#and my asthmatic ass is very disappointed in them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daddychims · 4 years

Text

Offside Pt 11

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Series Masterlist!

Genre: Smut, Soccer AU, College AU

Pairings: Soccer Player! Jungkook X Sports Trainer! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You work as a sports trainer, providing basic first aid and injury management for the Hanguk University’s soccer team. Going with your mundane life of caring for the dozen of guys hurting themselves in the soccer game takes a turn when one of the guys catches your eyes. It’s not his breathtakingly good looks or his muscular athletic body usually seducing girls at the campus that catches your eyes. But the action plan in your kit, indicating he is diagnosed with Asthma is what draws your eyes time and time again to the Golden Boy of Hanguk University.

Warning: Slow burn, eventual smut, Taehyung being a freaking tease the whole time, Also Jimin not letting the female MC live for one day, Fuckboy!Jungkook, Asthmatic! Jungkook , mentions of episodes of Asthma, Take your Ventolin kids, Take your medications kids!

You watch the three guys who are standing at three corners of the table, chalking their cues as they have the most intense stare battle of their life. The girl sitting beside you offers you a cigarette which you reject with a forced smile but quickly grab one of the bottles of beer that is sitting idly on the table and press it against your mouth to take a sip.

"So what's the bet of the night," Jimin asks, gaze travelling between the two guys "Don’t tell me you called me here without a bet."

"Of course not Park," Taehyung scoffs "I've got a good one for now. "

You furrow your eyebrows when he shifts his gaze to you, and you immediately choke on your beer staring between him and the two other guys "W-What?" You ask defensively

"The bet's on you, Sugar!" Taehyung offers and Jungkook nods confirming his words

"W-What?" you ask with lost eyes "What do you mean?"

"Whoever wins this game will get to drive you home!" Taehyung declares firmly as he glances back at Jimin

"Ooh creative," Jimin smirks "I like that!"

"Wait no," you quickly stand up to object "Joonie said he'll will be drop me off-" you turn around to have a look at the table where you last seen Jiwoo and Namjoon but your voice trails off as you find out about your bestfriend's betrayal

"They left the place 10 minutes ago," Jungkook states looking at you "While you were too busy …" he points at the table Jimin was grinding on you earlier and your cheeks turn red immediately

"I can get home on my own." you declare

"Joonie Hyung will probably kill me if he knows I didn’t take you home," Jimin immediately rejects shaking his head "Also where is the fun in that?

"Am I here to entertain you?" You ask in disblief

"We're set," Jimin ignores your question as he looks at the other two

"Hey Hey," You call as you as you walk closer to the table "but I have a condition." The three of them nod in union and you're surprised that for the first time you see them agreeing on something. "You'll drop me at my place," you glance over Taehyung to Jungkook as you add "No funny business," you then bring your eyes to Jimin "No messing around!"

"Can I get a complementary neck massage?" Jimin raises his hand as if he's asking for permission with an excited tone

"Park," you sneer at the guy and he immediately laughs in response

"Fine, " Jimin replies before looking at the two other guys "I'm calling dibs on 10-15."

"That’s not fair," Taehyung pouts "13 is my lucky number!"

"You should work on your speed if you don’t want your things taken!" He smirks before pointing at you

"Park," You hiss realising the "things" he's mentioning is a metaphore for you "I'm standing right here!"

"Sorry babe," he sends a wink your way "Just trying to teach the kids some life lesson here!"

"You better watch your mouth," Taehyung hisses "before I stick that cue up your ass and teach you a life lesson!"

"Ooh didn’t know you're into toys," Jimin laughs "Is that your way of compensating for your 3 seconds stamina?"

Taehyung is about to jump over the table to throw a punch when Jungkook finally speaks up

"Lets get this over and done with," he glances at Taehyung in an attempt distract the heated guy "1 to 5 or 5 to 10 Tae?"

"1 to 5," Taehyung replies through gritted teeth

"Alright!" Jungkook nods as he sets the small balls in the triangle before lifting the case up, the balls organized in a triangle ready for the game to start

You watch as Taehyung lean over the table, throwing a glare at Jimin across the table before breaking the balls.

"Nice shot!" Jimin compliments with a mischievous smile

Taehyung smirks as he walks away changing his angle, aiming for the number 13 which belongs to Jimin. As the cue hits the ball, it starts dancing around the table but misses its path into a pocket.

"Not so lucky hey," Jimin smirks as he watches Taehyung's defeated expression "What does it even stand for? 13 … 13 seconds?" he pauses as if he discovered something brilliant in his head "Is that the most you lasted boning someone?"

Taehyung clenches his jaw watching Jungkook walk past him, brushing an arm over his shoulder to calm him "Its for the time your dad lasted when he made you!" Taehyung spits back in response

Jimin's expression immediately hardens and he's about to charge towards the guy when you quickly intervene

"Hey, Hey," you scold as you knock on the wooden surface of the table "you two stop fighting right now!"

"He started!" Taehyung points at the guy across the table with a pout, as if he's wrongly accused

“I don’t have all night for you two to fight,” you cross your arms across your chest, putting an end to their pointless banter “Now do you wanna continue playing or should I call Joonie?”

You don’t miss how Jungkook’s lips tug into a faint smile as the two guys pout in union like two kids scolded by their mom

“I guess I’m playing next!” He offers looking at you before leaning down and play his turn

The rest of the game goes on not much different than it started, Taehyung and Jimin constantly bickering while Jungkook silently plays, all his attention on the balls he scores in the holes one after another.

You can’t help but notice his familiar tactic he always uses on the field. Barely wasting any time to bluff or bicker with others but ends up owning the game in the end. And of course, this game is no exception.

“I guess the hiatus affected your skills, Park!” Taehyung smirks as he high fives Jungkook “Aren’t you losing too often?”

Jimin rolls his eyes at the remark “You speak as if you’re any better, 13 seconds!” " his mocks as he scores another point, crushing Taehyung's ego

You run your finger to your temple giving it a slight massage. It’s a headache to be in the same room as the three guys. They are at each other’s throat whether it is soccer or just playing a stupid game like billiard and they make everything seem like their lives are at stake if they don’t claim the throne. There is always an unnecessary amount of men ego floating in the air for everyone around them including you.

You watch how Jungkook's slender fingers moved slowly caressing the edge of the table as he watches Taehyung and Jimin play to win over the second and third spot, reassured that he’s scored his throne already like always.

You have to consciously stop yourself from imagining how many girls those fingers may have broken into pieces to build the guy’s reputation as the Hanguk’s golden boy.

“Looks like I won’t be getting any placebo effect tonight!” Jimin finally brings his eyes to you from the game, a bitter smirk tugging on the corner of his lips

You gulp, not losing the double meaning of his words considering earlier he elaborated on how exactly he wanted to squeeze the placebo effect out of you.

“I guess life doesn’t always go your way Park!” Jungkook speaks up this time, as he places his cue on the table and grabs his jacket looking at you “Ready to go?”

“Y-Yeah!” you stutter, looking at his piercing eyes fixed on you

“I’ll see you next week,” Jimin calls waving at you with a smirk “Save up some of your placebo effect for then,” he warns, his smirk faltering as his demeanour changes to a more stern one “Be a good girl and don’t use it all up yeah?”

“W-What-“ you ask with a confused tone but before you can receive your answer Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you to the stairs behind himself.

“Bye Sugar!”

You hear Tae’s voice behind you but Jungkook walks so fast that you don’t even get the chance to turn around and bid him goodbye.

“You don’t have to drop me off,” You finally pause when you’re both outside the building, reaching his car “I can just take a taxi!” you suggest

“Why? Are you disappointed?” He asks, bringing his annoyed eyes to you “Did you want Jimin to drop you off?

“What? No! Of course not-“

“We made a bet, I won, so get in!” He orders before opening the door to his side and getting in the car

You furrow your eyebrows, pulling the handle of the passenger side and getting in the car. You watch as they guy starts the engine and starts driving off the parking while he reaches in the dashboard and grabs a small pen shaped object and presses it against his lips. You heart starts drumming faster in rage as the smoke circles around his face like a halo and you realise, he’s vaping.

“Are you serious?” You blurt out without even thinking

He glances at you before inhaling deeply on the device and exhaling it out skilfully “What?”

“N-Nothing …” you immediately retract, realising the last time you commented on his smoking habits, things didn’t go very well

“No go on,” he nods “What are you judging me for this time?”

“I said nothing!” You insist lowering the window to avoid inhaling the secondhand smoke

“Now what? Are you so upset that Jimin lost the bet that you don’t wanna talk to me?” He asks and you finally lose you patience

“I’m judging you for that vape,” you snap in rage finally looking at him “and no, I’m actually happy Jimin didn’t win the bet …” you blurt out and his eyes widen, momentarily meeting yours and you immediately regret your words

“Really?” he asks intrigued, puffing a substantial amount of smoke out of his lungs

“Y-Yes, but that’s not important …” you quickly interject “Are you seriously smoking AND vaping? Are you really that desperate for lung cancer?”

“I told you before, my lungs are already fucked, they were since I was like 2,” he replies through gritted teeth “this wouldn’t really make a huge difference anyways.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes frustrated at his response “Just smoke until you choke and die!”

“As if you care!” he murmurs barely audible, but you immediately pick it up and look at him

“Really? So now I don’t care?”

“Well obviously grinding on Park is much more of a priority for you right now,” he scoffs in rage “considering how you managed to break our promise in like two days!”

“W-What … I did not-“

“Oh right, I should have known you’d play smart,” he nods with a mocking tone “you promised you’d block him but didn’t promise you wouldn’t fuck him!”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, blood boiling from his accusation “I wasn’t planning on fucking anyone! He was only there because Joon brought him along.”

“and that was probably me humping him in a room full of people around,” He scoffs “If only Tae didn’t suggest the game-“ He immediately stops and goes silent, pressing the vape on his lips and inhaling deeply before puffing the air out in frustration “Whatever …”

You sigh watching him for a few seconds “I don’t really get why you and Tae overact about Park?” you finally break the silence

“I don’t get why you always have to be around him!” he spits back questioning you instead “Is he really worth it? The guys is like barely 4 inches,” he says in an enraged tone “and if he’s sent you dick pics that show otherwise, I have to burst your bubble! there are rumours that he photoshops his dick all the time!”

“What- how …” you stutter, cheeks blushing with every word that he speaks” How is Jimin’s genital coming into this!”

“Because his dick somehow is significant enough for you to break the Hanguk’s code and betray your team!”

"You're so fucking dramatic, Oh My God!" You sigh in defeat and look away, hoping this torturous car ride that resembles an interrogation room comes to an end soon

Meanwhile Jungkook presses his foot on the pedal and speeds up the car, exhibiting his anger in a way other than yelling at you. You finally release a sigh in relief as your house comes to view and you reach to unbuckle your belt as Jungkook’s car comes to stop. You’re struggling with the clip when a small gasp leaves your throat as he turns over to you and hovers against your body

“Jeon-“

“Look, We had a deal,” he states sternly as he rests his hand on yours stopping your fiddle with the belt “I take my medications until the finals, you stay away from Park Jimin,” his tongue pokes to the corner of his cheek as he stares at you with a disappointed look “You can’t play dirty!”

“W-well if you actually listened to me-”

“Fine, tonight wasn’t your choice, I got it,” he nods in a frustrated tone “but next time you see that punk, you need to turn around and walk the opposite way, Alright?”

You want to agree with his suggestion immediately, its not like you’re dying to hang around SNU’s famous Casanova anyways. but your eyes glaze over the object in his hand and immediately you change your mind “This wasn’t part of the deal,” you mutter in a firm tone

“What?” he furrows his eyebrows looking at you

“If you’re gonna add conditions to our deal, I should add conditions too!”

“What condition?” He asks, a bit taken off guard by your sudden proposition

“No smoking or vaping till the games,” you reply with a stern tone “Or I wont promise I wont be hanging around Park.”

“What- “he scoffs in disbelief

“The medication will be more effective if you stop smoking!” You explain with a serious tone

“That’s what you want in return?” He asks with a lost tone

“Yes!” you nod determined

Jungkook gulps, a tint of amusement colouring his gaze on you. He rests his weight against your body in silence before unclipping your seatbelt and finally pulling away from your seat

“Fine!” he nods, avoiding making any eye contact with you

“Really?” your lips curve into a smile “you said it,” you raise your point finger at him “no going back on this! If I find out you’ve been smoking behind my back, our deal is gone okay?”

He finally glances at you, squinting his eyes as if he’s trying to figure you out “I said fine,” he mutters in a flustered tone “I don’t break my deals like someone!”

“Of course you don’t,” you roll your eyes at his remark “Thanks for the ride!” you turn around to leave his car as you add

“Wait,” he calls, and you turn around but immediately regret as he travels the space between you and cages you between himself and your seat again “This isn’t the only ride you can thank me for, you know!” he flashes a suggestive smirk

“W-What …”

“If you want, I’ll let you ride me this time,” he traps his bottom lips between his teeth with a seductive smile “You just have to be a good girl and ask for it!”

“J-Jeon,” you speak up, trying to compose yourself against his seductive remarks “I said no funny business!”

“I’m sure it’ll be one hell of a ride,” He murmurs in a husky tone, eyes darkening in lust “Why don’t you give it a try?”

You blink rapidly, hating your drumming heart and the fact that you consider his offer for a second before finally muttering “Thank you for the offer,” you flash a fake smile “But this will be the last ride I ever had with you Jeon!” you then push him aside and open the door as you run towards your house, missing his final words

“We’ll see about that …”

Hey guys!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please like and reblog!

Love ya’ll!

266 notes · View notes

tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

28. Deucalion and the Darach

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x04; Unleashed

Word Count: 8,853

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, talk of sex, blood

Author’s Note: Stiles teams up with Lydia to do some investigating and Olivia has her first real interaction with Deucalion and the alpha pack. Hope you enjoy! Make sure you tell me what you think! Reblog and like!

Story Masterlist in Pinned Post!

"I looked everywhere. It's like he just walked away," Scott told Stiles. "He left his car and his dog."

As soon as Stiles and Scott walked into the boys' locker room to get ready for cross country practice—which was mandatory for lacrosse players, who needed to stay in shape during the fall—Scott had started to tell Stiles about the previous night at work. Apparently, a senior that was on the football team, Kyle, had come in with his little dog. After they left, Scott was taking out the trash when he heard the dog barking. Kyle was nowhere to be found.

Stiles nodded shakily as he slipped on his gray hoodie over his practice uniform. "Okay. Was he, like...could he have been a virgin maybe? Did he look like a virgin? Was he, you know virginal?"

"No, definitely not," Scott pulled on his own sweatshirt, a giddy smile on his face. "Deaton makes me have sex with all of his clients. It's a new policy."

Normally, Stiles would have laughed at Scott's joke because they were few and far between. This wasn't a normal situation, though. He might not be a virgin but the love of his life, his girlfriend, was. There were already three virgins dead, so if Kyle was a virgin, too, the rest of them in Beacon High were screwed—and not in a good way.

Scott sighed when he saw the blank look Stiles was giving him. "No, I don't know if he was a virgin," he told his best friend. "And why are you talking like he's already dead? He's just missing."

"Missing and presumed dead because he's probably a virgin, Scott," Stiles didn't know how much simpler his explanation could get. "You know who else is a virgin? My girlfriend, all right? Her lack of sexual experience is now literally a threat to her life. And you know who keeps putting sex off? Me because I'm an idiot who wants her first time to be special."

The locker a few down from them was slammed shut by Danny. He turned to face them, stating, "I know a guy who would—"

"Don't be a dick, Danny," Stiles stopped him before he could finish his statement.

No one was going to have sex with Olivia but him, thank you very much.

As Danny shrugged and walked off to talk to one of his friends on the team, Scott raised an eyebrow at Stiles. "Have you told Liv that, you know...you're not a—"

"No, I haven't," Stiles huffed, frustrated with himself. "And I'm a total hypocrite because I told her that we shouldn't lie to each other but I—I don't know how to bring it up."

"You don't have to tell her."

"Yeah," Stiles shook his head at Scott's suggestion. "I do."

"Mr. Lahey!" Coach called as Isaac scurried into the locker room fifteen minutes late. "Happy to have you back. Not happy that you're late."

"Sorry, Coach," Isaac mumbled as he went to his locker, only a few away from Stiles and Scott; they both nodded at him in greeting.

Coach shook his head and addressed the boys' team. "I'll remind you all, cross-country is not optional for lacrosse players. I don't need you turning into a bunch of fat-asses in the off-season," he paused as Isaac and Danny took off their shirts, both of them fit. "So work on that."

Five minutes later, Stiles, Scott, Isaac, and the other members of the team were lining up outside of the mini cross-country trail behind the school. Stiles and Scott settled at the back of the group and waited for Coach to blow his whistle, allowing them to start running.

Coach blew his whistle and everyone took off. "Pace yourselves! Come on!"

Stiles started jogging beside Scott but both of them stopped by Isaac, who hadn't started running and was still on one knee where he had been tying his shoe. Just as he was about to start sprinting, Scott grabbed his shoulder. "Isaac!"

Isaac turned to face them, an angry look on his face. "It's them."

Before Stiles could even ask who 'they' were, Isaac ripped himself away from Scott and took off.

"Isaac, wait!"

Stiles shrugged and started jogging, watching as Scott started running after Isaac. He settled into pace, grateful that he had always been a natural runner, and soon overtook some of his teammates. Soon, he fell in pace with one of his classmates.

Riley was trying cross-country out for some type of extra-curricular besides student government but she wasn't used to running a mile or more at a time. She was asthmatic, her inhaler clutched tightly in her hand, and she usually took an aerobics class every Saturday. Yes, she told him all of that while he ran beside her, voice breathless because of her light wheezing.

Eventually, she started slowing down.

"I need to take a break," she wheezed as she veered off the path, pressing her inhaler to her mouth.

Stiles didn't feel right just leaving her to work through her asthma attack—or rather, the start of one—so he stopped with her. It looked like her asthma was stronger than Scott's had been; her face was stark white as she stumbled toward a tree to sit against until she felt better.

Stiles followed her and stood still when he saw the body tied against the tree in front of them. Like the others, it looked as though the guy had been strangled, had his throat slit, and his head bashed in. Another three-fold death, another sacrifice.

Riley saw the body and only took a second to let out a high-pitched scream. Within minutes, the rest of the team was gathered around the body and the police were called. Stiles barely looked away from the body as Scott and Isaac ran up to his side.

Stiles looked away from the body to glance at Scott. "It's him, isn't it?"

Scott, who was looking at the body in horror, nodded slightly.

The body was Kyle, the guy who went missing from the animal clinic the night before.

"Hey, get out of the way. Get back," Noah burst through the teenagers forming a circle around Kyle's body, Deputy Tara right on his heels. He got to the tree where Stiles was hovering, trying to get a better look at Kyle's injuries, and turned back to Tara. "Get this area cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence."

Deputy Tara immediately got to work. "Back up!" she raised her voice to get everyone's attention. "Everyone back!"

Noah gently pushed Stiles away from the body. "Get these kids out of here!"

Stiles slapped away his father's hand and stepped back toward the body. "Dad, look. It's the same as the others, you see?"

Noah looked at him firmly yet calmly. "Yeah, I see that. Do me a favor and go back to school, yeah?" he turned way to address Coach. "Coach, can you give us a hand here?"

"You heard the man," Coach called out to his students. "Nothing to see here. It's probably just some homeless kid."

Stiles stared at him in disbelief while Scott sighed, "Coach."

Coach turned to him. "Yeah?"

"He was a senior."

"Oh," Coach sighed sadly, holding his fish against his mouth. "He wasn't on the team, was he?"

Stiles rolled his eyes just as Kyle's girlfriend, Ashley, came sprinting up to the tree, already crying. She took one look at the body and screamed in grief, a heartbreaking look on her face as sobs broke through her chest. Deputy Tara grabbed her before she could get to Kyle's body and held her tightly as she broke down into hysterics.

Noah pushed against his chest, quietly urging him, Scott, and Isaac to get back to the school. The three of them walked away solemnly, all of them feeling bad for Kyle and Ashley.

"You see the way the twins looked at him?" Isaac asked as they left the group surrounding Kyle's body.

Stiles remembered the look that the alpha twins had given the body and it seemed more like shock than anything else. "Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?"

"No," Isaac said determinedly. "No, they knew."

"The kid was strangled with a garrote, all right?" Stiles spoke with exasperation. "Am I the only one recognizing the lack of 'werewolfitude' in these murders?"

As they came to stop only twenty or so feet away from the crime scene, Isaac faced Stiles with a look of disbelief. "Oh, you think it's a coincidence they turn up and then people start dying?"

"Well, no, but I still don't think it's them."

Both of them turned to Scott, who had been way too quiet for their tastes. "Scott?" Isaac grabbed his attention. "How about you?"

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest expectantly, waiting for Scott to be on his side, only for him to be disappointed.

"I don't know yet."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "You don't know yet?"

Scott shrugged and nodded toward Isaac. "Well, he's got a point. Seriously, dude, human sacrifices?"

Now Stiles knew what betrayal really felt like. How could Scott—his very best friend, his brother—agree with Isaac over him? His theory was so sound yet he choice to agree with Isaac, when he had only known him for what, six months? He and Stiles had been friends for a decade.

