#all right well it's 1:30am and i have BROKEN MY PROMISE not to write this week
Text
Unknown (A Sterek Wrong Number/Celebrity AU)
11.09 PM Unknown Number
>I’m writing songs about you again.
11.20 PM Unknown Number
>its stiles btw.
>in case you deleted my number
>I did.
>I mean I deleted yours.
>but I still remember it apparently
11:41 PM Unknown Number
>I only have 2 lines so far
11:57 PM Unknown Number
>I bleed you from my veins.
>I grieve you like I love you.
>alone.
>its better with the chords.
>u were always better at writing lyrics than me
12:34 AM Unknown Number
>u were better everything than me
2:00 AM Unknown Number
>I hate that I miss you
2:07 AM Unknown Number
>do u want to hook up?
>I promise not to propose again
2:15 AM Unknown Number
>im sorry.
>ignore me.
>im drinking
Derek blinked bleary eyes. His phone screen was the only source of light in his room, as he read through the flurry text messages.
What the hell is a Stiles?
2:17 AM Unknown Number
<I think you have the wrong number
>Lydia?
<no
>oh thank fuck
>I mean
>I’m sorry
>for disturbing ur sleep
>but im just glad I didn’t drunk text my ex all of this
>bullet dodged right?
>is this what near death experiences feel like?
<I wouldn’t know.
>of course
>hey
>seeming as I have you here can I ask you a quick q?
>all my friends are asleep
<probably because its 3am
<everyone’s asleep
>2.39
>and ur not
>asleep that is
>so?
>I’ll take your silence as a go ahead
>what do you think?
>of the lyrics
<im the wrong person to ask
>never experienced heartbreak?
<no
<all song lyrics just look like bad poetry to me
>oh
>yeah I guess it does
>not everyone can be Rupi Kaur tho right?
<do you want to be rupi kaur?
>sure
>not to be dramatic or anything
>but
>I want to be anyone but me
>think id rather be someone like regina spektor tho
<regina spektor?
>singer/song writer
>shes my fucking inspiration
>her lyrics are like poetry to me
>you should listen to her music
<I dont really listen to music
>what the fuck?
>are you an alien?
<no?
>nice fucking try ET
>thats exactly what an alien would say
<…you got me there
>akdjfen
>is this you admitting I was right?
<no
<but this is me going to bed
<because its now 4AM
>already?
>fuck
>ive got an early start tomorrow
>good night random stranger
>and thanks
>for listening
>or reading ig
<good night
//
“You’re late.” Laura frowned, arms crossed.
“Are you going to let me in?” Derek grumbled, still feeling the affects of having stayed up until 4AM the previous night.
Laura didn’t argue she just stepped aside to let him through into her flat. “You’re grumpier than usual.” She noted.
“Didn’t sleep well.”
Derek hated the look she gave him then.
The look that said he was broken. The look that said she wanted to fix him.
“Is…Is it the nightmares again?” Laura’s voice dipped to a whisper, like the question alone would be enough to send him over the edge.
“No.”
An awkward silence defended over the two of them, neither knowing what to say.
Derek clung to the silence like a blanket, wishing things could go back to how they used to be. Back to when they knew how to speak to one another.
But this was enough.
It was enough to know that they were both trying. Failing. But trying.
//
2:40 PM Laura
>I’m here if you need to talk.
//
Derek isn’t good at art, but sometimes it’s the only way he can express himself. Words had never been his forte.
So instead he doodles.
Shitty toddler level doodles that he never shows anyone.
Sometimes he thinks if he could bring himself to show Laura she would like it. Maybe she would even understand it.
But there was a bigger chance that she wouldn’t, and he would feel even more like a stranger to his own sister than he already was.
//
10:18 PM Unknown Number
>I don’t remember it anymore
<You have the wrong number again
>No
>This is ‘not Lydia’ right?
<right
>So here’s the thing.
>I always thought if I needed to text her I could
>And I thought maybe I got her number wrong because I was drunk
>But I can’t remember it anymore
<Oh.
>I have some of her things still
>I don’t think I’ll ever get to return it now
>Unless she messages me first
<When did you two break up?
>Last year
>and I know what you’re thinking
>’it’s October’
>and I should be over her by now
>Trust me I know
>So you don’t need to lecture me
<I wasn’t going to
>Oh
<Stiles?
>That’s weird
<what is?
>I forgot I told you my name
<You should throw away the stuff she left behind.
>you’re right
>I don’t like it.
>but you’re right
>…thanks
<What for?
>for listening
>reading**
>my friends are pretty sick of hearing me complain
>so this is nice
<sure
<anytime
>dope
>no take backsies
<am I going to regret this?
>for definite
>you’re stuck with me now
//
That night Derek saves Stiles’ number as ‘Bad Poet’.
//
Stiles keeps messaging after that.
Stiles messages like they’ve been friends for years, and Derek very determinedly does not analyse why it is he always responds.
Even when there are messages dated from Laura from three days ago that he hasn’t even been able to bring himself to open yet.
He also ignores how when he’s messaging Stiles the gaping pit that had made residence in his chest feels just a little less inescapable.
//
Derek can’t bring himself to tell Stiles his name. He can’t bring himself open up, even though there’s a large part of him that wants to.
He’s not above admitting he’s scared.
//
Derek draws Stiles sometimes.
More accurately he draws a vague pair hands texting on a phone, because he has no idea what Stiles actually looks like.
Derek refuses to let himself dwell on that though, because they are happy drawings.
The pictures of Stiles are pretty much his only happy drawings right now.
//
They don’t always talk about Lydia.
Sometimes Stiles messages Derek song lyrics he’s working on.
Other times it’s memes, or just a bunch of emojis.
Once Stiles had just messaged him what Derek could only assume was a list of everything he had eaten that day.
Sometimes Stiles messages in rambles - and Derek can’t always keep up with the boy’s run away thoughts, but even then he never feels lost the way he does when he’s trying to interact with literally anyone else.
And sometimes it’s 2AM. Those are simultaneously Derek’s favourite and least favourite texts.
//
2:02 AM Bad Poet
>sometimes I feel like too much
>and too little
>at the same time
>u ever feel like that ET?
<not really
>its like I’m infinite, and meaningless
>like a never ending echo
>or a recurring decimal
>I just stretch on and on forever but theres no point to it
>I have no depth
<youre not meaningless
<you’re a rhythm.
<like breathing
>…
>was that a regina spektor reference?
<it might have been
>I thought you didn’t listen to music?
<well someone said her lyrics were like poetry
<so I thought I would check out a few songs
>well fuck
>what did you think?
<she’s good
>you spelt ‘amazing’ wrong
<I still prefer poetry
>of course you do
Derek stared at the texts an ache filling his chest.
Derek was the opposite of infinite. Everything he touched turned to flames.
//
10:30AM Bad Poet
<my sister bought me flower seeds
>I didn’t know you had a sister?
<she’s everything I have
>oh
<and I think she’s trying to trick me into therapy somehow
>…with flower seeds?
<yes
>you sound extremely paranoid
>maybe therapy wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you?
<shut up
>noted.
>keep me posted on how your gardening goes
>also
>as a side note
>you know you have me too right?
>if you ever need to talk or anything, I’m right here for you
<thanks
>anytime
//
On Derek’s birthday Laura insists the two of them spend the day together, and Derek knows better than to argue.
She buys him a cake and they spend hours sat next to one another silently. Two strangers desperately trying to keep hold of one another but with an ocean dividing them.
Once their family had been so alive.
And it was all Derek’s fault that was gone.
They both knew it.
Sometimes Derek wondered if Laura hated him as much as he did.
He was too scared to ask.
//
That night Derek chased the ache in his chest away with a drink.
And then several more followed.
//
1:14 AM Bad Poet
<seh haars me
>sorry bud, you’re going to have to try again
>try spell checking before hitting send
<she.hates mee
>who?
<larn
>are you drunk?
<yeh
<tyongs ndrf
*Out Going Call: Bad Poet*
The phone rings twice before being picked up. “Sorry. Stupid keyboard is so small. Impossible to type.” Derek mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his cheek being pressed into the sofa cushion.
“Wow. You’re really sloshed huh?”
“No.” Derek denied. “Just tipsy.”
“Right. So what was it you were trying to tell me? Someone hates you?”
“Laura.”
“Who’s Laura?”
“My sister.”
“Oh.”
“She looks at me like she wishes she could fix me.”
“That doesn’t sound like she hates you, bud.”
“She should. I can’t be fixed.”
“You’re right, because you’re not broken.”
Hearing Stiles say that Derek could almost believe it to be true.
“I mean it. You’re not broken. You’re just a different shape than you used to be. But the shape you are now is beautiful.”
Derek closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him. “Do you sing?” He finds himself asking.
“What?”
“I know you write songs, but do you ever sing?”
“Oh…” Stiles sounds uncomfortable. “I guess… Yeah. I do.”
Derek hummed in the back of his throat. “I bet you have a nice voice.”
“Th-thanks.”
Derek tried to say something else, but all that comes out is a yawn, which makes Stiles let out a jittery laugh.
