𝕊𝕎𝔼𝔼𝕋ℍ𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕋 | B.L & S.M

17 | S.M

PROMPT: You're sick and Stu had to visit you.

🔪 🩸⛓️🪓💀🍷👻 ☎️🚬❤️‍🩹🃏🥀🕯️

The sun was beginning to set over Woodsboro, casting a warm golden glow through the trees as Stu Macher parked his Chevy in front of [Y/N]'s house.

The day had dragged on longer than he expected, each minute passing like an eternity since he last saw her.

The absence of her usual texts and playful banter left a hollow feeling in his stomach, an unsettling knot of worry tightening with each tick of the clock.

After a quick glance at her house, with its cheerful flowers lining the porch and the unmistakable scent of cookies wafting from the kitchen, he knocked on the front door.

Moments later, [Y/N]'s mom opened the door, her smile warm and welcoming.

"Stu! What a surprise! Come in!"

"Hi, Mrs. [L/N]!" he greeted, stepping inside. The familiar scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air, his stomach rumbling in response. He had half a mind to snatch one before he headed upstairs.

"How is she? I'm really worried," he asked, concern creeping into his voice as he stepped into the cozy living room filled with family photos and the slight chaos of a household bustling with life.

"She's been a little under the weather," her mom replied, leading him toward the staircase. "But she's upstairs. I'll let her know you're here."

"Thanks! I'll take it from here," he said, waving her off with a smile. He appreciated the warmth of the home, but his focus was solely on [Y/N].

Climbing the stairs, his heart raced with anticipation and worry. She had always been his light, the one who could brighten his day with just a smile, and seeing her like this felt wrong.

He knocked gently on her bedroom door, and after a moment of silence, he heard a faint, "Come in."

Stu pushed the door open, revealing [Y/N] nestled under a mountain of blankets.

The room was cozy, decorated with posters of her favorite bands and a scattering of books that hinted at her vibrant personality.

She looked cute, even sick, with her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. But when her eyes met his, a spark ignited within her, dull but present.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, a smile breaking across his face. "I've missed you."

She tried to sit up, but the effort made her wince. "Hey, Stu," she replied, her voice soft and raspy. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. You've been MIA for too long," he replied, walking over to her bedside. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, feeling the warmth radiate from her. "And to spoil you, of course."

"You didn't have to come all this way," she protested weakly, but the way her eyes sparkled at his presence told him she was happy he did.

"I wanted to," he insisted, rummaging through his backpack and pulling out a thermos. "I brought you homemade chicken soup. Mom helped me with the recipe."

"Really? You cooked?" [Y/N] raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical yet amused.

"Hey, I can cook!" he protested, crossing his arms defensively. "Sort of. It's not burnt or anything."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Stu unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured the soup into a bowl he had brought along. The aroma wafted up, filling the room with a comforting scent. "Here you go. One bowl of 'Stu's Special Soup,' guaranteed to make you feel better," he declared dramatically, striking a pose like a chef on a cooking show.