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gameofdrarry · 3 years

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Wizards Hearts Recs: Werewolf Creature!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Embers by shiftylinguini Rated: Explicit Words: 41216 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, First Time, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Omega Harry Potter, Werewolves, Heat Companion Harry Potter, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Masturbation, Knotting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Marking, Scent Kink, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, sexual negotiation, H/D Career Fair 2017 Summary: Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Heart Like Neon by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) Rated: Explicit Words: 41103 Tags: Sex Work, Sex worker Harry Potter, Rentboys, rentboy Harry potter, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform, past Draco/Theo, Harry/OMC - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Switching, Transphobia, Tattoos, hung harry, POV Alternating, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Comeplay, Watersports, Duelling, Facials Summary: Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Not minds, not Legilimens, but their whole self, and he can give them what they don’t even know they want. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself. Harry can’t help but want to break into him, to figure him out. And Draco, thinking he’ll fuck Potter on a lark, has no idea what he’s in for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid Rated: Explicit Words: 99714 Tags: Dubious Consent, werewolf instincts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, child trafficking, Brief Claustrophobia, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past minor character death, Past Child Death, Bigotry & Prejudice, prejudice against werewolves, internalized prejudice, Murder, Stabbing, Poison, Hallucinations, Creature Fic, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, Masturbation, wanking, werewolf attack, Aural Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Biting, Marking, Claiming, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Edging, Secrets, Lies, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Loyalty, Loyalty Bond, Bonding, Angst, Domestic, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, Self-Acceptance, Emotional Growth, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Auror Brutality, H/D Erised 2019, Comeplay, Wall Sex, sex without lube, Identity Porn, Secret Identity Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 Rated: Explicit Words: 25786 Tags: Rating: NC17, Fanart, Creature Fic Summary: Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Finding A Place To Call Home by marysiak Rated: Explicit Words: 54747 Tags: Alternate Universe, Creature Fic, Werewolves, Post-Hogwarts, Rough Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Summary: Feeling directionless after the war, Harry is unexpectedly torn out of his own universe and thrust into another, where he must hide out with Remus Lupin, Teddy and Draco Malfoy as Severus Snape and Hermione try to find a way to send him home and save both his and his unwitting doppelganger's lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 as much a light as a flame by p1013 Rated: Explicit Words: 6303 Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Mating Rituals, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Knotting, Scent Kink, Mating Bond, Outdoor Sex, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Art, Claiming, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again. His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Burning the Ground by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks Rated: Explicit Words: 10256 Tags: A/B/O-ish dynamic, Were-Creatures, Knotting, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Bondage, Blow Jobs, sex on the floor, Rimming, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Mildly Dubious Consent Summary: "Strap him down," someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him -- the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists . . . He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman's voice sigh, "Someone, get Healer Malfoy." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Omega's Binding by Madriddler Rated: Explicit Words: 49405 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Alpha/Omega, Omega Harry, Werewolves, Knotting, Fluff and Angst, Anal Fingering, Size Kink, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Watersports, No Horcruxes Summary: After a violent encounter, Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf. An Omega Werewolf, to be exact. Now dealing with heats and the ability to get pregnant, Harry must learn to live with his new forms and life, while a desire for revenge fuels him. Will he be able to resist his heat and vengeance? Or will he fall into an instinctual lust, and look for his Alpha? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Light More Beautiful by firethesound Rated: Explicit Words: 81255 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Dubious Consent, Potions Accident, Post-Hogwarts, Aurors, Returning Home, Owls, Drinking, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Masturbation in Shower, Knotting, Rimming, Falling In Love, Case Fic, Loss of Virginity, Acronyms, Motorcycles, Christmas, Quidditch, Pining Summary: Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Run With Me by dragontara Rated: Mature Words: 16738 Tags: Animagus, Creature Fic, Werewolf Draco, Animagus Harry, Bottom Draco, Bonding, Knotting, snarky Draco Summary: Draco and Harry meet in the Forbidden Forest in their wolf forms falling fast and hard and eventually bonding with each other. Unfortunately bonding in their animal forms doesn't mean they are happily bonded straight away in a real life too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by VeelaWings Rated: Mature Words: 1073 Tags: Pre-Slash, Screenplay/Script Format, Conversations, Veela Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Harry Potter, Guidance Counselors, in therapy, Depression, Self-Hatred, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Morbid Humor, Inappropriate Behavior from a Professional, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Blood Moon Rising by noelleification Rated: Mature Words: 38322 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Wolfstar is canon, Sirius Black Lives, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Adoption, Slowburn Adoption, Drarry might happen at some point, idk - Freeform, Remus and Sirius adopt draco, Remus and Sirius as dads, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, So much angst, seriously get ready for angst, Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Potter but it's ridiculously gay, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Disaster Draco Malfoy, Trans Hermione Granger, Because we don't support TERFS in this household, Yearning, Sirius and Remus are in love but it doesn't mean they're smart enough to know it yet, so get ready for them to pine for awhile, uhhhhhh just have tissues ready I guess, I'm gonna try my hardest to make you cry, You're gonna suffer..., But you're gonna be... happy about it?, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, traumatized Draco, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Tonks is best girl, Tonks as lesbian wine aunt, Tonks has big sister vibes, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks Never Happened, Everyone is LGBT, because fuck jk rowling, Found Family, Whump, this shit hurted, Parental Remus Lupin, Parental Sirius Black, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, this shit gets dark yall, just be prepared Summary: Draco Malfoy is cursed. Ever since Fenrir Greyback ripped him to shreds, Draco has transformed into a monster every month on the full moon. The change is painful, and living with Lucius Malfoy might be worse. But Draco is strong. He doesn’t need anyone, especially not Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin might be the only person in the world who understands what Draco is going through—but he has enough on his plate, between the still-raging wizarding war, the publicized nature of his status as a werewolf, and his best friend, Sirius Black, who Remus might think of in a more-than-friendly way. He certainly can’t take in a seventeen-year-old Death Eater—can he? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Howling Good Time by FleetofShippyShips Rated: Explicit Words: 5819 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Full Moon, werewolf/human sex, Transformed Werewolf/Human Sex, Knotting, Consent Given Prior, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Morning After, Aftercare (delayed?), Scent Kink, Fluff, (hahaha both literal and emotional), Don't copy to another site, Come Scent Kink (i.e. some post-sex bum sniffing) Summary: They’d talked about this, and Draco had agreed that he would try it for Harry, once Harry had convinced him he was utterly serious and not fucking with him. The timing, however, was entirely up to Harry, and he'd decided tonight, this full moon, was the night. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Am I a werewolf? by a_reader_and_writer Rated: General Words: 1230 Tags: Werewolves, Curses, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Boyfriends, Fluff and Crack Summary: Draco is hit by the werewolf curse. The healers send him home and tell Harry and him to watch the symptoms. Of course this isn't as easy as it sounds with our drama queen Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

