𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 | stiles stilinski ² ✔️

XXXV. THE RETURN OF VOID

"Harper, wake up," a distorted male's voice urged as arms began to shake her, much to the teenage girls' displeasure, "Harper, come on."

"Go away, Scott," she mumbled, eyes still closed as she tried to turn over, only for a pinching sensation to come from her wrist and her arm to be stopped.

Her brown eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly, immediately regretting it when her head went dizzy. All she saw were yellow dots as a pair of large hands wrapped around her.

"Hey, hey," Stiles' voice coaxed her, "not too fast. You have a pretty bad head injury."

Harper slowly blinked, only now remembering where she was and what had happened. Malia stood on next to Stiles, her brows furrowed as she looked down at the girl who had been handcuffed to a bed. She realised that this wasn't even hers and Malia's bedroom, more confusion seeping into her brain.

"Wha- what happened?" She muttered, "why am I handcuffed to the bed?"

Malia shrugged, "all I know is you and Stiles were both taken. I found him first, unfortunately, and then we found you."

Stiles looked a little offended at Malia's words but dismissed them, remembering that they had bigger issues at stake here. Harper pulled at the handcuff, wincing as it dug into her bruised skin.

"Don't bother trying," Stiles sighed, "you're only going to hurt your wrists."

"I pissed them off," Harper breathed shakily as Malia began to work on getting the handcuff off of her using her coyote strength.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, brows furrowed as he sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hands through her hair and off of her forehead where some dry blood remained.

"They want to take me to my dad today," she told him, causing Stiles' eyes to widen, "yeah, long story short, I got angry at the guy and I punched him in the throat and got tackled by some guard bigger than Eddie Obomowitz."

Stiles chuckled slightly at her lame attempt of a joke, continuously running his hand through her hair. It was times like this when Harper tried to make light of situations that Stiles remembered just why he loved his best friend so much.

"That big, huh?" Stiles hummed, trying to distract her from every time Malia would accidentally pull too hard and make Harper wince, "bigger than 'The Abomination'?"

Harper nodded, releasing a breath when her skin caught with the metal again, "yeah," she squeaked.

"Hey," Stiles narrowed his eyes at Malia, "little more careful, yeah?"

Malia glared back at him, "I'm done, idiot," she made a big deal of showing him the handcuff that she had managed to snap in half.

"Thank you," Harper murmured, pulling her weakened wrist to her body and gently running her fingers over it.

It felt as though she hadn't used it in a hundred years. Harper had broken her wrist once when she fourteen years old after Scott and Stiles betted her she couldn't do all the monkey bars in one go. She got to the last one when she fell, her hands moving out but her wrist catching under her weight. Anyway, the way it felt once she got it out of that cast eight weeks later felt a lot like it did now.