes Coach,” I say back, ignoring the call. I sigh, putting the phone into my gym locker, not bothering to look at who had been calling me. Scott gives me a funny look before turning back to whatever Coach had been lecturing us about before I had rudely interrupted. I tuned him out most of the time, and this time was no different.

It was way too early to be having practice; the sun was barely up, but here we are, cold and running laps. Practice itself wouldn’t take that long, but it had gotten so cold this past week that no one really wanted to be out on the field. Everyone was sluggish, even Scott, who still looked like a kicked puppy about Allison going to the formal with Jackson. I still hadn’t figured out how Allison had talked Lydia into being my date but to say I was excited would have been an understatement. This was my one chance to show her how great a boyfriend I can be, and I’m not about to give that up.

Practice goes by quickly, the cold settling into our bones within a few minutes. After showering and dressing, I grab my phone from my locker, noticing that I had four missed calls. I scroll through the call log, realizing they were all from Evie and she only left one voicemail. I open it, my foot tapping against the floor, the only sign of my nervousness.

“Stiles, he found me…” a loud bang in the background and a yelp from Evie nearly sets me running. Her voice is low, barely there. “I… I don’t know where I am. It’s so dark… Stiles…” The voicemail is cut off there and I bring the phone in front of me in shock. Scott comes up beside me, his jaw set in anger. He lays a hand on my shoulder and looks at me dead in the eye.

“We’ll find her.” I nod, the situation still not quite making sense. He who? There were several contenders at this point. It could be Peter, or Derek, or Argent… There were too many people involved for anything to be clear. I take a deep, calming breath. “Do you have anything of hers that I can get a scent off of? Or do we need to raid her house?” I pause for a moment, trying to remember if she had ever left anything in the Jeep. I shake my head, coming up empty.

“No, but I think we may be able to get something from her locker.” Scott gives me a funny look and I explain quickly. “She never locks it, says that the combination takes too much time.” He nods and we head towards the hallway. I nearly walk past it and have to double back after I spot it. I open it, the pictures inside fluttering at the movement. Scott takes over from there, grabbing a sweater Evie had left in there. I refuse to focus too long on her smiling face, knowing that something very easily could have ruined that smiling face forever.

After taking the sweater out, we rush towards the Jeep, nearly crashing into Allison and Lydia in our hurry. Scott slides to a stop but I keep going, tumbling to the ground. I hiss at the pain in my knees and Scott helps pick me back up.

“Woah! Where are you going?” Allison yells after us. Neither Scott nor I stop to explain, too busy hurrying towards the Jeep to realize they were going to follow us. The two exchange a look and rush after us, their heels clicking against the floor. “Wait up!”

We made it to the Jeep in record time, me nearly running into the side window, because I was unable to slow down enough to not. The girls reach us as Scott hops into the car, leaving me to explain our rush to them.

“We got a call from Evie,” I say quietly. “She’s being held somewhere, we don’t know where.” Lydia’s eyes go huge, reminding me of an owl. Allison sets her jaw, and I can see her decision in her eyes. She reaches for the door and climbs silently into the car. I turn to Lydia, awkwardly wrapping an arm around her while quiet tears fall down her face. “We’re going to find her, okay? Everything will be ok.” I move her so we’re looking each other in the eyes, hers shining with anger now instead of tears.

“I want to go with you,” she says.

“Lydia, you need to-” she cuts me short with a curt laugh.

“She is my cousin! I will not stand by and let anything happen to her!” I wince at how loud her voice had gone, but the anger in her face makes me sigh. I reluctantly open the door for her and watch her climb into the back, a satisfied look on her face. Scott glares at me; I just shrug and get into the car. Lydia’s eyes narrow, catching sight of the sweater in Scott’s hands. “Why do you have her sweater?”

Scott and I exchange a look, as nervousness floods my body. I hadn’t thought about having to explain how we were going to find her. Scott tries to come up with a reason, but I know that it’ll never curb Lydia’s curiosity. The girl’s mind was a steel trap; she’d remember anything we told her and use it against us if anything happened out of the ordinary.

“Evie left it in the front seat one day after school,” I say quickly. That answer must have made enough sense to her, since she dropped it. I let out a breath of relief and started to drive. Scott rolls down his window under the disguise that it’s easier to see with it down. We drive for a long time, when Scott goes stiff. “What? What is it?”

“I… I think I see her.” I hit the brakes quickly, causing the girls to shout in surprise. I mumble a sorry but turn my attention to where Scott is looking. A small, pale figure is moving towards us quickly. She’s stumbling through the woods, the light making a halo around her head. “It’s definitely her.”

At that, we all hurry out of the car and I run towards her. There’s blood on her forehead, the cut already closing. Blood slips down her bare body from twin cuts along her ribs, a matching set visible on her thighs as well. She stumbles a few times when she spots us, trying to hurry while also looking over her shoulder. Lydia rushes forward, and I avert my eyes, trying not to stare at her nakedness.

Scott hands Allison the sweater and I dig a pair of athletic shorts out of my gym bag. Lydia does her best to clean off the blood with an extra shirt she found in the back of the Jeep. I make a mental note to replace these clothes and get better detergent to get the blood out. Evie is silent the entire time, only making soft sounds of pain if Lydia pushes too hard on her cuts. Her entire back is scratched up, a few deep cuts littered here and there. The sight of her blood makes me nauseous but I do my best to curb the urge to vomit or pass out. Allison and Lydia help her dress, making Scott and I turn around.

“We should take her to the hospital,” I say quietly to Scott. “Her wounds aren’t healing. They must have put wolfbane on the knives.” Scott shakes his head.

“Those are definitely from Peter. A wound from an alpha takes longer to heal,” he says. I make a face, unsure as to why he assumes that it was Peter. “He had to have done this, his scent is coating her like a second skin and the Argents don’t even know she exists.” I sigh, a headache beginning to form. I look over to the group of girls, watching as they hug, careful of Evie’s cuts and bruises. Relief washes over me and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She’s okay, she’s here and she’s not dead. That’s all I could have asked for.

Evie meets my gaze and gives me a small smile. I grin back at her, the situation lightening momentarily. We had found her, she was okay, and we had an idea of who took her. Then it hit me; we would have to explain this to her parents at some point. That would not be a fun conversation. She gestured us over, the smile lingering on her face. Evie pulls Scott into a hug, making him smile. He ruffles her hair slightly, getting her to laugh softly. Then, she turns to me.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse. I swallow, worry and relief warring inside me. She pulls me into a hug, her arms nearly crushing my ribs but I hug back just as fiercely.

“Don’t ever get kidnapped again.” She laughs, this time a real, full laugh. I smile, glad to know that this experience hadn’t ruined her spirit completely. Evie pats my chest after letting me out of her bone crushing hug and steps back into the safety of her friends.

“I’ll do my best not to get kidnapped again,” she says.

“So, do we need to go to the hospital or would you rather go home?” I ask. Her brown eyes go wide at the mention of a hospital and I mentally kick myself. Of course a hospital would be a bad idea. Her cuts would be healed in a matter of hours, making any stitches she got useless.

“Of course we’re going to the hospital! We just found her in the woods, naked and bleeding!” Lydia snaps, making me wince. Evie faces her cousin, a deep frown on her face. She points to the fully closed cut on her forehead, where it had been bleeding not two minutes ago.

“There’s no need for a hospital,” she says softly, taking a step towards Lydia and Allison. Allison, for her part, didn’t back away from Evie, though fear sparked in her eyes. Scott and I exchange a look, knowing that everything that Allison had been suspecting was now revealed to her. There were no more secrets left to tell, except maybe Evie’s.

“I don’t understand,” Allison starts. “You were bleeding, you had really deep cuts… and now they're just gone?” Making a so-so gesture with her hands, Evie nods, a look of compassion taking over her face. Her dark eyes have lost their usual shine and a weight has been placed on her shoulders. “What does that mean? What are you?” Evie glances at Scott, visibly tiring before our eyes. Scott nods, taking over explaining for Evie.

“Remember when you said that your family was hiding something from you?” A nod from Allison. “Well, we’re what they’re hiding from you. Evie and I are werewolves.” Lydia blinks a few times, then turns her attention to Evie.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks quietly. Evie rubs her face, smearing blood and dirt across her cheek. A part of me itches to wipe it off her face, knowing that she would hate looking so filthy.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me, after everything I’ve put this family through the last thing I wanted to do was give you another reason to worry.” In that moment my heart breaks for Evie. I don’t know all the details, but I knew that whatever happened before she left Kansas had to have been bad if she didn’t even trust Lydia with her secrets. Lydia hugs Evie tight, tears streaming down her pale face.

“You don’t get to decide what will make me worry and what won’t. If anything happens to you, I should be the first to know,” she says, making Evie laugh as they broke from their hug. Allison holds up a hand.

“Hold on. Everyone is just okay with this? No one is concerned that there are supernatural beings in this town?” Everyone looks around, and I shrug.

“Honestly? I’ve been freaking out for the past three months. Werewolves are fucking scary man.” Scott glares at me and Evie raises an eyebrow. “Current company excluded of course,” I say. “I’m more worried about the other two, the ones that want Scott, and now Evie, to join their pack.” Evie nods, a bit of light returning to her eyes. “Derek isn’t so bad but Peter is absolutely insane.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Lydia asks.

“Derek and Peter Hale are also werewolves. Peter is the crazy alpha who has been killing people and attacking us since September. They want Scott and Evie to join their pack because “we’re stronger together”, but Scott said no and they didn’t know Evie existed until now. Not sure how they figured out where she was but now we have to be on guard all the time so no one gets kidnapped.” I let out a breath, winded from so much talking.

Lydia shakes her head, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with the movement. Another thought pops into my mind but before I can voice it, Scott is ushering Evie into the Jeep, Lydia and Allison right behind her. I look over my shoulder quickly, seeing a dark mass quickly approaching from the woods and get into the Jeep as well, hoping it starts on the first try. I rev the engine, once, twice, three times before it finally kicks over and we’re barreling down the road towards Evie’s house.