#werewolves #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

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Read Into Me Chapter 3: The Scarlet Letter

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 4,420

Warnings: Bad grades, swearing, anxiety, bullying

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @bajino-in-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rmenta0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie

Steve arrived first to Mr. Lawrence’s homeroom, his paper shoved to the back of his notebook. He was happy to have the distraction of Vicki and Tina jabbering at him. He didn’t want to think about his paper. English wasn’t his best subject, but he could hide it from his peers when it was just the teacher and him going back and forth on essays, him writing and them marking. Now, somebody was going to know that he wasn’t good at this. Nancy knew, of course, and while she didn’t say it she always seemed a bit judgemental over his lack of essay writing skill. She was good at everything; it made him feel like he was in good hands when they were together, like they both had something to offer. Apart, it made him feel stupid and secondary, like he was awful at everything. Truth be told, he didn’t exactly know what he had even offered to that relationship, looking back he couldn’t understand why he thought he was worth anything in a relationship at all.

When he sat down, the desk next to him was empty. Steve wasn’t usually early to class, so he was a bit relieved to not see you there. Maybe he could avoid the eminent roasting of his work.

You got to school late. You were absolutely drenched from head to toe. You had walked to school that day, and a sudden rainstorm hit you halfway through, soaking you before you could make it to the building. To make it worse, you’d decided to wear white for the first time in forever. You rushed to your locker in the hopes to change and luckily you’d left a stained sweatshirt there from the previous semester. You’d pushed your wet hair up and away from your face and rubbed away the bits of black eyeliner that had flaked down you cheeks. You looked like shit and you knew it. It was turning into a less than successful morning. You hadn’t even had a chance to look in your locker mirror once you’d changed. You were already late enough for class and didn’t need the write up. You rushed to your English class.

Everyone turned their attention to the doorway when you opened it. You hurried to your desk, keeping your head down and ignoring as Vicki and Tina laughed. You heard Tina say “She looks like a drowned rat.” But you chose to pretend that you didn’t. You were freezing; Hawkins High turned off the heating system mid-March and left the school to stew in whatever weather the state was dealing with to save the county a few bucks a month.

Steve slid his paper onto your desk, keeping his eye on the front of the room as Mr. Lawrence took up attendance. He’d written on the board in chalk ‘how to peer edit’ in thick block letters. You weren’t exactly enthused by the topic, but you were glad to have the dull class to doodle instead of actually listening. You flipped the paper in front of you, looking over Steve’s chicken scratch without really taking in any of the information. You slid it into your trapper keeper, passing Steve your own typed copy of the assignment. You’d made sure to keep the original at home, edited just in case Steve didn’t give you any edits. You left in some mistakes so he could get a grade, but you didn’t want to have to rely solely on him.

You flipped open your sketchpad slowly, keeping your eye on Tracy Lords curly mess of hair piled high on the top of her head like Medusa’s snakes trapped in a golden laurel, or in this case a braided headband. You pulled your graphite pencil from the pink pencil bag you’d sewn in freshman year home-ec. You started with the shape, trying to capture the exact strangeness pile, making little tight curls in the centre of the oval and spiralling in all directions. You felt a pair of eyes on your neck and you turned to see Steve staring over your shoulder. You pulled yourself and the pad inward, trying not to blush. You didn’t like people looking at your art; you hardly showed your work to anyone, even Samantha. All of your drawings sat in their pads, which piled up as the years went by, untouched and forgotten. If Samantha wasn’t allowed to see the pictures of her, Steve Harrington was certainly not allowed a peak.