Derek tries to memorise the sound of It, but it’s so fleeting, it’s already slipping away from him.
“I think you need to go sleep, ET.”
“Yeah.” Derek agrees.
“Goodnight bud.”
“Wait.”
“Yeah?”
“Could you stay on the phone? Just for a bit longer.” Derek clutched on to the phone like if he could grip tightly enough it would make Stiles stay.
I don’t want to be alone. The words die on Derek’s tongue.
“Sure.” Stiles didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Sleep pulled at Derek’s consciousness, unravelling his grip on reality.
“Stiles?”
Stiles hummed in answer.
“Your shape is beautiful too.”
A small whimper came from the other end of the phone. “Thanks.”
//
7:50 AM Bad Poet
>how are you feeling today?
<better
>good <3
Derek holds his phone tightly and wishes that he had more to say. Just to keep the conversation going.
He also wishes (not for the first time) that Stiles was more than a faceless entity on the other end of the phone.
But it’s the first time he feels the want like a physical ache in his chest.
Derek had never been good with words, but if Stiles was here in front of him Derek would probably give him a hug.
But everything Derek touches eventually dies, and a larger part of him is relieved for the distance.
//
Derek plants the seeds his sister got him that day.
//
9:48 PM Bad Poet
>would it totally weird you out if I wanted to do another phone call?
>don’t feel like you need to say yes
>I just enjoyed talking to you
>and hearing your voice
>ugh.
>why are words so hard?
<I wouldn’t be opposed to a phone call
*Incoming Call: Bad Poet*
“Hey.” Derek feels breathless as he answers the phone, anxious excitement clawing it’s way up his throat.
“Hey.” Stiles sounds equally out of breath, and that helps.
Derek chews on his lip, scrambling for something to say. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know.” Stiles admitted. “Anything.”
“Helpful.” Derek said sarcastically.
“I mean. There’s one thing. I didn’t want to ask when you were drunk because it felt a little like taking advantage. And I don’t want you to think you have to answer-”
“Stiles.” Derek interrupts before Stiles could break into a full blown ramble.
“Tell me your name.” Stiles breaks. “Please.”
Anxiety grips his heart. But… he couldn’t stay scared forever.
“It’s Derek.”
“Derek.” Stiles repeats his name in a reverent whisper, as if committing it to memory.
And hearing Stiles say his name makes everything worth it.
//
Phone calls become a regular thing between the two of them over the next month. Always between late in the evening and the early hours of the day.
//
The next time Derek spirals he doesn’t drink before he calls Stiles, but he does cry on the phone.
The next morning he wakes up to a text from Stiles.
6:42 AM Bad Poet
>you need to talk to your sister
And Derek knows he’s right.
//
It’s not easy confronting Laura. He has two separate anxiety attacks on the walk to her apartment alone.
But he forces himself to take the dive.
“It’s okay if you hate me.” He tells her, even though it’s not okay. Laura’s hate might be the only thing in the world that could break him beyond repair.
Laura looks horrified as she stares at him. “I don’t- Obviously I don’t hate you Derek.”
“It’s my fault that they’re gone.” Derek addresses the elephant in the room.
If he hadn’t fallen in love with Kate.
If he hadn’t broken up with her, just to try and prove a point when she refused to say ‘I love you’ back…
There never would have been a fire.
Their family would still be here if it wasn’t for him.
“Fuck that!” Laura let out a harsh noise. “Derek, none of this was ever your fault. You were a kid, and even if you weren’t… You never set the fire.”
“I might as well have.”
“No. If anyone… I was your big sister- am your big sister. But I was so fucking wrapped up in myself. I didn’t even know about Kate.”
The last time Derek had seen Laura cry it had been at the funeral, so it took a second to fully sink in what he was seeing.
He found himself crying to.
“I’m so sorry, Der.”
Derek stumbled forwards pulling Laura into a crushing hug. Laura hugs him back just as tight.
They spend hours refusing to let go of one another.
//
He realises he fell asleep on Laura’s sofa when he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. But he had no idea where it was, and he was too tired to move.
He feels Laura moving and the sound of the phone ringing gets louder before cutting off abruptly.
“Hello?”
“No - Derek’s asleep.”
“Maybe call at a more reasonable time?”
“Who is this?”
“Your voice sounds familiar.”
“Right.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Derek let sleep over take him once more.
//
2:29 AM Bad Poet
>sorry for calling so late
>you’re asleep so I’ll just take to you tomorrow
//
9:07 AM Bad Poet
<sorry, I was really tried
>no worries man
>you’re allowed to have a life outside of me
<was something wrong?
>no I was just bored, and didn’t realise how late it had gotten
>im fine
>how are you?
<im good actually
<I spoke to Laura
>yeah?
>I’m proud of you
>how’d that go?
<we both cried
<a lot
<and I ended up falling asleep on her couch
>look at you, opening up and shit.
>think I might cry now
<shut up
>literally never
>better men have tried and failed to silence me
//
2:40 PM Laura
>Want to see a movie on Friday?
<sure
//
One night Stiles calls Derek just to say his name in stupid ways, and laugh himself stupid after each one.
“Duhreek.”
“Doreck.”
“Fuck. I’m getting a stitch from laughing.”
“You’re so fucking dumb.” Derek is smiling as he said it.
“Deeruk.” Stiles wheezes out.
Derek just closes hie eyes and listens.
“I’m so fucking glad I know you, Stiles.” The words fall out of Derek’s mouth without much thought.
He only realises the weight of his words when Stile’s laughter pulls to a stop.
“I uh-” Stiles stammered. “Me too. Fuck. You’re the best thing to happen to me in…so fucking long. I’m glad I know you too Derek.”
//
Derek finally admits to himself that night that he’d fallen at least a little in love with the stranger from the unknown number.
//
He keeps trying to draw Stiles, but he can’t. Vague shapes just don’t cut it anymore.
He wants to map Stiles out with his eyes and translate it onto the page.
He wants to be able to see the smile behind the laughter.
He wants.
//
1:58 AM Bad Poet
>do you think you day we’ll actually meet?
>maybe not intentionally
>maybe one day we’d pass each other in the streets and not even know
>maybe we already have
Derek couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t notice Stiles.
<is there ever a moment when you’re not talking?
<I think id recognise your voice and know it was you
>maybe your face would make me speechless ;)
<I think id still know
<but if you want to be sure… I could send you a picture?
<of me
>dkfajd
>for reals?
>you would do that?
>you?
<well…not for free
>there’s always a catch
>what do you want?
>my soul?
>a blood debt?
>you can have whatever it is
<I meant you’d have to send me a picture too
<geez stiles
The next text takes an unnervingly long time to come through.
>I could do that
>a photo for a photo
>I kind of look like shit rn
>so no judging me
Derek spends the next two minutes fussing and fidgeting to take a good photo. No matter what angle he took it from the bags under his eyes were noticeable, and so was the week’s worth of stubble he had yet to shave off.
And maybe this was a terrible, awful, idea.
But Derek would send one hundred bad pictures if it meant getting to see one of Stiles.
He forced himself to press send on the last picture he took.
As he pressed send another photo came in.
Derek’s fingers shook as he hit the button to download the image.
His heart stopped.
Stiles was beautiful in every sense of the word, and Derek found himself unable to look away. Even when he heard the small dings of incoming messages.
But he couldn’t ignore them for long, because it was Stiles. And when ever Stiles messaged Derek had to answer.
>Fucking hell
>are you for real?
>you gave me a heart attack
>am I being catfished right now?
>when do you think you were going to tell me you’re the most fucking beautiful man to exist ever?
>how the hell to you look like that as 2AM!?
>Derek
>oh my god
>you gotta respond my dude because I’m freaking out a little bit
>still there?
>did my selfie scare you away?
>I would have tried harder for a nice photo if I knew I was talking to an adonis
>Derek?
<still here
>of thank fuck
>so…
<so?
>come on
>your going to give me a complex
>the selfie…was it okay?
>I know it’s not much
>but we can’t all be greek gods
<its beautiful
<you’re beautiful, stiles
>oh
>thanks
//
Derek is so far gone that he makes the picture of Stiles the home screen on his phone.
//
9:49 AM Bad Poet
<Laura wants me to meet her boyfriend
<this is all your fault
>how is this my fault?
<because she never wanted to introduce us before
<and then you got me to talk to my sister
<and now she wants me to meet him
>…and this is a bad thing?
<yes
>because?
<I don’t make good first impressions
<it’s going to be awkward
>yeah probably
<you’re not helpful
>I wasn’t trying to be ;)
>have fun, Derek!
//
Meeting Laura’s boyfriend wasn’t as awkward as Derek thought it was going to be. But it was strange.
Derek hadn’t been expecting to meet someone so soft and kind. He was nothing like any one that Laura had dated before.
But he also wasn’t used to seeing Laura smile as much as she did around him.
Maybe not all change was bad.
//
Derek tells Laura about Stiles by accident. Or more accurately he mentions Stiles once by accident (not even by name) and Laura had badgered him until he admitted that he had made a friend through a wrong number.
“There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”
“I know.”
God did Derek ever know.