“He knows where I live!” she reminds me from the backseat.

“Well, where the hell am I supposed to go?!” I bark back, immediately regretting it when I see her eyes go yellow in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry!” They’re quickly gone, but I know I’ve hurt her feelings. Scott looks over at me, a confused look on his face.

“Head towards the vet clinic,” he says calmly. Why is he so calm? Wish I could be calm with a lunatic wolfman following us. I nod, turning the car sharply onto the correct road.

We’re at the vet clinic in record time, though I’m pretty sure that I broke several traffic laws in doing so. The dark figure is quickly gaining on us. Scott and I usher the girls inside before entering ourselves, locking the door behind us.

“Anyone want to tell me why we’re in a vet clinic?” Lydia whispers.

“The whole building is made of mountain ash,” says a voice from behind us, making both Evie and I jump.

“You can’t just sneak up on us like that!” I whisper yell. Deaton, Scott’s boss, stands behind the counter, a serious look on his face. He pushes us behind the counter and into an examination room before locking that door as well.

We all hide in various spots as we listen to Peter talk to Deaton, or rather threaten him. Evie, somehow, has ended up pressed into my side, her warmth chasing away any chill that was left over from being outside. Scott eyes us from the other side of the room, a small frown on his face. Allison is pressed against the examination table, Lydia squished in next to her. We hear the front door slam and we all let out a collective breath. Evie scoots away from me, and I almost immediately miss her warmth. It’s freezing in here; Deaton must not have switched over his air conditioning yet.

“You can all come out now,” Deaton calls out. I hear the lock turn and pop up, everyone else slowly getting to their feet. We all make our way out into the main lobby, where Deaton is waiting. He scans Evie, as if he can see the cuts and bruises her clothing is covering. “You need some medical attention. May I see?” he asks. Evie nods and they step back into the examination room, Lydia joining them after a few moments.

Scott, Allison, and I wait outside. I pace around while they have a quiet conversation about whatever it is that they usually talk about, my brain not catching onto any words they’re saying. After what felt like hours, the trio emerges from the examination room. Evie looks freshly showered and I briefly entertain that idea of Deaton washing her like a dog in one of the sinks. She’s small, she’d be able to fit.

Scott and Allison stand, the latter rushing to help Evie back to the car. Any energy Evie had before was completely sapped by the time she made it back to the Jeep. Scott lifts her into the back seat, settling her between Lydia and Allison while I race to the drivers side. I take her back to her house, leaving Lydia with her. Allison, Scott, and I all go back to school, the day weighing heavily on our minds. Allison and Lydia know now, and there was no going back from that.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I slept for what felt like days, dreamless and deeply. A warm body is pressed against me the entire time I’m asleep and I can hear soft music coming from somewhere. I curl into the warmth, still freezing from my jaunt in the woods and being naked in the old Hale house. I feel fingers rake gently through my hair, detangling it and removing any leftover sticks that my dip into the sink didn’t catch. I sigh, awake now but not wanting to open my eyes.

“Stiles…” I say softly. The hand stops and I open an eye to see Lydia sitting beside me, definitely not Stiles. Refusing to feel embarrassed, I meet her stare. She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“I knew you had a thing for him. You should see the way you look at him,” she says with a smirk. I huff, pulling myself up with a soft groan of pain. The bruises would last for a few hours, but everything else had basically healed. I was beyond grateful for Deaton’s help, but I didn’t appreciate being bathed like a dog in the sink. I mentally put that on my list of top ten most embarrassing moments.

“I don’t have a thing for him.” Lydia just smiles, making me sigh. “Okay, maybe I have a small crush on him. You can’t say anything to him,” I plead, hands clasped. She taps her chin, making my anxiety levels rise quickly, before smiling.

“I won’t say anything.” I let out a breath, not realizing that I had been holding one. “But, you’ll have to tell him eventually.” I shake my head.

“No, by the time he even has an inkling of it I’ll be over it. I don’t need a boyfriend.” Lydia stares at me, searching my face. Her eyes narrow, a suspicious gleam in the green depths of them. Suddenly they go wide with a realization.

“You’re afraid,” she says, breathless at the realization. I hang my head, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“He deserves better.” Lydia shakes her head but I continue. “What happens if I have another anxiety attack like I did last winter? What if he finds out why I was in the hospital? I don’t think I can take the look on his face if he were to find out, Lydia.” She sighs, a soft sound that nearly sets me crying. I had put my family through so much, I couldn’t do that to another person I cared about. No one deserved that kind of pain.

“What happened wasn’t your fault Evie. Bad things happen to good people, and we have to decide how to react. I admit that several of us reacted badly in the moment,” she shot a glare towards where I assume my parents may be. They did not react that well, I will admit, but I hadn’t realized everyone else knew that as well. “But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the quality of our character.” She studies my face, gently wiping away a tear that had fallen without me noticing. “You deserve to be happy, Evie. Especially after everything you’ve been through.”

I curl into her, using the blanket to wipe the remaining tears from my face. We stay like that for some time, not talking but enjoying each other’s company. Lydia reads quietly while I doze off, until a loud knock resonates through the house. I hear Mom saying something, but I chose to not focus too hard on it. Lydia, however, straightens up, causing my head to fall to the bed. We watch the door, and I cringe at the sound of multiple pairs of feet coming up the stairs.

Stiles is the first to burst into my room, out of breath and flannel flying out behind him like a cape. Scott and Allison are close behind him, though they enter much quieter. Lydia raises an eyebrow and stands up, stretching slightly. I turn my focus to Stiles, noticing that he had a rather large bouquet of flowers in his hands. I feel my cheeks start to burn and I glare at Lydia when I realize that the flowers are daisies, which are my absolute favorites. She just smiles at me and graciously takes them from Stiles before he can crush them anymore than he already has.

“Hi, we brought you your homework, well Allison did. I didn’t realize you were in a modern literature class, when did that become a thing and why didn’t anyone tell me? You guys are literally reading comic books.” I blink a few times, trying to keep up with his stream of speech. He spoke too quickly for my brain to handle. He smiles widely and gestures as he talks, going on about some comic book he had read a few weeks back. I tune him out and turn my attention to Scott.

“What’s going on?” I croak, my voice still not a hundred percent after screaming for so long. Peter did not have an easy time getting me to come with him, which prompted him to give me the wound on my forehead, effectively knocking me out. Scott and Allison exchange a look and Stiles finally goes quiet.

“Derek wants to talk to us. Both of us,” Scott says, his voice loud in the silent room. I narrow my eyes, considering his words.

“I don’t think he is in a position to demand anything from me. He did not help me today, and any respect or interest I had in this pack Peter is trying to create disappeared the moment he thought he could kidnap me and push me to submit to him.” I’m so angry I can feel my body shaking. Pain shoots up in my gums, signalling that I had changed. Scott raises his hands in surrender, knowing better than to fight me on this. Stiles comes closer, laying a single hand on my shoulder. Relief spreads through my body at his touch, making the fangs disappear within seconds. I don’t miss the look Scott gives me, but chose to ignore the question behind it.

“I agree with her. This Peter guy sounds like bad news and, frankly, I don’t like him at all,” Allison states. I crack a smile at that, happy she agrees with me despite not being included for so long. Lydia nods in agreement.

“The moment he took my cousin was the moment he was put on my shit list,” Lydia says. I laugh, a slightly broken sound. I clear my throat as Stiles gently squeezes my shoulder. I give him an appreciative smile, which he returns, before letting go of my shoulder. I miss it immediately but I refuse to let Lydia know how deep this crush goes by looking sad.

“You know where I stand on this Scott. And it seems like everyone kinda agrees with me,” he says. He leans towards us. “Thanks for that, by the way.” Scott just shakes his head, not seeming to upset with our verdict. I smile, glad that he agrees with us.

Everyone crowds onto my bed, Stiles dramatically flopping himself down next to me. Allison and Scott sit awkwardly on the foot of my bed while Lydia claims the small spot between Stiles and I.

“So, uh, not that I don’t love having you guys here, but is there a particular reason you’re all on my bed?” I ask, a frown making its way onto my face. I love my friends but Scott and Stiles smell like four day old gym shorts, and I really don’t want my sheets smelling like that.

“This is what is called group bonding,” Stiles points out, a grin plastered on his face. I raise an eyebrow, confused. “Well, I guess more like pack bonding, since neither you nor Scott want a piece of Peter’s fucked up one.” I laugh at that, shaking my head slightly.

“In all seriousness, we do need some sort of plan,” Allison states. “My family is still keeping things from me and I still haven’t heard the entire story of how all of this happened.”

Scott and I exchange a look, mentally trying to decide who’s better equipped to tell her the whole story. I point at Scott and he sighs, knowing that he knows more about the situation than I do. He starts at the beginning, describing the night we were both bit and what transpired after that. I input where I think there needs to be more detail, much to Stiles amusement.

“So, basically a psycho murderer is trying to get you guys to be in his pack while my family actually hunts you?” We nod our heads. “And no one thought it was important for us to know this?” I shrug, knowing that I had wanted to tell both her and Lydia immediately but was shut down by Scott. He didn’t want to freak her out, but that ship has sailed. To her credit, she seemed to be handling it very well. I reach over and grab her hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I know this is a lot, but I’m glad you’re here.” We share a smile, Scott looking confused as usual. I pat his knee, a slight smile still on my face. Scott may be cute but his head is totally empty. No thoughts.

We hang out for a while, just enjoying each other’s company after a very crazy semester. Lydia and Allison exchange plans for the dance, Scott complains about not being able to go, Stiles continues on his rant about comic books, and I try to keep up. We order a pizza and watch a movie, really just being normal for one night. One by one my friends start to leave, starting with Lydia. Allison is next to go and then Scott, leaving me and Stiles alone in my room. He stretches out on my bed, one arm under his head and looking completely at ease. I give him a confused look, earning me a laugh and the shake of his head.