“Alright, today if you and your partner are ready to begin, we’ll start editing our papers. If you aren’t ready, that’s fine but today is the only day that we’re doing in class editing so I would spend today trying to finish up so you can at least pass your papers on.” Mr. Lawrence explained. You sighed, closing your pad and pulling Steve’s essay from your trapper keeper.

“Now, we want to look for not only spelling and grammar problems, but also sentences that don’t make sense and confusing details within the essay. It’s not about how many big words you can use, it’s if you can accurately and dynamically give your reader information.” Mr. Lawrence explained. He took to the board, writing key points for his marking, specifically to edit in pen and give a letter grade for the paper.

Tina’s hand shot up “You want us to grade the paper? Isn’t that your job?” she asked, smacking her gum violently. Vicki snickered into her palm, reddish brown hair away from her face.

Mr. Lawrence shook his head “No no, I’m not taking your grade on the papers into consideration for my grade, instead I want us to give each other grades to mark the progress of an essay, to give your partner an idea of what the paper might be worth. It’ll be up to them as to whether or not they are comfortable with the grade or if they want to improve.”

You didn’t like that. Who the hell wanted their classmate grading their paper? This was a recipe for disaster. You uncapped your red pen with your teeth, chewing on the lid nervously. You looked over the page. You had made up your mind that you’d be nice. You’d want Steve to be nice to you. It was the least you could do.

But it only took a few lines to understand that this was not a good paper. Spelling and grammar mistakes galore, run on, confusing sentences, no clear subject. It wasn’t even a good story, hell it wasn’t even an essay it came off more like a point form list. As you added more and more red ink to the black, white, and blue it started as. The paper started to become a Jackson Pollack more than a lame essay for an English class, it almost felt beautiful instead of shitty to destroy his essay. It was as though you were turning into art.

Out of curiosity, you looked over at your paper to see how it was fairing. Steve was, as expected, chatting up Vicki from across the aisle, and he’d made two corrections on your page, both small mistakes you’d left in. You rolled your eyes, a pit of annoyance making itself known in the centre of your stomach, as bitter as the cyanide in a peach pit. You made your last two corrects before scrawling a large ‘D’ at the top of the page and initialling next to it.

You flipped the paper over and pulled back out your sketchpad and brought it close to your chest, pulling your knee up to your chest and adding more curls to the back of Tracy Lords’ head, then focusing in on the braided headband until the bell rang. You flipped your pad closed and slid Steve’s essay back to him, quickly putting your stuff away.

“You mind if I take this home and give it to you tomorrow?” Steve asked, waving your essay in front of your face, nearly giving you a paper cut on the bridge of your nose.

You pushed the paper away, squinting up at him. “Yeah, whatever…” you replied, turning away from. You didn’t feel bad for giving him a bad grade now. He was still a dick head. “Don’t forget your paper.” You added, quickly making your way into the halls. You didn’t usually have the confidence to be snarky with anyone you didn’t trust, but something told you that you could handle Steve Harrington. Maybe it was just how awful his essay was, you felt like you could talk your way out of a fight.

Samantha grabbed your arm as you left the room, the pair of you thankful to have the same lunch period every other day. You hurried into the cafeteria. You knew well enough that she was on the prowl, eyes scanning the room for a certain figure.

“I think the band’s practising today, dude.” You said, taking an extra tray for Samantha and getting her serving of lumpy mashed potatoes and chicken surprise slopped on the plate. Samantha was looking for Robin Buckley, a junior on her soccer team who had drawn her attention as of late, and had been trying to get closer to her as of late, inviting her to join them for lunch every time she saw her and leaving you to third wheel.

“Yeah, probably.” She replied, taking the tray you held out for her and paid for her meal. “So, how’d talking sweet, sexy assignments with King Harrington?” Samantha crooned, batting her eyelashes up at you.

You rolled your eyes “Well, for one, we don’t talk period, and for another it’s fucking awful.” Taking your places at the table closest to the emergency exit, you settled into your routine of trying to choke down the awful cafeteria food. You grabbed your trays and had them filled with whatever horrific concoction the lunch ladies had come up with that day. You carried your grey and brown mushy mess to your table, a small four seater near the edge of the room, out of view from the popular assholes who liked the throw food.

“Oh? Is that what makes it awful? Not getting to enjoy the charming conversations he has to offer?” Samantha was trying hard not to laugh. Watching you squirm was hilarious.

“More like because I have to read his writing…” you replied. You jabbed your fork into what was supposed to be pot roast, but seemed to be ninety percent instant gravy and ten percent meat from an undetermined animal.

“Since when are you such a snob?” Samantha’s mouth was full of mashed potatoes, but the words rang clear.

“Since I spent my morning reading absolute dog shit about a vacation to Miami beach. It was pathetic! I mean, and I’m no critic, but if you’re going to write me an essay on your vacation, can you at least make it interesting?” you ranted. The more you talked about how awful it was the angrier you got about it. You spent so long on art and creating, you spent your time working hard and for someone to slide through life made your blood boil.