"Scott, your eyes turned into yellow glow sticks, okay?" he was more than a little huffy. "Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were stab you right now, it would just magically heal but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices?!"

"That's a good point, too," Scott sighed, looking at Isaac; Stiles nodded in satisfaction.

"I don't care," Isaac stated firmly. "They killed that kid, they killed the girl that saved me. I'm gonna kill them, too."

Ollie: How's Cora doing?

Derek: She's still healing

Olivia raised her eyebrows in surprise, only glancing away from her phone for a second to see if Mr. Harris had turned away from the board; he hadn't.

Ollie: She's actually staying still?

Cora had always been an active child. When they were little, she couldn't count the amount of times Cora asked her to play tag, hide the flag, or go on runs. She had always exhausted Olivia, who wasn't the type to just run around for fun.

Derek: I didn't say that

Olivia huffed silently in amusement and slid her phone back into her leather satchel to turn her attention back to Harris' lecture—of which she had already knew.

"All right," Mr. Harris finished writing on the board and turned to face the class. "since inertia is a subject of which you all know plenty, why don't we start with momentum?"

"Isaac," Scott whispered from behind her and Isaac, who was sitting next to her. For some reason, Stiles was mysteriously missing from his seat beside him. "they're here for a reason. Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything, okay?"

Apparently the boys had quite the cross-country practice that morning. Stiles and some girl on his team had found a senior's dead body and from the quick explanation that Stiles gave her before he went running off, he had been killed by a three-fold death. Another sacrifice; she wasn't going to lie, it scared the shit out of her.

Olivia glanced at Isaac to see if he was going to agree with Scott but jumped when Mr. Harris got her attention.

"Olivia," she looked over at him to see that he was starting at her expectantly. "what do we know about momentum?"

"It's a product of mass and velocity," Olivia answered easily; this was her thing, after all. "The more massive something is, the faster it's going—"

"Mr. Harris," Isaac interrupted her in order to get the teacher's attention. "can I use the bathroom, please?"

Olivia gave him a half-irritated and half-curious look. Why did he need to go to the bathroom so urgently? She quickly figured it out; he wanted to go after the alpha twins.

Mr. Harris sighed and gestured toward the door. Isaac quickly got to his feet and walked out of the classroom.

Scott rose from his own seat. "I have to go to the bathroom too."

"One at a time," Mr. Harris reminded him of the school-wide rule. The rule was supposed to cut down on hook-ups and smoking or whatever it was that students did while skipping class but she didn't know if it actually worked. The only time she had skipped class was when Stiles was trying to teach Scott control.

"But I really have to go," Scott said urgently as Olivia grimaced, nervous about what Isaac was going to do. "Like, medical emergency have-to-go."

Mr. Harris stiffened and Olivia just knew that he was going to rant. She was right.

"Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began to pour from every orifice, I would still respond with one at a time," despite Mr. Harris' irritation, he kept his voice calm. "Is that enough hyperbole for you or would you like me to come up with something more vivid?"

"No," Scott quickly sat in his seat. "That's pretty good."

All of a sudden, everyone in the classroom heard a huge bang come from the lockers on the other side of the wall. Mr. Harris made his way over to the door and the rest of the class followed him. Olivia and Scott stuck together as they pushed past their classmates in order to see what was going on.

Isaac stood in the middle of the hallway with one of the alpha twins at his feet, beaten up and bloody. Olivia's attention was immediately captured by the other twin, who was casually turning into another hallway; she quickly nudged Scott and nodded at him and his face lit up in realization. It was clear—to them, at least—that Isaac hadn't done anything to the twin at his feet. No, the alphas were trying to get Isaac into trouble.

And it worked.

"Isaac, what the hell did you do?" Mr. Harris asked him angrily. Before Isaac even had a chance to explain, he added, "You'll be seeing me at lunch detention."

They all went back to class and before long, they were at break. Olivia and Scott escorted Isaac out of the room, Olivia holding onto his arm tightly so that he wouldn't lose control.

"Don't let it bother you. It's just lunchtime detention," Scott said as they came to a stop by Isaac's locker. "If all they want right now is to piss you off, then don't give in. They're just trying to get to you."

Isaac paused, his eyes down the hallway. "It's not just me."

Olivia and Scott followed his gaze and saw that one of the twins—the one who hadn't got beaten up—was chatting up Lydia. They watched as he smiled flirtatiously at her until she closed her locker and leaned against it before playfully patting his chest.

Olivia pressed her lips together, displeased. Lydia was her own person and everything but Olivia didn't want her cousin fooling around with someone as dangerous as an alpha who could conjoin bodies with his brother and had a hand in killing Erica.

"Now they're getting to you," Isaac commented to Scott.

Olivia stormed away from Scott and Isaac and made her way down the hall to where Lydia and the alpha were still talking.

"Lydia," she took her cousin's attention away from the twin. "we need to talk."

"We were kind of in the middle of something," the alpha douche objected as Lydia nodded at her.

"Were you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Aiden, here, was offering to help me study," Lydia raised an eyebrow at Olivia, as if to say 'get a load of this guy'.

"Really?" Olivia looked back to Aiden. "You have an IQ higher than 170?" when Aiden faltered, she continued, "No? Didn't think so. Scram."

Aiden narrowed his eyes at her and even though he could rip her apart and it did kind of freak her out, she raised her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. She wasn't going to back down.

"I'll see you later, Aiden," Lydia dismissed him.

Aiden huffed and sent Olivia one last glare before walking away.

Lydia turned to Olivia once he had walked out of the hallway. "What was that about?"

"Lydia, he's one of the alphas," she told her cousin, watching as realization dawned on her face. "Yeah."

"The one that can conjoin...?"

"Yep."

"Shit," Lydia sighed in disappointment. "but he's so hot."

Olivia didn't agree but she and Lydia had always had different taste in guys.

"Sorry—"

Olivia instantly cut herself off as a tingling sensation started in her belly and a flash of Derek's loft came and went quickly as her head and ears started to ache from the intent voices spinning through her mind.

Derek, Derek, Derek. He's in trouble. He's going to die. Derek, Derek, Derek.

She gasped sharply as she came back to reality, noticing that Lydia was giving her a worried look.

"Liv, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Olivia answered distractedly. "I have to go to Derek's."

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows. "What? It's not even lunch yet."

"Yeah, I know," her vision was flashing between normal and purple; she had to get out of there. "I'll, uh, I'll see you later."

She turned away from Lydia and marched out of the school, ignoring the surprised looks that Scott and Isaac were giving her. She quickly got into her car and set to Derek's loft. He was in trouble and if she had to guess, it was the alpha pack who was responsible.

Stiles peered over the windowsill that allowed him to look into the main office. He could clearly see his dad and Deputy Tara asking Kyle's girlfriend, Ashley, if she knew anything that could help them investigate his death. He waited, trying to listen and gain as much information about Kyle's death as he could—the walls weren't good at keeping out voices, which was a concern for the school—and there were some things he found helpful.

But he still needed to know if Kyle was a virgin.

He waited until Tara had Ashley wait outside of the office while she conferred with Noah to go up to Ashley and speak to her.

"Um, hi, Ashley," he greeted her hesitantly, reminding himself to have tact; she looked at him unsurely. "Can I talk to you for just one sec?"

After she nodded silently, he gently moved her so his dad nor Tara could hear what he was going to ask her. He was going to Hell for it, he didn't need to get into trouble with his dad, too.

"I just need to ask you something really quick and it's gonna sound really unbelievably insensitive, so I apologize in advance," he cringed and took a deep breath. "Um, was Kyle a virgin?"

Ashley jerked her head a little, surprised. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," Stiles said patiently. "was he a virgin or did you guys, you know, have sex—"

Stiles was cut off by a harsh slap in the face. His head turned to the side, he blinked in shock while his left cheek stung from the force of Ashley's slap.

Yeah, I deserved that, he thought to himself.

He looked back at Ashley, about to serve her an apology, but she was being whisked away by Deputy Tara, who was giving him a look of disapproval. They were only a few feet away from him when Ashely turned back to him.

"No, he wasn't a virgin."

Her answer had his mind racing. There were only three virgin sacrifices then, which made everything all the more confusing. Then again, the number three did have a bunch of meanings, especially for ancient civilizations. Maybe that could be something to go on...

"Have you completely lost your mind?" his dad's voice brought him out of his head. Stiles took one look at his father's angry expression and bowed his head, scratching his nose unsurely. "I've got four murders, Stiles. You see those men in there? That's the FBI. They're pulling together a task force to help because it looks like we've got a full-blown serial killer on our hands. You get that?"

Stiles pressed his lips together, trying not to get angry in response. "Yes, Dad, I get that."

"Then what are you doing?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I'm trying to find a pattern."

And right now, all he had were three virgins and Kyle to go on.

His dad wasn't pleased with his answer but he didn't yell at him again, either, so that was a plus. With another disappointed look—which Stiles was more than used to by now—Noah was on his way and Stiles had to get back to school. Thankfully, the juniors were on lunch break so he had time to visit Kyle's locker, where a memorial of sorts was set up for him.

Kyle's locker was covered in brown paper so that his friends and classmates could write messages to him and put up any pictures they might have had with him. He read through the messages, each one of them a memory of the person of Kyle. Though Stiles knew Kyle because he was an athlete and they went to the same school fundraisers and stuff but he hadn't known him very well. He seemed like a cool guy and the memories on his locker supported that.

Stiles stepped back from the locker as Boyd came over and clipped a blue card with the ROTC emblem on it to the brown paper.

"Hey, Boyd," Stiles nodded at him in surprise. "I didn't know you were back at school."

Olivia didn't tell him anything about it. She had said that Cora, her cousin who came back from the dead—which was really confusing, by the way—was still healing but nothing about Boyd.

"Yeah, I would have told you but we're not actually friends," Boyd stated.

Ouch.

"Oh, yeah," Stiles blinked awkwardly and hurried to move on. "Hey, so did you, uh—so did you know Kyle?"

"Yeah," Boyd nodded, looking back at Kyle's locker with a solemn look on his face. "we were in Junior ROTC together."

"So, you two were friends, then?"

"I only had one friend. She's dead too."

Boyd quickly walked off after that, leaving Stiles to look back at Kyle's locker unsurely. He took another minute to study it for any hints that might have led Kyle to his murder before turning to walk away.

While he walked through the hallways to his locker, he pulled out his phone to call Olivia. She didn't answer, even after three calls. It concerned him, because she should be at lunch just like he was and she usually looked through her phone while eating. She wouldn't just ignore his calls since they had made up and apologized to each other about the fight they had the week before.

He was about to call her a fourth time when he spotted Lydia at her locker, down the hall from his. He quickly made his way over to her, ignoring the annoyed look she shot him when he popped up next to her.

"Hey, have you heard from Olivia?" he asked her while shooting a few texts to his girlfriend.

Sweetcheeks: Hey, where are you?

Sweetcheeks: Why are you ignoring my calls?

Sweetcheeks: Are you okay?

"She went to Derek's," Lydia told him as she grabbed her textbook for her next class. "She had an episode."

"She did?" he asked worriedly. "Did she say what was wrong?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't go after her?"

"Nope."

Stiles scoffed in disbelief. "Why not? You know she's all out of whack when she has her episodes. Aren't you a little worried about what was so wrong with Derek that she had an episode in the first place?"

Lydia shrugged, frowning slightly. "Scott didn't seem worried."

Stiles rolled his eyes and messaged Olivia again.

Sweetcheeks: Do you need me to come to Derek's?

He was in the middle of an investigation but he would drop it for her, especially if she was in any danger.

His phone dinged:

Livvy: Everything's fine. Don't come here.

All right, then, Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Okay, I can't talk to Livvy about this but I can talk to you, right?" he addressed Lydia as she closed her locker.

Lydia sighed, like listening to him was the most boring thing she had ever had to do in her life. "I guess."

Stiles didn't pay attention to her attitude. He didn't have Olivia to bounce ideas off at the moment so the next best person who had the same amount of knowledge of him and Olivia was Lydia. She would have to deal with him.

"Okay, so did you know that there's a temple in Calcutta where they used to sacrifice a child every day? That's every day a dead baby, Lydia, every day!" he exclaimed as they walked out of the school and through campus to the building that held the cafeteria. "Hey, you want to know what today is? It's dead baby day. Oh no, wait, that's every day because every day is dead baby day, yay!"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Livvy's not here and Scott, Isaac, and Allison are dealing with the alpha twins," he answered diligently. "You know about them, right?"

"Yep, Ethan and Aiden," Lydia confirmed almost bitterly. "Liv shared the news this morning."

"Good, good," Stiles nodded and continued with his theory. "So look, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that the murders maybe come in threes. Ancient people love things in threes, right?"

Lydia shrugged lightly.

"So, maybe first it's three virgins and then, I don't know, maybe it's three people who own little dogs."

Lydia stopped in her tracks—Stiles following her lead—and stared at him blankly. "We have a little dog." Stiles grimaced. "We're not getting rid of Sirius."

"Look, I love Siri as much as you and Livvy but if—"

"No," Lydia interrupted him sharply as they started walking again. "And by the way, you can't discern a pattern by a single data point, so stop trying."

Somehow, he knew that Olivia would have said the same thing.

"Okay, so what, I'm just supposed to wait around for someone else to die then?" Stiles asked, growing a little irritated. "I'm just supposed to sit there and watch them die? Just wait for them to wither up and die right in front of me?"

Lydia paused again, giving him a strange look. "Wither?"

Wither might have been the wrong word, he admitted to himself.

"You know what I mean," he snapped and gestured wildly as he continued, "Die in just a hideously awful, strangulating, head-bashing, throat-cutting kind of way."

Lydia grimaced and looked away, making him feel bad because he knew that she had seen Heath's body the same way as he did.

"Maybe it's not your job," Lydia said after a few seconds. "They were strangled with a garrote and we both agreed that it was something a human would do, so...Maybe you should just leave the figuring out part to someone human."

"You mean someone like my dad?"

"No, I mean your dad," Lydia emphasized, rolling her eyes as she began to walk away from him. "The sheriff!"

When Olivia received the warning that Derek was in trouble, she expected that something was wrong and that it had to do with the alpha pack. What she didn't expect, however, was that the alpha pack—other than Ethan and Aiden—would be gathered in the loft and that the female alpha would have Derek pinned to his hands and knees on the floor, a metal pipe impaled through his stomach.

She had been taken aback by just how serious the situation was. Maybe she should have asked Scott and Isaac to come with her. Maybe she shouldn't have told Stiles that everything was okay.

All eyes went to her as she frantically pushed the metal door open and stepped into the loft. Other than the twins and the brief glimpses from Isaac's memories, she hadn't seen the other alphas that made up the alpha pack. There were three of them in Derek's loft; the female who was hovering over Derek, who looked like she could be feral and in need of a desperate pedicure to take care of her clawed toenails; a massive guy who was standing behind Cora to make sure she wouldn't move, his head bald and his muscles massive; and a guy who sat in front of Derek that she figured was Deucalion due to his seeking cane and dark glasses.

Her skin crawled from their attention; the female smirked viciously and the huge guy eyed her with cruel eyes.

"Ah, Olivia, right on time," Deucalion greeted her casually, causing her eyes to widen in fear.

"Ollie—" Derek grunted, unable to speak because the female alpha twisted the metal pipe in his stomach.

"Ollie, get out of here," Cora urged, glancing from her to Deucalion.

"Oh, no, she should stay, I insist," Deucalion stated. "Ennis..."

The big one, which was now known as Ennis, made his way toward her. Olivia didn't dare move, listening to the voices in her head that warned her that fleeing would be a bad choice. Ennis roughly took one of her arms and shoved the door closed with the other, before dragging her over to stand next to Cora, where he could watch over the both of them to make sure they wouldn't make any moves against him or his packmates.

Finally, Olivia found her voice, her eyes stinging as her eyes locked on her cousin's form. "You're killing him."

The female turned to her with a smirk and shook one of her clawed fingers at her. "Not yet, little Anchor, but I could," Olivia paled when she turned back to Derek and nudged and twisted the pipe. "Who knows if it's five minutes or five hours before it's too late to take this thing out. But, just to be on the safe side, Duke, you might want to get to the point."

"Now that Olivia's here, I can," Deucalion rubbed his hands together and addressed Derek, continuing their earlier conversation that Olivia wasn't privy to. "You see the problem with being in an alpha pack. Everybody wants to make the decisions. Me? I'm more about discovering new talents. Like your cousin over there," Olivia winced in fear and when Cora took her hand, she squeezed it tightly. "And you."

Derek coughed and blood splattered on the floor beneath him. "Not interested."

"But you haven't even heard my pitch."

"You want me to..." Derek was panting, in too much pain to speak quickly or all at once. "kill my own pack."

Olivia's eyes widened. We're screwed.

She had known that the alpha pack were after Derek as she had been privy to that knowledge since the beginning of summer but this situation was much, much worse than she thought. They wanted Derek to kill his pack—which sucked for her, Isaac, Boyd, and now Cora—and for some reason, they wanted her, too.

And all she could come up with for a reason for that was that she was an anchor.

"No, I want you to kill one of them," Deucalion told Derek. "Do that and I won't have to ask you to kill the others. You'll do it on your own. I did it. Ennis did. Kali did," Olivia guessed that was the female and she was proved correct when Deucalion nodded at her. "Tell him what it's like, Kali, to kill one of your own."

Olivia and Cora shared a horrified look as Kali answered him, "Mm," she hummed. "liberating."

"Listen to me, Derek," Deucalion drawled in his British accent. "Do you really want to stay beholden to a couple of maladjusted teenagers bound to become a liability? And believe me, they will become a liability. In fact, I have a feeling one of them is getting himself into trouble right now. Just ask dear Olivia."

For a moment, Olivia had no idea what he was talking about. Then, her gaze went purple and her mind flitted away from reality. The part of her brain—or soul, or whatever, that kept track of her pack—told her that Isaac was losing control. She didn't know why and she didn't know where, but she knew that he was having trouble.

"Isaac."

She didn't know that she had spoken her friend's name but Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis stared at her intently as she went through another episode, like the one that had led her to Derek's loft. Cora squeezed her hand, trying to get her attention—she hadn't seen Olivia like this yet—but it was no use.

Olivia's mind was split as she heard herself mentally call for Allison. She was in danger and Isaac...Isaac was with her—No, Isaac was the one who hurt her. He didn't mean it, but he was out of control for some reason.

Isaac, Allison, Isaac, Allison...

Come on, Isaac, she mentally pleaded to him. You're in control. I'm here with you and you're in control. Just hang on. Come on, come on...

Olivia came to when she felt a familiar voice rock its way through her head and Isaac took control of himself. Her wrist tingled from Allison's injury but she knew that her friend would be okay. So would Isaac.

"Fascinating," Deucalion said while she noticed that he, Kali, Ennis, and Cora were staring at her; she blinked and the purple in her vision went away. "See, the reason I'm always interested in new talent is simple," he stood up and folded his cane, his head still facing Olivia, though she knew he was addressing Derek again. "The stronger the individual parts, the greater the whole."

He unfolded his cane again, letting it snap back into place. "When I lost my sight, one of my betas assumed I wasn't fit for my role anymore. He tried to take it from me," he folded the cane again; Olivia guessed he was fiddling with it for symbolism, though she was pretty sure that her, Derek, and Cora could understand perfectly fine. "Killing him taught me something about alphas I didn't know they could do. His power was added to mine. I became stronger, faster, more powerful than I'd ever been."

Olivia shivered but tried to stomp her fear down. Although she knew that the alphas could probably smell it on her, she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of letting it show on her face of with her body language.

"I tested this new ability to subsume the power of your own by killing another one," he continued as he folded another part of his cane. "In fact, Derek, I killed them all," he folded the cane again. "I took the individual parts and became a greater individual whole."

Deucalion shook out his cane, making it snap together once again. He kneeled in front of Derek, who was getting weaker and weaker—Olivia was hearing more of his name than what Deucalion was saying at that point—and grabbed his head, pulling it up so he could feel Derek's facial features.

"You're right, Kali. He looks like his mother," he commented as he stood up again, slowly walking over to the table in front of the wall of windows. "You'll get to know me, Derek, like she did."

More blood dripped out of Derek's mouth as he spoke, "I know you. I know what you are," he grunted breathlessly. "You're a fanatic."

And psycho, Olivia added in her head.

Deucalion set his cane on the table and turned so he was facing Derek and the others again. "Know me?" he repeated slowly, his voice hard. "You've never seen anything like me."

Thunder started to rumble as he raised his voice. "I am the alphas of alphas," lightning flashed somewhere outside the building. "I am the apex of apex predators! I am death, destroyer of worlds! I AM THE DEMON WOLF!"

Olivia winced in pain and stepped backward with Cora, both of them hiding behind a pillar from the fear that Deucalion's words and alpha voice had stirred in them. Even though she wasn't a werewolf, her entire being told her that she needed to obey and cower from the alpha in front of them. His display of power and ambiance struck such a fear in her that she had never felt before.

She hid her face in Cora's shoulder and only looked up when the lightning and thunder stopped. Deucalion's glasses had cracked and when he took them off, his eyes were crimson red. His voice and demeanor had softened into a casual tone that only psychopaths could manage after such strong words he had given only a second before, "I hate when that happens."