“We agreed that until Peter is taken care of, we won’t leave you on your own.” I snort, waving a dismissive hand at him. “Hey, I can hold my own!” I outright laugh; the thought of Stiles protecting me from Peter is actually hilarious. A plan starts forming in the back of my head; I can prove that he can’t beat Peter rather easily. I stop laughing and put on a serious face. “What are you doing?” he asks rather loudly. I tilt my head at the question.

“I’m not doing anything,” I say innocently. I stand, going to my dresser to get different clothes, since I had been in the same sweater and gym shorts since arriving home. I hear Stiles get up to get his homework and that’s when I strike, moving quicker than he could process to pin him to the wall. My hands barely circle around his wrists but I keep him securely against the wall by using my newly acquired strength, my body pressed against his. I watch him swallow, a nervous look on his face and he won’t make eye contact with me. Odd. I raise an eyebrow.

“Pinned ya.” He laughs, some tension leaving his body. “Honestly though, I don’t think you’d hold up long against Peter. You can barely hold your own against me, and I’m much smaller.” I give him a triumphant smile, totally aware of my win. He takes a deep breath and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are to each other.

Against my better judgement, I lean in slightly, taking in a lungful of his scent. He smelled like the woods and gasoline and old books. His heart beats quickly, almost too quickly for what little activity we had done. I allow myself to just look at him, my eyes tracing his face and I let myself be amazed by the pattern of moles that litter his face. I rarely let myself focus too long on his face, afraid of what I may find in his eyes. Going on my tiptoes, I let go of one wrist to cup his cheek, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone. Stiles’ eyes close, a sigh emitting from deep in his chest. He wraps one arm around me, a half hug that forces me to lower my hand. I allow him to escape completely from my hold so he can wrap the other arm around me.

“Evie,” he whispers. I shake my head, knowing that whatever he’s about to say can wait. For right now, I just want to be held. As I lay my head on his chest, the music that had been playing for most of the day switching to something slow. Stiles starts to sway, in that awkward way boys do when you’re supposed to slow dance. His chin rests on the top of my head and we stay like that for a long time. Eventually, the music changes and we pull away, his eyes opening when my hand cups his cheek again.

I search his expression, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he feels even a kernel of what I feel. Desperately, I search but come up with nothing. Stiles’ face gives no inclination that what just happened was meaningful in any way, shape or form. I pull myself farther away, the beginnings of tears in my eyes. He reaches for me, but I slip out of his grasp. Gathering my courage, I put on a happy face when I turn to him.

“I appreciate the thought, but I think I can take care of myself.” Stiles frowns, not understanding my change in emotion.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” I wave my hand, dismissing his worry with a smile on my face. On the inside, I’m screaming at him to leave and to never come near me again. But I can’t do that. Even though it’s torture, I would much rather have him close to me than to be separated.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” I say with a bright smile. He nods, packing up his stuff before finally leaving. I fall onto my bed, desperately trying to keep the tears in. No boy is worth crying over, I harshly remind myself. But, a few tears slip from my eyes and once those are free, the rest come rushing out. Soon, I’m a blubbering, disgusting mess. The stress from today hits me all at once, dissolving me into more tears until I have no tears left.

I wipe at my eyes, curling into myself. I calm myself down enough to call Isaac, my hands shaking as I hit the call button next to his name. He answers on the fourth ring, sleep coating his voice.

“Hey what’s up?” I sigh, and he must hear something sad about it since he snaps immediately into action. “I can be at your house in fifteen, there’s definitely some place still open for a milkshake. Be ready.” I laugh softly, already feeling better.

“See you in fifteen,” I say before hanging up.

When Isaac says fifteen, he means it. By the time I had put on heavier clothes and shoes, he was waiting patiently outside, his dad’s car still running. I hurry outside, not bothering to tell my parents where I was headed. They trust Isaac, for whatever reason. He opens his arms and I rush into them, inhaling the smell of freshly mowed grass and the citrus scent of his cologne. Issac holds me close and I feel the last of the tension in my body be released, everything melting away. We head towards the car, a small smile on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, you just look like shit,” he says with a smirk. I give him the bird, making him laugh. We both get into the car and I scrunch my nose up at the smell of it. His dad’s scent is everywhere and it kind of makes me want to vomit. It reeks of chlorine and dried blood. Isaac looks over at me, a grimace on his face. “I know it smells bad but I didn’t really wanna ride my bike all the way here.” At that I laugh, the smell forgotten.

The drive to the nearest diner doesn’t take long and we talk the entire time, the chatter keeping me together. Once inside, Isaac orders us milkshakes (mine chocolate and his strawberry because he’s an odd man) and we sit in our regular booth, three from the front door. While we wait, we talk about school and our plans for the dance. Everything with Isaac is so easy and simple. We never run out of things to talk about and he doesn’t seem to mind that I don’t tell all of every story. He does the same, so it’s hard to be a hypocrite with that sort of thing.

Seeking comfort, I reach across the table and grab his hand. Without thinking, he immediately starts gently rubbing circles on my hand with his thumb, a familiar action between us. And to think, a few months ago I was worried about making friends. I sigh, balancing my head on my other hand. Something has to be done about my crush on Stiles, but what? He’s obviously not into me the way I’m into him. Then, I remember how he reacted when Lydia brought up Isaac yesterday in the mall. His face held an intense amount of jealousy, something I had never seen him wear around Lydia and Jackson. A plan starts to form in my head, something I’m not sure will work but I’m willing to try. Things couldn’t get worse.

“I have a question for you,” I say as the waitress sets our milkshakes down in front of us.

“Shoot,” he says, letting go of my hand to put a straw in his shake. I gather my courage, deciding that if he says no, it won’t be that big of a deal. I watch him tear the wrapper off the straw, taking a deep drink of his pink monstrosity, and take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“Do you have feelings for me?” I blurt out. Isaac chokes on his shake, coughing slightly. I furrow my eyebrows and hand him a few napkins to clean himself up with. His shirt is covered in ice cream, which would usually set me laughing but I held it in, just to save him embarrassment. I’m such a good friend.

“I’m sorry what?” he asks once his coughing is under control. I play with a piece of my hair, suddenly worried about this very, very stupid plan of mine.

“Do you have feelings for me? Like, in a romantic sense?” Isaac narrows his eyes at me, a befuddled look on his face. If this wasn’t so serious, I may have laughed. “I’m being serious, Isaac. Do you have any sort of romantic feelings towards me? Yes or no?”

“Uh, no?” he says. I nod, somewhat pleased with his answer. I kind of figured he didn’t like me in that way, but it would definitely make the next part of my plan a little easier on the both of us.

“So, I have recently discovered that I have a…” I pause, searching for the right word to describe how I felt about Stiles. “Infatuation? Crush? I’m not sure.” Issac holds up a hand.

“It’s not on me is it? Because I see you as more of a sister…” I laugh, shaking my head. He sighs, relieved that I’m not into him in that way either.

“No, definitely not on you. I have a mild crush on Stiles.” He makes a face at me. “Yes, I know he loves Lydia but I have a plan.” I tell him all about our shopping trip and how when Lydia mentioned him, Stiles seemed to get jealous. I describe what happened before I called him and my plan of how to get Stiles to be interested in me.

“Hold on. You want to use me to make Stiles jealous?” he asks. I nod, confused as to what part of my plan he was confused about. “Stiles is jealous of me?” I nod slower this time. Isaac smiles, a proud look on his face. “Stiles is jealous of me.” I roll my eyes; boys.

“Yeah, don’t go getting a big head about it.” He laughs and I crack a smile. Isaac agrees to my ridiculous plan, after very little convincing may I add, and even adds his own take on things. I am impressed with his dedication to my half thought out plan and I know that anything Issac does will drive Stiles insane. We finish our shakes and head out, the smell of chlorine nearly suffocating me in the car once again. The drive home is filled with me bouncing in my seat and Issac singing along with the radio.

Once back at my house, Isaac walks me up to my front door and bids me good night. At this point it’s basically midnight and I’m exhausted. Just going up the stairs to my room takes a lot out of me, exhaustion hitting at the top of the stairs. I collapse onto my bed, still wearing the clothes I had borrowed from Stiles. My sleep is dreamless and deep, and I’m thankful for it.

The next morning, Isaac is there to pick me up, yet again with his dad’s car. I made sure to dress warm, in a black turtleneck and jeans, because the heater in the car did not work. Which is unfortunate for everyone involved, because the chlorine smell did not get pushed around and Isaac refused to put any of the windows down. I rush outside, hair still half wet from my shower and instantly regret not blow drying it. It wasn’t cold per say but the chilly wind definitely did not feel good blowing through my hair.

“Ready to make Stilinski jealous?” he says smiling. I nod, a grin settling on my face. Confidence settles into my bones and sets my face into a permanent smirk. Isaac has a matching one plastered onto his face and I know that this will work.

School goes fairly normally. Isaac and I get a few stares, most focusing on our linked hands and his arm slung casually around my waist. Things are going smoothly, almost too smoothly. We sit on our own at lunch, heads bent over our math homework, Isaac trying to help me figure out a few difficult equations. He sneaks a kiss on my cheek and I allow myself to blush, knowing he did it to sell it to my friends, who are gawking at us from across the lunch room. I look up from my book and meet Stiles stare, a smile on my face. He quickly looks away, embarrassment leaking from him. I turn towards Isaac, leaning into him a little.

“Do you think he’s buying it?” I whisper. Isaac nods, laughing quietly and dipping his head to look back down at his notebook. We eat quickly and start moving towards our next class when Lydia approaches us.

“Evie, I didn’t know you had it in you,” she says, a smirk on her face. Isaac pauses, making me stop as well.

“Have what in me?” I ask innocently. There’s a proud gleam in her eye as she leans towards me.

“You’re going to have him wrapped around your little finger before the month is over.” I laugh, blushing slightly. “Seriously. He can’t stop talking about how much he doesn’t like Isaac.” She turns towards the man in question. “You should probably watch your back though. I’ve heard lots of upset people today. Evie had more admirers than anyone thought.” With that, she flips her hair and walks off, leaving a confused Isaac in her wake.