Steve didn’t usually spend his free time searching through the cafeteria for people, people usually found him. Tommy and Carol had already motioned him over, their new friend Billy already gone somewhere else, and Vicki and Tina had called for him to join them, but Steve had to handle something first. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, he wasn’t certain he’d find it in there, but there wasn’t any shame in searching. He would ask someone for directions, but it seemed that nobody knew or cared where you were at any time.

You gave him a ‘D’. A god damned ‘D’! He was flummoxed, he thought his essay was shit, he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t, but he had expected you to be a bit kinder. That was like the unexpected rule of everyone in the class, to grade on the curve. But you went in hard. All he wanted was some answers.

He saw first a flash of pencil stained hands in the air, then the shine of your hair under the florescent lights. You were talking with your hands, making Samantha Cameron laugh hard. He’d never seen you that animated, it made him smile for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

He chuckled, coming up behind you in the hopes that your ease would stick around if he didn’t announce his presence. “You really gave me a D on my paper? What did I do to deserve that?” he asked.

Apparently, you really couldn’t smile when he was around. Both you and Samantha’s smiles dropped, your punky friend dropping her gaze as you were forced to turn around. “Oh…um…well I mean it…maybe I need to look it over again, I was probably being too harsh…” you stuttered, unable to keep yourself from burning up. You prayed that he hadn’t heard what you were saying. That would’ve been awful.

“Hey, it’s cool, the paper’s no good, it’s no big deal.” That was a lie of sorts, when Steve saw the big red ‘D’, his heart dropped. And he really didn’t believe that you were as innocent as you seemed. You seemed guilty over something.

“Well…I’m sorry anyway. I didn’t mean to bother you…” you apologized. You hoped he’d go away; you’d never been more uncomfortable around a person than Steve Harrington. You didn’t know why, but something about him made gave you more butterflies than other people did, he scared you for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry.” Steve chuckled awkwardly. You wouldn’t look him in the eye, it was throwing him off. “So, listen, I don’t want to fail this class,” he huffed out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Could you maybe help me rewrite this thing?”

You looked to Samantha, unsure if you could even speak words anymore, but she was smirking into her pot roast. Absolutely no help at all. You tried to smile “Um…sure, I can’t promise I’ll be much help though…” your voice was hoarse and unsure of itself. You hated that you’d said yes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. What if he got mad? Or yelled at you? You couldn’t handle being ridiculed or yelled at, you’d die.

Steve chuckled “Any help I can get is good enough. I can meet you in the library after school, okay?” he said, turning his gaze to Tommy’s hollering from across the cafeteria. He waved him over with both hands, like a sailor on a sinking ship, trying to beckon Steve back to where he belonged. Steve nodded, holding up his index finger, he only needed one minute.

“Sure, yeah that’ll work.” You said, fiddling with a thread hanging from the edge of your grey sweatshirt. You’d painted a little pink flower on the inside of the sleeve. When Steve saw it, he couldn’t help but smile at it; it looked so sweet and earnest.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” He left after that, heading over to Tommy, who was frustrated beyond belief. He took his seat easily, stealing the pudding cup off of Carol’s tray wordlessly.

“What did that freak want?” Tommy asked loudly, his eyes blown wide. Carol was painting her nails, not even bothering to look up from her work. Tommy made no attempts to hide his dislike of you. He’d expected his best friend since the second grade to feel the same.

“She’s nice, we’re doing an assignment together.” Steve replied with a shrug, pulling the plastic covering off the cup, sticking the plastic spoon into the vanilla pudding.

Across the room, Samantha grabbed onto your hands with a giddy grin. “Look at my little girl! She’s got plans, with a boy!” she squealed, swinging your arms back and forth over the table.

“Jesus, can you please stop acting so straight? You’re gonna scare Robin off.” You yanked your hands away, watching with a grin as she turned her attention back to looking around the room excitedly. You let your eyes find Steve in the cafeteria, the buzz of fear filling your ears. You couldn’t believe that you agreed to meet him anywhere. You wanted to disappear.

You couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. Your mind had gone into a feral sort of panic mode, pumping fear through your veins and turning your palms cold. When the final bell rang, it took all your strength and courage to not run all the way home. You knew that if you didn’t show, the problem wouldn’t go away. You’d just have to deal with the results of ditching the next day, and if not done now, then you’d have to deal with it another day. You clutched your books tight to your chest, sitting on the bench outside the library, trying to keep the butterflies from bursting out of your mouth. Your hands kept coming to your hair, trying to fix it or keep it away from your ears, maybe just to comfort yourself. It had dried weird and you worried that it looked ridiculous.

You saw his shoes come up to yours before you saw his face, royal blue Adidas with white and red details and dirty laces. You noted your own dirty white Converse, marked with mud and lyrics to songs that Samantha wrote on the toes. “Hey, you ready to do this?” Steve asked. You looked up and nodded, swallowing hard.

You wouldn’t make eye contact with him again. It was really starting to freak him out. He didn’t know what he did wrong, but it seemed like you really didn’t like him. Still, you’d agreed to help him and he wouldn’t take that for granted. He’d read your essay twice and it was good. He didn’t know much about good writing, but he knew that Mr. Lawrence would like it, that it would get a good grade. And he wanted decent grades too, so he could get into college and get his dad off his back.