But Stiles is different.
“Just…be careful.”
“I am being. I promise.”
Laura reluctantly lets it go after that. “So…what’s he like?”
“He’s…he’s like bad poetry.”
“Oh god. You’re in love with him aren’t you?”
Derek can’t bring himself to deny it, but he does tell Laura to shut up.
//
Derek fully embraces being in love with Stiles on the day he tells Stiles about his drawings. He’d never told anyone about them before - not even Laura. But telling Stiles had been easy.
‘It reminds me of line art’ Stiles had said when Derek had sent him a photo of the doodle he had been working on. “I love it’.
A warmth flutters through Derek’s veins.
//
It all goes sideways on the day Laura goes on Derek’s phone to check the time.
She’d raised one eyebrow at him looking amused.
“I thought you didn’t listen to music?” She said, a teasing note to her voice.
“I don’t.” Derek shrugged.
“A huh. So why do you have a picture of Stiles Stilinski as your wallpaper?” She asks.
It’s so startling to hear Stiles name coming out of Laura’s mouth that Derek’s brain refuses to function properly. “How do you know Stiles?” He asks weakly.
Laura laughs. “He’s not exactly a niche celebrity Der. He was a really famous YouTuber before he started selling albums.”
Derek doesn’t know what to say to that. He blinks as his world slowly unravels before him.
No.
She had to be wrong, because Derek couldn’t be in love with a celebrity. Stiles couldn’t be…
“Hey are you okay? You look really sick?”
“He’s famous?” His throat is dry.
“Yes? Are you okay? What’s wrong? You’ve got to speak to me Der. Use your words.”
Derek just shakes his head because he can’t.
“It’s him.” He manages to get out.
“What are you talking about?”
“Laura. It’s him.”
It takes a moment to click but Derek knows when it does because a look of thunderous wrath takes over Laura’s face.
“I’ll kill him.” She seethes, shaking with anger. “What kind of fucking punk thinks that this is a good prank to play?”
“What?”
“No one is getting away with catfishing you, Der. I’m going to hunt this fucker down, and then I’ll rip him so many new ones that he going to look like SpongeBob when I’m done with him.”
And god, Derek hadn’t even considered the thought that Stiles might not even be Stiles. The thought of Stiles being a liar…
The gape in his heart grows a little bit bigger.
And it all falls apart.
//
It takes hours before Derek can convince himself to confront Stiles.
11:08 PM Bad Poet
<you’re stiles stilinki
>fuck
(And yeah, it was really him).
>how did you find out?
<Laura
>I was going to tell you
<Were you?
>Yes
>I’ve wanted to for ages
>It just never felt like the right time to bring it up
<I wish you had decided on the right time was sooner
>Me too
>I’m sorry
>Please don’t hate me
Derek did not think it was possible for him to hate any part of Stiles.
<I don’t
>Thank fuck
>seriously
>can I call you?
<sure
Derek closed his eyes after sending the text and waited for Stiles to ring. A heartbeat later his ringtone sounded off.
“Hey.”
“You believe me right?” And Stiles sounds more frantic than Derek had ever heard him before.
“I believe you, Stiles.”
“Are you sure, because I can prove it if you want? I can do a video call? Or I can tweet literally anythi-”
“Stiles.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
Stiles lets out a small whine, that reaches through the phone line and yanks at Derek’s already tattered heart, unraveling him just a little more.
“Meet me.” Stiles said, taking Derek by surprise.
“What?”
“Please. I meant to throw a please in there, I’m just really fucking nervous right now. Meet me please. In real life. I uh- I was going to ask when I finally told you about the whole being a celebrity thing. It’s still weird to say that out loud. That’s part of why it was so hard to tell you. But the point was you beat me to the punch with the whole reveal thing, but I still wanted to ask.”
“Stiles…”
“And it’s not that I was trying to use my influence or fame to pressure you into meeting me. I just wanted to be in a space where we were one hundred per cent honest with one another before I asked you. You can still say no. Of course you can, I don’t know why I’m- my point is I hope you don’t say no.”
Derek feels his heart break in two.
“Stiles…I can’t.”
“Oh.”
He hadn’t fully realised just how many worlds apart the two of them were when he had fallen in love with Stiles. It felt even more impossible than it had before.
“I’m sorry.” The words leave him feeling hollow.
“No. Don’t apologise. This is just me getting carried away. It’s okay.”
I love you. The words never leave Derek. They can’t leave him.
There was no way this could work, and he was far too scared of breaking the tentative connection they had with his useless words.
It was better for him to just… fall out of love.
//
6:17AM Laura
<it’s really him
>are you sure
<I’m sure
>what are you going to do?
<nothing
>Derek you’re in love with him
<I’m aware
<it doesn’t matter
<it wouldn’t ever work
>I’m sorry
<don’t be
<I’m going to be fine
>Im coming over with wine
//
That night Derek fills pages and pages of his notebook with drawings of Stiles.
When he gets a message from Stiles at 11PM- for the first time since they started messaging- Derek leaves it unopened.
//
He never ignores a message again after that, and life moves on. Stiles still messages him all the time, but he never asks to call anymore.
Derek misses his voice so much that he goes onto youtube and listens to his music.
He buys all three albums Stiles released and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
//
He fills an entire notebook with doodles of Stiles.
It’s still not enough.
//
1:11 PM Bad Poet
>I wrote you a song
>I know you don’t listen to music
>but it felt weird to not a least send you a link
>bad poetry at 2:00am
The link leads Derek to a youtube video of Stiles holding a ukulele and staring with a soft smile at the camera.
“Hey guys. It’s been a while, huh? But I guess I finally found inspiration. So here we go.”
The song is beautiful, but even more beautiful than that was Stiles.
When the song reached the end Derek doesn’t hesitate to hit replay.
He listens to the song ten times before he realises he’s crying - and he knows that he’s never going to ‘get over’ Stiles because he doesn’t want to.
//
3:00 PM Laura
>have you seen the video?
<he sent me a link
<he wrote a song for me Laura
<I love him so fucking much and he wrote a song for me
>fuck
<what do I do?
>what do you want to do?
<I don’t know
>I think you should look at his twitter
<?
>I wasn’t going to say anything because you said you wanted to get over him
>but I think you need to see it
>@stilesstilinki
//
@stilesstilinski
I want to hug him
@stilesstilinski
Get you a guy that will stay up with you until 4AM talking about literally anything
@stilesstilinski
Why do I alway fall for people so far out of my league? rip me I guess.
@stilesstilinski
He makes me want to write poetry
Derek spends hours scrolling through Stiles’ twitter.
He scrolls far enough back that he gets to the part of his timeline where his twitter is littered with pictures of Lydia, which causes the ache in Derek’s chest to grow. But he can’t stop looking because Stiles looks so happy.
And Derek falls impossibly more in love.
He lets himself acknowledge for the first time that Stiles might love him back.
And everything else?
It’s worth it.
Because Stiles is worth everything to Derek.
//
2:00 AM Bad Poet
<so I looked at your twitter
>fuck.
>how much did you see?
<all of it
>tight
>please excuse me while I go die now
>bye
<don’t leave yet
<I had something I wanted to ask you
>did you want me to delete the tweets?
>I can do that
>I’ll just delete the whole account
>I am my own worst enemy so this won’t be a problem
>actually Jackson Whittemore is my worst enemy
>but I’m a close second
<stiles?
>yup?
<Will you go on a date with me?
>alkdjf
>yes?
>Ofc yes?
>are you being serious?
>because this would be a cruel prank if you’re not serious
<I’m serious
>yes.
>yes. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes.
>holy shit
>theres no fucking universe where I say ‘no’ to that question from you
>im so fucking in love with you
>is it too soon to say that?
>I don’t even care
>I’m speaking my truth
>you obviously don’t have to say it back
>im going to woo you so hard Derek
>you’ll have to love me back eventually
>I’m going to write you poetry
>hell I’ll even read poetry for you
>ill give the whole fucking moon to you
<why would I want the moon?
<im not gru?
>despicable me
>that was a despicable me reference.
>you don’t listen to music, but you watch despicable me?
>you’re such an enigma to me Derek
>god I love you so much
<stiles?
>too much?
<no
<I don’t think I could ever have too much of you
<I love you too stiles
<so much
<I just don’t want you to get your hopes up
<I might not be able to live up to it in real life
>impossible
<seriously stiles
>I am being serious
>I’m already in love with you Der
>you don’t have to do anything more than you’ve already done
>you could wear a potato sack, and spend the whole night not saying anything at all
>and I would still be in love with you
>all you have to do now is show up
<…I can do that
>perfect
//
TWO YEARS LATER
@stilesstilinski
Hey @JacksonWhittemore, remember when you told me I would die alone? Well I just got engaged to the love of my life. So checkmate fucker.