“That answers my question then,” I say with a laugh. He just shakes his head and grabs my hand, ready to face more stares.

The rest of our day goes by quickly and Lydia insists that I attend lacrosse practice. The temp has dropped by then but I still feel comfortable in just my sweater. I had purchased a pair of glasses without a prescription to maintain my image, even though my eyesight had perfected itself after becoming a werewolf. My glasses had clouded up on several occasions while waiting for the boys to appear from the gym. Lydia wraps a blanket around herself, not used to the cool weather. I tease her relentlessly for it, but she maintains that it’s a necessary thing.

“Why are we here again? You aren’t dating Jackson anymore, doesn’t that let you off the hook for these things?” I ask, still confused as to why we’re here. She sighs, a puff of white air coming from her mouth.

“You should be here, as Isaac’s girlfriend. I’m just here to reinforce that idea and because I enjoy spending time with my cousin.” She turns her bright smile onto me. I sigh, knowing that she’s right. “Besides, these guys don’t really have a lot of support right now, especially since it’s so cold out. No one wants to come and watch when they could be at home.”

“You’re not wrong.” I turn fully towards her. I pause for a second before asking what’s been eating at me since lunch. “So, what has Stiles been saying?” She laughs, shaking her head and making me smile. Having a crush is kind of nice when you can share it with your friends.

“He doesn’t understand how Issac managed to land a girlfriend before him,” she says. I make a face, knowing that if he pulled his head out of his ass for a few minutes he’d be able to see that I was right in front of him. Lydia just nods, as if not understanding him either. “He’s so wrapped up in Isaac having a girlfriend that he hasn’t fully processed that you’re the girlfriend.” Lydia turns to me, a sly look on her face. “So, what happened last night? Stiles refuses to tell us why he left your house but something must have happened between you two for you to go to Issac for help.”

I sigh, deciding to tell her the full story. With every word she becomes more and more outraged at Stiles reaction. By the time I’m done, her face has gone completely red with anger. I have to hide my laugh behind my hand.

“HE’s an absolute idiot! Those were clear signs and he just ignored them!” she exclaims, gaining the attention of Coach, who turns to look at us. We just wave and he goes back to ordering the boys to do sprints. I sigh, upset again at what had transpired.

“He’s too in love with you to notice anyone else, unfortunately,” I say, sadness lacing my voice. Lydia narrows her eyes, clearly not aware of how Stiles looks at her. I huff; of course she doesn’t see it, she barely knew who he was before all of this. “He just doesn’t see me in that way.”

“Yet,” she says. “This plan of yours is going perfectly so far and I think that the winter formal is the perfect time to put the last nail in his coffin.” I tilt my head, confused by what she’s implying. “We are going to make you so hot that no boy will be able to resist you.” I laugh; should have seen that one coming. “Come on, let’s ditch this popsicle stand. I think it’s time for a bit of makeover.” She stands, pulling me with her. I wave at Isaac, blowing a kiss in his direction to really seal the deal. He waves back and I watch Stiles glare at him. Interesting.

Come to find out, ‘a bit of a makeover’ actually meant a complete makeover. She found the perfect dye to give my strawberry blonde hair a bit more punch to it, making it a more vibrant red shade. We went to a salon to have my eyebrows waxed and reshaped, as well as to get haircuts, Lydia deciding to do a bit of refreshing herself. Lydia led me around a few stores, picking out a few new outfits that I could wear this spring, or as she liked to call them ‘man catching clothes’. She insisted that they would drive Stiles crazy and who was I to deny her? Hell, we even got our nails done.

We dyed my hair in my bathroom, trying our best to not make a mess, which was a total fail. I’ll have red dye on my floor until I’m eighty. Lydia steals a bottle of wine from my parents liquor cabinet and we get a little wine drunk. At one point Lydia calls Allison and we all end up sprawled out on my floor, Dirty Dancing playing in the background.

“So, what’s Scott like in bed?” Lydia asks suddenly. I hit her with a pillow, directly in the face. “Hey!”

“Too soon Lyds!” I exclaim, while Allison laughs.

“No, no I can answer,” she says. We gossip like that for hours, sharing stories and just having fun with each other. No boys, no craziness, nothing to ruin our perfect day. Both decide to stay over, since it was Friday and I’m happy for the company. Keeps me from being sad about how my life has decided to go. We watch movies and just relax for once.

The next day is the winter formal and Lydia insists on helping Allison and I get ready. She curls my hair, pinning in places where I’ll forget there are pins and helping Allison apply a rather dramatic eyeshadow look. We all get dressed together, taking pictures as we go, making sure to document this happy time, especially since we don’t know when we’ll have a chance to feel normal again. The flash from the camera triggers my eyesight, making them glow in every picture but neither girl seems to notice or care.

The boys all pick us up at my house, where we make them wait in my living room while each one of us makes an entrance, at Lydia’s request. Allison goes first, with no reaction from Jackson, unsurprisingly. He’s such a piece of work. I bet I could take him in a fight. Break his fragile jaw in a single punch. The confidence those thoughts give me does not last. I go next, nervously smoothing out the fabric of my skirt and barely able to breathe thanks to Lydia pulling the corset strings exceedingly tight.

I make it down the stairs without tripping, thankfully. I hear an intake of breath and I look up from the stairs to see Stiles staring at me, open mouthed. Isaac glares at him, before turning a smile to me. I do my best to focus only on Isaac, smiling and spinning a little to show off the back. Hearing a soft gulp, I turn towards Stiles again, a smirk on my face, the confidence coming back almost immediately at his face.

“You’re drooling Stilinski,” Jackson states, making me laugh. The only time he will ever say something humorous. Stiles immediately snaps his mouth shut and steals glances at me everyone once in a while. Lydia descends rather quickly but he keeps looking at me. I do my best to ignore him, instead focusing on fixing Isaac’s tie.

After fixing his tie, I go on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, leaving a near perfect impression of my lips there in the dark red lipstick Lydia had applied. I can feel Stiles’ stare on my back and can hear his heartbeat quicken. My parents snap a few pictures of all of us, everyone complaining about it.

We leave quickly after that, Stiles following us in his Jeep. The dance itself goes off without a hitch. Isaac and I dance, trying to ignore the fact that Stiles eventually gets Lydia to dance with him and the jealousy that comes with seeing her pressed so closely to him. I know she doesn’t like him, but it still hurts. Scott sneaks in at some point, dances with Danny, and then proclaims his love for Allison before they both disappear, presumably to go make out somewhere. Jackson also disappears mid-way through and doesn’t reappear. Not long after that, Lydia leaves to go find him with Stiles trailing after her like a lost puppy. I push aside my irritation at him to focus on helping my cousin find her awful ex.

“Hey, maybe we should go help Lydia find Jackson,” I yell over the music. Isaac nods, a grim look on his face, which does nothing to curb my approaching anxiety.

We make our way out of the school when a blood curdling scream comes from the practice field. Panic crawls up my spine; that was distinctly Lydia. Without a look towards Isaac, I start sprinting towards it, following the scent of fear and Chanel perfume that laces the air. I get there right as Stiles starts to leave with Peter, Lydia’s body bleeding profusely from multiple wounds. I stop, partially not wanting Peter to see me, but also out of pure terror.

It takes them a few moments to leave completely, and I feel Isaac come up beside me, breathing heavily. Once they are completely out of sight and I can no longer hear Stiles’ heartbeat, I dart onto the field, Isaac close behind me. I kneel down next to my cousin and check her pulse, fighting back the terror I feel in my stomach. Peter did a real number on her; her dress is torn and blood is leaking steadily from a bite on her shoulder. There’s blood everywhere, streaked across her face and other shoulder. I have to listen very closely, but I can hear her heart beating. I let out a soft sob of relief at the noise.

I hear Jackson run up behind us; Stiles must have called him to come get her. Paying the boys no attention, I manage to lift Lydia off the ground, carrying her towards the school. A deadly calm settles over me, replacing the usual panic.

“Isaac, call my mom. Jackson, call 911.” Both nod at my directions, heading in opposite directions to make their calls. After he’s done, Jackson heads towards where I’m standing with Lydia and tries to take her from my arms. “I’ve got it handled,” I growl at him, flashing my eyes. He takes several steps back, a look of terror on his face.

Isaac pays no attention to us, having a very heated discussion with my mom that I do my best to tune out. I turn towards the school, walking slowly so as to not cause any more harm to Lydia’s already broken body.

It takes the ambulance ten minutes to reach the school and take my cousin from my arms. I ride in the back with her, since I was the only relative present at the time. I hold her hand the entire ride to the hospital, managing to keep my tears in check by listening to the rise and fall of her heartbeat. As they hurry her inside, I finally let myself fall apart, that calm disappearing entirely. The tears came quick and hot, ruining whatever makeup was still left on my face. A nurse led me to an empty waiting room, got me a bottle of water and a chocolate bar, and just sat with me until my tears stopped.

“Lydia is a strong girl, I know she’ll be okay,” she said. I nod, wondering how she knows Lydia. She must see the confusion on my face because she adds, “I’m Melissa McCall, Scott’s mom. You’re Evie right? He talks about you all the time. You and Stiles are the main reasons he’s not failing more classes.” I feel my face go hot; Scott was the last person I expected to actually enjoy my company. She smiles and hands me a tissue from her scrubs pocket. “Here.” I take it, loudly blowing my nose and wiping my eyes, feeling much less panicked about the whole ordeal.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. She wraps an arm around me, pulling me into an awkward sitting hug. Melissa lets me go after a few moments, clearing her throat.

“I have some extra clothes if you want to change out of your dress.” I look down and nearly vomit at the sight of my ruined dress. Lydia’s blood had dried in the fabric, the bodice was covered in it. How I hadn’t noticed before now was astounding. I nod and Melissa takes me to a locker room in the basement of the hospital. She digs out a pair of clean scrubs and hands them to me. “There’s a shower around the corner if you’d like to freshen up. I have a feeling it might be awhile before anyone is allowed to see her.”