The Hawkins High library was fairly quiet after school, most students headed back home or to after school clubs. Only a few stragglers remained, mostly using electric typewriters and returning books to poor Mrs. Mueller, who always kept the library open till four, waiting for her husband, the head of custodial staff, to finish his work. She smiled at you when you walked in. Mrs. Mueller was a nice woman who let you sit in the library during lunch and always checked in on you when you seemed alone. She was your favourite teacher, despite never having a class taught by her.

Steve chose a table in the dead centre of the room, dropping his blue bag on the wooden chair next to him and pulling out his papers. You carefully followed suite, folding your hands in your lap, unsure what to do with them. Steve smiled at you, sliding the essay towards you “So, what am I doing wrong?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, unsure where to begin. You picked up the paper, and then open your notebook, writing down everything the story seemed to be about. Steve watched you, utterly confused. Once you had every down, you set down your pen. “Okay,” you didn’t look up from your paper, sliding the essay to the middle of the table. “Tell me what your paper is about.”

“What? You read it, you should know.” Steve laughed awkwardly.

“Humour me.” You replied, looking up slowly to meet his eye. Steve’s smiled dropped, looking at you for a second. You broke eye contact first, but he wished he had been able to hold it for a moment longer.

“Okay, well,” he took a deep breath “I wrote about my family’s trip to our cottage on Miami Beach, and I talked about what I did. Nothing much.”

“Okay, because what you actually wrote isn’t really about that. What you told me is that you went to Miami Beach, your parents own a dirty beach house that was your grandparent’s house and that they’re both dead, that your grandfather fought in World War Two and that the medals were framed in the house, that you met a girl on the beach but she didn’t like you, and that the flight was long.” You explained. You still couldn’t believe that he’d fit all of that into a page of work.

“So?” Steve asked. That was all true of his last trip. Mind you, that was way back in middle school and the details were hazy.

“So, that’s a lot of information that I don’t care about. You can cut all of the stuff about your grandparents, which takes up like half of it. And when you cut that, all I know is that the beach house is in Miami Beach and you met a girl and the flight was long. That’s not bad, but I’d like to know a bit more about it.” You said, taking back the essay from the middle of the page and crossed out every line about his grandparents.

“What do I say instead then?” Steve asked, watching as you crossed out half his page, trying not to sound defeated. You were basically saying that he had to start all over again.

“Well, tell me about the beach? Pretend like I’ve never been. What’s there to do, what’d you like about it?” you shrugged. You found yourself feeling a tad bit calmer; the butterflies had calmed their intense flapping and had let you breathe.

Steve sighed “I don’t know, I’m just bullshitting.”

“What’d you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, I didn’t go on there, I haven’t been to our beach house since I was a kid.” Steve looked away. He was embarrassed to have been caught in a lie, even more knowing that now he’d have to rewrite his whole paper.

“Oh…what’d you actually do on your break?” you hadn’t expected him to be lying about anything, a snow bird spring break trip sounded about right for his family, they were always bragging about their money.

Steve chuckled “Oh no, nothing worth writing an essay on.” You looked up at him again. He seemed a bit sad. You pulled another sheet of paper from your trapper keeper, setting it overtop the last one.

“Tell me about it.” You smiled at him despite yourself. He was bit easier to talk to than you’d imagined.

Steve swallowed, nodding despite himself. “Well, I mean my parents went to the beach house and I tried to throw a party, you probably heard about how that went.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

“No…” you shook your head. Steve wasn’t expecting that. Everyone had heard about the failed party, he’d gotten shit about it for weeks.

“Well, I couldn’t get any supplies, so I cancelled and hung out with Tommy and Carol instead. We got drunk in my backyard and Carol fell in the pool. She was so pissed. Then, I pretty much just hung about town, helped my buddy Dustin beat Dragon’s Lair at the arcade.” Steve didn’t really like admitting how lame his life was, he purposefully left out how Tommy and Carol only hung out with him when he went to pick up some weed from his older brother and they wanted a hit off it. Admitting that his life wasn’t that great made him feel small and like it was out of his control, which was not exactly a good feeling.

“Okay, tell me about the little party you had with Tommy and Carol. What was the night like? Was it fun? Did you jump in the pool too or did you watch her fall and laugh?” You had written down the few details in a bubble tree and added more details as he explained his time more thoroughly. You managed to get a bit more information on both events, learning more about his friend Dustin and the game they played.

When he was finished, you slid the page over to him. He took it, eyebrow raised in confusion, but you spoke before he could ask any questions. “This is your blue print. I wrote down everything you told me; now just turn it into an essay. The whole trick about these assignments is that you’re telling a story, and to make it interesting you have to give us details, and not about your grandparents or other things that don’t add to the story at hand, about what actually was happening.” You explained, checking the plastic watch on your wrist. It was almost four and Mrs. Mueller had already passed your table twice, her silent warning to leave. Everyone else who had been there had long left and you became very aware of how alone you were with him. The butterflies started their flapping again, churning tides in your stomach.

Steve smiled “Okay, I promise it’ll be interesting though.” He chuckled.