#sterek#eternal sterek#what am i even doing?#i just spent the last two days writing this and banging my head against the wall and nothing else#should i write this into a full fic one day?#i probably wont#hope you guys enjoy#sterek drabble#5k words of them being idiots#i cut so much out how is this still 5k?#stiles stilinki#derek hale#laura is the only other character that makes an appearance#im supposed to be sleeping#but here we are ig#texting#wrong number#celebrity stiles
61 notes
·
View notes
Note
its xenophobia not racism. i beg you please delete that post or at the very least scroll up in the replies from POC and not white people.
yes, xenophobia is a huge problem. but when you consider points in the post referring to skin colour, its linked to this idea that they might be mistaken for being brown and therefore are being mistreated. not because "they're a different shade of white" but bx they're mistaken for another race - in such situations the words "im italian" and "im indian" will have VERY different results.
the easiest way to differentiate xenophobia from racism is of course how we are perceived. the post mentions names so consider this - we both arrive at an interview and are both called Sarah Brown. Im south asian and you're white who in this situation is more likely to be discriminated?
white privilege is the ability to hide (even though you shouldn't have to) aspects about yourself that would be discriminated against. something that poc will never have.
If you want to talk about xenophobia go ahead. but that post? that post just aint it.
Hi there love!
Thanks for dropping by - the post has been deleted. I do agree at its core, it’s a lot/mostly xeonphobia, not racism, in this specific application, and I didn’t entirely agree on sentiments of post as is, just, broken arm and hard to write tags (this post is taking a huge time to type up), plus, fear of saying the wrong thing, which in this case, in some ways I did by staying silent.
But at the same time, it’s the only post I’ve seen bringing these topics that would absolutely impact my life if I was trying to make my life in another country. I don’t have pretty English name, I have accent, there are ugly ass beliefs about my nationality in a lot of other European countries. Would I still retain white privilege when placed next to person of color? Yes. Not denying that.
I reblogged it more in heart of ‘please stop thinking that Europe is some kind of united family, treating its own white people kindly across the board, and that people haven’t always found even the slightest reason to be horrible and treat others like shit’. Which is feels like sentiment some of people here from USA almost seem to have.
I do agree that racism is the primary issue to face and fight, but one of its cornerstones is ages old xenophobia that still thrives even in much more less-known application. It is way more pervasive than I sometimes feel conversations about racism make it to be. It’s the way that even slightest perceived differences will put your head on the chopping block or at least in the line to be hanged.
And I feel like sometimes it’s overlooked (particularly with white people outside of Europe, I think), disregarding how impacting this view is, how Europeans aren’t free of it even toward its own white people.
I don’t know if there can be huge and drastic change in society and racism as a whole can be done, without facing this truth about xenophobia just being something people still breathe here about their own neighbor of slightly different shade or Slavic name or other small detail. Hence the tag ‘Europe is full of shit’. We are. To people of color, most of all, but oh boy, we’re not lazy about finding reasons to be horrible, disgusting people. It’s bred and cultivated in older generation. Newer one, too. The ‘they’re stealing our jobs’ narrative has been used by white Europeans against other white Europeans immigrants as well and immigrant white women are more vulnerable than their local native counterparts. And yes, POC are still the most affected and the most vulnerable.
I hope that between my arm and being bleary eyed and half awake at 1:30am, I’ve managed to speak properly. I didn’t reblog that post in thoughts ‘oh, I am just as oppressed as POC in Europe’, I am not making that argument and I thought the post wasn’t either. (Like you said, most of the dire consequences in it were brought up in clear ways that’d impact POC the most always, just that it’s so deeply bred even white people get some taste of it, too.) If it did and I missed, I am sorry about that. It wasn’t intention. I mostly just wanted to bring up Europe is a shithole through and through, even in much more subtler ways than USA gets to see or think about. And it’s sad it’s literally only post I’ve seen about it over like 5 years I’ve been here, so if I want to reblog something about it, it’s that post, although it’s inaccurate/misleading.
If I’ve said something wrong or been accidentally offensive, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention. You can call me out for it, I will acknowledge and I will learn, although I can’t promise a long response, because it’s truly rather taxing to write right now,
#racism#rainy fucks up#no real defense here on my part#intentions and outcomes are often two different things#Anonymous#sent on a cloud
1 note
·
View note
Text
That one SusaYaha AU I didn’t come up with, but it’s an improvised drabble
@akaza-s-bitch @kimetsuno-yaiba-imagines So you know that feeling when inspiration suddenly strikes at 1:30am and you just HAVE TO write? Yeah, me too. Me too.
Also my first time ever trying to do anything involving Yahaba so I’m sorry if I’m terribly ooc.
“You don’t have to come with me!”
“Don’t think I’d just let you leave me behind.”
“Even if it’s something like this, you still think you have to look after me?”
“It’s not that I think that! But if you’re on your own, you will just die soon anyway!”
Ah, it’s this dream again... The strange dream with a tinge of dust and a scent of ash and blood. Thousand times has he tried to go beyond what he sees. Beyond vague shadows and distorted voices, corroded by the screams and cries of his meals, covered by the thick layer of power crawling just under his skin.
This is why demons sleep so little. The line between their supressed memories, the boundary keeping them in check, weakens so much when they lay to rest. And yet, Yahaba finds himself returning to the tranquil state between the present and the past more often with each passing month. In hopes of finding something – anything – of value. A lead, something he’s been missing up till now. Something. Alas, his mind is as hazy as always, everything drowns in the darkness that had accompanied him most of his human life.
Why did he become a demon again?
It wasn’t to save himself. And it wasn’t to grow strong. These desires have only manifested themselves way after the initial act. No, it was something else. And it was powerful enough to leave an imprint in his mind. One that he couldn’t access but that always stayed just out of reach, taunting him and teasing with incredible lightness, yet causing wounds harsher than any demon slayer’s sword.
He’s been wondering for a long time just why was he drawn to that one part of that onw town. Unimportant and abandoned, it wasn’t like there was anything for him to do there. And yet, every time he would get lost in thoughts, he would wind up there. In front of a house with fallen-in roof, a broken porch, a dried out well and a dying apricot tree. And sometimes – just sometimes, he would catch shadows disappearing in the moon’s silver light as it slipped out from behind the clouds.
And other times, he would run into a peculiar demon girl. They would never talk. They would never attempt to stay in each other’s presence for longer than neccesary and it would usually be him who withdrew first. They wouldn’t see each other for a few weeks and then they would accidentally return to the same place at the same time. Sometimes, she would look at him, and sometimes, she would just watch the house in silence, a confused look on her face and a storm behind her eyes.
And just why was it that he could never peel his glance away from her when she stood there like that?
A splat echoed the empty hallway, followed by a string of curses and sounds of quick steps heading in his direction. Not this time, this time he wouldn’t let her have the upper hand. Hiding behind a large chest, he waited before she had ran around him and then he sneaked out and sprinted towards the door. He had almost made it when a powerful blow knocked him off his balance and he fell face-first right on the floor. There was something wet on his back and only after reaching there, he found a pile of mud.
His blood ran cold. His mother was surely going to be so mad about this! He knew she had spent so much money on the new yukata for him and now he got it dirty the first time he took it on. He felt tears burst into his eyes as he begrudgingly sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Are you alright?” She asked in a tone that only she could make sound so innocent, yet so mischievous.
“Look at what you’ve done!” He scolded her, holding onto his dirtied yukata. She looked over it but didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Of course she wouldn’t, it wasn’t like she ever had to worry about her clothes in the first place.
Or so he had thought.
But she just pulled him up by his hand, a smile as bright as a dozen suns playing a symphony with the stars in her eyes. “Then we just have to wash it before you go home, right?”
And there goes another one of his dreams. Is he going to see all of them? But something is different. For a moment, for just a brief, fleeting second, he feels like he knows. He knows her and he knows why he’s here the way he is and he knows why that place attracts him so. But the feeling is gone as quickly as it’s come, leaving him empty yet again, chasing after the wind.
He has been assigned a mission. No, that’s not correct. They have been assigned a mission. Together for the first time since... since what?
Why has his heart fluttered just a little when he saw her by his side? Why is it that when she’s around, it sends jolts of electricity through him, touching something deep within? And why is it that when she smiles, the heaven sings and all the angels dance?
What was it they came here to get? He doesn’t know about her. But he knows there’s something important. A deal? A reward? A promise.
A promise?
It makes no sense. Who would promise him anything for doing what he’s supposed to as a demon? Why would anyone go to such lenghts to ensure he’s carried out his mission well? The only one responsible for his performance during this task is himself. So the only one who could’ve promised...
“Do you... hate me?”
Why is she all alone?
“Do you want me to just get lost?”
He doesn’t. He wants to take her hand and never let go. He wants to hold her tight and tell her everything is alright. He wants to wipe her tears after a nightmare and listen to her excited rambling about her sweetest dreams. And there is more.
“Do you want to retain your lost memories?”
That’s right. The reason he’s been assigned to hunt down that boy. The reason she’s there with him. He made a request some time ago. He had to know. He still has to. There is nobody to promise to but himself anymore. And he has promised himself to find out the truth.
“You don’t have to come with me!”
And it is a voice he knows. Voice of a little girl who loved to play in the mud, who would chase him around the house and dirty his clothes before helping him wash them again. It’s the voice of a young woman who had lost everything and there wasn’t anything else for her to do. And it’s the voice of a demon whose blood arts match his with perfect accuracy, who takes his advice as a given and who follows his every word instead of going against him like he would expect.