“What about my dress?” I ask, picking at the material of the skirt. I would be sad if we had to discard it; it really had been the perfect dress. Melissa taps her chin a few times, thinking.

“Let me see what I can do,” she says with a smile. I nod and head towards the shower, peeling the blood soaked dress off and laying it gingerly on a nearby bench for Melissa to collect while I washed myself off.

I struggle with the faucet for a few moments, not understanding which way to turn it to get the hot water flowing. Once I got it figured out, I spent several minutes just standing under it, letting the hot water relax my tense muscles. I do my best to not let the events of the evening replay, to just focus on right now. I scrub off the dried blood that leaked through my dress and try to forget about how it got there and who it belonged to. My mind wanders as I gently wash my face free of any traces of makeup and turn off the water to see that Melissa had taken my dress and replaced it with a clean towel. I gratefully dry myself off and dress in the scrubs she had given me.

I emerge from the locker room more tired than I had been when I went in. I take the elevator up to where the waiting room is, barefooted and holding my heels in my hand. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, I watch the numbers rise as it passes each floor, the soft bell noise calming my frayed nerves. When the doors open, I pull myself away from the wall and exit. Turning the corner into the waiting room, the yelling match happening finally hits my ears, making me wince, immediately recognizing the voices as my aunt and uncle. Lydia’s mom and dad argue all the time, and, despite their daughter being in the hospital, this is no different. They scream about who’s fault it is, who’s going to pay the hospital bills, where she’s going to go after she’s let out, everything that didn’t matter right now.

I sigh and collapse into a chair as far away from them as I could. They had divorced a few years back, to no one’s surprise. Lydia’s mom, my aunt, is kind and loves Lydia with her whole heart, but marriage had never sat well with her. She wasn’t domestic and Lydia’s dad hated that. They fought all the time, to the point that even Lydia could see the cracks in their relationship before their separation was even announced. I don’t think she ever processed it thoroughly.

Eventually they quieted down and I heard her dad leave, slamming the door as he went. My aunt collapsed down next to me and I turned my tired eyes towards her. She looks a lot like my mom, though Mom has fewer worry lines around her emerald eyes. Natalie had aged well but she looked tired, it was evident in her eyes.

“Thank you for…” she pauses, swallowing. Her eyes go glossy with tears. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if she had… if she had died.” I nod, lacing my fingers with her own and squeezing. She squeezes back and wipes her eyes with her other hand.

“She’s going to be okay,” I whisper. She nods, though neither of us are sure of anything anymore. Natalie nods again, relaxing further into the chair and closing her eyes. I do the same, hoping that maybe sleep will find us and grant us an escape from the mess we are in.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #new oc #werewolf #things can only get better #teen wolf season one #this took so long #and it kinda sucks but whatever

1 note · View note

the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years

Text

A World Without Color

the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate.

Like most people, Stiles grew up in a world without color. All his life, he wondered what colors would look like. His mother tried to tell him; yellow was like feeling sunlight on your skin, blue was cold water on a hot summer day. Red was warm, like a fire, like love. Green was like was their walks in the Preserve, the smell of trees and loam filling the air, crisp and clear. Brown was the petrichor smell that followed a rain, the most beautiful color. His eyes were brown. Stiles wished he knew what that meant, hoped every day that he would meet his soulmate soon.

When Stiles was 9 years old, his mother got sick. Stiles didn't know it at first, she seemed fine. Just forgetful. She would get lost in her thoughts for a while, but Stiles did too, sometimes.

Later, Stiles would find out when his father knew Claudia was dying. Long before either of them told him, the color had started to fade from his world. Stiles couldn't imagine what it felt like, to go from seeing a kaleidoscope of colors he couldn't understand, to the washed out, drab grey of life as he knew it.

Stiles stopped hoping for a soulmate. He didn't want to know the pain his father felt, to finally, fully experience life and have it taken away from him. Better to never see it at all.

When they were 16 years old Scott saw color for the first time. Stiles knew it because the excitement sent him into a panic attack in the middle of class, right after the beautiful new girl sat beside him in their homeroom. Stiles took him to the nurse to get his inhaler, and tried not to feel jealous as his best friend looked around them in wonder.

"It's amazing," Scott managed through stuttered breaths, one arm slung around Stiles' shoulder. "But dude. Your clothes look terrible."

Stiles didn't remind him that he couldn't see color, and neither could his father, not anymore. There was no one to correct poor color choices. Stiles didn't say anything, but that didn't stop Scott from looking guilty a split second later, overshadowing the amazement.

"I'm sorry," Scott said, softer, earnest. It was hard to remember another's pain when faced with your own good fortune. How many people could say they'd met their soulmate in high school? Stiles' parents hadn't met until they were well out of college.

"What's your favorite color?" Stiles asked to change the subject, diverting it back to a safer topic. Scott's expression turned dopey, a slow smile spreading wide across his face.

"Allison's eyes." Stiles snorted at the predictable response. Scott nudged him. "Same color as your eyes."

"Brown, then."

"Yeah!"

"You're so lame, man." They were at the nurse's office. "Be sure to tell her you can see now, I'm sure there's some pamphlet or other she has for you." Probably next to the sex-ed brochures they hand out at that time every year, alone with condoms and tampons. The latter two are at least useful.

"I can't wait to tell mom."

"Yeah. I'll see you later, dude."

Scott and Allison predictably met up after lacrosse practice; the school day didn't stop just because two tiny teens found love, so it was all day before they finally got a moment together. Scott had to work later that night, so they were going to monopolize as much time between now and then as they could. Stiles didn't blame him, even if it was guys night. Bros did not get in the way of their bro's soulmating.

Instead Stiles went to kick around in the preserve for a while, wanting to feel closer to his mom. It had rained all day so the smell of petrichor was strong. If Stiles closed his eyes, he could almost pretend his mother was walking right next to him, explaining all the different colors as best she could, apologetically telling him that no words could describe the entirety of the spectrum. But one day, when he was older, she would take him somewhere where he could see them all.

Stiles suggested Home Depot, where they could see all the paint chips. Claudia laughed and said maybe a big, beautiful garden, full of every kind of flower. Or the Pasadena Rose Parade, to see the colorful floats. And holidays would be amazing, bright and alive.

Ever since her death, the holidays had been just as bland as everything else about his life. What was there to be thankful for, when his mother was dead? What was there to celebrate, when the only gift he wanted was something he could never have?

Even so, the Stilinski's and McCalls joined forces to make a worthwhile celebration, even if they couldn't do much. They traded off hosting; last year it was Thanksgiving with Scott and Mellissa, Christmas at the Stilinski household. John had to get called in for a call and the hospital was understaffed, so Scott and Stiles spent most of the night playing videogames.

Stiles was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even realize how deep into the Preserve he had gotten, aimlessly walking. The trees looked the same in every direction, and when he took out his phone he had no service, the battery declaring 17%.

"This is private property."

Stiles looked up, and his world burst into color.

#Sterek #cookie writes #soulmate au #im going to be doing one of these every day!#if you have a specific pairing in mine lmk and I will do it!

205 notes · View notes

aftgficlibrary · 5 years

Note

best fics of 2018?

This is so subjective so some of our staff are gonna put our 2018 favs here below!!

Cassy

This is my favorite fic ever and the author just started updating it again so im in tears all the time

i’m here right now (just be here right now with me) by Talls (M | 27,606 | 3/7)

Neil first meets Andrew with a racquet to the stomach in a locker room when he’s eighteen. Andrew first meets Neil with a hushed conversation on a beach in California when he’s five. They still manage to meet on rooftops, fall in love, find family, and heal together, just not quite at the same time and definitely not in the same order.

(In other words, Andrew is the Time Traveler’s wife.)

This fic is so soft and pretty

Translation Errors by SensationalSunburst (Not rated | 3,127 | 1/1)

“Andrew doesn’t love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don’t know it.”“Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don’t actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”

Lucky by sunrise_and_death (T | 4,328 | 1/1)

At thirteen, he’d lived in eleven different cities, gone by as many different names, and seen his reaper twenty-eight times. Some people would have called him lucky.

Live Once More (This Time Will Be Better) bypurpleeyesandbowties (T | 2,457 | 1/1)

Very carefully so as to not wake his roommates presumably sleeping off a night of regrettable choices, Andrew pulled a notebook towards him and opened to a fresh page to make a list. Two lists, actually. Changes to make and things to keep the same. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to sort out what was important.

To change:get off pillsno Kathy no Seth dying (Neil was upset)no Thanksgivingno winter at Evermoreno Baltimorekill Riko soonerkill Nathan myself

Keep the same:get Neil to the Foxes

Maz:

changing tides - titanic au by missbolton (M | Incomplete | 4/5)

When Nathaniel Hartford boards the RMS Titanic, it is a death sentence. He will be shipped to New York with his brutal father and his soon-to-be wife, Lola. There’s no escape.

Until he meets third-class artist Andrew Minyard.

if you’re lost you can look (and you will find me) by paleromantic (T | Incomplete | 5/?)

Neil Josten jerked awake, his cigarette falling from his fingers as he did. The frigid air bit at his arms, his neck, his face, but he didn’t notice, too busy looking around.

“What the fuck.”

Neil and Andrew wake up back in Millport, and get the chance to start over.

I’m Just Killing Time by thesaroscycle (T | 10,666 | 1/1)

He was sat in the most comfortable armchair in the back, the book in his lap closed but well-worn and dog-eared, one of the things that annoyed Bee to no end. His glasses sat on the table next to him, along with the hot chocolate Bee had made earlier in the morning that had gone cold. He stared out the window into a cloudless blue sky, squinting at the late morning sun and blurry trees. It was getting warm enough outside for the frost to melt on the grass, and late enough for people to start coming in. He couldn’t wish more for fall, when the sky would be gray and the chill would last all day rather than just early morning. Everything seemed to be holding its breath for the coming summer, for longer days and warmer mornings. Andrew couldn’t be less excited for summer; of all their town’s 70-degree-high summers, it was still hot enough for Andrew to melt in his stubbornly consistent black wardrobe.