You shrugged “I promise that it’s more interesting than what you had before.” You shoved your papers into your bag, standing quickly “If you want me to look at it again before you hand it in, just bring it to me in class, alright? The library’s closing so I should go.”

“You want a ride home?” you spun around to look at him, crossing your arms over your paint splattered sweatshirt. The rain storm of the morning was long forgotten and you didn’t know what the weather looked like now. A part of you wanted to take the ride, but a much bigger part of you told you to run away.

You shook your head “No, um my friend Samantha said she’d drive me after her soccer practise, she’s probably waiting for me.” You lied straight through your teeth, adjusting your backpack straps on your shoulders.

“Oh…sure, yeah, I’ll see you around.” Steve stood slowly, tucking in his chair. You waved politely and headed out. The rain had stopped, thank god, and you rushed to your locker, grabbing your wet clothes from your locker before making your way outside. The field was muddy, practise was probably cancelled. You took the long way home that afternoon, cutting through the woods and the muddy park to avoid being spotted by Harrington on the way and getting caught in a lie.

The afternoon had gone well. And that scared the shit out of you.

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dobseventeen · 6 years

Text

It’s You: Chapter 4

A/N: I’M BACK FROM VACATION. Thanks for being patient with me, I know it’s been a minute since I’ve updated. I actually put a lot of work (and emotion) into this chapter, so it’d be great to get some feedback on it! HUGE SHOUTOUT to my main bitch @lietomeat3am for helping me edit/word some things, idk what I’d do without your angsty ass.

Enjoy babes, thanks for reading! 💓

Word Count: 3,263

Pairing: Thomas/Reader

Warnings: Cussing, angst, general sadness, character death :(

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

The following weeks were nothing short of difficult for you. The feelings you had begun to develop for Thomas had progressed from confusion, to you finally admitting to yourself that you not only had a thing for him, but felt irretrievably drawn to him, which frustrated you to no end. The realistic and logical part of you knew you were being ridiculous and that you should be doing everything in your power to move past whatever was happening with Thomas, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling at the sound of his radiant laugh from across the glade, or stealing glances at him every so often at dinner, or feeling completely and utterly safe when he was around.

You were so caught up in your own head, that all the longing looks, the subtle smiles whenever you walked into the room, the way he always seemed to zone out just listening to the sound of your voice, were unnoticed.

Teresa ended up half-heartedly apologizing to you, mostly for Thomas’ sake, although nothing really changed. She still felt the need to mark her territory anytime you were around, but you hadn’t been involved in anymore screaming matches since the morning you woke up across from Thomas, so you supposed that was a plus.

You had become very good at putting on a brave face and turning the other cheek anytime you would see Thomas and Teresa together, even though you could feel your heart being ripped a little more each time you saw his hands around her waist. Every quick kiss on the cheek, every brush of her hair behind her ear, and every “I love you” were seen by you from a distance, through teary eyes that you’d instantly blink away, in hopes that your anguish would be masked. And up until earlier this week, you had thought you had been doing a good enough job and that no one had noticed, but leave it Newt to crack your tough exterior.

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DAY 53

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been sitting alone out here for the last hour?” your blonde friend asked as he sat down in the grass next to you.

You flashed him a pitiful excuse of a smile, “Hey, Newt. Just a lot on my mind, I guess...” you trailed off, knowing damn well why you were sitting here looking up at the names of the gladers that have been lost over the years, dusk consuming the sky above you.

It had been exactly two years since Thomas came up in the box, and the majority of the gladers felt it necessary to throw a party; one in which everyone gets way too drunk off of Gally’s infamous drink. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by people who were celebrating the man you had undoubtedly begun falling for, while he held hands with the girl who managed to wrap him around her finger, so you escaped to the concrete memorial on the other side of the glade.

“Yeah, I can tell. I’ve been able to tell for the last month. Spill it, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.” Newt questioned, a concerned tone to his voice.

You looked at him reluctantly, not knowing how to put your ordeal into words.

“I know it has something to do with Thomas.” he said lowly, his eyes not moving from the etched concrete in front of him.

“Yeah... it has everything to do with Thomas, actually.” you mumbled, his name leaving your lips causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Are you finally seeing the connection thing I was telling you about?” he asked in an almost relieved manner.

“I’m not just seeing it Newt... I’m being completely consumed by it.” you murmured as your head lowered, hands playing with a few blades of grass.

His head snapped to look at you, obviously taken by surprise at your rare admittance of emotions.

“Care to elaborate?” he asked gently, a small sigh being elicited from you.

“It’s like a constant need to catch my breath. When I’m not around him, it’s like I can’t find a way to get enough air. And when I see her in his arms, it’s like all the oxygen in the world couldn’t cure the emptiness in my chest... But when I’m around him, talking to him, seeing him smile, it’s like I’ve been drowning and he’s saved me-- I can breathe again.” you spoke with hesitance, the pain from speaking the words aloud having a bigger effect on you than you anticipated.

“And you know what the worst part is? I feel like I have no control over it. My mind is screaming at me to get the fuck over it, but my heart won’t budge. And to put the cherry on top of it all, he is perfectly happy with Teresa and has no idea I’m over here dying, or you know, metaphorically drowning... and I don’t know how much longer I can tread in this dangerous water.” you added, now looking up at the moon that was beginning to rise in the sky.