Kali ripped the metal pipe from Derek's body and smirked when he started to fall to the floor, the puddle of his own blood soaking his skin and clothing. Ennis stepped away from behind Olivia and Cora and followed behind Kali as she grabbed Deucalion's arm and led him out of the loft.

When the metal door slid shut behind them, both Olivia and Cora rushed to Derek where he was laying on the floor. Tears stung Olivia's eyes as they coaxed him into a sitting a position, both of them sighing in relief when they saw that his wound was already healing.

Olivia glanced at the door once more; they were in deep trouble.

Having no idea what was going on across town in Derek's loft, Stiles had skipped class in order to speak to someone who he thought would know what was going on with all of the murders.

He parked in place outside of the animal clinic, glad that no one seemed to be there but Deaton, and entered the building. Deaton, dressed casually in a t-shirt and no coat—Stiles guessed he was at lunch—walked out behind the front to see how it was that had the dogs in the back barking like crazy.

Deaton gave him a surprised look. "You're out of school early."

"Yeah, free period, actually," Stiles lied. "Um, I was just headed home to see my dad. He's, uh—you know, I guess you probably heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out."

"I gathered as much from the sheriff title," Deaton stated sarcastically, though the tone kind of fell flat. It was a good thing that Stiles was fluent in sarcasm.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You know, but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half of the story here, right?

Yeah, um... You know, but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right? So—so, then I started thinking and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information."

He saw Deaton shift uncomfortably and figured he was in the right place.

"Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here," he finished, giving the veterinarian a pointed look. "You."

Deaton pressed his lips together and nodded toward the back of the building where his exam room was. "Let's talk back here."

When Deaton opened the wooden gate to let him back, Stiles quickly walked through and shut it behind him, knowing that it was important to the man that the mountain ash barrier was always complete in order to protect him from wandering werewolves and the like.

"All these symbols and things, the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash," he started speaking rapidly, hoping to get answers right away. "all of it is from the Celtic druids and anyone who has ever looked up human sacrifice before knows that the druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods. You ever hear of the Lindow Man?"

Deaton just stared at him and Stiles knew that the veterinarian was intelligent and probably knew of the story but he told the gist of it anyway.

"He was a two-thousand-year-old body found in England. He was found strangled, head bashed in, throat cut—a threefold death," Stiles stated firmly. "They also found pollen grains in his stomach. Guess what favorite druid plant that was?"

Deaton picked a jar out of the box on the steel table they were standing around and pulled a sprig from it to show to Stiles. "Mistletoe."

Stiles stared at the plant for a few seconds before he looked back up to Deaton's face. "I'm just telling you everything you already know, aren't I?" Deaton didn't say anything, which was an answer in of itself. "Then why aren't you telling us?"

Deaton put the jar of mistletoe back in the box and looked at him, ashamed. "Maybe because when you've spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away—denying it, lying about it—it becomes a pretty powerful habit."

Stiles softened only a little. "All right, so this guy—is he a druid?"

"No," Deaton shook his head. "It's someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word druid means in Gaelic?"

"No."

"It means wise oak," Deaton informed him. "The Celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is," Stiles scoffed lightly, only to pause when his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He answered it, seeing that it was Lydia who was calling. "Hey, I can't talk right now."

"Well, Olivia isn't answering my calls, so you're my best bet," Lydia rushed, her voice panicked. "Look, I'm in the band room and the teacher is missing."

"Wait, what?" Stiles blinked in shock. "He's missing."

"That's what I said!"

"Are you sure?"

"Actually, I'm not sure he's missing," Lydia corrected herself, exhaling deeply. "I think he was taken. Like Heath and the Kyle guy were."

Stiles pressed his lips together and looked over at Deaton, who was patiently waiting to hear about what was going on. "I'll be right there and I'm bringing Deaton with."

Twenty minutes later, after several calls to Olivia—who still wasn't answering, which was a whole other panic-inducing situation—and sneaking Deaton into the school without a visitor's pass, the two of them, plus Lydia, were searching through the band room to find anything that could tell them where the band teacher had gone. It wasn't a question of if he simply didn't make it to class, the bloody handprint on the piano gave them enough evidence to the contrary.

While Deaton listened to a recording on the teacher's phone, Stiles searched through his desk. The creepy voices coming from the speakers creeped Stiles the fuck out but he kept himself busy by going through the teacher's stuff.

"Can we get a copy of this?" Deaton asked Lydia, who stood by his side.

Lydia took the phone ands started to transfer the recording to herself so she could pass it onto Deaton.

Stiles opened the top drawer in the desk, finding nothing so far. "Hey, Doc, any held would be, you know, helpful."

"Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power," Deaton spoke thoughtfully. "Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors—"

A lightbulb went off in Stiles' head as he laid his eyes on the photograph on the teacher's desk. It was from his wedding, where he stood next to his gown-clad wife in his military uniform.

"Wait, wait, wait," he cut Deaton off as he picked up the picture, his mind still racing. "Warrior, could that also be like a soldier?"

Deaton nodded. "Absolutely."

Stiles showed him and Lydia the photo and added, "Kyle was in the ROTC with Boyd."

"That's got to be it. That's the pattern," Deaton declared. "Where's Boyd?"

Stiles grabbed his phone from his pocket and glanced at the time as he started to call Boyd. "He's probably home by now. I'm gonna try to get him on the phone."

He pressed the phone to his ear as Deaton looked over at Lydia, who was stiff and looking ahead of her thoughtfully. "Lydia, is something wrong?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, it was, uh," she grimaced. "I mean, I just thought of someone else with a military connection."

Stiles dropped his phone from his ear, ending the call before Boyd even answered. "Who?"

"Mr. Harris."

Stiles sighed in realization; why was their dick of a science teacher involved in every supernatural drama that ever came up in Beacon Hills? "He went to West Point. He has the honor code on his desk and everything."

Lydia bit her lip. "We should go see if he's in his classroom."

He wasn't. The classroom was empty by the time Stiles, Lydia, and Deaton entered, and Mr. Harris wasn't to be found. On his desk were many ungraded tests, though some of them had letters written in red at the top, and his briefcase was on the floor next to the desk.

Deaton looked around the room cautiously. "This is just one of many possibilities," he muttered as he came to the desk where he and Lydia were looking around. "He could have simply left for the day."

"Yeah, well, not without this," Stiles grabbed Harris' briefcase and held it up for Deaton to see.

As he set the briefcase back down, something caught his eye. One of the graded tests he had looked at before didn't hold an A, B, C, D, or F. At the top of the packet was a letter that he had never seen on graded homework before; it was a 'R'.

"What?"

"This test is graded 'R,'" he showed Deaton and Lydia the packet.

Lydia pursed her lips and looked down at the tests, grabbing another one that was graded unusually. "This one's an 'H.'"

A bewildered expression passed over Deaton's face as he grabbed both of the tests from them. He set them on Harris' desk and rearranged some of the tests until the letter grades spelt out, 'DARACH'.

"Stiles," his voice conveyed the worry on his face. "you remembered how I told you druid is the Gaelic word for wise oak?"

"Yeah," what did that have to do with anything?

Deaton had his answer. "If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak," he looked over at him. "There's a Gaelic word for that as well. Darach."

Stiles grimaced; they were in deep trouble.

Olivia would probably be scrubbing Derek's blood from her nail beds for a week. It seemed like it was everywhere but in reality, it was isolated in the puddle in front of her where it had started to dry on the floorboards as she mopped and scrubbed it away. She wasn't one to get sick over blood but she still wasn't a big fan of it—especially when she had the job of cleaning it up.

Cora was upstairs with Derek, helping him clean and disinfect his wound before it healed up all the way so that left Olivia to do the work. Isaac, the little fucker, had refused to help her clean it up when he got home from school, and she would never forgive him. She had been on her knees the past hour or so after she finished mopping, trying to get the stain out of the floorboards. She was almost there.

"I think you missed a spot," Isaac called idly from his place on Derek's couch, his English textbook opened on his lap.

"Isaac, I swear, if you say another word..." her voice took on a warning tone that had Isaac smirking to himself.

Satisfied that he wouldn't say anything else, Olivia went back to the large, soapy sponge in her hands, wishing that the stain would just be gone already. She didn't want Derek to have to see it; her cousin was more than capable of protecting himself physically but she wanted to support him, even if she had to clean up his blood so he wouldn't have to do it himself.

She heard the metal door slide open and she only stiffened for a second before looking up and sighing in relief when she saw who it was. Stiles walked into the loft and rolled the door closed behind him before turning around to look at Isaac and then Olivia.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"She's cleaning up Derek's blood," Isaac answered casually, turning the page of his book. "He had a little accident."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him and then looked back at Stiles. "The alpha pack made a surprise visit."

Stiles winced worriedly. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, but Derek was," for the moment, Olivia gave up on the blood stain, throwing the sponge in the bucket of pink water and getting to her feet. "Kali decided that he needed a pipe through the stomach."

"Fuck, that had to hurt," Stiles made his way over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Why'd they come?"

"They want Derek for their pack," Olivia kept it simple for now; she could tell him all the details later.

Stiles, who usually had a hard time picking up silent signals that a person didn't want to talk, just nodded in understanding. Olivia was one of the people he could read the easiest—other than his dad and Scott—so he knew she didn't want to talk about it. Usually, he would have pushed her to tell him anything but for some reason, he knew that tonight wasn't the night.

Olivia looked away from Stiles' face when she noticed that Cora was descending from the spiral staircase. Her cousin was dressed in a black t-shirt now, rather than her workout clothes, and her hands were cleaned of her brother's blood.

"How is he?" she asked her.

"He's getting dressed," Cora answered, her eyes flitting toward Stiles before pointing at him. "I know you."

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows as she looked between her cousin and her boyfriend. "How do you know Stiles?"

Stiles' eyes were lit up in recognition, as well as horror and embarrassment. "We met last summer," he told Olivia before looking at Cora accusingly. "You said your name was Cara."

Cora folded her arms over her chest, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I lied."

Shit, I'm fucked, Stiles cursed himself. I'm so fucking fucked.

Olivia was still confused. "Wait, what?"

Stiles nor Cora got a chance to answer as Derek came downstairs, cleaned up and dressed warmly to combat the slightly chill air from the storm going on outside. Olivia, Stiles, Isaac, and Cora turned to him and waited for him to say something.

Derek's expression was somber as he addressed Isaac. "Isaac, I need you to leave."

Olivia shut her eyes tightly; somehow, she knew this was coming. She knew Derek better than she knew most people; it was unfortunate that he was doing this but he was trying to protect Isaac. She just hoped he wouldn't screw it up.

"When should I come back?" Isaac misunderstood his alpha's words, closing his textbook and standing to his feet.

"No, I need you to move out," Derek elaborated, a grimace on his face. "It's for your own safety."

Isaac gave him a curious look. "Did something happen?"

"It—the alpha pack—" Derek shook his head. "Look, it's not important. You didn't do anything wrong but I need you to go."

Isaac's blue eyes were wide as he looked between Derek, Cora, and Olivia. "Where am I supposed to go?"

Olivia's heart ached for him; the loft was Isaac's home. He had been with Derek since his father was killed by the kanima last spring and he had no other family to go to. She was going to offer him a room at her and Lydia's house but surprisingly, Stiles was the one to speak up.

"I don't have a guest room at my place but Scott does," he said, uncharacteristically kind—when it came to Isaac, anyway. "I'm sure Melissa won't mind."

Derek looked at Isaac and Olivia could see the sadness in his eyes; he truly cared for his betas and he hated the fact that he had to send one away from his home. "Is that okay for now?"

Isaac nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, it's fine."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

49 notes · View notes

strawberryaziraphale · 4 years

Text

reddie but richie meets his future self ft. turtle magic

The last thing Richie Tozier remembered was tripping over a small green turtle before face planting on the ground and knocking himself out cold. He’d been running from the Paul Bunyun statue that had come to life and tried to kill him. That much was clear. However, when he woke up, despite the blurriness that came with not wearing his glasses, Richie found himself inside someone’s house. Had his parents found him and brought him home? A good samaritan? He felt around blindly for his glasses, almost falling off the sofa he was lying on.

“Here, kid,” a strange voice said somewhere to his left, holding out Richie’s glasses, “you’re gonna need them repaired.”

Richie took his glasses and shoved them on his face, taking in his surroundings. He was in a dimly lit lounge in a house he didn’t recognise. It was nicely decorated and a small dog slept soundly in the corner of the room. Richie had been covered with a soft blanket and a glass of water rested in front him on the coffee table. He sat upright and gulped the water, glancing at the stranger. He was in the kitchen, perched on the table to watch over the teen; he was a tall man, around forty, wearing glasses much like Richie’s and possessed a very similar fashion sense. The child scrambled from the sofa, backing away from the stranger.

“What the fuck? You fucking kidnapped me, you weirdo.”

“Whoa, whoa, why the fuck would anyone want to kidnap you?” The tall stranger chuckled, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Richie adjusted his glasses, folding his arms as the stranger gestured in his direction, “you’re welcome, by the way. Next time, I’ll just leave you out in the street on your ass, yeah? Asshole.”

Richie drew himself up to his fullest height, which wasn’t much considering he was only thirteen, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Yeah, I do. I am you,” the alleged older Richie shrugged, draining his glass of whiskey. He could see the cogs whirring in his younger self’s head, adding, “okay, before you freak out and shit your pants-”

“Will my forehead really get that big?”

Older Richie looked appalled, lowering his glass in offence, “hey, fuck you. Have I always been such an asshole?”

“You’re the asshole, asshole,” younger Richie began pacing, trying to wrap his head around this confusing turn of events. He had many questions for his adult self but first he had to make sure this was genuine. He stopped pacing and faced his amused looking counterpart, “okay, wise guy, if you’re me, what’s my favourite video game?”

“Street Fighter,” adult Richie gleefully announced, a far away look of reminiscence in his eyes, “and don’t worry, little dude. It’s still cool as shit. Only, you don’t have to go to the arcade to play it anymore.”

Younger Richie frowned in confusion, deciding to leave that line of questioning for now. He cautiously sat at the other end of the sofa, his leg bouncing erratically, “no offence, old man, but you’re, like, so fucking uncool. Are you sure you’ve got the right kid?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Are you married?” Young Richie asked without a beat of hesitation, practically bouncing with feral teenage energy that exhausted his adult self, “is she hot? Are you getting laid, like, a lot?”

“Jesus, kid, buy a magazine,” Richie had forgotten what a closeted mess he had been when he was younger. Then, growing up in Derry of all places hadn’t helped. He took a deep breath, avoiding looking at his teen self, “yes, I’m married but-”

“YES, I knew it. Is she like a model?” Older Richie wanted to laugh at his excited younger self, shaking his head fondly as Richie continued to ramble on, “are you famous? You look poor as fuck though or is that, like, your thing? Are you still funny ‘cause you don’t look like you sell many tickets. Are we still friends with the guys? Do they hang out?”

As young Richie continued his loud musings, speaking more to himself than to anyone else, older Richie pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses, “we married Eddie.”

That shut Richie up. The teen snapped his mouth closed, blinking at his older self in disbelief. Could it be, all his dreams coming true? He swallowed as hope filled him, hope for a world where he and Eddie Kaspbrak, the boy he was head over heels in love with, could be happy and in love together. Adult Richie rolled his eyes, removing his wallet and handing over the small photo he kept inside. Young Richie glanced at asthmatic boy, a man in this photo, a man with his arms around his older self, kissing his cheek enthusiastically.

"Whoa, that’s Eddie Spaghetti?” He nervously glanced at his adult self, who nodded happily. Young Richie allowed a small smile to spread across his face, “he’s hot as shit.”

Adult Richie raised an eyebrow, "yeah, okay, dude, that’s my husband.”

"Can I keep this?”

“No. Fuck you.” Older Richie snatched the photo from his child self’s hands with a frown. The kid just shrugged, looking very pleased with himself. Older Richie decided to throw him a bone, “Derry’s a shithole, Rich. But he likes you, too. Take my advice, get out of here as soon as you can. And take Eddie with you.”

Young Richie nodded, leaping up from the couch. He was about to leave the house when he paused at the door, grinning widely, “hey, old man, one more thing? What’s the sex like?”

His older self didn’t answer but Richie caught the disappointed look he gave him before he was shoved out into the bright sunlight. He felt something slapping at his face and he opened his eyes. Eddie was standing over him, fresh faced and concerned.

“What the fuck are you doing, Richie?”

The taller boy lifted his head, looking around; he was back in the park he’d collapsed in. There was no sign of his adult self and Richie began to wonder how hard he’d hit his head. He fell back against the grass with a thud, smiling up at Eddie. His fight with Bill meant they hadn’t been hanging out much lately and he’d missed Eddie.

“Just clown stuff, Eds,” he pushed himself upright, still shaking as he remembered his encounter with Pennywise. He indicated Eddie’s arm, “how’s your arm?”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie shrugged, hesitating before taking a seat beside Richie on the grass. He automatically withdrew his inhaler, taking several puffs, “allergies,” Richie nodded, gazing softly at his best friend. His soft brown eyes, hair gently blowing in the wind, cheeks rosy. Richie really loved him. After a while, Eddie noticed Richie’s silent staring and blinked, “what?”

“I’ve missed you, Eds.”

Eddie smiled, standing and offering his good arm to Richie and pulling him to his feet. They embraced, neither wanting to let go, “I’ve missed you, too, idiot.”

#machurin: *slowly heading towards eddie*#richie x eddie #reddie #eddie x richie #reddie fanfic #my writing

87 notes · View notes

xstarker · 3 years

Text

Since the beginning and until the end (Part Three)

Peter is immortal, reincarnation exists, and in every lifetime Peter has met and loved Tony, only for him to die. He’s hoping this time might be different.

[Part One] [Part Two]

Author’s Note: I put way more effort and detail into this chapter than was necessary, but hopefully it isn’t too much for you all. I really didn’t want to post it as two parts seeing as there is no mentions of Tony in this one and this is a Starker fic, but I felt like this chapter added to the story and Peter being immortal in a fun way.

That being said, this chapter is centered around the events of Captain America: The First Avenger.

Warnings: Mentions of canon character “death”, Nazis, War, etc. This chapter includes mentions of Stucky and Steggy.

Words: 4.4k

Peter has always tried to avoid going to the doctor whenever possible. He knows that if a doctor were to examine his reflexes or his strength too closely, or God forbid take his blood, that he could end up as someone’s lab experiment – or worse. That being said, he also hasn’t exactly been super cautious in the past either.

Over the years he’s made a habit of using his curse of immortality and the unique features that came with it, to help people. He ran in front of oncoming traffic to save little girls, retrieved cats from trees, caught someone who fell off a building, and even stopped a predator or two. He has never just been that person who stands by and lets bad things happen if he has the power to stop them.

That’s why he ends up sitting in a medical exam room, waiting for a doctor to come clear him to join the military. He never really wanted to be an army man, but he also never expected one world war let alone two, and he certainly couldn’t stand idly by.

“You are marvelously fit, Mr Parks.” A deep german accent draws Peter’s attention to the curtain, a gentleman in a suit in the process of pulling it back and entering the room, Peter’s file in hand.

“Almost miraculously. You don’t even seem to have any real medical history. Your doctor gave me the results of your physical examination but little else. My name is Dr Abraham Erskine.” Peter tenses. Here was exactly what he always feared. Maybe if he grabs his clothes and runs now-

“So, you want to kill Nazis?” Peter’s attention is drawn back to the doctor.

“I don’t want to kill anyone. I just know that I have the ability to help all of those men who are out there fighting to end all of the genocide.” Dr Erskine nods.

“I can offer you a spot on a project I am working on. There are others, all of them hoping to be picked to be the first test subject.”

“Test subject for what? I don’t really want to be a test subject.”

“I will be honest with you, if you are with me. Yes?” Peter nods in agreement, curious by the strange doctor.

“The project is a serum to create the perfect soldier. However, from what I can see of you, it won’t be needed. Why is that?”

Peter swallows the lump in his throat. “It’s kind of complicated, but essentially I was bit by a cursed spider which gave me certain… genetic enhancements.”

Dr Erskine raises his eyebrows and smiles warmly, and seeing as the man doesn’t make Peter’s instincts go haywire, he thinks trusting him might not be the worst decision.

“That sounds absolutely insane, but given that you seem relatively sane and the physical evidence thus far, I suppose I have no choice but to believe you. Though I do expect that I will see more of these genetic enhancements overseas.”

“That is very likely, should you approve me sir.”

“Get dressed. You’ll need to pack a bag. Pack light though.” Peter smiles and jumps up from his seat, rushing to put his clothes back on and follow Dr Erskine out of the room, where the man then stamps a bold black 1A on his file.

“Congratulations soldier.” The doctor says, passing the file over to Peter. “You’re the second man I’ve approved tonight.”

“The second?”

“You will meet him when you ship out tomorrow morning.” Dr Erskine gives him another small smile and walks away.

As it turns out, the other man he approved is Steve Rogers from Brooklyn. They talk on the way to base, and he learns Steve has lost both parents to the war, and that he has always wanted to join himself but was never able to due to all of his medical conditions. When he actually begins to list them all, Peter understands why. He thinks Dr Erskine must really see something in him in order to risk bringing him into the military.