Paper Skies by exybee (T | 4,662 | 1/1)

Andrew’s a quiet librarian who treats his library much like how he treats his person. He spends his time searching for the color blue in hopes of finding something real, but when he meets Neil Josten, he finds that maybe blue isn’t the only thing out there.

Or, Neil’s a kaleidoscope of colors, and Andrew gets a lesson in self-care.

Atlas:

Honey, we should run away by allyasavedtheday ( T | 8,836 | 1/1)

“We’re moving on soon,” his mom says casually as she’s plating up their food. As if it’s an inconsequential detail and not something that rocks Neil to his core.

“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and measured like she taught him to do if he was ever taken.

“We’ve been here too long,” she says like it’s obvious, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him.

“It’s only been ten weeks,” he can’t help pointing out. Ten weeks with Andrew. Ten weeks that aren’t enough.

“That’s over two months,” she retorts, neatly spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Two more weeks and we’re leaving. Just as soon as I have everything organised.”

Andrew and Neil meet when Neil is on the run with his mother.

Show Me How You by smokesprite ( Not Rated | 6,825 | 1/1 )

“They thought they would stop the show; they thought they could cut the act, but Neil had been sulking around too long now to not know where all the necessary equipment was. He was a ghost, and he would do the ghost dance, goddammit.”

Neil is a ghost with a house to haunt, but the Moxie Foxy Burlesque Troupe refuses to be chased off. If you can’t beat em…join em.

Aaron:

stay as long as you need by lolainslackss (T | 2,955 | 1/1)

The soulmate timer counts down to your soulmate’s death. Apparently, Andrew’s soulmate doesn’t have long to live.

Oh, Catastrophe by TheKingIsDead (witch_lit) (T | 1,447 | 1/1)

Aaron and Katelyn are at a concert and Aaron can’t shake the feeling that the drummer is familiar.

it’s a long way down byionlyloveyouironically (T | 6,506 | 1/1)

The sound of rushing water, the moon overhead, bare feet on a muddy riverbank, and a weeping woman reaching a dead hand out.

Scout

A Mewment Like This by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | Incomplete | 9 Works)

tenuous by undertow (cendal) (M | 7,431 | 1/1)

Neil Josten is trying to learn to be a normal person. He has an apartment and a cat. He goes to therapy every Wednesday. He has friends and attends their study group regularly. He eats lunch with his best friend’s brother.The hardest part is letting people in, but he thinks that one day he’ll get there.Series: Part 1 of all of me wants all of you

The Continuing Adventures of the Nine-Nine by gluupor (G | Complete | 10 Works)

A series of short, ridiculous, mostly plotless stories featuring the Foxes as the cops of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct.

Back to the Start by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | 29,277 | 11/11)

Andrew has been on his pro team for 6 months when he takes a ball to the head. Neil flies to Boston to see him - only to find that Andrew doesn’t remember him.

Rachel

Funky Happenings with the Fox Family by dobbypussypopper (Not Rated | Incomplete | 17/?)

naughtygayweedcrime: did I rlly just see neil say woke

naughtygayweedcrime: what a surreal timeline we live in

dumbfool: allison is trying to teach me how to meme so I can get hip

naughtygayweedcrime: bless your poor soul

davidwymack: sometimes I regret living

davidwymack has muted exyllent, damnwilds, + 7 others for 30 minutes

The Real Folk Blues by moonix, nefelibata (E | 42,365 | 4/4)

Captain David Wymack and the bounty hunter crew of the Bebop spaceship might be a little out of their depths chasing down the infamous hacker and notorious runaway Neil Wesninski, whose bounty exceeds even Kevin’s wildest dreams. Worst of all, Andrew might actually enjoy it.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

a world alone by ephemeralsky (T | 54,850 | 6/6)

“It will not be cheap,” Andrew finally says.

“I know,” Wymack says. “Two bottles of Johnnie Walker sound good to you?”

“Four,” Andrew says without missing a beat. He thinks about having to deal with Nicky later on, about the additional work he has to do, and decides that he will not do anything for less.

“Three,” Wymack argues.

“Four or we have no deal.”

Wymack mutters something about blood-sucking hooligans under his breath before he concedes with a, “Fine.”

(or: a High School AU where only some of them are high-schoolers)

#andreil #aftgfl ask #graphic depictions of violence #theme:bestOf2018

224 notes · View notes

abthepoet · 4 years

Text

All my friends are dead.

Something strange is trending in my life.

All my friends die.

At the beginning of my sophmore year in college, my roommate from freshman year died tragically in a single vehicle car crash. Her name was Allison Lynam. We called her Blake. She was sassy and funny and I wish I would've taken more time to know her.

The rain was torrential the night she died. I swear I've never seen it rain that hard ever again in my life. She drove to the store along Highway 36 in Long Branch,NJ. She had off campus housing that year and had to use the highway often. The road was terribly flooded the night she died. Im told she hydroplaned, spun, and T-boned the driver side smack into an electrical pole. Her family still decorates it.

At that very same moment, in my dorm room nearby, I was watching TV when the lights suddenly flickered and dimmed. A brown out.

I had no idea but that was my friend crashing into a pole and dying. She was 19 years old.

I know this because that accident happened near the mall. That accident killed the power to nearby businesses.

I later found out that the road she died on was so badly flooded, the police intended to close it. Why they didnt get to it in time, I'll never know. Maybe that's fate.

Then there was Jessica Blain. Jessica Blain was a firecracker of a human being. She was 100% unmistakable. One of the loudest, funniest, most loyal people and friends I have ever met. She was also an incredibly gifted singer and I was lucky enough to have Chorus with her. We, along with a small group of friends, founded a new greek organization on our campus, Alpha Xi Delta. We were paired up as Twins. (you can't have Bigs & Littles when you're just starting the Family Tree). We named the family we formed Fuck Up Your Shit. Because that's what we'd do for a friend. I miss her laugh most of all. It was loud and unapologetic. She was there for me, supportive, and encouraging without me ever having to ask. The night I officially finished college we all went out to the local gay club, The Colosseum. I got wasted, of course. But Jess was the person who when I shouted 'I have to pee' on the ride home, she stopped and knocked on strangers doors and asked to let me use their bathrooms. Nobody said yes so she held my hand while I peed on a fence instead. I remember the last time we spoke. She was at a concert with a mutual friend. We hadn't spoken much since I graduated, she was still in school.

She died in her dorm room bed on Halloween as a result of asphyxiation during an epileptic seizure. She was 20 years old. The news was broken to me that very same Halloween night as I floated along in NY on a concert cruise. The World/Inferno Friendship Society decided to host Hallowmas, their annual event, on a boat this year. Nothing like being trapped on a musical boat while you grieve. I had messaged her AIM late that night to say hi. She had an away message up. I may have sent a message to a dead person. I miss her friendship more than I realize sometimes.

That brings us to James Padden. James was a warm, snuggly bear of a guy who always tried to do the right thing and let me steal his hoodies. He insantly became my best friend in a Stepbrothers-esque manner. I met James working overnights at Wawa in Leonardo, NJ. I forget how it started now, but we were standing in front of the deli and I think I tossed him a broom or he already had one. . . I cant remember now.. . . but he just took one look at me with that mischievous little twinkle that I quickly returned and we instantly began sword fighting with our brooms. Like two little boys playing pretend and having a ball. He was sweet and silly and kind. I needed a ride, and he loved to drive. Our first winter as friends, we went out doing donuts in the snow. I barely knew him, but I felt safe. We smoked a ton of weed and had so many adventures trying to procure more. One time, we got so high driving to a Dropkick Murphys concert in NY we kept going in circles, missed almost the entire show save for the last 3-5 numbers, and had a blast. I can barely remember the night, but I remember laughing hard in that car. No one could talk to me like James. We were both insecure being chubby kids and adults, but so charismatic and grandiose that I sometimes thought we were the only two who would put up with listening to each others wild ideas and ridiculous banter. We would smoke joints and take adderall and talk about everything and anything. I miss the safety and closeness I felt with him. We were always 100% platonic, but we could nap together, I could walk into his house and jump on him in bed and wake him up. Then we would cook ourselves a breakfast feast and hit the beach. He taught me to always take the back roads. I gave him advice on the ladies. He taught me about fixing cars. I helped shave his back. He called his new pick up truck, a pick'um up truck. We could wax philosophical all damn day and not get sick of each other.

It wasnt just driving he loved, it was going fast. Like so many young white men, he had tendency to be a little reckless. The universe gave him a pass only so many times.

I'll never forget when he got his motorcycle. It was the last time I saw him. It was a bright green crotch rocket. He loved lime green. I was doing yoga in the living room when I heard this obnoxious engine rev down my street. I asked myself, who the hell is making this noise?! And it was James, grinning from ear to ear with a matching helmet on his shiny new toy.

before he left I said, 'you die on that thing, I'll bring you back to life and kill you." I remember giving him this very long and intentional hug and not knowing why I felt compelled to hang on.

When he left and hopped back on the bike, I felt compelled again and took a video of him riding away from my driveway until he was entirely out of sight.

That's my very last memory of him alive. James Padden died on Thanksgiving five days after his 25th birthday. He went out for a joyride on his bike before dinner, opened up to 100mph around a curve where he couldn't see a car pulling out around the bend in time. They called a medevac, but he died on scene. I loved James dearly and I regret drifting apart after we both left Wawa and I started a new relationship. He had stuff too, but in hindsight it never seems important.

Then there's JB. I will always remember JB for his kindness and generosity. The very first time I finally worked up the nerve to go to a poetry slam, I was alone and terrified. I had no idea what to expect. JB was the very first person to turn around, introduce himself, and welcome me. He made me feel like I belonged. Years later, when I won the title of Grand Slam Champion, he immediately offered to help coach me for national competition. Except, I didn't see the messages and left them unanswered, which I deeply regret. When I started hosting my own open mic a few years after that, JB would be one of the only people to consistently come support the show both as an audience member and participant. It was at a pizza joint and he would sometimes buy me food when I had no money. He wrote beautiful poems about his two young daughters and how much they inspired him. JB always tried to make people laugh but you could tell he carried a sadness. I did not get details, but from what I have gathered he made a choice to end his life. I wish I would have gotten closer to him and appreciated him more as a friend and person. I wonder if he felt no one cared about him and I feel like I should've let him know more.