Her smile is the sun. Her eyes are the stars. When she laughs, heaven sings and angels dance. She’s wild and vile and dirty. And she has the kindest heart he knows.
“Curse you! Curse you! Curse you!” Words he doesn’t even remember thinking off spill from his lips as a harsh slap lands him back in reality. “All I had to do was bring back your head! And I would’ve won his approval!”
The boy in front of him, the pathetic slayer who couldn’t even see his blood arts on his own, why is it that he should be the one getting out of here? Of course, his memories are in-tact. Untainted and untouched and clear, without any haze in the way.
“I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never ever forgive you!”
Not after he has finally found her. Not now that the fog has finally lifted. Not now that he has finally figured everything out. If he has to die here, what was the point? What was he trying to hard for? If this really is the end of it for him... will she ever even know?
While this boy would walk away with his demon sister who was nothing but a mistake, not even working as a proper demon, he would disappear into nothingness, never to be remembered, seen, or cared for ever again. And then...
It only now hits him. The horrible truth of what is about to happen once he is out of this slayer’s way.
“You’re going down with me!”
Why did he become a demon again?
Ah, he remembers now.
It was to protect.
#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#angst#susamaru#kny susamaru#yahaba#kny yahaba#susayaha?#is that their shipname?#it's officially 3:41am by the time i'm finishing this#not spellchecked#or betad#goodnight
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Perfect Illusion (1)
( non idol au, vampire!jimin au, vampire!bts au, reincarnated!reader )
description: being hurt over and over again wasn’t something he was willing to let happen and now with nothing other than the comfort of the same walls around him as each passing century, one knock on the wrong door at 3AM by another broken soul changes absolutely everything.
N: yes you got it...... another supernatural au. lol. sorry. i love writing these. anyway, this.. sort of came to me in a dream, so anyway, this isn’t some sexy vampire (jimin would be a sexy vampire) it’s more sort of old school, like dracula i guess but obv not drac. jimin’s a little broody n timid in this one please bare with me, he’ll become happier in future chapters.
it’s his favourite time of the night, right before 3AM. when he goes wandering out in the street, it’s quiet, he can hear for miles so the silence is nice. yet tonight, he just CAN’T seem to think of any reason to leave this house. he hasn’t seen his brothers in over a century. they used to show up uninvited and although the vampire would take great pleasure in sending them away, he always missed them, missed them more than he cared to admit. but things had become harder with each year that passed his immortal life by.
his rings twinkle in the dim light as he taps his fingers on the arm rest of the chair he’s sitting in. there is a faint hum of music flowing around the room, and he sang along softly with it. his head rests back against it and he closed his eyes over. he really should venture outside for a while, see if there is willing snack. though honestly he didn’t need them to be willing, he would just make them. he hums softly to the music that’s playing, every now and then a word passed by his plump lips.
he can hear the music but the sudden sound of the pouring rain hitting against the windows make his lips twitch into a smile. he liked the rain, it sometimes helps him think. think when he needs to think about important things, such as the knocking on his door. wait. jimin’s dark gaze snapped open and he was on his feet in an instant. his gaze travelled to the door. had it really just been knocked? was it one of his brothers? taehyung seemed to be the one who always showed up out of the blue.
it wasn’t taehyung. it wasn’t any of his brothers. it was a human. he could hear their heart beating, softly, like a loud thrum in his ears. there had been no humans near this house in almost five years, not after the scare he’d given them. of course the group of teenagers were trying to act smart and jimin just was not having it so he’d scared the shit out of them, howling with laughter as he watched them run away in terror.
tensing, and getting ready to do the same again to whoever had the audacity to show up and knock on his door. he slinked towards it, hand reaching out and he took hold of the handle hesitating for a moment before opening it. the young woman stood with her back to the door, her smell intoxicating even more so that she was wet. she was clearly trying to keep herself out of the pouring rain, jimin cleared his throat and she turned to look at him.
if his dead heart was beating it would have stopped. jimin had frozen completely, eyes wide and hand white knuckled against the handle of the door. her cheeks were flushed, bright red from the cold winter air, her heart beat picked up a little but not much. she pulled down the scar from her mouth. “hi.” she beamed, giving a small wave of her hand. jimin still couldn’t make himself function, he had completely stopped altogether. was he dreaming? had someone killed him?
“i’m so sorry to bother you, i know it’s late. and i.. i’m lost.” she admitted sheepishly. her voice was soft, musical almost. “my friends, sort of disappeared on me” she asked and jimin slowly shook his head, coming back to reality and she was still smiling at him. his eyes trailed every time detail of her face.her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and she couldn’t help but smile back up at him. “sorry.. my phone is dead, i know it’s late, but...” she started again.
“it’s okay.” he managed to breathe out at her, his throat was burning and he hadn’t felt this sensation in nearly three centuries. three hundred years. jimin licked his lips and he took a step back into the doorway, holding the door open. “would you like to come in?” he asked. she looked up at him, eyes bewildered all of sudden and she nodded slowly. “yes please. ...do you have a phone?” she asked. jimin had to think quickly because no, he did not have a phone. what would he need a phone for?
when he didn’t answer the girl before him chewed her lip. “do.. you have somewhere i could plug my phone in?” she asked and jimin nodded at that. “yes, yes there’s somewhere to plug it in, please come in out of the rain.” he took a side step allowing her in, her scent drifting up his nose the moment she was passed by him and he closed the door once she was inside a nervousness building in the pit of his stomach.
← ☽ ♰ ☾ →
an hour later, while your phone charged you sat politely on one of the chairs near your phone. your hands warmed by the mug of hot steaming tea resting on your lap. the man came back into the room with a fresh set of clothes, they looked comfortable unlike the outfit you had on. you hadn’t dressed very warmly, despite the weather warnings and despite it being winter you hadn’t been expecting to be out wandering around until 3AM. it was now nearing 4:30AM and you surprisingly weren’t tired.
the man’s presence was slightly intimidating but you managed to keep yourself calm. there was an aura about him that seemed familiar, yet you couldn’t quite place it. he set the clothes down on the small table next to your chair and he took a seat on the other chair across from you. “sorry, i haven’t introduced myself.” he spoke and he stood back up holding his hand out to you. “my name is park jimin.” you set the mug down and stand up, taking his hand in your own once it’s placed in his, he lifts it kissing the top of your skin and you shiver, which he doesn’t miss.
you try to ignore the cold feeling that spreads from where he’s kissed and overtakes your whole body, and you smile warmly. “nice to meet you mr. park.” you began. “please, just jimin.” he nods and you smile again nodding your head. “jimin, i’m Y/N Y/L/N.” you tell him, and you don’t miss the way that his body goes a sort of rigid way but he keeps the pleasant smile on his face all the same. he retracts his hand, despite not wanting too and he took a seat once you had again, picking your mug back up and wrapping your hands around it to keep them warm.
“i fixed the upstairs bedroom, if you’d like to sleep it is late. and i wouldn’t feel right about you going back out there at this time on your own.” he states and you’re taken back by the sincerity of his voice. “oh, uh. i.. thank you. i promise i won’t stay long, just until the rain has stopped.” you tell him, teeth sinking into your lower lip. you can’t complain, a handsome man has made you tea, and allowed you to stay in his house, even at this time of the morning.
“don’t worry yourself about how long you stay here for, please stay as long as you need.” he tells you and even though he wants to stare at you for a while longer he stands up motioning for the staircase. “shall i take you to the room?” he asked. you nod, finishing the tea and standing lifting the clothes he’s brought for you. you try not to take in everything as you walk up the stairs, and the first door on the left is what you’ve come across is the room he takes you into. he bids you a good night and he walks off, closing the door gently behind him.
← ☽ ♰ ☾ →
you’re pretty sure the dream you’ve had isn’t real, maybe it’s just some of the old furniture or the paintings that had set it off into motion. dreaming of another life, of being happy with the man who’d allowed you to stay in his home. you sit up on the bed, picking your now fully charged phone to see that despite the fact that you thought your friends would have got into contact with you. this vacation to south korea was turning into a disaster.
they had vanished into thin air and left you, on your own. but what surprises you is the gentle knock on the door and you stand moving quickly to open it, seeing a frail looking old man. you had thought that park jimin was wealthy seeing as the house was old and massive but you hadn’t realised that he had workers. “hello, miss.” the old man says. “mr. park has left these for you.” he hands you the bag of clothes and the small folded up letter and you took them.