At base, dressed in their new uniforms, Steve and Peter join the line of soldiers currently waiting to meet their commanding officer. A few of them talk amongst themselves, but Peter and Steve stand quietly now, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes the first day.

“Gentlemen, I am Agent Carter. I supervise all operations for this division.” The woman matching the voice walks around them from the right. Her voice is both soothing and authoritative, as is the way she carries herself. She is a woman who demands respect immediately, and also one of the most gorgeous ones Steve has ever laid eyes on.

“What’s with the accent Queen Victoria? I thought I was signin’ up for the US Army.” Comes a voice to the left of them. Immediately, Peter knows the man has made a mistake.

“What’s your name soldier?” Agent Carter’s face shows absolutely no amusement.

“Gilmore Hodge, your majesty.” He’s so snarky Peter can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Step forward Hodge.” The man obeys the order almost immediately, to the surprise of both Steve and Peter. “Put your right foot forward.”

“We gonna wrassle? Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like.” Peter knows the punch is coming before she does it, yet he still lets out a soft laugh. Carter makes eye contact with him and gives him the smallest smile, just as another man in uniform approaches.

“Agent Carter.” She straightens her blazer.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“I can see that you are breaking in the candidates. That’s good!” The man – Colonel Phillips - comes to a stop in front of Hodge. “Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention until someone comes and tells you what to do.”

Hodge hops up fast, immediately complying. “Yes sir.”

“General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men.” When he gets to ‘men’ Peter sees his eyes connect with Steve’s tiny form, and his statement suddenly sounds like more of a question. The colonel looks over at Erskine, his face doing nothing to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

“And because they are going to get better. Much better.”

The colonel goes on to explain the goal is to create the best army in history, and he says every army starts with one man. As it turned out, that one man would be chosen by the end of a week’s worth of tests. They do all of the basic things you would expect an army to do, everyone competing to get the best time or the most push-ups, the best score. Peter doesn’t really compete, but he doesn’t bother hiding his ability to do them all with ease either, knowing Erskine wanted to see what he could do in action. He ends up with the best scores in most of the tests, while Steve is dead last in nearly all of them. This doesn’t seem to disappoint Erskine in the slightest.

“Faster ladies! Come on. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul.” They are all doing push-ups, next to him Steve struggles to barely do one. Peter feels bad for him, knowing he is struggling to do all of the tests but he’s still pushing himself as hard as he can.

“Please tell me you aren’t really thinking about picking Rogers.” Peter’s super hearing picks up on Colonel Phillips’ voice before he’s even finished walking over to the truck in front of the group.

“I’m more than just thinking about it. He is the clear choice.”

“When you brought a 90-pound asthmatic onto my army base, I let it slide. I thought ‘What the hell, maybe he’d be useful to you, like a gerbil.’ I never thought you’d pick him.” They come to a stop at the truck, and Agent Carter has the group switch to jumping jacks. Peter can hear the struggle in Steve’s lungs.

“You stick a needle in that kid’s arm, it’s gonna go right through him. Look at that, he’s making me cry.” Peter glances over at Steve, and really the sight is something pitiful.

“I am looking for qualities beyond the physical.” Erskine explains.

“Do you know how long it took to set up this project? All the groveling I had to do in front of Senator What’s-His-Name’s committees?”

“Brandt. Yes, I know. I am well aware of your efforts.”

“Then throw me a bone. Hodge and Parks both passed every test we gave them. They’re strong, they’re fast, they obey orders. They are soldiers.”

“Hodge is a bully. As for Parks, I have already told you he is not going to be receiving the serum. He does not need it.”

“You don’t win a war with niceness Doctor.” Peter’s eyes follow Colonel Phillips, watching as he grabs a grenade from the truck. “You win wars with guts.”

Peter watches him pull the pin and toss the grenade, not feeling the familiar tingle of danger run up his spine, he immediately knows the bomb is a dud. This was a test.

“Grenade!” He yells, and everyone begins jumping away, scared out of their minds. Peter steps back, but watches in fascination as Steve immediately moves to wrap his entire frail little body around it, planning to risk his own life to protect everyone else around him.

“Get away!” He yells. “Get back!”

Both Peter and Erskine smile. Peter gets it now, why Erskine wants Steve.

Peter and Steve are similar in a lot of ways, and had that been a real grenade, Peter knows he would have done the very same thing. He knows this is the kind of person who power belongs to, and he knows if anyone else had gotten the curse that he had, they wouldn’t have used the abilities the same way.

Well, anyone else but Steve Rogers.

That same day they tell Steve he’s been chosen to go first, and Erskine comes to talk to Peter alone, a bottle of Schnapps half empty in his hand. He tells him about Johann Schmidt, how he believes all the myths and legends, and that he believes a superior man is meant to wield hidden powers left in the Earth by the Gods. Peter knows this to be mostly true, but doesn’t say anything about it. The Doctor also tells him about how Schmidt was the first to take the serum, and how the serum amplifies what a person is like on the inside, having made Schmidt a monster both inside and out.

Once again, Peter understands his decision to take Steve.

“Peter, I am telling you this because it is very likely Schmidt will try something. Though we have many precautions in place, HYDRA has eyes and ears everywhere. He will find out. In case something should happen to me or to my research, I am asking you to help Steven in any way you can. Win this war for all of us.”

Peter nods, determination in his gaze. “I understand Doctor. Isn’t there any way I can be there tomorrow? Just in case?”

“I am afraid not. I have pulled as many strings as I can just to get Steven in that pod first. I am trusting you to do what needs to be done.”

“I won’t let you down.”

Peter gets word he is to ship out to London only an hour in advance. He doesn’t have much to pack anyways, but he does wish he could say goodbye to Steve. He wonders how the procedure went, and when he will see his friend as well as Dr Erskine again.

It’s the flight to London that he learns he won’t ever see the doctor again, but the procedure was successful.

“Sorry you had to hear it from me pal.”

“It’s not your fault Mr Stark.”

“Oh please, I’m barely older than you. Call me Howard.” There’s amusement in Howard’s voice, but none of their faces match it.

“Not that I am complaining, but why am I being sent to London? And where’s Steve?” Peter’s seated near the front of the plane, Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips talking in hushed tones near the rear. Peter tries to catch a few words, but the plane is so loud it is already making it hard enough to hear Howard less than ten feet from him.

“Dr Erskine knew something like this could happen. He had certain plans in place, which included leaving me a very detailed letter about his experience with you. I convinced the Colonel you would be useful on the front lines, and if I can manage to get you in my lab too, I wouldn’t exactly be disappointed.”

“That depends on what you mean by getting me in your lab.”

“Cursed spiders causing miraculous abilities aren’t exactly common Parks. As for where Rogers is, Senator Brandt talked him into doing propaganda shows since Phillips wasn’t exactly keen on him joining us in London.”

“What? I thought the serum was a success.”

“It was, but that doesn’t mean he wants an inexperienced science experiment running around with a gun. His words, not mine.”

Peter sighs. He knows Erskine would hate his work going to something as trivial as that. Peter hates it too.

“If I am going to be in your lab, it’s going to be to help you with your work. Not as another experiment.”

Peter helps Howard in the lab in-between missions. They throw playful banter back and forth while working, becoming quick friends. Howard continues to ask about the spider, and Peter does his best to answer questions, but refuses to be submitted to any tests, never wanting the military anywhere near his DNA, even if he does trust Howard to some extent.

On one particular mission in November of 1943, he’s sent with two hundred soldiers from the 107th to Austria. It’s on that mission that he briefly meets the man Steve can’t seem stop talking about whenever they see each other, Bucky Barnes. They try their best against the forces of HYDRA but in the end, Peter still returns with less than half of the men he left with, and Bucky is one of the unlucky souls that doesn’t return at all.

Peter lies awake that night, unable to sleep as guilt eats at him. The next day he tries to convince Colonel Phillips to let him go back to try and save the rest, but is given a firm no. The Colonel tells him it’s too risky, even if he were to go alone.

Steve comes to base for a show just a few days later, his audience the remaining members of the 107th. They don’t seem all that impressed by the propaganda, yelling and throwing things at Steve to get him off-stage. Peter understands their frustration, but he also doesn’t believe Steve really did anything to deserve that sort of treatment.

Peter goes to find Steve after the show, and sees Peggy has beat him to it. He is about to turn around and go wait for a better time to speak with Steve when he catches part of the conversation the pair are having.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him, and less than half returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

“The 107th?” He hears the panic in Steve’s voice, and then he is on his feet, rushing toward the base where Colonel Phillips sits under a tent planning their next move, Peggy behind him. Peter doesn’t need to hear the conversation to know where this is going. Instead, he decides to go wait in Steve’s tent with his bag packed, knowing he would be there soon to pack a bag himself.

When Steve does get to the tent less than ten minutes later, he looks surprised to see Peter. “Let me come with you.”

“What?” Steve’s already grabbing things and shoving them into his bag, anxiety clear on his face.

“I was with the 107th on that mission. I asked to go back out there, but Colonel Phillips wouldn’t let me. Please, let me help you.” He’s practically begging, but he would never forgive himself if he let Steve go alone to try and rescue the men which he should have been able to bring back safely himself.

“What exactly do the two of you plan to do? Walk to Austria?” Both men turn their heads to Peggy as she enters the tent.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“The Colonel is devising a strategy. If he detects that-” Steve interrupts her.

“By the time he’s done that, it could be too late.” Steve throws his jacket on and grabs the metal shield he has been using as a prop for his shows, then exits the tent with both Peter and Peggy on his heels.

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?” The question is directed at Peggy. Peter puts his belongings in the car next to Steve’s and hops in the passenger seat.

“Every word.”

“Then you gotta let us go.”

“I can do more than that.”

Peggy comes back with one of the showgirl’s helmets, the letter A painted on the front, and Howard as their pilot.

Howard gets them almost all the way there, but bombs begin to go off all around them. Steve and Peter make the decision to jump before they get all the way in, urging Howard to turn around immediately.

Once on the ground they sneak onto one of the trucks coming into base, easily taking out the two HYDRA soldiers inside. They wait until the truck parks to sneak out, Steve leading the way onto the roof.

Inside the base it’s a lot more sneaking around, which Peter happens to be rather good at, and it turns out so is Steve. They pass a set of what looks like some sort of ammunition, except it glows a bright blue. Steve pockets one of the clips to bring back to base for Howard.

When they finally find the cells, they subdue the guard and begin unlocking them. Bucky is nowhere to be seen. Steve gives the men instructions on how to get out, and is immediately ready to go looking for Bucky again. He pauses on his exit to look at Peter.

“Are you coming?”

“Recusing Bucky is your mission. I think I should make sure the rest of these men get out of here in one piece. I owe them that.” Steve nods, then takes off out the door. Everyone else, including Peter, begin to make their exit, causing chaos all around the base.

In the end, Steve and Peter return to base with another hundred or so men, including Bucky, following close behind.

That night everyone goes out to a local bar for drinks. Steve goes around asking who wants to go back out with him and help wipe HYDRA off the map, and surprisingly a decent few say yes. Unsurprisingly, so does Bucky.

“What about you Peter? You came with me for the rescue, will you join us?” Peter gives Steve a smile.

“As if you could keep me away. I came out here to make a difference Steve, and there is no better place to do that then with you.” Peter doesn’t mention Erskine asking him to stay with Steve, because even if he hadn’t asked, Peter would still have agreed. This is where he was needed the most, he could feel it.

Howard makes Steve a shield after hearing that it seems to be the man’s preferred weapon. He makes the suit at Steve’s request. It looks good on him, making him look somewhat like a superhero while still being properly fitted for war. Peter almost asks Howard for one himself, but decides against it.

The Howling Commandos is what they end up calling their group of chaotic men. They wipe base after base off the map, the group all getting to know each other rather well during the missions.

Then on one particular mission, they ambush a train Dr Zola is said to be on, headed toward another base. A hole gets blown in the side during their fighting, and Bucky falls, assumingly to his death. Steve doesn’t take it well to say the least, because that night he sits alone in that same bar as before, attempting to drink his sorrows away, the bar in ruin around him thanks to the war.

Colonel Phillips interrogates Zola for hours, and the next day they have enough intel to send everyone out on another mission, as it turns out, the last one they would go on together.

Steve enters through the front, causing a scene and effectively getting himself kidnapped, which of course is just part of the plan. Peter and three others use grappling hooks to swing in through the window, clearing the room quickly. Schmidt makes a run for it in all of the chaos, so Steve runs after him, shield in hand. Peter follows, doing his best to clear the way of any HYDRA soldiers that get in Steve’s way.

They lose sight of each other after Steve follows Schmidt through a door that he manages to keep open with his shield just long enough to slip through, but Peter and Peggy are quick to find another way to catch up with him, stealing Schmidt’s car and speeding down the runway after him.

They make it just in time for Steve to jump onto the plane, Peter bringing the car to a stop just in time for one of the wheels to be hanging off, but not sending them over the edge. Right before he jumps, Peggy surprises them both by speaking up.

“Wait!” She pulls him down for what Peter is sure is their first kiss. “Good luck.”

Steve turns to look at Peter. “What? I’m not kissing you.” Peter can’t help but laugh, Steve smiling and making the jump to the plane without another word.

On the edge of the runway, Peter throws the car into reverse until the front two tires catch on the edge and finally, they are safely planted on the metal ground. He turns the car around, and drives full speed back toward the base.

The last time he speaks to Steve is with Peggy by his side, over the communications to Schmidt’s plane.

“Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?” They both run to the seat at the same time, Morita already seated, having been waiting for any word to come through from the other side.

“Captain Rogers, where is your-?” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because with one shared look, Peggy and him are switching places and she is grabbing the intercom in her hand.

“Steve is that you? Are you alright?”

“Peggy, Schmidt’s dead!” That should be good news, so why did Steve sound so panicked?

“Steve what’s going on?”

“Peter? The plane’s rigged to blow.”

“Of course, it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” Peter groans in frustration, anxiety building. If the plane was rigged to blow, there were very few options for a safe landing.

“I can try and force it down.”

“I-I can get Howard on the line. He’ll know that to do.” Peggy’s might be in worse shape than Peter, but no one could really be sure. Both of them are close to tears now, but Peter has never seen Peggy look so vulnerable.

“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York.” A pause and then, “I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out.” Despite her trying to reassure him over the radio, Peter knows they don’t have nearly enough time.

“Steve is there any sort of emergency pod or autopilot you can reset? Anything to where you can set the plane to crash but get out safely?” He’s unsure how he manages to get the words out without his voice cracking, so many emotions flooding his senses all at once.

“Not from where I am sitting. I already tried overwriting the autopilot but it’s locked in place. I’d need a genius to overwrite it. Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere, if I wait any longer a whole lot of people are going to die.” Peter feels a tear roll down his face, and when he looks at Peggy, her face mirrors his own. They were both losing a loved one today, Peggy an almost lover, and Peter a brother, if only in war.

“This is my choice.” Steve speaks solemnly.

“Peggy.”

“I’m here.”

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.” Peter places a hand on her shoulder, she reaches her own up to hold his.

“Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it.”

“Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?” She’s talking through tears now, but she manages to speak clearly despite that. Peter remains quiet, letting her talk Steve through this. He isn’t sure he could speak at this point if he tried.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your-” The line goes dead.

“Steve?” Peggy lets out a sob. Peter clenches her hand a little tighter, releasing a shaky breath as the tears overflow.

“Steve?” It’s no use, they both know it’s too late, but she can’t help it. She has to try. Peter feels eyes on them, and turns, making eye contact with Colonel Phillips who at some point made his way here. Peter couldn’t be sure when, too distracted before to notice, but the Colonel’s face shows it was long enough that the man knows what happened. He turns and walks away, leaving the two of them to mourn alone together.

“Steve?”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #starker wip #nova writes #since the beginning and until the end #immortal!peter parker

6 notes · View notes

thebookofus-depravity · 4 years

Text

Skinny Bone Jones Ch 2

Part 2 of the very fluffy very lovely first chapter. This ones got some smut oops. Jae and Y/N negotiate their new relationship and their life after the coronavirus. Epilogue included!

TW: Some smut, Jae’s hands appreciation, soft!dom Jae, not gonna say this is totally wish fulfillment but its definitely totally wish fulfillment.

12K words- again, oops.

Chapter 2 Skinny Bone Jones

What do I want?!

The question that had been plaguing you for the past 14 hours continues like a storm siren in your tired, tired brain. You had spent your night overthinking as usual, and to no avail. After hours of pontification and soul searching and snacks you were no closer to unpacking all that had occurred last night. Now it was 1pm and you found yourself draped across the ratty armchair in the corner of the living room beleaguering your existence.

You had done what you always do after taking a risk. You collapsed into yourself and told yourself all of the reasons why it was a dumb idea and couldn't possibly work and you didn't deserve it and why didn't you just play it safe? Thoroughly convinced of Jae's seething animosity for you, you had raided both the freezer and the liquor cabinet and here you were 3 hours in, sad and covered in death by chocolate. Your parents had found you at 7am and you made some feeble excuse about not feeling well. I mean, you didn’t feel well. But that’s besides the point. Your mom and dad brought you back to your room to shower and go to bed and then went to the store to open, your mom promising kimchi jiggae to help with your apparent sickness.

Your phone dangled from your fingertips, 1 missed call, 5 new messages. Skinny Bone Jones. What was I thinking? I can’t go back to the store. I can’t look him in the face. He probably thinks I’m so dumb. How can I work with him now? He can keep the store. It’s his now. He can keep mom and dad too. They’d rather have a successful kid anyway. I’ll flee the country. Alright no, that one is dumb.

I kissed him.

I kissed a boy.

Man. Man-boy. Kid. Guy.

How am I supposed to know what I want when I still think like a 14 year old girl?! It’s just a kiss. No big deal. Friends kiss all the time. Consenting adult friends can do whatever they want. We just kissed. This doesn’t have to change anything.

As much as you went back and forth trying to convince yourself that it was no big deal, you simply couldn't. You weren't inexperienced. You had your fair share of boyfriends, a few friends with benefits, even a very disappointing one night stand. Intellectually, you knew this was nothing. But the other half of you acknowledged and was terrified of exactly how much Jae means to you. How much that kiss communicated.

You knew deep down that everything had already changed. The moment you saw him in a different light than the fluorescents of your high school or the flood lights of the stage, everything had changed. You began dreaming of seeing him in every imaginable light. Kitchen light filtered through windows, candlelight, the weak watery light of a stormy day. You wanted to see every day with him. And that scared you. Even scarier than the idea of Jae turning you down was the idea of him agreeing.

Jae lived a crazy life and for him to include you in it would be both an honor and a liability. The last thing you want to do is jeopardize his career or anger his fans. He has so many people cheering for him, why would he need you? Jae is so good. Charming, sweet, kind, wise, a fucking rockstar. Why would he want a washed up childhood friend when he has the whole world welcoming him with open arms? Those arms. You can’t stop remembering just how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms.

But what if he wants this as much as I do? You kissed him. He kissed you. Both occurred, you suppose. But what if it was just a kiss? If you come barrelling through with your icky, gooey, messy emotions and ruin a simple lovely thing, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Regardless of outcome, it was time to at least get out of your head and face that Jae was trying to get a hold of you. You had ignored the call and the messages in your dread of first contact. Swiping open your phone, you contend with the messages first. I can deal with this. Past tense Jae. What did he have to say?

Skinny Bone Jones: Hey, Y/N, do me a favor and don’t eat breakfast before you come in tomorrow, okay? I have a surprise for you. :)

Fuck.

Skinny Bone Jones: You come in at 7, right?

You glance at the corner of your phone and your heart sinks: 1:37.

Skinny Bone Jones: Your mom and dad just got here. They told me you’re sick. Are you okay?

I mean now you feel a little queasy.

Skinny Bone Jones: Look, Y/N, if this is about last night, you don’t have to worry about it. It won’t happen again. I should’ve asked.

Skinny Bone Jones: I’m sorry.

Seconds later you find yourself sprinting down the sidewalk in house slippers and pajamas, your pride and your robe billowing out behind you.

He meant it. He really meant it. You feel a little sick when you realize that Jae only took the job to spend time with you- what if he left?

Head empty, you throw open the door of the store and cast your eyes around, desperate to fall on him. Please be here. Don't leave.

You find your mom staring up at you from behind the ledger book, "Y/N, what's the matter?"

"Mom, where's Jae?" You run behind the counter to the kitchen and your dad is there skimming stock, but no Jae.

Fuck.

You feel a bit of yourself shatter as you realize he's gone. Sure you can text him, sure he lives down the street. But you left him and then he left you. That's just as simple. How are you going to explain to him that you were just scared? Will he forgive you? You turn to walk back to the house, bathrobe belt dragging on the floor.

"Y/N-ah, are you okay? You look pale." Your dad wipes his hands on his apron and presses his hand to your forehead.

"You're warm." your dad worries

"Of course she's warm, she must've run here, look at her." your mom, adds, more to the room than to anyone in particular.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" the third voice pulls you from your reverie and you whip around to see Jae, back door closing behind him as he tugs a trash can back in.