Which brings us to Crys. Crystopher Anthony Diaz was a Scorpio with a big heart and a big personality. I met him on Myspace back in the day and started Web camming. We became friends and eventually fell into this gray area of friends, together, but not. It wasn't long before I was spending days at his place, killing hours at a time downloading music, making Wawa runs, and smoking weed with his roommate at the time, Syd. You know, the whole reason I worked at Wawa was Crys suggesting it. And Wawa is the reason I met James. Crys was unlike anyone I'd ever met. He was poetic and artistic and loved animals, especially pit bulls. He loved to draw and write and had this very out loud style that favored Earth tones. He taught me about fashion and insisted on getting dressed even if it was 1am and we were just going to Wawa because you never know who you might see. We would buy new clothes at Walmart and have photo shoots. That boy drank his weight in coffee daily. If it's one thing I'll always remember him for, it's the dancing. Dancing was a passion of his and always used to talk about wanting to form a dance crew. Eventually, we ended up living together for four years. My first apartment was with him in this piece of shit duplex rented to us by a slumlord in Keansburg,NJ. My relationship with him was always defined by our Aries/Scorpio dynamic and he never let me forget it. His birthday was October 30th, mischief night. One time, after we had moved into a new place, we decided to get revenge on our old downstairs neighbor by taking a finished lobster carcass and throwing it on his lawn. . . . . . . Keansburg had a terrible stray cat problem. 😁

I have so many memories with Crystopher. Unfortunately, towards the end of our relationship things became too tumultuous. We had too much unresolved baggage and trauma to find a healthy place emotionally together. We were so financially strained for a time we hardly ate. And then when he met his new girlfriend Laura, she introduced him to her good friend, Roxy. As in Roxcicet. aka Blues. Neither of us knew what that even was at the time. But he sure learned quick. He started using them pretty frequently as time went on, and things only got more complicated. My mental health took a nose dive. By the time I moved out our relationship was trash. I basically left. At the time, I didnt have a choice. things had gotten so bad between us, the money, the using . . . we didn't act like friends anymore.

I saw him a couple times at his new place but that was years ago. Since then, he went through a lot, including homelessness and more struggles with addiction to opiates. He reached out to me and sent me a message apologizing for everything a couple years back. I never responded. I was afraid I would let him back into my life and let the all the problems back in. I didnt trust where he was at in his life. We lost touch and stopped speaking.

His ex, who used to live with us and became my friend, messaged me and told me he died a few days ago. He was 35. I'm still waiting for information, but it may have been drug related. I'm not even sure where I'm at with how I feel. I know why we stopped talking. It was the right thing to do at the time. But he didnt deserve to die so young, having spent the last god knows how many months homeless. It's fucking with me so hard because we never resolved anything. I loved this person so fucking much and we never made peace. Of everyone I've lost, he was the closest to me. I've had a lot of people die on me but none that I lived with and shared a life with. I have more memories with him than I can handle and while I know we hadn't spoken in years and why, I still wish I would've said something. Done something. Yes, i needed healthy boundaries but he needed somebody. when is being firm too firm? If we would've helped, could it have been different? But we didn't want to help at the time, you try to be tough and draw a line. Be firm. Not let yourself be taken advantage of. But is that a defense? Did that defensiveness leave a human being who's head i used to scratch until he fell asleep out in the cold to get sicker and die?

What am I supposed to learn from all this Universe? Why do you take my friends so young and so tragically? I'm only 35, I'm too young to have this much loss.

Because these are just the major players I've lost. It doesnt include my cousin Jared, who died being reckless on a motorcycle at 21 two years ago. I was 15 when he was born. I loved that baby, he used to bite my nose. But his family lived far, so I rarely saw him growing up. Last time I saw him was at my grandfather's funeral. He didn't remember me and the nose biting.

And then there's Marcos who we used to chill with. He worked delivery for our favorite chinese food place. He was a nice kid who lived with his grandparents. We would get food, smoke weed, hang out a little. Even used to buy it off him for a while. Eventually he got into the opiates too, he even wound up being good friends with Crys and being Blue buddies. But eventually Marcos died from an opiate overdose. He was in his mid twenties.

I didnt want to include Ricky because he was more of an acquaintance for me, he was more my partners childhood friend. But god damn, in the time I knew Ricky that kid was a riot. He was loud and funny and definitely marched to the beat of his own drum. Drugs took him too.

Thanks for reading all this if you've made it this far. It's taken me about two hours to type this out on my phone. but i needed to. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#death #story #story prompt #grief #friends #loss #love #dying #grieving #sad #lessons #life lessons #writeblr #writing #compose

1 note · View note

creativeashproductions · 6 years

Text

Thanksgiving Brings New Dawns // Noah Centineo

Summary: Meeting someone at their worsts brings both pain and some positives. Meeting an actor who lost himself in his new world isn’t what you like but apparently the universe sees it as a necessity.

Characters: Noah Centineo x Reader, and Centineo Family

Words: 2.8k

Disclaimer: This is part of @thewackywriter‘s Fall Writing Challenge! I’m Canadian so our thanksgiving is in October but I thought I’ll get it earlier! I’m also very sorry for not posting fics because I had slammed into writer’s block but this challenge helped!

Warnings: Swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, mention of illicit sex (no smut), angst (I mean it is expected from me) and a lot of fluff!

A/N: We are now taking requests for Noah Centineo and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Do post our work anywhere else without our explicit approval

Master list

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

If you had been told you would be married by twenty-one years old following a harsh breakup when you were just discovering boys you would have sighed longingly at the mere thought. What girl didn't want to be married young and have a handsome husband until you were in high school. The years of awkward puberty, changing voices and developing cliques from the moment you were at high school orientation.

In freshmen year you found your best friend who you would share secrets, makeup, and clothes with until somehow you both couldn't fit into the other's clothing. The joys of having different cup sizes and different shaped curves; that was okay because you shared the other things instead. Her name was Allison with gorgeous long dark hair and glittering brown eyes, well they were until she started eating on the bleachers with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that carefully and slowly separated Lis from her friends and family. Over the months you would try to speak, but Lis would walk away to her boyfriend's side with sadness etched into her form. The entirety of Sophomore year was spent with a new group of friends, and a boyfriend on the football team, a cliche of course, with big blue eyes and hair you swore was spun by angels.

He was your everything. Until one day he wasn't. Apparently, he needed tutoring for his English Lit class where you couldn't help him in as he took the AP class. It was Allison that found you staring in disgust in the tutoring center on her way to the bathroom. The same Allison that knew you needed her more than anything.

It was Allison who brought you to the police station to report that a teacher was having illicit relations with her student. The same Allison who protected you from your seething ex-boyfriend screaming profanity and threats on his way out to stalk the police station the teacher was awaiting bail. The teacher who was teaching him the Kamasutra's many sex positions as if it was one of the assigned books in class.

Allison would soon explain precisely why she closed off from everyone and you wouldn't take her to the police station instead. You swore off relationships together. That was it you believed.

Until you met him.

It was your favourite time of the year when the leaves started turning different colours just before they would start falling off the tree branches. God, you loved the fall and what it would bring each year with the pumpkin patches and candy on every shelf in the stores. It was also the most significant time to lay in the park on one of the last days that would be warm enough to avoid layers but not cold enough to need thick leggings and a sweater.

You were reading among the children running around the lush green grass with footballs, baseballs with gloves and a few frisbees. You were in the middle of some novel you had been recommended a while back when you were still finding yourself as a soon to be senior in high school. Brushing the threshold of adulthood. It was a book about finding yourself again in dark times as a memoir by Cheryl Strayed.

"Hey."

"Hi." You spoke without really thinking about it. Your eyes still glued to the words written in the battered book from the many times you had read it since you first picked up.

"What are you reading?"

"How to convince someone to leave them alone without murdering them." You spoke once more humming as you found your favourite sentence of the chapter.

"Who is it by?"

"A wonderful author named 'Screw Off'."

"I've heard of them." Dog-earing the page you looked up to see the shadow casting down on your blanket.

"Who are you?"

"Noah." He spoke sitting down on the edge of the blanket showcasing a pair of black jeans worn beyond belief with the skin of his knees showing through the frayed holes, you saw it wasn't bought worn either.

"You look like shit." You spoke when you finally looked up to see his face. There were bags under his eyes that looked as if they were permanent. You could smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes, and a stain you believed was some form of alcohol on his shirt.

"Thanks. Really awesome to hear a stranger say that." Noah snarked uncomfortably, "Can I just sit here? You seem cool."

"Are you hungover? It's Monday morning man." You spoke giving him your full attention.

"I'm avoiding the third degree from my sister." He sighed throwing himself down to look up at the sky, "She was blowing up my phone all night and until it went dead a few minutes ago. I love her, but she needs to back off."

"She's doing it because she loves you. Be happy about that. Be happy she cares enough to do something about it."

"What's your name?"

“Y/N" You merely spoke once more turning your attention to the clear blue sky.

"Well Yn you don't know the reasons behind my irritation." Noah snarked once more, "What are you reading?"

"A memoir of a woman that almost lost everything and decided to do something about it. She went on this great crazy adventure hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. She didn't have any guidance or experience, but she did-"

"She sounds stupid to go out without any training." Noah interrupted.

"She needed to do it to find herself."

"She could do that anywhere."

"Look man. Just because your life is shit doesn't make you an expert on how people should deal with their issues. How can you discover yourself in a society that has the internet at the simplest touch on their screens? She hiked because it gave her time to think without the disease of social media." You swiftly started gathering things up, "I don't know why you're drowning your demons in drugs, alcohol and partying in some typical teenage angst but honestly sounds like you need to find yourself."