Miss Y/L/N,
I apologise for not being around while you’re awake or before you leave, i have some things that i need to take care of.
if you would like to stay just a while longer i should be back before you do decide to leave.
but if not, then i wish you well and i hope we meet again in the future, and please enjoy what i’ve bought you. it’ll
Jimin.
you stare at it, a deep emotion running within you but you know you can’t stay. you need to take your things and head out. your friends could be anywhere but you wanted to find them, but there is something inside of you at the same time that’s telling you to stay. you shake your head as you slowly knowing you need to go. your eyes curiously move to the bag that has been given to you and you open it up. it’s a dress, and it’s absolutely beautiful. there are tights, new shoes, a new scarf, hat, gloves and a jacket. you’re so confused.
it’s similar to what you had been wearing when you showed up at his door the night before and you bite down on your lip viewing each item. they were pretty, each and every item. you hesitate but you decide to put them on, he’d given you them as a gift even though you hadn’t known him even a day. you wet your lips and stand up pulling each item on. you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, admiring the outfit. he sure did have a good taste.
you find yourself smiling, he seemed to be a very good guy. he’d helped you out when you needed it. you make the bed once you’re dressed completely and you fold the shirt he’d given you the night before and sat it on the bed. turning the small note over so it was blank and you grabbed a pen from your bag.
Mr Park,
thank you so much for your hospitality and the clothes. i love them very much. i’m sorry that i couldn’t stay, i really do need to find my friends.
i’m not sure if you have a mobile phone, but XX-XX-XX-XX this is my number. i really do hope we meet again too, i would like to repay you so if i can before i go back home, then please give me a call.
thank you.
Y/N.
you lay the note down on the shirt and you stand up straight. you’d stayed in a strangers home, he’d bought you clothes, you gave him your number. and yet leaving felt like the last thing you wanted to do, however you did need to go. so, grabbing your bag and your new hat you pulled it on and headed out of the bedroom .
jimin had gone out to get food, for you. he had hoped you would be there when he got back but you were gone, only a note left on the back of his previous note. he knew he could give the food to one of the workers but he still felt disappointed. having left the bag in the kitchen, he moved his way through the house until he reached where he kept the old radio. sitting down with a sigh he leaned back against the chair. he needed some peace and quiet, which was hard considering what he was.
his hand still held the note in his hand debating whether or not to read it but he turned it over and was surprised to see that the girl had left her phone number on it. what would a vampire, a shut in vampire, need with a phone number? he frowned at the thought and he stared a little more at the note. she was leaving south korea? he stood up immediately. he needed to stop that, he did need to stop it.if he thought you were.... who you could possibly be he needed to stop you from going.
← ☽ ♰ ☾ →
you had been wandering around town after finally getting into the centre to try and find your friends but again, they were nowhere to be found. you asked a few people, with the little korean you knew. you showed pictures but came across nothing. by the time you were about ready to call it a day it was dark you turned sighing in defeat. honestly you can’t get over how they’ve just vanished, once you’d turned you bumped straight into someone. you stumbled backwards but the hands caught you. you looked up, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.
“thank you.” you breathed. he was staring at you, like he knew you.
“anastasia?” he asked you.
frowning you shook your head. “oh.. uh, no sorry.” you tell him. “Y/N”
that caught him by surprise and he offered a small bow of his head. “sorry about that, you look... seriously like somewhere i used to know is all.” he smiled, showing his shiny white teeth. you give a sheepish smile. “sorry.” you mumble. “well uh.. it’s.. “
“i’m yoongi.” he grinned at you holding out his hand. you glance at it, and take hold of it with your own.
“Y/N.” you say, then close your eyes and shake your head. “it’s nice to meet you, yoongi.” letting go of his hand you adjust your bag and he looked you over. “are you lost?” he asked and you shake your head. “no, i know my way around, it’s just my friends are missing.”
“your friends?” he asked curiously and you nodded, taking your phone back out you showed him your lockscreen, you and your two best friends. “yeah.. we were having some fun last night when they went to grab some more things from the store near our motel and they never came back.”
his lips were pursed and he went to speak, but a voice stopped him. “yoongi.” the voice was familiar. you turned around, eyes landing on the man who had allowed you to stay in his house. your whole body warmed when you watched him walk closer.
“ah, jimin-ah.” yoongi grinned his arms out and wrapped around him. “it’s so good to see you little brother.”
you said nothing for a moment watching the two of them, something about it seemed so familiar yet you couldn’t quite place it. jimin patted the other man’s back and took a step back from him and looked to you, bowing his head. “Y/N”
“hi jimin.” you breathed, feeling suddenly flushed and hot but you said nothing else as yoongi watched the two of you with a close eye. “sorry, i was just asking him if he’d seen my friends.” you told him. he let out an ‘ahh’ sound. jimin’s eyes landed on yoongi, who was glancing at him with a look on his face that said that he in fact DID know what happened to your friends.
“jesus christ yoongi.” jimin whispered it and yoongi only shrugged. “Y/N.” he didn’t want to do this but he stared at you, and your eyes met and locked with his. “i think you should go to the hotel, and rest. we’ll find your friends for you.” he told you, taking you hand trying to make sure that his effect worked on you.
you blinked, seemingly dazzled and nod slowly. jimin handed you a card and sent you off turning back to yoongi. “she.. really looked like-” he started and jimin put a hand up to stop him. “do not finish that. where are the other two girls?” he asked and yoongi, rubbed the back of neck. “well you see, taehyung and i-” jimin’s throat growled and yoongi sighed. “look, we were bored, they.. they wanted some fun.” he shrugged. “taehyung got a little carried away... you know he can’t control himself sometimes.”
jimin grunted and ran a hand through his silver coloured hair. “are they dead?” he asked and yoongi wet his lips. “uh.. if by dead you mean..” he trailed off at the look on jimin’s face. he sighed again, it was why they tried to keep away from him for long periods of time, he had a habit of making them feel bad. he wasn’t a normal type of vampire, well not anymore. “where are they?” jimin demanded, god he fucking hated this. “we don’t know.” yoongi looked down and jimin about lost his shit.
← ☽ ♰ ☾ →
you had lay down on the bed, sleep coming over you just briefly until you heard your name being whispered. “Y/N” over and over and over again until you sat up. you recognised it. “Y/N.” you sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. in a daze you stood up walking towards the door, you were sure it was lana. “lana?” you called out walking towards the room door opening it. “lana?” you walk out into the darkened hallway.
“down here Y/N.” the voice called to you and you turned towards it. you continue until you’re near the bottom of the hall and nothing’s there, and for a few minutes you’re standing confused you were so sure that she had called out to you. when you turn around, there she is and the last thing you remember hearing is your name being called, but the last thing you saw was sharp teeth coming at you.
and then. everything is black.
#jimin x reader#bts au#bts fanfic#park jimin imagine#jimin imagine#park jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#vampire jimin#perfect#perfect1
253 notes
·
View notes
Text
“hot nurse called me good looking”
Haikyuu!! [Kuroo Tetsurou / Sawamura Daichi]
Genre: Alternate Universe
Rating: General Audiences
SUMMARY
Every month, Kuroo Tetsurou donates blood. While the fact of the matter he’s helping to save lives is motivating enough, part of the reason is just to come face to face with his nurse crush named Sawamura Daichi.
Also available on AO3!
CHAPTERS: 1/1
Quite frankly, Kuroo was terrified of needles. He would be that kid to cry and kick his legs out whenever a nurse dared to come near him with that dreaded weapon, his mother hissing at him to keep still or he wouldn’t be getting any unhealthily sweet treats later on. His roommate had suggested donating blood one day, the idea initially causing Kuroo to cringe. The more he thought about how his blood could have been helping people while he was nice and healthy, the more tempting it became. One day, he sucked it up and booked an appointment.
While he shook like a leaf on the way and while being fed before being fated to be drained, the fear washed away when he saw him. It wasn’t so much love at first sight as it was lust at first sight, but after months of attempting to woo the stern nurse lightheartedly, Kuroo had to admit he fell a little bit. His name was Sawamura Daichi, and while he wouldn’t take Kuroo’s nonsense initially, eventually he fell into the cycle of roasting him and messing around and vise versa. Kuroo was sure Sawamura was having fun too, and the fact alone he never failed to recognize Kuroo each month and pick up right where they left off was heartwarming. It was likely the hair that stuck the most in the mind, but it was a win anyway for the bedhead.
The nurse was broad shouldered, sporting some pretty dangerous and solid guns beneath his uniform. With his golden skin and charming smile, Kuroo didn’t know how to bring himself back to reality. He was a little older than Kuroo, or so Kuroo assumed so. Kuroo was still in his second year at University while Sawamura was a fully fledged nurse that had been working for 5 years already, as confirmed in their last conversation. In other conversations, Kuroo discovered Sawamura had a dog and was single. As if Kuroo wasn’t already motivated enough to clasp his nurse’s heart strings— not like he would be entirely willing to attempt to steal Sawamura from whoever he was dedicated to, but the thought might have crossed his mind on more than one occasion.
Several months later, Kuroo was back as promised. That day he was running a little late and ignored all advice to eat and drink before turning up, throwing up his best smile with the silly lie that he ate plenty. Passing out didn’t cross his mind, because his mind was far too occupied with Sawamura’s face.
“Your iron is a little borderline this month, have you been eating your red meats— maybe even fish?” He remembered Kuroo’s fish preference.
Kuroo almost forgot to answer him, a little too lovestruck like a teenage girl. He gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, as much as usual.” A lie. He had been living off biscuits and chocolate during his exam study cramming with a completely fucked up sleeping pattern. Proper meals wasn’t a priority.