"Jae!" You run to him and wrap yourself around him, joy flooding through you. After a split second of relief you recoil as you notice that he is most definitely not returning your embrace. You take a step back and become very interested in the grout between the tiles as your heart sinks back into your stomach. Suddenly you feel his hand in yours and he is pulling you into him and he kisses you. The kiss is deep and yearning and conveys everything that has gone unsaid between the two of you these past years. I love you's and Thank you's and I miss you's that had been left unvoiced. For a split second your mind goes fuzzy and everything else slips away. You can't hear, see, feel, or even imagine anything other than the man in front of you and it feels so right. You can practically hear applause. You do hear applause.

"Yah! I knew it! I knew it! I knew you'd finally do it, my stupid daughter!" You break your embrace and Jae straightens up. The both of you stiffen as you realize exactly what just happened. You kissed in front of your parents. In their store.

Jae, your dad, and yourself are all staring at one another with mixed looks of unease and hilarity while your mom is practically jumping up and down and clapping with excitement. She stops and waits with bated breath to see what will happen next between the two of you, almost as if expecting some happy announcement already. The pregnant silence is deafening and you can feel a persistent blush creep up your neck.

"I-I smell like trash." Jae says numbly, gesturing slightly at the trash bag at his feet.

"So does she, she's been drinking since 4am." your dad delivers deadpan.

The quiet is broken by a cacophany of laughter and defensive yelling.

A few minutes later, upon lining the trash can with a new bag, you are ushered out of the kitchen by your mom with cries of ‘Go! Go sit! Go talk!’. Slightly awkwardly you both ‘go’, walking into the dining area of the restaurant and out into the street. There is quite a lot of physical distance between the two of you, an equal fissure of nervous energy the only thing uniting you. Your eyes are focused squarely on the sidewalk in front of you as you walk side by side.

“So…” Jae starts.

“So?”

“So what’s up?” There is a bit of tension in his voice, a tell of fear that you can’t stand. I made that happen to him. I’m sorry. You felt awful for making him wait. For making him question whether you would be there or not. For making him second guess himself for even a second. You sneak a glance at him and accidentally meet his eyes.

“I made you pancakes-”

“I love you-”

You stop both your statements and feet in their tracks and face one another.

“You what?” You question in unison. There is silence for a beat before Jae forges forward, striding forward and laughing slightly as he continues:

“Yeah, I uh- I made you pancakes. For breakfast. I thought you might like them. But you never came in so I just- I mean, your parents had some. There’s a few left over if you want any. I kept them warm in the oven just in case you changed your mind.”

“I...I would love to eat your pancakes.”

Again, you both fall silent as I would love to eat your pancakes echoes through both of your skulls, delivered with the intensity of a love confession- effectively fracturing any serious thought that ever found itself at home. Your chest feels light and your head rushing and lightheaded, it feels like you could float away. I would love to eat your pancakes. What the fuck. An asthmatic chuckle escapes you and soon enough you’re both sitting in the grass next to the sidewalk holding your sides at the hilarity of the situation. Two grown ass adults. Almost pained in its relief, your laughter dispels all of the tension that you had been holding in an almost manic form. He likes you. And you like him. And God, you made this so much harder than it had to be.

When the two of you are well and truly spent you sit up. You find yourself closer to Jae than you remember. Your head is by his shoulder, and you let your cheek rest against him.

“So pancakes-” you begin

“I love you too.”

Now you really do think you’ll float away. You realize all at once that you’re very hung over and very tired and not at all lucid but it doesn’t matter. The cute boy down the street loves you. Your best friend loves you. You press your forehead to his and you both just sit, his arms wrapped around you. He still smells like cinnamon and home and what a wonderful home he is.

“So we’re… together now?” You ask tentatively

“Baby, you ask that as if you have no choice in the matter.” Jae laughs

Your face warms at his use of the well-loved pet name.

“If you want all this, it’s yours.” He quirks a brow upward at you and you laugh. Secretly, you’re incredibly thankful that he’s not making a big deal out of this. You love him. And you’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not this intensely. But the intensity with which you felt scared you. Of course it was exciting and beautiful and made your heart well up like it was about to run over, but you didn’t want anything running over just yet. That’s messy. To love someone is to take a risk, handing them your heart and asking them not to break it. Past relationships hadn’t been so kind.

This felt like the chapter of a new book. No, not a new book. A very old book. One that you’ve had on the shelf for ages but hadn’t picked up in a while. As soon as you opened it back up you remembered every footnote and the sound of the pages turning and the smell of the paper and every twist and turn of the plot that gave you so much familiarity and light. Of course, it was a book read in a new context but the same book through and through.

“I love you.”

“You already said that one, Y/N.”

“Shut up, you little shit, I love you.”

“I know you love me. That’s not a question.” you slap at Jae’s chest and his shoulders shake in response.

“The question now is if you want to be my girlfriend.”

You lean into him and press a soft kiss to his lips. You can feel him smiling against you.

“So that’s a yes? I’m unconvinced.”

Your left hand slips up his chest and neck to wrap into the soft hair at the back of his neck. You pull him deeper into the kiss and his hand rests on your side. After both of your chests’ are robbed of breath and your heart rates skyrocket, you break the embrace. His lips are so rosy and full and God, they felt so good against yours. You can’t help but take his slightly ajar bottom lip between your teeth and tug gently. Finally satisfied that your point has been cemented, you retreat. Jae stares at you, a look of equal parts incredulity and awe on his now slightly reddened features.

“Mmm, okay. Very convincing, I’ll concede it. But who the hell taught you how to do that?” You giggle a bit and hop up off of the grass.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

He fumbles after you, “Oh-oh I worry!”

You attempt to finish your shift in the restaurant but your mom very quickly ushers both you and Jae out of the kitchen.

“Your dad and I can handle this. Go home. There’s kimchi jiggae on the stove. Go home. Feel better. Jaehyung will make sure you’re taken care of, yah Jaehyung?”

“Of course Mrs.Y/L/N. I’ll take care of her.”

It isn’t until you get to your house that you realize that you’re half asleep. You stumble over the welcome mat and Jae catches you. You insist that you’re fine but he supports you all the way to the couch.

“I just got my girlfriend, you expect me to let her bust her face on hard wood floor in the first fifteen minutes? Now where’s the soup, we need to get you fed.”

10 minutes later you’re fed, hydrated, medicated, and chastised for the empty soju bottles on the floor.

Didn’t I teach you how to drink better than that? Come on now.

He leads you to where he knows your room to be, but you stop at the door. You feel like a teenager. A little girl with a boy coming over for the first time. This time you didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to hide all of the stuffies and the journals and the embarrassing things you didn’t want him to see. Fuck, the poster. You inwardly groan before steeling yourself: you’re a grown woman. You’re just living in a child’s bedroom. It’s not your fault.

“Look my bedroom is a nightmare, it’s exactly how I left it when I was 15. You can’t judge me for this.”

“Oh, I can and I will.”

Pushing open your door, you feel your face go red as Jae whistles lowly.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding.”

You busy yourself with picking up stray laundry and tidying while Jae takes in the majesty of the silly bands collections, the friendship bracelet loom, the boy band memorabilia.

“I clocked you as more of a Nick girl.”

“I don’t know, Kevin he- he’s something.”

“All this stuff and not a single Day6 poster?”

“Jae, Day6 didn’t even exist when I lived here!”

“I know, I just have to give you a hard time.” Jae pauses, “If I give you a poster of me, would you replace Kevin?”

“I would replace dear old Kevin with a poster of JYP.”

“That’s a much better idea!” Jae latches onto the idea with a stubborn fierceness.

After much discussion, largely consisting of “You really wanna fuck in front of your CEO?” You both agreed that all posters would have to come down before you rendezvoused.

Jae tucks you into bed with a kiss on the forehead before leaving you to sleep. He ensures your phone is plugged in, there’s water on the table, and ibuprofen in your system before closing your bedroom door behind him.

And sleep you do for the next 8 hours. Your dreams are littered with images of 100 watt smiles and soft kisses and banana pancakes. When you finally do wake from your slumber you feel as well rested as you have in weeks. You stretch with a yawn and grope around for your phone.

Skinny Bone Jones: Hey baby :)

Skinny Bone Jones: hope you’re sleeping well.

Skinny Bone Jones: Good morning beautiful, I love you.

Skinny Bone Jones: I’ve been wanting to text you that for years and now I finally can :)

You melt a bit and have to physically restrain yourself from kicking your legs like an excited little girl.

Y/N- Good morning :)

Y/N- I love you.

You flick through Instagram, Twitter, tumblr before realizing with a jolt of satisfaction that you can delete your tinder!

Seconds after disabling your account and deleting your account, Jae messages you back.

Skinny Bone Jones- You better.

You almost drop your phone, thinking your boyfriend has some omniscient knowledge of the goings on of your dating app history. Reading back, you remember what was said and smile.

Y/N- So what do you wanna do today?

Skinny Bone Jones- idk have you taken down those posters yet? ;)

Y/N- No XD

Skinny Bone Jones- Haha okay, how about spending the day at the store? I’m sure your mom and dad could use the help. We did both just dip yesterday.

Y/N- Sounds good to me! Meet you there in half an hour?

Skinny Bone Jones- You’re on.

20 minutes later, you’re pulling off the third top that you’ve tried in frustration at both your wardrobe and your adolescent behavior. It’s work. I’m going to work. With my boyfriend. It’s not a bad thing to want to look cute. You finally settle on a pair of shorts and a halter top before grabbing your phone and heading to the store.

You’re greeted by a frenzy of activity. Your mom is yelling over the phone (something about dumplings), your dad is kneading noodle dough as if it threatened his life, and even Jae is busying himself filling mandu. When your mom finally looks up, she hangs up the phone with not so much as a goodbye.

“Yah! Y/N-ah, hurry! We’ve got work to do!”

You throw on an apron before following your mother to the butcher block.

“We had an order called in this morning for catering a party. Min Jung unnie’s birthday. Apparently they’re having a social distancing party. They need 50 people’s worth of bulgogi, ssam, banchan, and mandu. By 3pm.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll handle the pickling.”

The four of you work in silence chipping away at the order and filling styrofoam take-away boxes. By 2:30 you’re finished with everything, just waiting on the japchae. Loaded into the car with all of the needed accoutrement, your mom and dad bid you a farewell. Instructions of ‘take care of the store’ and ‘if you need anything, call” echo from the interior of the car as they back out of the driveway.

You watch them disappear down the road with a huge smile on your face. You were tired and starving but so proud of the work that had been done. You had watched your mom and dad start this business from scratch and it reminded you of the first catering gig they had ever received so many years ago. The joy of the work and the honest paycheck was something that they had taught you, as well as their love for food. Now the shop was a local institution and until the coronavirus, there had been no fear for their business. As much as you denied any fear to Jae, you had been concerned by the lack of orders the store had been receiving. Not to mention the thinly veiled racist threats that you had been fielding on the shops’ yelp and Facebook pages.

“This is so good for them. They’re getting business and even catering gigs again. I’m so proud of them.”

“You should be, love.” Jae appears behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“What’s going to happen to the store when your parents get too old to work like this?” Jae asks, tone full of polite curiosity, as he walks you to the table where your lunch sits.

You pick up a set of chopsticks and sigh “I don’t know, Jae.”

“I mean we have some time to think about that before we have to deal with it. Generally their kids would continue the business but I just can’t. It’d be a waste. I spent so much time and money working on premed and, I mean, I have to find residencies soon.”

You run a hand through your hair as you lift a dumpling to your mouth. The tension melts away as the pastry yields in your mouth. Mmm. That’s what it’s all about.

“You know you could, right?” Jae asks through a mouth full of japchae.

“I could what?”

“You could do it. Take over the store. You’d be brilliant at it. You’re an amazing cook, but even better than that, you know how to run a business. You’re organized and have an eye for design and publicity. You could make it so much more if you chose. It wouldn’t be a waste either. Nothing you love is ever a waste.”

“No, Jae I couldn’t-“ you begin.

“Hey. You don’t have to either. I’m just saying you shouldn’t limit yourself. There’s no right way to do anything and no right path to your career. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t have to make any decisions right now anyway. Like, you’ve said, you’ve got time.”

You eat in silence, casting your eyes around the kitchen with Jae eating and humming to himself softly. You see the counter that you used to sit on and watch your parents work. You see the walk in freezer that you used to hide in when you threatened to run away from home. Through the order window you see the polymer tables that you spent every day of middle school wiping down for spending money. This was home more than your house was. It’s where you learned how to work, how to cook. It’s where you learned Korean, watched your mom and dad make friends and regulars. You loved it here. The idea of it belonging to someone else made your stomach turn.

“But my parents started this restaurant to give me the opportunity not to have to work in a restaurant. They wanted to feed my ambition. They’ve made it very clear, they want me to make something of myself.”

“What is that something, babe? I think they would be proud of you regardless of what you chose to do with your life. Doctor, chef, stripper, you’re their daughter. And they love you.”

“Okay, stripper might be off the table but…”

“But you love to cook.”

“I do.”

“Just give it some thought, Y/N. It’s an idea.”

“I will, Jae. Thank you. I’ve been thinking about my future a lot lately and I really don’t know if I’m meant to be a doctor. I kind of hate it. But I’ve been doing it since I’ve been 15. I’ve been researching myself a lot. Getting reacquainted with who I am instead of who I’ve been told I should be.”

“And I can’t wait to get to know her better and better. I love you, Y/N, whoever you end up being.”

Jae is staring at you with so much affection that you think you might combust.

You stuff a dumpling in your mouth in an attempt to hide the huge smile that threatens to take over your face.

Jae tucks into his food as well, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like motherfuckin cutie to himself.

You finish eating and wash dishes in companionable silence, chatting here and there, humming along to the Bluetooth speaker that has been conveniently set to play only Day6. Finished with the dishes and the nights orders, you sweep the floor of the kitchen and realize you’ve run out of chores to do. What with the closing of the dining room, there is less to do when you close.

You get a text from mom saying “We’ll be back in maybe an hour. Is everything okay there?”

You assure her that everything is perfectly fine and that you’ll be here when they get back. Jae, sitting on a stool, pulls you back into him by the waist in order to see the message. You’re all but sitting in his lap with his head resting on your shoulder when he smirks, “So we’ve got an hour?”

“...Hypothetically.” You feel his lips against your neck and shiver.

“Yah, Jae.” He immediately stops and turns you to face him.

“Yes?” His face is serious but not grim. He is ready to listen to you. You’ve never been with someone with so much respect for you. That was sad but also beautiful. Jae was already showing you exactly how you deserved to be treated.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know babe? I’m just picking. I’m perfectly fine just sitting with you.”

“No, Jae. I want this. I want you. I’m not exactly shy about it, love. And I’m not exactly an innocent little girl. It’s just, with you, I feel like it’s going to be different. I love you. And we have so much history. I just want to do this right, yknow?”

“I understand baby. Let’s make it that way.” Jae takes your hand and pulls you into him. “As much as I’d love to do awful things to you while you’re bent over that bar, I think I can restrain myself.” He jokes. “I have for this long. You’re special and I want to show you that.”

“Thank you, Jae.” You whisper up at him.

“No need to thank me baby. It’s the bare minimum. If I ever treat you any differently, you’re gonna have to slap me.”

“Yes sir.” You flash him your best innocent eyes.

“Oh, now don’t you start with that shit, doll. Don’t test me.” There’s laughter in his voice but also a bit of steel that you weren’t expecting. Noted.

You lean in and give him a chaste peck on the lips. The kiss deepens as Jae pulls you in. Your arms wind around his neck and your fingers tug through his silky blonde hair. His hands rests on the back of your neck and on your lower back. He pulls you in impossibly closer as his tongue swipes past your lips. While pulling you closer, his leg slips between yours and you let out an entirely involuntary moan when his thigh connects with your center. Your hips buck of their own accord and you bury your face in Jae’s neck. You feel Jae’s hand on your neck and he pulls you back slightly to where you’re face to face.

“Damn, baby. You sound really pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

You whine and try everything in your power to avoid eye contact with him. Tugging slightly on your hair, your gaze rises to meet his. You can see Jae’s eyes following the deep pink flush that blooms in your chest.

“You gotta tell me if you want me to stop, baby.”

“Please don’t stop, Jae.” Your voice comes out as a whisper but damn you never imagined this persona would come out of him. You quite appreciated it.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby girl.”

All of a sudden you hear the front door swing open and the murmur of your mom and dads voices. You jump back from Jae and do your damndest to collect yourself as your parents carry their catering equipment into the kitchen. Jae stands bolt upright and takes the box from your mother, insisting that she sit and he take care of it. The sexual tension dissipates from your body but the idea of Jae in that particular light couldn’t be wiped from your mind. That and the stern reminder branded into your brain to never trust your moms projected arrival times ever again.

The night continues and soon enough you have returned to your regularly scheduled attempt at sleep for the night. You had been texting off and on with Jae all evening after parting ways at the shop and you couldn’t be happier. You talked a bit more about your ideas for the store and if you really could make it your career. You talked about the presales of Demon and how excited he was for the comeback. He missed his fans terribly and he knew they missed him too. Eventually conversation turned back around to the almost disastrous incident earlier today.

Skinny Bone Jones: I can’t believe they almost walked in on us.

Y/N: Look, it was your fault!

Skinny Bone Jones: My fault? How is it my fault that you were falling apart on my leg? I didn’t even touch you.

Skinny Bone Jones: If anything, I should be the one contacting HR for sexual harassment.

Y/N: Good luck with that, I am HR.

Y/N: And it’s your fault I was falling apart anyway. Making my heart go all BoomBoom.mp3 and shit. Rude.

Skinny Bone Jones: Well, I’m glad I can have that effect on you babygirl.

The persistent heat in your stomach was growing and the use of your favorite pet name wasn’t doing anything to help.

Y/N: Jaaaeeee

Skinny Bone Jones: yeah, Y/N? Do you like it when I call you babygirl?

Skinny Bone Jones: Come on now, use your words.

Y/N: Yes.

Skinny Bone Jones: Good girl.

Fuck.

How the hell did he know exactly how to tear you apart like this?

Skinny Bone Jones: I can't wait to get you alone, baby. We’re gonna have so much fun.

Y/N: I can’t wait.

That much was true. You couldn’t wait. And you weren’t planning on it. If he wasn’t going to get over here and give you what you needed you would take matters into your own hands. Your fingers are occupied, running along your hips and chest when Jae texts you back.

Skinny Bone Jones: Can’t you? I hope you’re not having too much fun without me.

How does he do that?

Y/N: And what if I am?

Skinny Bone Jones: Well then I think I’d say that I’d feel a little left out of the party. And what a pretty little party too.

Skinny Bone Jones: But the party will have to continue later, sweetheart. Sungjin is calling me for a promo meeting and I’ve got to go.

Skinny Bone Jones: I love you.

Y/N: I love you too, Jae.

You’re a bit disappointed by the unresolved ache between your legs but you push the thought to the side. He’s busy. We’ll have plenty of time. You let the tension ebb out of your body for the second time that day and settle in to try and sleep. Besides, you just got together. For you to act like a sexed up crazy lady begging for him within days of you officially dating seemed a little absurd. No need to come across as desperate. Jae’s words echo back in your head ‘you sound so pretty when you’re desperate for me, baby.’ You huff and roll over on your side, trying to forget about the quality in his eyes when he stared down at you. Like he was seeing simultaneously the cutest and sexiest person he’d ever seen in his life. How unfair.

You swipe open your phone to see new messages from Jae. You open the first one and promptly drop your phone on your face.

It’s an image of Jae’s sweatpants clad lap. Specifically, the large bulge in aforementioned sweatpants. His free hand is against his thigh and in your sleep glazed mind you can imagine clear as day what it would look like for him to slowly wrap his hand around his half-hard dick through his pants. Fuck.

Skinny Bone Jones: See what you do to me? I have to go to my zoom meeting like this. You’re to blame for this babygirl, and believe me when I tell you I’m going to make you responsible for it.

An inhuman noise escapes you as you read and reread his message. Yup he said that.

You end up falling asleep with an ache between your thighs and your phone in your hand, waiting for his meeting to end. When you finally drifted off to sleep your dreams were littered with increasingly explicit images of Jae. The pretty noises he would make, how his collarbone and chest would look covered in pretty little red and purple bruises, his pretty hands on you. You wake up sweaty and needy and altogether unsatisfied. Rolling over, you reach for your phone and squint at the numbers illuminated there. 7am. Excellent.

Y/N: Good morning, Jae. My panties are suing.

Skinny Bone Jones: Well good morning to you too. Talk to my lawyer.

And so life goes for the next few weeks. You see Jae at the store every few days and make sure to go on your daily walks together. It’s really such a lovely time of togetherness. You invest yourself in the business, working hard to prove yourself capable before bringing the idea up to mom or dad. You had already rebranded the entire graphic design layout, updated the website, replied to every yelp review, ordered new signage, and resealed the vinyl tabletops before your parents started asking you about the residencies. You told them, very cautiously, about your ideas for the store and how you really loved the work. You loved to cook. You loved to manage. And you loved this store more than anything. You wanted to make it a legacy for years to come: not just a fleeting blip on a culinary map but an institution where families make memories for decades to come.

They were hesitant at first, questioning where these ideas were coming from and why you would abandon your medical training. Over the course of a few days you slowly watched them turn, not so much with their words but their actions. Your mom began asking your opinion on things and giving you more freedom to manage and make decisions. By the end of the week your dad burst in the store with a huge smile on his face and a very large, very heavy looking box.

“Y/N-ah, come here! Look what I got!”