"No, I-"

"Turn your phone off, talk with your sister and for god sake stop the self-medicating bullshit of drugs your 'friends' give you and the alcohol to numb the pain." You spat, "I don't understand people. You should find healthy alternatives. Gave a wonderful day you shitty person."

That was it. The toxicity of the 21st generation officially shattered your beliefs in humankind. Apparently, you were among the few handfuls of people that didn't judge and be terrible people in general. You wished you never met Noah even if you only interacted for a few minutes at most.

Noah stared after you quietly until you were a speck in the distant parking lot dragging a blanket and book in hand. It was then that Noah started the metamorphosis that would save him even if he wouldn't know for another few years. He began by buying "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed in the nearest bookstore. However, he would toss it in the back of his closet when his girlfriend Angeline texted about a party.

Two years later Noah would be trying to find his old iPod after his current one broke when he saw the sharp corner of something. Buried under clothing, near ancient scripts and unless items sat the book from two years back when he met that girl in the park who tore him a new one.

Despite the massive rager, his friend was throwing that included strippers, drugs, and a shit ton of alcohol of every kind something switched inside him. He forgot the iPod and sat down on the bed in his room to crack open the unread book. By the second chapter, he had texted his friends explaining he was done living the way he was before blocking the numbers and deleting the contacts. He took up healthy alternatives while finally opening up to his sister.tearfully.

September of that year you were picking up a few candles before you wandered over to the aisles of books you had always loved. You immediately went to the spiritual aisle where you perused the rows until a tan hand reached around you.

"This one is amazing." The hand gently removed a book as if it was an injured bird in dire need of help. You took the book from the person, "It's one of my favourites by far."

"'The Celestine Prophecy' by James Redfield ." You mumbled turning to face the person. There standing with a fresh complexion and calmness in his eyes was the boy from years before. The guy standing in front of you was the pessimistic asshole from the park.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You snapped.

"So you remember me." Noah spoke shoving his hands into his pants pockets, "I'm really sorry about that. I was a complete insensitive dick. I want to thank you though. Without you, I might be dead or on the cusp."

"How did I help you."

"You tore into me about self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I ended up buying that book twenty minutes after you left the park. I didn't read it until I found it two months ago in the back of my closest. I swore off alcohol and partying." Noah quickly spoke as he blocked your path of escaping, "I'm completely sober now. I stopped smoking, drugs, alcohol and everything bad. I changed from relying on anxiety medication to working out routinely and doing yoga."

"You did?"

"In the four months I've been sober I've never felt so refreshed, awake and inspired." Noah grinned, "I have you to thank you for that. I'd think to take you out as a thank you."

You decided on the spot that Fall was definitely your favourite season, and Noah was the first person to crack your guarded heart. He was the first boy that awakened feelings you had felt since you first started dating your first boyfriend in high school.

By Thanksgiving, you were so in love with each other even if it seemed impossible in such a short amount of time. You spent as much time together as you could with his acting career and your school work and most nights you traded books on so many topics.

November was the official month Noah would blame the weather for the amount of cuddling he demanded. You didn't mind even when he tried to bribe you into coming to his family's Thanksgiving. He won.

By twenty-one you were engaged and married during October, you were adamant with your love of Fall and the season you got together with Noah. The first handful of months you were utterly wrapped in your love bubble surrounded by your animals in your house with your husband. You lived in blissed from the wedding until that fateful day you discovered you were pregnant.

Was it the most convenient time to be having a baby with Noah's exploding career? No, but when was it ever convenient to have a baby. You loved Dot from the pregnancy test you took.

Thanksgiving 2018

You hated your body while simultaneously adoring the bump you had grown over the months. The problem was trying to find clothing that flattered you was impossible. To the point, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in a bright orange cable knit sweater and maternity jeans.

"You look good in Orange.” Your husband spoke from the entrance of the ensuite.

"I look like a pumpkin Noah." You huffed crossing your arms.

"Pumpkin is the best part of Thanksgiving! You know that." Noah exclaimed pulling you into his chest. He was completely over the moon feeling the firm bump on his abdomen.

"I'm allergic to pumpkin." You emotionlessly spoke staring at the tiny stain on his lazy day shirt. The blue one that brought more vibrancy to the colour in his eyes with the minimal holes in the material. The sweater that mysteriously would reappear in the wash every time you tried to throw it out.

"Okay, gloom and doom we have places to be," Noah spoke yanking his shirt off by the neck of it. Your eyes scanning his excellent form that never failed you arouse you, especially with the pregnancy hormones, to his amusement.

"You know you can't do that!" You whined stomping your foot.

"Sweetheart we really don't have time for-"

"You say, and we won't be leaving until I've had my fill of you." You warned him as he gripped your hand to sit you down on the chair in the foyer.

He kneeled in front of you with your boots, once that fit your swollen ankles, to carefully place them up for you while grabbing the backpack he had lovingly filled with everything he read a pregnancy may need. A pair of flats that were black, a couple of dressy slippers along with some personal hygiene wipes explicitly made for pregnancy to be safe for baby. A few pairs of underwear just in case along with natural lotion and scrunchies.

"I love you." You mumbled looking down at the man that had ruined you for anyone else. All he did was grin up at you with his hands settled on your baby bump to press a lingering kiss to your unborn child.

"God I love you both so much." Noah breathlessly spoke all the while resting his nose against your belly, "I'm going to raise you to know you don't have to be a boy to be a knight in shining armour to save someone. Your Momma was my knight, she saved me from myself when I didn't know I needed to be saved."

"We're going to be late." You choked out as your emotions got the best of you.

Noah helped you get settled in the passenger seat of the SUV he bought mere weeks after learning about your pregnancy. The baby's room had been set up for months now with the door closed permanently to keep the baby's existence a secret. There was something about surprising your family with a joining member that had you keeping your lips sealed.

You were really early at Noah's parents, you traded locations each year for holidays, where they were still out for a while. As you waited in the car, he grabbed the box holding the high chair to set it up at the long dining room table. By the time he finished, you were waddling to the front door intent on getting to the bathroom. You struggled the whole time before coming out to find your in-laws just coming through the entrance.

"Noah!" Kellee exclaimed rushing to pull him into her arms, "I missed you!"

"Mom! You're squeezing too tight." Noah spoke squirming in her arms, "We had lunch a few days ago!"

"Well sorry for missing you." She sighed pushing back, "I still can't believe you bought a house here!"

"Hey, son," Greg spoke pulling him into a quick hug.

"Hey, Dad. We have a question, do you think we have enough room for another person to join us?"

"I guess. We can make room." Your mother-in-law spoke already trying to plan it out, "When are they arriving?"

It was that moment your immediate family walked into the room just hearing the end of her sentence. It seemed no one had noticed the high chair just yet.

"They're here already," Noah spoke with a half smile. You came around the couch that had hidden your stomach just as Taylor's eyes settled on the paper resting against your bump, 'Mommy ate a pumpkin seed'.

"Oh my god."

"Are you?"

"Seven months. Noah thought it would be funny to wear orange and be a pumpkin to announce it."

"Congratulations!" Mom exclaimed yanking you into her arms tightly. She leaned back to gaze down, "How did you keep it from us?!"

"By keeping busy and strategically already sitting in any cafe and the weather is great for baggy sweaters of Noah's." You answered swiftly. They all blinked in shock before crowding closer to ask more questions on the pregnancy.

"When are you due?" Taylor asked sitting on the couch near you. Kellee and your mom barred you from the kitchen with Taylor moving between rooms. Noah was watching some sports game with the rest of the people.

"Mid January." You grinned, "Your brother is best. He had this bag packed of everything. He researched brands of baby clothing and sheets that are the best for baby's skin. The nursery is set up with a bassinet in our room for the first two or three months."

"You're good for him," Tay spoke with a small grin.

"He's good to us." You breathed staring at his glowing complexion. Without knowing the rest of the world believed he was perfect and fought tooth and nail to defend your little family against the haters.

With a gleaming smile, Noah looked over to you holding his phone in his hand as your own pinged in your pocket. Glaring on the screen was simple from Twitter.

@noahcent has mentioned you.

Forever Tag List (Want to be tagged? Send us an inbox, we’re more likely to see that than a comment on our work)

@cityofsobbingfangirls @tas898 @barbidollash @trustnobodyshootfirst @winchesterfanfiction @deanwinchesterisamazing @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @padackles2010 @msimpala67 @deangirl5509 @heyitssilverwolf @therealme13posts @petlaufeyson @professionally-crazed @winterhurricane @tearsandbloodofmyenemies @blackwidow-romanoff @crazybarnes @marvelofcourse @takemetothefictionalworld @destiel67bellarke @ohmy-sammy @fightinthepain @vivabucky @waituntilthedustsettles @daydreaming1393 @cumonbucky @inhumans-of-shield @basicwhiskeyprincesss @soulfull-ofevans @spookass @glitterintheairblog @girl-with-wild-dreams @frickin-bats @darkestgrungeuniverse @shamvictoria11 @buckyappreciationsociety @sammysgirl1997 @fly-f0rever @archer-whovian-violinist @jenn0755 @anamarieswift2194 @unicornofdanger @ifyoudie @jealousbitxh @stormin-thru-glitter @sparklyaura @stilescstilinski @curlyxtomato @katshrev @its-sanaa-k @theoismydad @im-a-light-child @tmriddler @flirtswithdanger @divide-supermarketflowers @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1 @introverted-fandom-human @jennylj16 @potterandbucky @harleenq4life @runs-with-sciss0rs @superhero-lover101 @ridingmoxley @edward-lover18 @ridingmoxley @thefangirlliveson @the-crime-fighting-spider @bookworm-nerd6 @sebby-staan @caitlyn-blackwell

#twwfall2018 #noah centineo imagines #noah centineo #thanksgiving au #fall au #agentsofsupernaturalmarvel #agentsofsupernaturalmarvel masterlist #caitsy and ash productions #angst #pregnancy #fluff

245 notes · View notes