Newt was now looking at you, mouth agape in shock at your confession. He took a few deep breaths before turning to face you.

“Y/N, I... I don’t know what to say. I knew that there was something going on, but I didn’t realize just how bad it had done you in.” he said softly, still trying to come up with any kind of advice.

“I’m not Thomas, so I can’t tell you what his feelings or thoughts are, but I can promise you that it’s not as black and white as you think. Teresa is really good at painting a pretty picture for the world, but behind closed doors, it’s a different story. It’s not my place to tell, but the bottom line is that things aren’t that great between them, and as hard as it is to hold on to something so painful, don’t give up hope. You obviously feel like this for a reason, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas was feeling a similar kind of way.” he spoke with a hint of confidence in his voice, which gave you a dose of reassurance you didn’t realize you needed.

You were silent for a few moments, absorbing the words that your friend just delivered. You found yourself counting the stars that began lighting up the sky above you, thinking about the life you had before the maze. You wondered if you had ever experienced pain like this in your past life, or if this was the first time and maybe that’s why it hurt so bad. You wondered if you had ever experienced intense emotions like this for someone before, and if so, you hoped it was reciprocated and not one-sided like your current situation. You wondered if you knew someone like Thomas, someone so strong and captivating and brave... everyone should know someone like that at some point in their life.

“Do you really think he could have any kind of non-platonic feelings, or are you just saying that?” you asked quietly, hating that you had reached this point of searching for desperate answers in your friend.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” he spoke clearly.

----

Newt left after awhile, the intense conversation dwindling down to normal small talk. You stayed for another thirty minutes or so, watching the party from afar. The bonfire cast a beautiful glow on the scene, illuminating the gladers that were gathered around. You couldn’t help but smile watching all your friends laugh and let loose, something that didn’t happen often in the glade. But when your eyes fell on Thomas’ lips kissing Teresa goodnight on her way to leave the party, the familiar ache of heartbreak returned to your chest, tears stinging your eyes. You tilted your head back in effort to keep them from falling, breathing now rapid and shallow.

“Damn it, Y/N. Get it together, you’re so much stronger than this.” you spoke aloud, anger surging through you. You weren’t sure exactly why you were angry; maybe because you let yourself cry over a guy who could care less, or maybe because you were stuck in a heart-wrenching position that you couldn’t break free of.

Much to your dismay, the tears fell anyway. You stood up quickly, needing to be in alone in your room before the emotional episode threatened to get worse. You walked steadfastly towards the small huts that unfortunately resided on the other side of the glade, past the bonfire. In attempt to avoid anyone and everyone, you walked along the perimeter of the buildings, as far away from the party as possible.

The tears were still streaming down your face, your hands working skillfully to wipe them away the second they emerged, when you ran into something--not something, someone.

The second you collided with his chest, your body was slammed with a wave of strange comfort that you were not in anyway expecting in that moment. You hadn’t seen the face of the person whose arms were now holding you up, but you had a pretty good idea. You looked up and were met with the whiskey eyes you had dreamed about every night for the last month, bringing a surge of emotions with them; anxiety, sadness, nervousness, fright, anger... hope. You pullled away quickly to wipe the tears from your face, instantly missing Thomas’ touch on the soft skin of your arms.

“I-uhm, I’m sorry. I should’ve looked where I was walking.” you mumbled as you wiped your face, looking down at the ground beneath your fidgeting feet.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying...” he said softly, his gaze boring into you as he took a step closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you said a little more clearly, an cold edge to your voice.

When you finally looked up at him fully, he felt his heart drop in his chest. Seeing you so hurt, broken, and teary eyed was something he never wanted to witness. He couldn’t deny the growing feelings he had for you, even though he wasn’t sure if “feelings” was the correct term. Could he have feelings for someone else while he was in a relationship? And if not, then what do you call the need to always make sure the other person is okay, even if from a distance? What do you call the feeling you get when you see them walk into a room, and your entire mood shifts? What do you call the feeling of sadness when you see them unhappy? What do you call the excruciating feeling of seeing tears streaming down their face?

“Y/N... you can talk to me.” he whispered lowly, taking another step closer to you.

With each step he took closer to you and each soothing word that left his lips, your anxiety, and anger towards the whole situation, would increase ten-fold, making it almost unbearable to be in the situation any longer. Yet, you found it ironic that all you wanted in the moment was to collapse into his caring embrace.

Unfortunately, that feeling lasted for only a few seconds, anger undoubtedly taking it’s place. You honestly weren’t sure why, but you were suddenly over taken with rage over the whole predicament you found yourself in with Thomas. He was the only person to ever make you feel this low, and at that point, you had had enough.

“You know what, Thomas? Leave me the fuck alone. I actually can’t talk to you, because I can’t even look at you without feeling the hatred your girlfriend has for me, which doesn’t seem to affect you in the slightest, by the way. And I think we both know if she saw you breathing the same air as me, you’d both be fighting for days. So I’m gonna leave and you go find your girl, for both of our sakes.” you spoke harshly as you wiped tears from your eyes, anger and sadness ultimately getting the best of you.

“But I-I just want to make sure you’re oka-” you cut him off.