You and your mom emerge from the kitchen to see your father ripping open the box and producing a sharp black shirt that says “Y/L/N’s Mandu: a family business” on it.

“I got shirts for catering! To look more professional!”

And so he did. He was beaming at you with pride and excitement and you knew this was as good as it gets. They may never say it themselves, but you could tell that they were so happy and proud to have you as part of the business. Yes, they would have to explain to the neighbors how their valedictorian daughter had left the medical field to chase her dreams. But did they care? I mean a little. But they finally made the decision to care more about their daughters' well being than the opinion of others. You watched that shift in their behavior and as proud as they were of you, you were so proud of them as well.

You had donned your new catering shirt while en route to meet Jae for your walk. He greeted you with the customary big hug and kiss on the forehead before asking how things were going with your parents. He had been following the situation closely and encouraging you the whole way but didn’t want to interfere. You give him a spin to show off your new catering shirt and he claps with joy.

“That’s amazing babe! I’m so happy for you!” He pulls you into a massive bear hug, picking you up slightly and spinning you around. Once the world stops spinning he’s planting a kiss on your lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Jae.”

You continue your walk around the neighborhood, hand in hand. You had discussed the issues of privacy and PDA in relation to him being an idol but he brushed it off. Jae insisted that you were safe in the neighborhood. Everyone in your block of houses knew about Jae and Day6 but also about your relationship. You grew up with these people- all of them. The majority of them were now very old and unbothered by the goings on of a local KPop star and his childhood friend. If you left the neighborhood you would have to be more careful but for now, he insisted all was well.

As you walked you discussed the changing attitudes of your parents, your tweaks to the menu, and your deluge of thinly veiled patronizing messages from med school ‘friends’. Jae engages well in conversation but every time you question him about his day, he becomes non committal. This has been worsening over the week at seemingly an inverse rate to your own positivity.

“Jae, what’s up? Are you okay? You’ve been kinda quiet the past few days. About Day6 stuff, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just stressed out, baby. I’ll be okay. This happens before every comeback. I start overthinking every little thing. Usually I have Brian and Sungjin to knock me out of it. Self doubt and creative isolation don’t really mix real well, yknow?”

“Mmm, I can understand that. I’m sorry baby, I had no idea. You know you can talk to me about that stuff right? I mean I’m no lyricist, but I know you. And I know how hard you can be on yourself. But better than anybody, I know how talented you are.”

“I know, Y/N. And thank you. I need the reminder sometimes that I have support. For a while all I really had was the guys, so they’re the default of who I turn to-“

“As you should.”

“-but you’re you. And you’ve been here since the beginning and watched me grow and I forget that I still have that. Sometimes I feel like I’m just weighing you down or worrying you needlessly with something you’re not a part of. I forget that you are a part of this process. You’ve been here from the beginning and you’re where it all started.”

You continue walking hand in hand until you reach your front door once more. Jae raises a hand to cup your face and kisses you on the forehead.

“I love you, Y/N. Thanks for being you.”

“I don’t know how to be anything different, but thank you. I love you too, Jae. My superstar.”

Jae smiles at that and kisses you again, deeply this time, and your world spins once more.

You say goodbye and head for your door before Jae grabs your hand and you turn around.

“Oh, babe! I forgot to tell you! Mom and dad want you to come over on Sunday for lunch if you’re up for it!”

“Oh, of course, Jae! I’d be happy to!”

The week drags on and you look forward to dinner, you truly do. But it’s a nervous excitement that floods through you whenever you think of it. You know his parents well and you’ve always gotten along, but you’ve never been dating their son before. You were worried this, and your career change, would put a target on your back. You had also never progressed in a relationship to a point where you had ‘met the parents’. Regardless of having met Mr and Mrs Park countless times before, this felt different: bigger.

You, of course, had no reason to worry. You went to socially distant church and then back to Sunday lunch with his family and were surprised by how at home you felt. You grew up in that house so of course it was familiar. Every play date, snack time, study session, had been held in this dining room so you knew it well. It just felt a little different now that you were with Jae… yknow, in the biblical sense. Of course, you hadn’t actually been with Jae yet, something you were being reminded of far too frequently by your touch starved brain. The hand resting on your thigh beneath the table wasn’t doing anything to assuage that feeling.

You enjoyed a stellar meal and sat and talked with his family for a while. His older sister was doing well and had stopped in just briefly to see her mom and dad for the first time since the quarantine. She coyly mentioned how pleased she was that you were together and told you to keep him in line for her. She was the only one to mention your new relationship, Jae’s mom and dad content with simply catching up and exchanging niceties. It’s entirely pleasant but you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A discussion to be had. Something. It never comes. Just small talk and support and bright smiles. How odd.

It’s around 4 or 5pm when Mr and Mrs Park announce that they’ll be leaving for a date.

You didn’t think we’d spend the whole day on this did you? We have the first socially distant reservation at that place downtown. You know, the one with the napkins and the crab? Oh! And the drive-in is open finally as well, we’re going to the double feature just like we did in high school, isn’t that right, darling? You’re the one that wanted to have lunch so bad Jaehyung, you clean up.

Jaes ears go a bit pink when his mom lets slip how hard he pushed for this lunch. Judging by the way he is returning your questioning looks, Jae is as shocked as you are by his parents sudden departure. Mrs.Park swipes on some lipstick and grabs her purse on the way out before finally landing her gaze on you. She walks toward you and gives you a quick, breezy hug. She smells like sweet pea and the lavender hand lotion that sits next to the sink. You’re at a bit of a loss. I think this was supposed to be a big deal. Should I say something? Mrs. Park sighs and chuckles a bit at your disgruntled demeanor.

“Look, Y/N, darling, we love you. You’re a sweetheart and we’ve watched you grow up. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re kind, you’re a good girl, your parents are lovely, you’ll make adorable grand babies. More than anything, my son loves you. You never needed our permission or consent or approval, but damned if you don’t have it. Now you two have a great night okay, I’m gonna go eat some lobster and fall asleep in a car.”

And with a nod from his father and a hasty, see you whenever from his mom, the door closes to your twin stunned silence.

“Um… babe? What just happened?” You ask broadly.

“Well… it looks like my parents like you-”

“So it would seem.”

“-more than me. They like you more than they like me.”

You help Jae clear the dishes and wash up the kitchen and dining area while unpacking the days events. You interrogate him for orchestrating this lunch and he laughs and justifies that he just really wanted you to break the ice with my parents. I mean I spend all day with your parents, doesn’t it just seem fair? You concede and finish stacking the last dish while Jae explains the plethora of threats that his sister ladened him with should he ever wrong you. Drying your hands on a towel, you wrap your arms around Jae and he pulls you close.

“You know baby, the drive-in is a double feature.” you say, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Mhmm.”

“And it doesn’t start til late.”

“Mhmm.”

“So…” you busy yourself fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater in an attempt to hide your reddening face. Is he going to make you spell it out for him?

“So you want to go to the drive-in? Is that what you’re saying?” Jae is looking at you far too intently and with just the smuggest look on his face, you can hardly take it. He’s staring down at you as you would a baby trying to say their first words come on you can do it, baby.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just- your parents are gonna be gone til like, 1,2am.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want, Y/N. Use your words.”

You suck in a deep breath and finally sigh out, almost painfully, “do you wanna fuck or not?”

Jae’s demeanor breaks and he laughs, “Well, don’t sound so excited, babe!”

“Look! I’m not used to this! I mean I’m used to sex. But you-this is different. Your attitude is different.”

“Do you not like it?” Jae immediately shifts back into his serious-sans-grim persona to insure that you are fully okay with everything that is happening here. “If you want me to drop the attitude, I’m more than happy to. I want you to feel comfortable and taken care of.”

“No! I-I really like it. It’s just disarming. I’ve never been with someone who actually knows how to do shit before. You have an effect on me. I’ve never been so affected by someone just talking to me. That’s why it’s weird.”

“Aw, babygirl, well I’m glad. And in answer, yes I’d very much like to fuck you. Nothing I’d like more, doll face.”

You giggle at the outdated pet name and preen a bit in the praise. Jae makes you feel so special.

As excited as you are, you suddenly remember that you were not at all expecting this tonight. You try to think of the last time you shaved thoroughly and cast your mind back to this morning with the selection of bra and panties. Hmm. That ain’t gonna work.

“Great! But first, I’m gonna run over to my house for just a few minutes and freshen up okay? I’ll be back in maybe… 20 minutes?”

“Of course, baby, do what you gotta do.”

You run down the street, shave, moisturize, change into the pink lacy teddy that you may or may not have bought a few weeks ago for this particular purpose, throw some ultimately irrelevant clothes on over it, and run back.

You slip your shoes off and let yourself in the front door but Jae isn’t in the front room. You look around the kitchen and dining room but the lights are off and he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Jae?” you call out.

“In here!” you hear hollered from a distant corner of the house. He must be in his bedroom.

You retrace your steps and let your muscle memory guide you through the once familiar halls and up the stairs . You open the door to a bedroom to find Jae standing, lighting a candle on one of his bookshelves. The light is a bit dim from just the sunset through the window and the candlelight but damn does he look good. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower because his hair is wet and his shirt is sticking to him. He puts the lighter down and stretches, his shirt rising and exposing the bottom of his stomach.

“It’s a good thing you had to run home, gave me time to take down my secret Jonas brothers posters.”

You’ve never been more in love in your life.

“You good babe?” Jae questions.

Apparently you had been staring blankly at him for some time now. Oops.

“Yeah, Jae. I’m good. I’m just in love with you.”

“Oh-ho-ho, well aren’t those just the magic words aren’t they?” Jae smiles and reaches his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you in and kisses you softly on the lips, sitting you down next to him on his bed.

“Are you sure you’re ready? I know you wanted this to be special. I didn’t really have time to plan. This isn’t what was supposed to happen-“

“Jae, I shaved for you. And besides, you’re all the special I need.” There’s a slight pause in which Jae looks down at you like he’s discovered solid gold before he clears his throat and continues.

“Well alright then.”

Jae winds his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. You oblige, bidding his tongue eager entrance to your mouth. His hand wraps around your waist and pulls you in close. This kiss is deep, urgent. You’re both panting by the time the kiss breaks and he presses soft, open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck as he picks at your shirt. His long fingers fiddle with the buttons, getting about half way down your shirt before you get greedy, burrowing under his shirt in turn. His skin is so warm and smooth and soft it’s addicting. You want it on every possible surface of your own skin. You bury your face in his neck as your hands explore his surprisingly toned chest and stomach. You suck on the juncture of his neck and he hisses before finally yanking his shirt off over his head.

“Next time you ask for what you want, understood, babygirl?”

Your mouth goes dry but your panties are largely ruined.

“Mhm.” you muster. Jae grabs your chin in his large hand and makes you look at him.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes sir.” you whisper.

“Good girl. Now take off your shirt.”

You strip down to your teddy and panties and sit patiently on the bed. Jae once again laces his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and tugs lightly, forcing you to look up at him.

“Oh, babygirl, you look so pretty. Such a good little babygirl for me. Can I make you mine? Hmm?”

“Babyyyyy.” you whine.

He bends down and connects his mouth to your neck, sucking harshly on that point just above your collarbone that makes all rational thought disappear. You can tell it’s already bruising and you couldn’t be happier.

Jae pulls you into his lap, sitting you fully on him and kissing you. You can feel a distinct hardness against your thigh and you can’t help but grind your ass down into his lap. His hands are gripping your ass tightly, kneading slightly but they hold you still when you start to grind into him.

“Tell me what you want baby. You’re already so desperate for my cock, hmm? Is that it? I haven’t even touched you yet, babygirl.”

You look up at Jae, eyes blown wide and lip pouty. You’re frustrated. You need him. He meets your gaze, eyes narrowed solely on you, bite-swollen lips fallen slightly ajar. His hand comes up from your hip to cup your jaw and his thumb traces your buzzing lips. Those pretty hands. You’ve been watching those hands for years and now they were finally on you. Your mouth falls open for him and your lips wrap around his thumb. He’s watching so intently, as if memorizing what you look like when you’re so fucked out for him. You suck on first his thumb then his other fingers before you realize that his other hand is guiding you on his lap, rocking you. You moan around his fingers as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. You whine and he chuckles.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it baby? You wanted to fall apart on top of me? Wanted to feel good? That’s how you’re gonna cum. You’re gonna fall apart on my leg for me. I’m not even gonna touch you. Not yet. You’re gonna earn it. That’s right. Such a good girl. Faster baby.”

If you had any pride, it disintegrated at the feeling that was building between your legs. You rock on his lap, still whining through Jae’s fingers in your mouth. You’re embarrassingly close, and Jae drives you endlessly closer, kneading your ass in time with your rocking motion and finally, just when you can’t take it, he places a sharp slap on your ass cheek that has you seeing white and whining his name, the coil that had been building in you for weeks finally snapping in a beautiful white heat washing over your body.

“Jaeeee! Fuuuckkk.” you whine

“Shhh, I know baby, I know.” He soothes, running his hand over your ass and letting you ride out your high, body shaking. Your forehead is resting on his shoulder as you slowly catch wind back in your lungs.

“Fuck.”you exclaim weakly.

“No kidding, doll face, ” he chuckles lowly, “I could watch you do that all day. In fact-“ Jae grabs your wrists and pushes you down into the bed so that your back is flush to the bed and your wrists are held above your head. “-I think I will.”

You wake up the next morning bruised and satisfied and so so happy. Jae made pancakes.

Epilogue

The Governor had lifted retail restrictions in LA and you watched everyone around you explode with excitement at the prospect of getting out of their houses. You felt so odd. You should be excited, and you want to be, honest; but with every new invitation that you get rolling into your DM's from well meaning friends, the less you want to go out. You had built a world during quarantine. You and Jae and your parents and the store and your stupid poster of Kevin Jonas: you had built a home at your house for the first time in years. If you emerged to the outside world now you were scared that it might pop like an iridescent bubble-a dream far too good to be true.

So you made excuse after excuse as to why you couldn't go out. Sorry love, I have a hair appointment that day. Aww babe, that club is always so full, can't we just stay in? You know I hate that sushi place, but bring me back some boba please! Love you! Now, having weathered through the first weekend after the restrictions lifted from the combined comfort of your own couch and bed, you had thoroughly convinced yourself of your lack of necessity for the outside world.

Your parents were thrilled that you hadn't bolted at the first sign of freedom since they were just getting to know their daughter. You were grateful for their cloying, sweet, hovering. They had never been great at showing their affection but your mom had been the first to clumsily burst the dam of closeness and positively glowed with pride and love at any given moment. The support was extreme, if a tad excessive. You appreciated the long talks about culinary school and chasing your dreams and her excitement for your goals- but you didn't think applause every time you opened the fridge was really necessary. Your dad too, had been investing time showing you old family recipes and feeding your passion and your appetite.

Jae, however, was not to be convinced of your apparent new found shrugging off of the outside world.

"Babe, don't you wanna go do something?" Jae has you in his arms, the both of you curled on the couch watching House MD reruns and critiquing the bad medicine just as you had been for the whole morning.

"It's beautiful outside. And places are open now, don't you wanna-"

"It's hot." Your tone is far more aggressive than you had intended and you flinch as he unravels himself from you to better address whatever issue he can sense brewing behind your defense. Now you've done it.

"Y/N, we live in LA. Of course it's hot." You sit up on the couch, sighing deeply, before facing him.

"What's going on babe? Why don't you want to leave the house?" Jae is looking at you with a level of concern that makes your throat a little tight and your chest a little light. Where were you in college? I could've used some looks like that, love. You take a deep breath in and steel yourself for the coming conversation. At the last possible second, you begin fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt and look away from his eyes. He sees too much.

"It's really no big deal, Jae, I just don't feel like going out."

"Mhmmm. I totally believe that." You look at him and instantly regret it. Shit, why does he have to look at me like that? Like I'm a 3 year old that skinned their knee and now he gets to kiss it better? Unfair.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I'm annoying. I won't drop it." Yes, yes I do.

"Alright, look," you begin.

"I like it here. The way it is. Exactly the way it is. I've never felt more comfortable and at home and loved in my life. I get to be with people I love with no obligations or timecards or tests or alarms. I get to cook with my dad. Cuddle with my boyfriend. Ignore calls from the student loan collectors. I don't have to think about my past or my future or our future, just the present. I've never been able to do that. And I feel like if we go out, or I go out- that will all be gone. Everything will come rushing back. All the stress and hiding and uncertainty is gonna come back and I'm not ready. I like it here." You don't remember when tears had started to well up behind your eyes but you willed them back down and swallowed your vulnerability. "Besides, don't you want to be careful? What if your fans see us together and freak out? You don't need that."

Jae takes your hand in his and his other hand rests on your jaw, cupping your face and twining in your hair. "Hey-hey-hey, baby." Jae coos softly. "Look at me." He tilts your face up to his and smiles at you slightly.

"I completely understand. The past 4 weeks have been the best that I've had in a long time. I know you're scared and you don't know what's going to happen next and there's way too much to consider in the coming weeks. You're going to be looking for jobs, meeting new people, seeing old friends that you're scared to disappoint. Not only is it a new world out there, you are a new person. A better person. A happier person. But you've got to trust that your sense of self is going to stick around even when then happiness goes away for a little while. You won't always feel this happy and warm and fulfilled but guess what? That's a good thing. We aren't given grand ideas and hopes and dreams just to think about how nice they'd be. We've got to actually go out there and do them. Which is hard and uncomfortable. But no one ever did anything worth doing without failing a bit." You sigh and sniffle a bit, shuffling slowly into his arms. You bury your face in his chest and just stay there for a minute before letting out a muffled: "I knoooow."

"I know you know, baby." Jae chuckles and rubs your back, "Do you remember what you told me when I was having a hard time on KPop Star?"

You shake your head no into Jae's chest.

"Well, you told me that 'Perfection is not an option. Your only option is imperfection. So don't be afraid of failure- embrace it. Try, fail, try again, fail again. Fail Better."

You're quiet for a minute as you let the truth of the statement sink in and assuage some of the rising panic in your chest.

"That wasn't me, that was Samuel Beckett. I just plagiarized it."

"Whatever, nerd, you still told me it."

You finally lift your head from Jae's chest and look him in the eyes. You're a little shocked by just how close your faces are but you persist, "I know, love. You're right. And thank you for reminding me. I just get so scared sometimes. I've taken some really big steps the past few weeks and I'm scared once my training wheels are off and I hit 'the real world' nothing will work out.

"What is this? A simulation?" Jae laughs but you can tell he knows exactly what you mean.

"Look. I'm real." He punctuates this assertion with a sweet peck on your lips.

"And this is real." Another kiss.

"And so is this." Another kiss.

He makes his point with one last final kiss that's deeper than the others. You slide further into his lap to deepen the kiss and he reciprocates. His tongue brushes past your lips and his grip tightens in your hair as a soft moan escapes you. Jae pulls back and smiles a cocky grin at you, in apparent awe of just how fucked out he got you with just a kiss. Embarrassed by your flush and loss of breath, you bury your face in the juncture of Jae's neck.

"Baaaaaabe are you sure we have to go out?", you whine, grinding your hips down into his lap just enough for him to get the gist.

"Haha Y/N, no!" Jae laughs a big belly laugh and shifts you off of his lap.

"I'm not that stupid. You aren't going to cheat me with your feminine wiles."

You return his energy with a giggle and oblige.

"Let's start off with something simple that you like to do. The thrift store on the south side opened up. Do you want to go take a look?" You perk up a bit at the idea of not only being able to dig through a Goodwill once more to find cute items, but the idea of making your boyfriend try on stupid stuff.

"Alright, attagirl! Let's go! I'll buy you anything you want in celebration of not having to wear those terrible scrubs ever again."

"Oooh, I've got myself a sugar daddy?"

"As long as we're going to Goodwill, sure! I don't mind giving up a bit of my lobster money for a pretty little lady." Jae's chest puffs out with some sick pride and you mentally note to yourself to find the most expensive thing in the store.

"Alright, let's go!"

You struggle to find parking in the congested area and you remind yourself to refrain from any PDA. You and Jae are friends in public. On the short walk to the Goodwill, Jae grabs your hand and you jump a bit.

"Shouldn't we be-"

"No. No we shouldn't be." Jae looks at you sideways, hand still wrapping yours.

"MyDay are chill. They've told me time and time again that they just want to see me happy. And guess what? Right now, if they can see me? I'm happy. There's nothing in my contract restricting dating and the team all knows anyway. We have nothing to hide."

"The team? Who..who exactly is 'the team', Jae?"

Jae goes a little red as if he's said too much.

"Y'know just...JYP" You stop dead in your tracks.

"JYP?! As in, the company? Or as in, Park Jin-young?!"

"....Yes."

"JAE! I thought you were just gonna tell YoungK and Sungjin and the members!"

"Yeah well... we have a group chat and I got a little excited. I wanted to tell everybody." The hilarity of the situation takes you over as you imagine what the contents of a group chat involving the CEO of a major company, and 5 crackheads may entail. You are caught in a laughing fit that nearly takes you down but Jae is just relieved to see that you're not upset.

"I mean it's not like I'm ever gonna meet the man.", you validate.

"...Well."

Luckily you're at the doors of the Goodwill and are able to effectively quiet him via face mask before he can ruin your life further.