Sawamura stared hard at him before writing something down. “If it gets any lower you won’t be able to give blood next month.”
“Would you miss me?” Kuroo asked, smirking.
Sawamura snorted. “I’ll just miss insulting your dumb hair.”
“Oh come on, don’t prey on a guy’s weakness,” Kuroo pouted. “Only way to fix this tragedy is to shave it off… and god, I don’t think you wanna see that.”
The nurse chuckled, his laugh deep and breezy. Kuroo felt his ears heat up a little. “Maybe you’d just have to rely on your face then. Wouldn’t be so bad.”
Was that a compliment? Kuroo almost choked and cleared his throat. “You saying my face isn’t bad?”
“Want me to say it is?”
“No— that’s good enough,” Kuroo hurried out. “Wait, you think I’m not bad looking?”
Sawamura paused in his writing, eyes venturing up a little bit not quite far enough to reach Kuroo. “You’re good looking, admittedly.”
If the losing blood didn’t make Kuroo pass out, that certainly almost did. Sawamura didn’t wait to see Kuroo’s fuses burn out and had already moved to setup the actual blood taking.
“Drink the rest of that,” he instructed, nodding to the little bit of juice left in Kuroo’s cup. “You feeling ok?”
“Uh-huh,” Kuroo managed, still short-circuited. He hadn’t noticed Sawamura cleaning the crook of his arm and already had the needle pressed up. Kuroo tried not to wince and instinctively back away as it broke his skin, however he always failed each month. He should have been used to it by then, but it turned out he’d need a few more years before he could be forgiving to needles.
Sawamura had finished hooking Kuroo up and Kuroo stared absentmindedly at the deep sanguine flowing down the tube. Gross.
“Alright, just relax like usual, you know the drill,” Sawamura said, patting Kuroo on the shoulder. Kuroo only nodded and watched as the nurse walked off to complete some paperwork. Normally, Kuroo would play on his phone and steal far too frequent glances towards his crush, but those glances then were straight up stares and gawking. Eventually, he forced himself onto his phone to send a message.
[Kuro 11:23AM]: hot nurse called me good looking
[Kenma 11:28AM]: u sure u haven’t just lost a lot of blood and now ur hallucinating?
[Kuro 11:30AM]: kenmaaaaaa !!! :’(
Speaking of losing a lot of blood, Kuroo felt like he couldn’t see the screen anymore, the sound of crashing waves gradually filling his ears. As he felt his body chill to ice and his face and neck dampen with a sheen of sweat, Kuroo stole a glance towards Sawamura before deciding to keep his mouth shut, convinced it’d go away soon. He reached to pick up his phone from his lap again, only for his numb hand ridden with pins and needles to drop the damn thing. When it hit the floor, it sounded like a cracked screen and a broken heart.
Sawamura turned around, trading his gaze between Kuroo and his phone. He moved over to pick it up, but when he stood up again, his brows furrowed heavily. “Didn’t I tell you to say something if you’re not feeling well?”
“You did? Well, I’m fine—“
“You’re as white as the walls, Kuroo,” he groaned, already turning to fill a cup with water. He glanced towards the bag and nodded to himself. “Alright, you’re basically done now so let’s flip those legs up.”
Kuroo snorted, being pretty sure the fact he could barely hear made him mishear that. After removing the needle and wrapping a bandage around his arm, the back of the chair was already pushed down and Sawamura had promptly lifted his legs up.
“Regulating blood pressure,” Sawamura elaborated, a smirk tugging in his lips. “Wouldn’t want you passing out.”
“Wasn’t gonna,” Kuroo said proudly, feeling the relief of not being on the verge of total darkness anymore.
“You didn’t eat much this morning, did you?”
“Had a biscuit?”
“The ones offered here?”
Kuroo gave a strained smile as Sawamura rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you’re normally pretty solid with the loss of a pint.”
“This isn’t so bad, y’know. Having you hold my legs and stuff.”
“This is about as intimate as we’re ever gonna get.” Funnily enough, he said that while letting his chocolate eyes trail along Kuroo’s long and slender legs.
“You sure?” Kuroo pushed, those sly features coming back into play with his well-being.
“Alright, you’re feeling better now,” Sawamura deemed, dropping Kuroo’s legs.
Kuroo sat up slowly, a laugh following Sawamura as he grabbed the cup of water to give to Kuroo. As he passed the cup, Kuroo’s still feeble grip lingered onto Sawamura’s.
Sawamura looked up, sighing. “Alright, let's go out for steak tonight to get that iron back up quickly.”
He stammered on his own breath, staring towards Sawamura with bewilderment. “Huh?”
“I want you to show up here next month too.”
Kuroo felt like almost fainting, again.
#kurodai#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction#fanfiction#alternate universe#nurse daichi#blood donor kuroo#oneshot#mywriting
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, my mom is reaching dangerous levels of crazy these days.
I don't know if it's just menopause or something external but I feel like the past five years or so have just been a complete downfall and she's only gotten worse, especially recently. She's hyper, overbearing, and loud. Conversations with her reach varying degrees of struggle just because she has a tendency to talk over and interrupt me. I don't know if she goes through enough wine to be considered an alcoholic but she definitely has more than one glass a night and once she does, the two or three glasses she does drink send her flying off the handle. There's a definite change in both her appearance and attitude after she drinks: her face looks puffy and bloated and red, her eyes look beady, and she makes these animated offended expressions all the time as if she takes everything personally. Time and time again I've confronted her about this and have always been met with the same response: "I'm an adult, I can handle myself. I know my limits. You're not my mother. Blah blah blah." She writes off my concerns as if they're nothing and even when she promises to stop, she always breaks that promise. She has this one friend who is of no help to this whatsoever and I think is truly the reason why she started drinking so heavily, as well. Every time I've seen my mom drunk as a child, it was after she was hanging out with this friend. One time she even went out to some wine-tasting thing with her and when my mom came home, she was so out of it she parked her car in the middle of our street for my dad to find when he woke up for work the next morning. He sees it, too, the drinking thing and he doesn't like it either but he's never as anxious about it as I am. It makes me wonder if I'm overreacting or if he's just underreacting. I'm never sure which. I'm not sure if it's the alcohol that's making her crazy or if that's just a component, though. A part of me truly feels like she's having a serious problem with the fact I'm growing up, as well. I understand where she's coming from since I'm her only child but at the same time, I feel like she's just clinging to every last inch of me that's left and every year, her grip just gets tighter and tighter. We've always been really close and I want to be able to have enough trust in her to go to her if I need help or want to talk but I've been conflicted in my trust in her. Not only has she broken promises about quitting drinking but time and time again her drinking has sent me into a massive panic not only for her but for myself. I've been terrified of her saying something when she's drunk that she's not supposed to, for example telling my father that my boyfriend smokes weed (though that's not a concern anymore since I recently had a conversation with him where I revealed it myself). Tonight was a massive indicator that she's going off the deep end, though. My boyfriend and I were in the midst of a small knot in our relationship that we were working through in text messages (because we're long distance) and I was talking with my mom about it on the drive to campus today because I was nervous about what was going to happen between us. On the drive, she was very understanding and listened to what I had to say and everything, but she was scared we were going to break up and how that would affect our relationship since we're moving in together in a month. Despite my own stupid insecurities, I know we wouldn't actually break up but there was just a lot of fear and uncertainty there in general. Well, when I came home from class tonight she was in her usual, drunken mood and she barely spoke to me for the first ten minutes after I got back due to her hyperactive running around trying to do random shit around the house. Understandable. But then when I was trying to tell her about my day, she asked if I had spoken with my boyfriend and I said I had and that we straightened things out, that we were fine. Apparently that was not good enough for her, however, and she demanded I tell her exactly what was said between us, even going so far as to threaten me with "I'm paying half your rent, I deserve to know!" when I refused to give her a word-for-word play-by-play. This is not the first time she's demanded I do this, either, though. Like yes, there are times when I read her pieces of our conversation as examples for things I might be talking with her about but she acts like it's her right to know, that I am obligated to give her every nitty gritty detail of the relationship as if she's an active part of it, like my relationship is some sort of soap opera she's addicted to or a book she can just open and read the pages of. After her and I and my dad all said goodnight and turned in for the night, I was sitting up on facebook and saw her online which was questionable since it was getting late and she had just told me she was up since 1:30am and was so tired she couldn't even see straight. As I was scrolling through my news feed, I found a post from her that was very blatantly about my boyfriend and I even though she didn't name names. It read: "Thank God all is good!! Love you two...you know who you are!!" as if it's okay for her to broadcast something about my relationship all over her facebook like that. If I confront her about it, she'll probably get defensive and probably tell me I'm overreacting or something, then smother me in affection saying it's just because she loves me so much or whatever. I'll tell her to delete it and she'll say she doesn't see why she needs to, that she doesn't see anything wrong with it, ask why she can't just post about how happy she is that my boyfriend and I have settled our argument or whatever. She's the kind of person who gives people way too much information and not just over the internet but in person, too. She has absolutely no idea that she's cleverly exploiting personal, private matters by hinting at them on social media, which would therefore queue the question of what is going on and lead her to explain everything in great depth. I know she's no doubt having a hard time with the idea of me moving out and becoming an autonomous, full-fledged adult or whatever but she needs to know that this kind of toxic, clingy, wreckless behavior is unacceptable. I don't know how to tell her what she's doing is stressful and inappropriate, though, and even if I do find a way to tell her, I have no idea how to ensure she's going to make good on her promise to stop. I miss the old version of her that I grew up with, who was fun but responsible and mature. Now it just feels like she's stealing my youth from me and turning me into the responsible adult she's supposed to be. I don't know, or maybe I'm just overreacting and everything's far more fine than I think it is. I just don't know what to do or how to handle any of this anymore. I'm hoping things will get better when I move out and am living away from her but a big part of me fears it's only going to make her worse. I don't know what to do anymore. Someone please send help.