“No, Thomas, I’m not okay! I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways, so just drop it and go find Teresa, I’m sure she’s looking for you.” your words were laced with venom as you stepped past him, your heart shattering more and more with each step you took away from him.

Thomas stood there, paralyzed by your bitter confrontation. Not only was he unprepared for your outburst, but he was completely taken aback by it. He didn’t know what to think in the moment. Why were you so mad at him? What made you so upset in the first place? Why was he the one person you couldn’t talk about it with? He felt more pain than he thought possible, and he was beginning to wonder if the “feelings” he’d been getting for you had something to do with it.

Thomas went to bed that night with his mind running nonstop, thinking about you and the encounter that had happened. He was determined to get some answers, no matter what it took...

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DAY 58

A lot had happened in the glade since the night you fell into Thomas’ arms.

You avoided him at all costs, seeing his face bringing up too many unwanted, visceral emotions. Not only was it agonizing to be around him, but it was confusing too. One minute you were immensely angry because he made you feel this way, and the next you were heartbroken because you hopelessly wanted to be the one in his arms. You knew damn well that both of these outlooks were pitiful and unreasonable, but you simply didn’t care. It was your own internal battle anyway, right?

Thomas on the other hand, was enduring his own kind of suffering. Not only was he having the regular issues with Teresa, but he was slowly being consumed by his growing theories behind the confrontation he had with you. He didn’t even fight with Teresa anymore, he simply let her yell at him while his mind wandered off to you. He thought about the words you said, repeating them in his head over and over again, trying to understand the meaning behind them. “I’m not okay and there is nothing I can do to fix it. You’re the last person that I can talk to about it anyways.”

He could feel his presence in his relationship slipping, and he honestly didn’t care. He hated how exhausting it was to be with Teresa, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His longing to understand your torment was beginning to take up more of his mental space than the need to continually reaffirm his crumbling relationship, and it was concerning to him how easy it was to let the change of mentality to transpire.

----

Both of your personal thoughts, along with every other glader’s, were brought to a halt the day Ben stammered out of the woods, a demented look in his eyes as he chased Thomas. The second he had to be knocked out with a shovel, confirmed what you all had feared; he’d been stung.

His banishing to the maze was nothing short of torturesome. Ben was a good friend to all, and it was agonizing to watch him being forced out into the maze, body covered in purple and black contusions and swellings, eyes dark, skin pale.

Once the walls closed, a solemn ambiance fell across the glade, no one muttering more than a few words for a remainder of the evening. From your bed that night, you could hear the metal hitting the concrete from across the glade; Ben’s name being crossed out, joining the others who have perished in this hell of a maze. You thought back to the day in the tent when Ben told you his thoughts on Thomas and the way he reassured you that your feelings were valid. It broke your heart that you never got the chance to thank him.

“Thank you, Ben.” you said quietly into the darkness of your hut, the clanging of metal still ringing through the brisk night air.

---

The following day started with a glade-wide meeting, everyone’s attendance necessary. When a tragedy like this happened, there was always a conversation the following day that gave people an opportunity to mourn the lost. But more importantly, this assemblage took place to discuss the transfer of responsibilities that the fallen glader had. With how quickly things changed in the glade, it was important to keep things running smoothly. Normally this change of job for someone was nothing more than a planter switching to a cook, or a builder switching to a tree chopper. But occasionally, it would be a major switch...

After all the kinds words and stories had been shared on Ben’s behalf, Newt and Alby moved to the front of the crowd.

“Thank you all for your caring and compassionate testimonies, Ben was a great man, and even better friend. He will be deeply missed by all of us.” Alby said clearly, his voice slightly hitching towards the end.

“As you all know, it is now time to pass his position as a runner off to someone. We need at least three people running at all times, for safety and efficiency.” Newt said loudly, addressing the entire room.

“We thought this would be a difficult decision, but after deeply considering it, we realized it may have been one of the easier decisions we’ve had to make.” Alby added, confidence apparent in his voice.

Newt cleared his throat before taking a step forward into the small aisle way between the rows of seats.

“We have decided that Y/N will take Ben’s place as a runner. After her impressive dash to save him during his seizure, and the referral from another runner that was given to us last night, we’re confident she is the best choice to fill the position.” Newt spoke sincerely, a small smile landing on his face once he finished.

Upon hearing his words, your stomach dropped to the floor, your mind running a mile a minute. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY would they pick me? I’m not cut out to be a runner. I can’t possibly work with Thomas every single day.

Then your focus flashed to something Newt had said, “the referral from another runner that was given to us last night.”. You knew it had to be Thomas, he was the only one to have seen you run through the maze. Why would he do that, why would he willingly want to work with me, knowing Teresa would kill him, knowing the words I said to him earlier this week. WHY?

Everyone’s eyes were now glued to you. Most were encouraging, but there was one set of eyes that were burning into you like a flame from a few rows in front of you-- Teresa.

What you didn’t notice though, was the smile that flashed across Thomas’ face when Newt announced your name, and the way his eyes were now brightly gleaming at you.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t sure what the repercussions would be, but he knew he couldn’t take anymore days not filled with your soothing voice, angelic laugh, and radiant presence.

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