FEEDBACK IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE :)

#jae #day6 #kpop #smut #fluff #Jaefluff #kpopfanfiction #park jaehyung #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #bts

19 notes · View notes

areyoureadyforsomemeatballz · 6 years

Text

Short Stack

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been on the lookout for the perfect girl to set up with Steve since the two of them were old enough to date. With Steve all but giving up hope what will happen when you come tumbling into their lives?

Pairing: Pre-serum Steve x Short!Reader

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: An attempted mugging (not in graphic detail). A couple swears, as per usual.

A/N: I couldn’t get this out of my head after reading this post from @captain-ariel-barnes . This one is for her, and any other smol cuties that love little Steve. Even though I’m a giant, at 5’9, I still had a blast writing this. I hope you guys enjoy it, let me know what you think!

All your life you have been told over and over again how dangerous it is living in New York City. Hearing such things at a young age had instilled in you the belief that there would be ruffians on every street corner and goons prowling in every alley. As an adult, you had come to realize that, though there was a threat it wasn’t as present as your overprotective parents would have you believe. Or, you had just been lucky enough to avoid those lurking in the shadows.

She needed help! That much was clear to you as you saw a woman struggling with a burly man in the alley outside the dress shop that you worked in. The woman was cowering against the wall. Fear evident on her face, even from your view at the opening of the alley.

“Hey,” you call out, hoping to distract the man. “Leave her alone.”

He turns slightly and gives you a once over. “Mind your own business, short stack. Me and my lady are just having a disagreement.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me. Just let the lady go, no questions asked.”

“Beat it, kid,” He grits out, turning back to the woman. “You don’t know who you’re talkin' to.”

The woman silently begs you for your help. Logically, you knew that you had absolutely no chance of fighting this man off. He towered over you, which at your height wasn’t much of a feat. You made the snap decision to find someone who could stop him. You rush out onto the street and your eyes land on a couple a few paces down from the alley, the man is much bigger than the attacker and looks kind. If under any other circumstances you would find him very attractive.

You sprint toward the pair and grab onto the man’s arm, trying to stop him from moving any further away. “Excuse me! There is a man in that alley,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb. “He’s harassing a lady and I tried my best to stop it, but I need help. She needs help.”

“We’re not interested. Can’t you see that we’re in the middle of something? James, we’ll miss the movie,” his date says while giving you a disapproving glare.

“Show me the way,” the man- James- says earnestly. “This’ll only take a second, Betty. The movie can wait.”

You grab onto James’s hand and race back to the alley, the man rifling through the woman’s purse without a care. She had fallen to her knees, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I’ll take it from here. You go wait by Betty,” James says as he’s already approaching the man.

“I don’t think so, Bucko. I need to make sure that she is okay.”

James rolls his eyes at you muttering something about stubborn hero types under his breath. He reaches out and grabs the man by his coat and sends him flying to the ground with a punch. The mugger is no match for James and the fight is quickly over. After he’s out cold you step over him and help the woman off of the ground and brush off her skirt.

“Are you okay, miss?”

She pulls you into a tight hug, tears streaming down her face and into your hair. You hug back tightly and whisper that she’s safe.

“He’d been harassing me at the diner that I waitress at, I had no clue that he’d follow me home,” she whispers tearfully. “I thought I was going to die.”

James clears his throat behind you, and you notice that there are two policemen with him. One slaps a pair of cuffs on the attacker and drags his limp form to the waiting car. You hadn’t even heard James leave the alley to fetch help.

“We can take it from here, ma’am,” the officer’s partner says to you.

You look at him skeptically, unwilling to leave this poor woman with strange men. James grabs onto your arm and pulls you away from the scene. “They’ll make sure she gets home safe. You’ve done everything that you can,” he whispers into your ear.

You make a noise of protest low in your throat, but you let him lead you back out of the alleyway.

“That was sure something, miss,” James says. “I’m not sure any sane woman would attempt to stop a fella that big without help.”

“I got help, you jerk. Do you think I pulled you off the street for your pretty face? The name is Y/N, not miss, by the way.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “No need for the sharp tongue, Y/N. All I mean is not many people would do what you just did.”

“James,” Betty whines as she approaches the two of you. “Can we please go now?”

“I’d like to see you again; do you think that would be possible?” James says as he looks down at you.

You shoot a pointed look at Betty. “You seem to have your hands awfully full already, James.”

A wide grin splits across his face. “Just as friends, then. There’s someone you remind me of and it’d be a crime if the two of you didn’t meet.”

You can’t help but like James and decide to give him the number of the dress shop so that he could reach out to you.

******

“I’m telling ya, Stevie, she’s like no dame that I’ve ever met!” Bucky says excitedly.

Steve gives him an unimpressed look and plucks a few fries out of the basket in between them. “I’m sure you two will be so happy together, that is until someone else catches your eye.”

“I already told you, it’s not like that you punk. Plus, what’s so wrong with sharing my time with as many girls as I can? It’s not a crime you know.”

Steve sighs and continues to eat, unable to make eye contact. “You have every girl in the city at your beck and call. I just want one who will take the time to get to know the skinny asthmatic, and maybe see something more with me.”

“That’s what I am trying to tell you! You never listen, Steve. I, your best friend in the world, am going to set up a double for us.”

“No.”

“Steve just-”

He begins to gather up their trash and stands up from the booth. “I am sick of you taking me on dates, only to have the girl disappointed when I show up.”

“She’s different, Steve. At least just meet her, it won’t be a date, I swear on my ma’s grave.”

“Your ma isn’t dead.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you, Rogers. You’re meeting her and that’s final. You two will be fast friends.”

******

“Jame- Bucky I don’t think your friend is very keen on meeting me. That, or he doesn’t exist and this is when I learn you were crazy all along.”

Bucky is sprawled across your sofa with a glass of lemonade in his hands. He made himself at home the second after stepping foot in your apartment. “Not imaginary, doll face. He’s just a little shy.”

You roll your eyes at the man as you continue to tidy up the room. “Why are you so insistent that we meet each other?”

“Stevie’s my family and you are quickly becoming a staple in my life, despite being a pain in my ass.”

“Get your feet off the sofa, James.”

“Okay, first off there’s the pain in my ass thing. Second, I want you to call me Bucky.”

“Bucky’s a stupid name,” you grumble under your breath.

******

Bucky is finally able to convince Steve to meet you after two months of begging. He promised that it wouldn’t be a date, the three of you were going to go out for drinks and to a dance hall. He had neglected to tell Steve about the dancing, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

You were running late at the shop and told Bucky that you would meet them at the dance hall. Your manager had been nice enough to let you wear one of the samples for the evening, which you paired with short heels and your grandmother's pearl necklace. You knew everyone would tower over you, even in the heels. But, you felt amazing in the newly altered dress.

As you bustle into the hall your eyes land on Bucky, a smile working its way on to your face. When you see the man beside him your heart nearly stops. He is beautiful. Bucky elbows him in the ribs and the man turns his piercing blue gaze on you in full force. He runs a hand through his tidy blond hair, mussing it up and making himself more attractive somehow.

Shaking your head, you force your legs to carry you toward Bucky and the angel- Steve. Bucky had said his name was Steve. As you approach the pair you clear your throat and give yourself a mini pep talk. Bucky had also said that this wasn’t a date, so the nerves were unwarranted.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Y/N,” Steve breathes your name out in awe. “Buck told me a lot about you.”

Bucky is behind Steve grinning like the cat who ate the canary, not that either you or Steve notice. “Well, it’s good to see you Y/N. But, there’s a lovely woman over by the band that’s demanding my attention.”

“Bucky, don’t-” Steve protests immediately.

Bucky cuts him off with a wink. “I’m sure you two kids will find something to talk about.” He’s gone in a flash, leaving the two of you to try and make conversation.

“So, uh- tell me about yourself, Steve.”

“There’s not much to tell, I’m pretty dull. Uh, I guess I’m an artist, but other than that I’m a run of the mill guy.”

“I don’t believe that for one second. Tell me about your art,” you say smiling at him. “I mean, only if you want to, that wasn’t a demand.”

You feel your checks heat up and your eyes drop to the bar. God, when had you become so terrible at talking to men? Was it just this man affecting you? Steve doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment and he turns around to retrieve his messenger bag from under the bar, pulling out a sketchbook.

“I can do you one better! I can show you,” Steve says excitedly. “These are my newest works, but I have loads of sketchbooks.”

He prattles on about art for twenty minutes, with you hanging on his every word. “Anyway, painting has become one of my favorite mediums, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop sketching…” He trails off midsentence and you look up from the sketchbook.

“I’m so sorry, I’m probably boring you to death. I’ve been going on for so long. I just get excited. You’re free to go find someone else, maybe someone that can hold a normal conversation or give you a dance,” Steve says while looking away from you.

He was as nervous as you, which bolstered your confidence a bit. “Steve, no! I don’t know if you noticed but, I was very much enjoying that conversation. You are so passionate, and besides, I’d much rather sit here with you than dance with any bloke here.”

Steve’s ears perked up at this and a gentle smile lights up his already radiant face. “Not even Bucky?”

“Especially not Bucky. He’s a good friend, but not really my type.”

“What is your type, if I may ask?”

You give him a shy smile. “I think I’m still figuring that out, but you’ll be the first to know.” You reach across the bar top and take his hand in yours.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Steve blurts.

Your eyes widen and you move to pull your hand away from his. “Steve, I-”

“Goodness, not like that! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean like that! I just wanted to get out of the crowd. Maybe we can go to the diner across the street and talk more? I can walk you home after, too.”

It was easy to see that he was being genuine and you were tired of the booming crowd anyway. “I’d love to. But only if we get a milkshake and fries.” You grab on to Steve’s hand as he leads the two of you through the thick cluster of people, missing the smile on his face.

Steve makes eye contact with Bucky across the room. Bucky shoots him a thumbs up while making a kissing face. Steve rolls his eyes and passes his coat over to you, which you slip into easily. Steve tucks you into his side to protect you from the cold New York air.

As the two of you make your way across the street you lay your head on his shoulder and wonder how this amazing man hasn’t been snapped up already.

******

“I am going to have my hands full with those two,” Bucky declares to himself.

His dance partner looks up at him, confused. “What was that, James?”

“Nothing, darling. I was just thinking out loud.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #catfa #ca:tfa #reader insert #pre serum steve

879 notes · View notes

24stiles920 · 6 years

Text

Wolf Moon

Teen Wolf Rewrite

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Ages 16+, swearing,

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Harry Potter. I am just borrowing the spells and potions from the wonderful Harry Potter Universe, not stealing them.

Words: 7512

A/N: So here is my new rewrite! As you can see things are a little different, but some things are the same. I really hope you like it, and stick with me through this adventure.

Series Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

“Lumos.” I whispered clearly, holding my wand over the book that I wanted to read. The tip of my wand lit up, allowing me to read the words of Harry Potter, a book that was near and dear to me.

JK Rowling was a witch like me, and she decided to make a cover for our species by writing the Harry Potter series. Most of the book’s elements were fictional, like the candy, the schools, the government, and the age restrictions, but the spells and potions were real.

There were very few witches and wizards left in America, my dad and I being two of them, as they were hunted down by families of supernatural hunters. Families like the Argents, who didn’t care if they were splitting families apart just because someone was a little bit different than them.

Creak!

I perked up anxiously at the loud noise outside my bedroom, just past the French doors that led to my balcony.

I slowly stood from my massive bed, hid my wand, (mahogany, 9 ½ inches, unicorn hair), and approached the doors, opening them cautiously.

“Stiles!” I exclaimed as I witnessed the boy climbing over the railing of the balcony.

“I’m here, too.” A voice to my left made me jump about fifty feet in the air.

“Scott!” I whispered harshly. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Stiles complained, standing up and towering over my five-foot frame.

“And you decided to come here, why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this.” Stiles started, holding up his hands. “I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.”

“For what?” I asked, a little interested.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles answered.

“A dead body.” Scott added.

I gave Scott a deadpan look, to which he looked away sheepishly.

“Like murdered?” I guessed, looking back to Stiles.

“Nobody knows yet.” Stiles shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. “Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” I asked curiously.

“That’s the best part.” Stiles said excitedly. “They only found half.”

“How in the hell is that the best part?” I pursed my lips at him.

“I don’t know, but we’re going.”

“Are we seriously doing this?” I questioned as the three of us got out of Stiles’ jeep.

“You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” Stiles joked, patting me on the shoulder as he passed me, turning on the flashlight.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Scott gave me an assuring glance. “He got me up, too.”

“You were awake!” Stiles protested.

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott replied scathingly.

“Right, cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort.” Stiles scoffed.

“No, because I’m playing this year.” Scott informed us. “In fact, I’m making first line.”

“Hey, that’s the spirit.” Stiles exclaimed sarcastically. “Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.”

“Stiles, be nice.” I scolded, elbowing him in the ribs. “At least Scott’s out there trying to follow his dreams.”

“Yeah, Stiles.” Scott mocked from behind me. I rolled my eyes. Boys.

“I’m following my dreams, thank you very much.” Stiles insisted. “My dream is to find this body, so shut up and keep looking.”

I huffed and kept my eyes peeled, looking down at the ground for the body. We walked in silence until Scott spoke up, clearly not caring about Stiles’ rule.

“Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?” Scott asked.

“Huh!” Stiles laughed nervously. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Are you kidding me, Stiles?” I asked harshly, sending him a glare. I was about to take my wand out of my rain boot and full-body-bind him when Scott spoke again.

“And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

“Also something I didn’t think about.” Stiles acknowledged as he started up a small, but steep hill.

“It’s comforting to know you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail.” I spat, out of breath as I climbed after him, glancing at his ass out of the corner of my eye.

“I know.” Stiles called out.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott wheezed from behind us, causing me to turn around to find him collapsed against a tree, using his inhaler.

Stiles ignored him though, grabbing my hand and dragging me down to the muddy ground to look at the group of lights up ahead. Scott dropped down next to us, effectively squishing me in the middle.

“Wait, come on!” Stiles exclaimed, grabbing me again and pulling me to my feet. He started running, and, not wanting to be left behind with a killer on the loose, I followed him, ignoring Scott’s calls.

“Stiles, Y/N!” Scott yelped. “Wait up! Stiles! Y/N!”

Stiles and I turned around to look for Scott, but fell to the ground, surprised, when a dog barked at us.

“Woah!” I shrieked, flailing my arms as Stiles rolled on the ground.

Stiles eventually got a hold of himself and stood before offering me a hand up like a true gentleman.

“Hold it right there!” Someone yelled harshly at us. I squinted in the sudden bright light to see that it was a cop screaming at us.

“Hang on, hang on.” I heard the tell-tale drawl of Noah Stilinski, other wise known as the sheriff of Beacon Hills and Stiles’ father. We were in deep shit. “These little delinquents belong to me.”

Stiles grabbed my hand and pulled my arm, heaving me to my feet with surprising strength. I wiped the mud off my jeans and glanced at Noah sheepishly. This man was my Godfather, and I hated letting him down.

“Dad, how are you doing?” Stiles greeted his father casually.

Noah pursed his lips, looking at Stiles unimpressed. “So, do you listen in to all of my phone calls?”

“No, heh.” Stiles laughed awkwardly. “Not the boring ones.”

The rain had started to really pour down now, soaking my canvas jacket and freezing me to the bone.

“Now, where your other partner in crime?” Noah asked.

“Who, Scott?”

“Who’s Scott?” I babbled, my nerves taking control of my mouth. Stiles put his hand over my mouth, his calloused fingers connecting with my lips.

“Sc-Scott’s at home.” Stiles told his father. “He said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow. It’s just Y/N and me. In the woods. Alone.”

Noah got a weird glint in his eye as he looked at Stiles and I, before he turned towards the tree line, shining his flashlight to look for Scott.

“Scott, you out there?” Noah called out. “Scott?”

When there was no response, Noah sighed and nodded his head in disappointment. He walked over to Stiles and grabbed the back of his neck.

“Well, young man, I’m gonna walk you both back to your car and you’re going to take Y/N home. And when I get home, you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.”

We started walking back to Stiles’ jeep, the awkward silence deafening.

“So, you guys were alone?” Noah asked. “Like, alone-alone?”

“No!” Stiles quickly exclaimed before I even understood what Noah was talking about. “Y/N and I aren’t like that.”

Now realizing what Noah meant, my cheeks flushed, and I was a little hurt. I’d had a crush on Stiles for years. Literal years. I loved his goofy sense of humor, the way he researches everything, his sense of style, his sarcastic personality, and his looks were nothing to complain about, either.

“Oh.” Noah said, looking somewhat disappointed.

We came up to the entrance of the preserve now, spotting the blue of Stiles’ jeep easily.

“Okay, Stiles, get Y/N home and come straight to the house, got it?” Noah asked, looking at his son sternly.

“Yes, sir.” Stiles mumbled, starting the jeep.

“Uh, Noah?” I asked, leaning forward so I could see him. “You’re not going to tell my parents, are you?”

“Of course, I am, Y/N.” Noah said, shaking his head. “But it can wait until morning.”

“Good morning, Beacon Hills! It’s a great day for the kiddos to go back to school after a long winter break—”

I shut of the alarm on my iHome by slamming my fist on the button forcefully, tired of hearing the chipper voice of the radio DJ. I groaned as I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and blinking rapidly to clear my blurred vision.

“Tired?”

I jumped at my mom’s voice, nearing falling out of bed. I looked to see my mom and dad, standing there with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Mom! Dad!” I whined, throwing my arms in the air.

“I just got a call from Noah.” Dad said in a fake casual voice. “Want to explain?”

I sighed and told them the story about how Stiles came to the house, but I twisted it a little, trying to make it seem like I went so Stiles wouldn’t get himself in trouble. It was a selfish move, but my parents were brutal with groundings.

“Fine.” Mom exhaled. “I can see that you were trying to keep Stiles out of trouble, but next time, you’re grounded, clear?”

“Crystal.” I said solemnly.

“Good.” Mom nodded, her curly bob bouncing. “We’ve got to get to work, so get dressed for school.”

My parents shuffled out of my room and shut the door firmly, leaving me alone to get ready for school. I took a quick shower, washing off the rest of the grime from last night, before drying and curling my hair.

I entered my closet and picked out a taupe colored t-shirt, a plaid skater skirt, and some black mary-jane wedges, before topping it off with a black peacoat. I grabbed my wand and shoved it in my Michael Kors tote bag with the rest of my school stuff and ran downstairs, hopeful that my parents didn’t leave without me.

After being dropped off at school, I stood waiting for Stiles to arrive. While I was waiting my phone chirped with a text message from Scott.

Was attacked by something last night. Tell you more later.

I sighed as I read the text, my nerves bubbling inside my stomach. What the hell could’ve attacked Scott but left him alive? It just didn’t make sense.

“Hey, Y/N.” Stiles greeted as he approached me.

“Where’s Scott?” I asked, not even acknowledging his greeting. “Is he okay? Oh, my God, we shouldn’t have left him. This is not okay!”

“Y/N!” Stiles yelled, grabbing my upper arms tightly and pulling me closer to him. “Scott was obviously well enough to text us, okay? You need to calm down and use your brain sometimes.”

“Hey, I’m smarter than you.” I pointed out, extremely offended. Sure, I didn’t have the most common sense, but I had a 5.0 GPA, which was second in the class. “Anyway, did Scott give you any more information?”

“Well, he was bit by something.” Stiles sighed, “But that’s all he told me.”

“Oh, my God, Stiles, this is all our fault.” I groaned. “I—”

“Hey, guys!” Scott greeted us, sounding very chipper. I turned to face him with a bewildered face.

Before I could say anything, Stiles spoke up.

“Okay, let’s see this thing.” Stiles said excitedly to Scott. Scott lifted up his dark gray t-shirt to reveal a large path of blood speckled gauze taped haphazardly to his tan skin.

“Ooh!” Stiles cooed, reaching forward to touch the covered wound. Before he could make contact, I grabbed his hand and pulled it away from Scott’s body, so he couldn’t poke at it.

“So, what it the hell attacked you?” I asked, clearing my throat.

Scott shrugged on his backpack. “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

I looked at him in quiet confusion. There were no wolves in California. Stiles and I had to do a report together one time about animal migration and we concluded that there hadn’t been wolves in California in sixty years.

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles asked, his tone doubtful.

Scott nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“No, not a chance.” Stiles denied, shaking his head.

“I heard a wolf howling.” Scott declared as we started walking towards the entrance of the school.

“No, you didn’t.” Stiles insisted.

Scott gave Stiles a glare, annoyed by the taller boy’s defiance.

“What do you mean, no, I didn’t? How do you know what I heard?”

Stiles walked ahead a little then abruptly turned around, stopping Scott and I in our tracks.

“Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not in, like, sixty years.” Stiles informed Scott.

Scott tilted his head at the new information, soaking it in. “Really?”

“He’s right, Scott.” I said gently. “There are no wolves in California.”

Scott sighed, but then perked up. “All right, well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body.”

Stiles flailed his arms excitedly, almost hitting me in the boob. “You—are you fucking with us?”

Scott grinned. “No, man, I wish. I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.”

“I can give you some tea to help you with that, Scott.” I spoke up, thinking about the Dreamless Sleep potion my dad often made.