0 notes
Text
Magic School Brings New Friends and Foes In My Next Life As A Villainess Episode 4 Recap
Ah, the start of a new school year! Even for those of us far removed from that life, there really is nothing like the breath of fresh air it seems to bring to one’s year. New people, new challenges, and new… doom flags? Well, maybe that’s only in the case of Catarina! Welcome back to our recap of My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! I’m Professor Nicole, and we’re here once again to study up on all the juicy moments and details of episode 4 before watching the latest episode today!
Last time, Catarina celebrated surviving childhood with a lavish party, while also cluelessly assembling quite the following of admirers. As she transitions into young adulthood and school life, will she continue to bumble through life and avoid doom? Or will this be the start of Catarina’s downfall?
**SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 4 AHEAD**
Catarina and Keith are prepared to leave home, but not without some final warnings from their parents (mostly for Catarina) that now was a time to grow and mature. Honestly, we don’t really see what the problem is with Catarina’s hobbies, but that’s nobility for you, I guess!
For Catarina, this is a change not just in her life, but also in her potential fate. While she worked hard during her childhood to put her knowledge (and dumb luck) to use in trying to avoid bad endings, the real test begins now at the magic academy, the setting for "Fortune Lovers."
We start off by getting our first inclinations about Maria, the real protagonist of "Fortune Lover," who seems to be your fairly traditional otome game lead: common birth, humble, and of course, born with a rare and unique magical gift. Typical protagonists, always with the rare gifts! Oh, right, I guess Catarina falls into that category too, huh?
The Council of Catarinas tries to take stock of what this new beginning will bring. Aside from Catarina being, well, a real person and not a programmed AI now, the rest of the world has also been changed by Catarina’s actions. What exactly will happen when the fated encounters occur—if they even do occur? The council seems at a loss but remains hopeful.
Catarina’s growing harem has changed as well, although she seems totally clueless as to why these changes are important. Geordo still has a somewhat dark heart but is no longer feeling oppressed by Catarina as it was implied he was in the game.
Keith has become an earnest and polite young man, although he certainly seems destined for an early grave if Catarina keeps putting him through so much stress! Keith doesn’t seem to be frivolously flirting it up with women at any opportunity, but his sister doesn’t give him a lot of downtime to do so, to be honest...
As we saw in episode 3, Alan has also changed quite drastically from the game, feeling a bit of an equal, brotherly rivalry with Geordo now instead of feeling taciturn and resentful. Of the entire cast so far, Alan seems the most openly changed, and even Catarina picks up on his changes!
Of course, that’s come with the added benefit of Alan’s relationship with Mary irrevocably changed. Rather than being interested in Alan, she’s quite obviously interested in Catarina! Alan seems to be interested in Catarina as well, so it doesn’t seem to bother him too much. Still, what ripple effect will such a change have? Only time will tell!
Finally, Nicol and his sister Sophia have become more prominent in Catarina’s life, whereas "Fortune Lover" originally saw the trio rarely interact. Nicol certainly seems to be the dark horse in this race, and we have yet to hear or see much out of him in regard to Catarina, so it will certainly be interesting to see what happens when—or if—he makes any moves!
Catarina seems obsessed with tracking down Maria, but failing to find her during orientation, she instead finds herself once again in the clutches of Geordo’s attempts to woo her back to his room. Of course, Geordo seems fairly smart, so he’s learned the best way to attract a stray Catarina: sweets!
Before that, though, we’re introduced to a new character: Sirius Dieke, the student council president. Honestly, I’m getting a weird vibe from this guy, so I’m very interested in seeing what develops with him in the future. Doesn't he seem a bit too perfect?
But who cares about that when sweets are in the picture? Of course, Catarina doesn’t really let anything bother her and instead finds herself chaperoned by Keith (such a good brother!) at Geordo's. She immediately loses interest in anything else and chooses to eat her fill of baked goods, instead.
WARNING: DOOM FLAG APPROACHING!
While Catarina stuffs her face, Keith and Geordo recount their run-ins with a mysterious new girl: the one and only Maria! Catarina, this is why you need to think with your brain, not your stomach!
Turns out there's one unexpected change from Catarina’s childhood: People in her social circle just seem to find people climbing trees totally normal. Frankly, it’s a little weirder for Maria than child Catarina, but, well, when in "Fortune Lover," make like the Fortune Lovers do!
In one of the more vexing parts of this episode, it seems our dear Bakarina can’t quite realize that Geordo (and others) aren’t at risk of being conquered by Maria because the game is no longer following the same script, and finds herself unable to sleep instead.
Catarina starts her first day of school by nearly giving Keith a heart attack, accusing him of trying to play pick-up artist with Maria. Pure, kind, sweet Keith. We’re so, so sorry you have to put up with such a blockhead of a sister! Jumping to immediate conclusions based on her faulty reading of the game again, Catarina nearly kills Keith with accusations of falling in love with a girl he has spoken to literally once. Come on Catarina! You even said he isn’t the same Keith earlier!
Thankfully, Catarina and Keith’s maid steps in with the assist, stopping this charade. At this rate, we predict poor Keith is going to die of high blood pressure in a year. Hang in there, Keith!
The fateful meeting finally occurs, however, as Maria and Catarina pass in the hallway to… not much fanfare, really. You’re being kind of a creeper, Catarina!
The Council of Catarinas is thrown into a panic as they find Maria as charming and wholesome as promised… except they need to make sure they don’t lose to her to survive! Of course, Catarina doesn’t seem to imagine just… not bullying Maria as the obvious solution here.
Determined to survive, Catarina revives her interest in farming, using a technicality in “flower” to find ways to grow some vegetables. Her maid gives quite the RBF here, to be honest, but I suppose if you’ve had to put up with Catarina’s antics this long, you’d probably feel the same way.
Of course, crops aren’t the only things Catarina is harvesting, as her entourage shows up to court her attention. Conveniently, all at the same time. Weird how everyone always shows up to pursue you at the same time, huh, Catarina?
Alan shows some amazing growth here in the episode, having matured into a fine young man who is no longer obsessed with inferiority complexes. Catarina, you should take more notice of how people act and feel, or maybe you wouldn’t have missed how much Alan’s changed from the game!
We finally meet the student council president up close... I don’t trust smiles like this one. I’ve seen enough anime and played plenty of games to know how this is gonna play out!
Catarina gets to spend time with Maria whenever she visits the student council room. And Maria immediately finds out Catarina’s weakness: baked sweets.
Catarina... You’re not supposed to fall in love with her, too!
Of course, as usual, Catarina finds herself playing the role of heroine, coming to the defense of poor Maria. (And the baked goods, those are important too.) Hm, something about this scene seems familiar…
Having the gaze of a villain comes in handy, though, as Catarina terrifies these three bullies into submission! That’s one heck of a gaze!
Catarina’s devotion to all things baked and sweet really doesn’t know any bounds. Also, didn’t your mother say not to eat things off the ground anymore at the start of the episode, Catarina?! PROMISE BROKEN.
Oh no, that smile is deadly cute!
Of course, Catarina seems to remember things after the fact and realizes the reason this situation was so familiar was… SHE was the one doing the bullying?! Aside from directly changing the game again, it is interesting that the same sequences of events are happening, but now with different players.
That’s the spirit, Catarina! Steal all of those flags! Become the heroine yourself! Grow your harem! That’s the true way to conquer the game, right?! *Ahem*
Well, that brings us to the end of yet another episode! This one has shown the most direct changes to the game so far. It will be interesting to see what the future holds for our heroine (villainess?) moving forward. Who exactly is Sirius, and why does he have such an ominous smile? What will become of Maria and Catarina’s budding friendship? Will Bakarina EVER get a clue? Well, we’ll just have to find out in today's episode! Until next time, viewers, remember to eat your sweets in moderation!
Have any fond back to school memories? Are you also addicted to baked goods? Let us know in the comments!
Catch My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! every Saturday at 10:30am PST / 1:30pm EST on Crunchyroll!
----
Nicole is a frequent wordsmith for Crunchyroll. Known for punching dudes in Yakuza games on her Twitch channel while professing her love for Majima. She also has a blog, Figuratively Speaking. Follow her on Twitter: @ellyberries
Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
brilupinblack97
Just Another Fangirl :):
pusinblood
I don't like eyes
voigtbendix82
The Journaling of Loft 330