“Oh, god, that is fucking’ awesome!” Stiles said loudly, ignoring my offer to Scott. “I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since—”

He looked past Scott and I with a dreamy look in his eyes. I turned around to see Lydia Martin, the queen bitch of the school.

Stiles has been in love with her since the third grade. It was seriously depressing, and I hated the feeling I always had when he talked about her.

I scowled at the ground as Stiles continued, “Since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia—” He called out. “You look—like you’re gonna ignore me.”

Lydia did indeed ignore him. She walked past us and chatted with her air-headed friend. Stiles stared wistfully after her before turning back to Scott and I.

“You two are the cause of this, you know.” He accused us.

Scott and I shared a look. Scott’s was amused, mine was annoyed.

“Uh-huh.” We said in unison.

“Dragging me down to your nerd depths.” Stiles continued. “I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been scarlet-nerded by you guys.”

The bell rang, and I started walking off to class, not bothering to wait for the boys.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Stiles called out.

I turned back to him and said bluntly, “To prove how nerdy I am by going to class.”

Scott laughed, and Stiles shook his head grinning as they both ran to catch up with me.

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." Mr. Curtis announced in front of the class in English. Scott and I looked back at Stiles where he shot us a wink, followed by a snicker.

"And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened." Mr. Curtis continued. "But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

Mr. Curtis held up a thick, white packet of paper and the entire class groaned in annoyance.

I was on page nine of the syllabus (seriously, how many pages were there?) when the door to the classroom opened and Mr. Donovan, the vice-principal that no one ever sees, walked in with a tall, stylish girl with dark curls that fell down to her waist.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent." Mr. Donovan declared. "Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

I sneered at her last name, but ultimately decided to get to know the girl and decide for myself whether or not she was a threat.

Allison ducked her head as she walked to the only empty seat, which happened to be right behind Scott. I watched curiously as Scott reached for the extra pen on his desk and turned around, handing the pen to her.

Allison, who looked confused, grabbed it delicately. "Thanks."

Mr. Curtis cleared his throat then. "We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis, on page one hundred and thirty-three."

•

At the end of the day, when I was opening my locker, I noticed that Allison was right next to me, struggling to open hers.

"You have to jiggle it a little bit." I advised her. "Otherwise it gets stuck."

Allison smiled over at me before giving the lock a jiggle. The locker popped open.

"Thanks." She sighed, putting her books in the metal case.

"No problem." I said. "I'm Y/N Stark. We have English and Econ together."

"Oh yeah," Allison breathed. "Nice to meet you. I'm Allison Argent."

"Well, Allison Argent, you are my new bestie." I declared. "Forget Stiles and Scott. You're cooler and more fashionable."

"Oh, thank you." Allison said dramatically. "I was beginning to think I would never make friends!”

We laughed together but a voice interrupted us, "That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?"

Lydia Martin stood before us, her hand held up in a preppy way.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco." Allison told her.

Lydia nodded and turned to me. "And you," she glanced down at my outfit and slowly smiled. "Your outfit is adorable. Are you new too?"

"Lydia, we've been in the same classes since third grade." I deadpanned.

Lydia nodded slowly. "Right. Well," She clapped. "You two are my new best friends."

Fucking great.

Jackson Whittemore, the captain of the lacrosse team and the most popular guy in school, walked up to Lydia and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Hey, Jackson." Lydia greeted before slamming her lips back to his. Finally, after they were done disgusting Allison and I, Lydia turned back to us.

"So, this weekend, there's a party."

"A party?" Allison repeated.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah. Friday night. You both should come."

Allison grimaced. "Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking."

Jackson looked at her in disbelief. "You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Allison asked hopefully.

Jackson scoffed, causing the brunette to shrink away from him. "Football's a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the past three years."

Lydia beamed and cupped Jackson's cheek. "Because of a certain team captain."

Jackson preened under her attention before turning back to Allison and I. "Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don't have anywhere else—"

"Well, I was going to—"

"Perfect—" Lydia interrupted Allison. "You're coming."

Lydia grabbed both mine and Allison's hands and dragged us down the hall to her locker. She opened it up quickly and pulled out a dressy coat and a hat.

"I'm Lydia Martin, by the way." She hummed, fixing her hair in the mirror. "What are your names?"

"Allison Argent." Allison responded.

"Y/N Stark." I said dully.

Lydia blew a kiss at herself in the mirror and turned back to us. "Wonderful. Come on, practice is going to start soon."

We made our way to the lacrosse pitch and climbed the small set of bleachers. Stiles and Scott stood by the bench and I waved at them.

Stiles looked at me in astonishment and subtly pointed at Lydia. I rolled my eyes and shrugged in return.

"Who's that?" Allison asked, nudging me with her super sharp elbow.

"Oh, that's Stiles, my best friend." I answered her.

Allison nodded, a secretive smile of her face. She nodded to the player in goal. "What about him?"

I squinted at the player and saw a number eleven etched on the back of his practice jersey. Holy shit, Scott was in the goal! He never plays!

"Him? I'm not sure who he is." Lydia answered, butting into our conversation. "Why?"

Allison shook her head. "He's in my English class."

"That is Scott McCall. He's like my brother, and is, indeed, in our English class." I whispered to her.

Allison grinned widely.

The assistant coach blew his whistle prompting the practice to begin. I watched as Scott clutched his helmet, squirming around.

Was he in pain? What's wrong with him?

The first player in line booked forward and shot the ball straight towards the goal. The ball hit Scott right on the helmet, making him fall to the ground.

"Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!" Jackson yelled to Scott as everyone else laughed.

Scott stood back up slowly, ready to prove everyone wrong.

"C'mon, Scott." I whispered, clenching my hands into fists.

The next player in line ran forward and shot the ball. It landed right in Scott's net.

"Yeah!" I heard Stiles call out, while I clapped enthusiastically.

The line of players dwindled down. They each threw the ball and Scott caught it every single time.

I was so proud of my son.

"He seems like he's pretty good." Allison observed.

"Oh, very good." Lydia purred.

Jackson angrily strutted up to the front of the line and put his stick out in front of the next player, effectively cutting the line. He started running towards the goal in an almost dramatic way. He twisted his stick and jumped into the air, whipping the ball towards the net.

I held my breath, but I didn't need to, because Scott caught that damn ball in one swift maneuver.

Stiles jumped up and screamed out in joy, throwing his arms up in the air. I bounced in place, clapping madly as I grinned at Scott. Even Lydia got up and cheered loudly, which surprised me.

"That is my friend!" Stiles yelled loudly, causing me to laugh loudly.

“I don’t—I don’t know what it was.” Scott said in an amazed tone as he splashed through a creek in the preserve. We were trying to find Scott’s inhaler, which he lost last night, and the subject of lacrosse practice came up.

“It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.” He continued. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I-I can—hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things?” Stiles asked in an amused voice. “Like what?”

“Like the coconut scented lotion Y/N uses and the mint-mojito gum in your pocket.” Scott proclaimed, pointing at Stiles’ jacket.

Stiles paused and dug his hand into his jacket pocket. “I don’t even have any mint-mojito—”

Stiles pulled out a piece of green gum and looked at it in amazement. Scott gave him an ‘I-told-you-so’ look.

“So all this started with a bite.” Stiles stated, running to catch up with Scott and I, who had continued to walk while he had paused.

“What if it’s like an infection,” Scott worried. “Like, my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“You know what? I actually thing I’ve heard of this—It’s a specific kind of infection.” Stiles told Scott.

“Are you serious?” Scott asked Stiles with a horrified expression.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded, putting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, I think it’s called—lycanthropy.”

I pursed my lips and gave Stiles a glare. Lycanthropy was not something to joke about, and if Scott was actually a werewolf, then he was screwed. Especially if the Argents were in town.

Scott, my dear Scott, didn’t know what lycanthropy was, though.

“What’s that?” He asked. “Is that bad?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst.” Stiles confirmed Scott’s worst fear. “But only once a month.”

“Once a month?” Scott asked before looking at me for confirmation. “Like a per—”

“No, Scott, you won’t have a period.” I toned, rolling my eyes while Stiles snickered.

“It’s on the night of the full moon, Scott.” Stiles declared before howling loudly.

Scott scowled at Stiles and shoved his shoulder while Stiles chuckled.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling.” Stiles laughed, raising his arms in defeat.

“Hey, there could something seriously wrong with him, Stiles.” I spoke up, annoyed.

“I know! He’s a werewolf!” Stiles exclaimed before fake growling. Scott and I both gave him an unamused look. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

Scott stopped walking suddenly, looking around as though he recognized where we were at.

“No, I-I could have sworn this was it.” Scott said as he crouched down, sifting through some dead leaves. “I saw the body; the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.” I suggested solemnly.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler.” Scott said, looking up at me. “Those things are like eighty bucks.”

Stiles and I snickered, but all of a sudden, Stiles pulled me behind him, protecting me from whatever he saw behind me.

“Stiles, what?”

“Shh.” He whispered.

I leaned around him to see a young man, probably a couple years older than us, approach. He looked eerily familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

“What are you doing here?” The guy asked harshly. “Huh? This is private property.”

Private property? The only house near here was the old, burnt down Hale house. How could he know about that? Then it clicked. This was Derek Hale, one of the only survivors of the Hale House fire.

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know.” Stiles apologized, rubbing his head nervously.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but—” Scott said, pausing when Derek gave him an expectant look. “Uh, forget it.”

Derek whipped something at Scott, who caught the thing easily, and turned to leave, but not before giving me a curious glance. I turned to Scott to see him holding his lost inhaler, staring at it curiously. When I looked back up, Derek was gone.

“Uhm. All right, come on, I gotta get to work.” Scott said, starting to walk away when Stiles stopped him.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale.” Stile told him. “You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?” Scott asked.

“His family.” Stiles explained. “They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.”

“It was six.” I murmured, remembering the event quite clearly. I had woken up in the middle of the night screaming my head off, telling my mom about a house caught on fire. The next morning the story about the Hale’s was in the paper.

“What?”

“The fire was six years ago.” I spoke louder. “I wonder what he’s doing back?”

Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. “Who knows. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I sighed as I relished in the soft, but toned physique of Stiles’ chest, resting my head on his right pec. One of his arms was wrapped around my body, his hand resting on my lower back, while his other arm tapped a rhythm on his toned stomach.

We cuddled often, which was weird to say since we’re just friends. It mostly came up when one of us was feeling vulnerable, or even just tired, and we needed someone to hold on to.

The sound of my phone ringing brought me out of my sleepy daze and Stiles groaned, burying his face in my hair. I slowly untangled myself from his form and grabbed my phone, taking a seat at my desk.

“Hey, Allison.” I chirped. My tone was perky, but I was really feeling the opposite.

“Oh, my God, Y/N, I have so much to tell you.” Allison gushed as a greeting. “I hit a dog—"

“You hit a dog?” I asked in shock. “You hit a pour doggo?”

“Yeah, but—” Allison started to say, but was interrupt by Stiles’ loud groan.

“Y/N, come on.” Stiles groaned.

“Who was that?”

“I’m talking to Allison right now, you’ll have to wait.” I told Stiles.

“Y/N, who’s that?” Allison repeated.

“It’s Stiles.” I answered her reluctantly, scared of what questions she was going to ask.

“What were you doing? Did I interrupt something?”

“No, we were just cuddling.” I assured her. “He can wait.”

“You guys cuddle? Are you together?” She asked.

“Yes, to your first question, no to your second.” I sighed. “Now tell me what happened.”

“So, I hit a dog, right? Well, I figured I should take it to the animal clinic, and it turns out that Scott was there. He totally repaired her leg and put a cast on it. Then—”

“Spit it out!”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Anyway, Scott asked me to go to Lydia’s party with him!”

“No!” I gasped. Scott ask a girl out? Never in a million years did I think this would happen.

“Yes!” She squealed.

“What’d you say? What about your family night?”

“Family night was a total lie and I told him yes!”

“Yes!” I hissed in celebration. I turned to Stiles, who looked at me expectantly. “Scott asked Allison on a date and she said yes!”

“Whoopee!” Stiles said sarcastically causing me to scowl at him.

“Anyway, I have to go Y/N.” Allison said. “See you later.”

“Bye!” I sang into the receiver before hanging up. I twirled around in my chair to face Stiles, who opened up his arms.

“C’mere.”

I sighed and stood up, walking over to my bed and crawling over to him. We situated ourselves so that he could be the little spoon. He sighed in content as he laid his head on my breasts.

“You have nice boobs.”

“Thanks, I think.” I snickered.

“It was a compliment.”

The rest of the week went by quickly with more weird behavior from Scott. He was doing really well in lacrosse, even though he sucked horribly before, he didn't use his inhaler at all, and he even told Stiles and I that he slept walked into the woods one night.

"Y/N, you'll never guess what I overheard on the phone." Stiles panted as he ran up to me before the last elimination round practice.

"What?"

"The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods." He informed me.

"What animal?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"It was a wolf." He said solemnly.

"But I thought that there are no wolves in California?"

He nodded. "But what if— Y/N, what if my joke the other day was true?"

"What, the werewolf joke?" I asked astonished. I hoped it wasn’t true, but all the signs pointed to it. From what my dad told me about werewolves, Scott could very well be one.

"Look, I know how dumb it seems," Stiles started. "But the new reflexes, the sensitive hearing and sense of smell? He doesn't even need his fucking inhaler anymore—"

Stiles was still rambling cutely but stopped once I interrupted him.

"I believe you."

"You do?" He asked in disbelief. "I mean, great!"

"What do we do?"

Stiles paused for a minute, clearly thinking of a plan.

"Alright, you go to the library, get as many books on lycanthropy as you can find, them meet me at my house at seven." He ordered.

"Yes sir." I nodded, causing Stiles to look at me with a strange expression. "What?"

Stiles shook his head. "N-nothing."

It was me who was giving him a look now. I shook my head before running to my bike.

•

I arrived at Stiles' house with a bag full of books and let myself in my own key. I made my way up to his room and swung the door open, causing the boy of my affections to jump in his seat.

Stiles turned to me and saw I was struggling with the sack of heavy books I was carrying. He walked over to me and surprisingly kissed my cheek and took the bag from me.

My face burned from where he kissed it, so I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see me blushing.

"You look nice." Stiles smiled gently at me.

"Oh." I squeaked in surprise. "Thank you. Uh, the party's at ten, so I figured we could head over there after we tell Scott."

He sat down in his chair heavily, a gloomy look on his face. "I wasn't invited to the party."

“Well, Lydia said to invite anyone we wanted, so now you’re invited.” I said with a smile.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Stiles grinned.

I smiled back at him genuinely and took a seat on his bed, taking a book out to start reading.

Two hours later, Stiles' floor was covered with print outs of information about werewolves. I had almost fallen asleep twice already, but Stiles shouted my name each time to wake me up.

There was a knock on the door causing both Stiles and I to jump in our seats. Stiles closed his MacBook and wandered over to his door. He opened it, revealing a smiling Scott.

“Get in.” Stiles sighed. “You gotta see this thing.”

He ushered Scott in and Scott set his backpack down next to me.

“Y/N and I've been up all night reading—websites, books. All this information.” Stiles rambled.

Scott looked on amused. “How much Adderall have you had today?”

“A lot.” I told Scott. I had seen Stiles take at least three pills since I’ve been here.

“Doesn't matter.” Stiles shook his head. “Okay, just listen.”

Scott sat down on the bed. “Oh, is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?”

“No, they're still questioning people, even Derek Hale.” Stiles informed him.

“Oh, the guy in the woods that we saw the other day.”

“Yeah!” Stiles exclaimed. “Yes. But that's not it, okay?”

“What, then?” Scott asked.

Stiles sighed. “Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.”

Scott looked confused, so I jumped in to help him remember. “The wolf, Scott—the bite in the woods.”

“We started doing all this reading.” Stiles said before standing up. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should I?”

“It’s a signal.” I said, remembering the passage from the lycanthropy book I read. “When a wolf’s alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack.”

“So, if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby.” Stiles took over. “Maybe even a whole pack of ‘em.”

Scott perked up, his eyes wide. “A whole pack of wolves?”

“No—” Stiles grimaced. “Werewolves.”

Scott stared at Stiles with a blank face before heaving himself to his feet. “Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.”

Scott grabbed his backpack and started to leave, but Stiles put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I saw you on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn’t just amazing, all right? It was impossible.”

“Yeah, so I made a good shot.” Scott mumbled, going to leave.

Stiles stopped him again and grabbed his backpack, slamming it down on the bed.

“No, you made an incredible shot, I mean—the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. Y’know, people can’t just suddenly do that overnight. And there’s the vision and the senses, and don’t even think we don’t notice that you don’t need your inhaler anymore.

“Okay!” Scott exclaimed. “Guys, I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” I shrieked. “What? No! The full moon’s tonight. Don’t you get it?”

“What are you guys trying to do?” Scott spat, his eyes narrowed. “I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?”

Stiles sighed as he sat down in his desk chair. “We’re trying to help. You’re cursed, Scott. You know, and it’s not just the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

Scott stared down at Stiles blankly. “Bloodlust?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, your urge to kill.”

Scott breathed in deeply. “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles.”

I picked up the book I had discarded and held it up to my face. “You gotta hear this: “The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.”” I read out loud. “All right? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does.”

Stiles stood up and crossed the room to the bed. “You gotta cancel this date.” Stiles rummaged through Scott’s backpack. “I’m gonna call her right now.”

“What are you doing?” Scott groaned.

Stiles grabbed Scott’s cellphone from the front pocket of his backpack and walked back to his desk. “I’m canceling the date.”

“No, give it to me!” Scott shouted, grabbing Stiles firmly by the biceps and pushing him into the wall. He held up a fist to Stiles’ face as if to punch him, but he paused at my yelp.

“Scott!”

Scott roared in anger and swiped at the desk chair, knocking it over. His heavy breathing evened out in puffs as he looked back at a disgruntled Stiles.

“I’m sorry.” Scott said, pulling away from Stiles. “I—I gotta go get ready for that party.”

He walked to me and I picked up his backpack, silently handing it to him.

“I’m sorry.” Scott repeated as he opened the door, giving Stiles one last look before shutting the door.

I rushed over to Stiles and reached up to cup his face in my palms. “Are you okay?”

Stiles eyes gazed into my own and I felt my heart melting at the emotion in them.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” I whispered. “That’s good.”

I slowly pulled away from him and turned, picking up the desk chair. I gasped as I set the chair back on it’s wheels, my gaze on the three claw marks ripped into the fake leather.

“What?” Stiles asked, looking over at me.

I wordlessly pointed to the scratches.

“Fuck.”

My phone dinged then and I went to pick it up out of my clutch. It was a text from Lydia.

Don’t forget about my party!

I huffed loudly and turned to Stiles. “Get dressed. We have a party to get to.”

The music was so loud at the party I thought my ear drums were going to burse. Allison and Scott arrived ten minutes after me and Stiles, and since then we’ve been watching them dance.

When I say ‘we’, I mean me, because Stiles was too busy laughing with some of his lacrosse buddies.

I was taking a sip from the water bottle in my hand when a hand grasped my shoulder. I gasped and turned around, only to find myself standing face to neck with Stiles.

“Do you want to dance?” Stiles shouted through the music.

I nodded hesitantly and together we walked out onto the dance floor. Stiles put his large, veiny hands on my waist and pulled me close.

We were about to start moving when someone ran into us, knocking me further into Stiles. I looked to see a tan guy that looked suspiciously like Scott plow into us, looking dazed. The full moon must’ve been affecting him.

“Yo, Scott, you good?” Stiles asked, letting go of me.

Scott didn’t answer, moving forward by me.

“Are you okay?” I questioned loudly. Scott shook his head and stumbled away. Two seconds later Allison came through and marched after him.

I looked at Stiles. “We should probably go help him.”

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded, taking my hand and pulling me through the crowd once again. We left the house just as Allison was getting into a black Camaro with Derek Hale.

What was he doing at a high school party?

I didn’t have time to ponder this as Stiles yanked me towards his jeep. I got into the passenger seat and Stiles pressed on the gas, speeding to Scott’s house.

Once we got to the McCall residence we ran up to Scott’s room and pounded our fists on his locked door.

“Go away.” I heard Scott say weakly.

“Scott, it’s us.” Stiles called. “Let us in, Scott. We can help.”

There was a thump against the door and the door opened a little, locked together by a chain.

“No! Listen, you gotta find Allison.” Scott insisted.

“She’s fine, all right?” I told Scott. “We saw her get a ride from the party. She’s—she’s totally fine, all right?”

“No, I think I know who it is.”

“You just let us in. We can try—”

“It’s Derek.” Scott interrupted. “Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods.”

Stiles and I looked at each other with horrified glances.

“Scott—Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party.” Stiles broke the news.

The door slammed shut.

“Scott!” I yelled, but it was no use. He was gone.

I turned to Stiles. “We have to check on Allison.”

“No, we have to go find Scott!” He argued.

I sighed in frustration. “Neither of will can do anything against Scott when he’s like this.”

Stiles nodded. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” I quipped.

He simply rolled his eyes at me in response.

We pulled up to the Argent’s house and Stiles jumped out, leaving his door open and running to the front door. He pressed on the doorbell three times, then pounded his fist on the door.

The door opened and from my position I could see a tall lady with short, red hair answered the door. She looked at Stiles in confusion.

“Hi, Mrs. Argent. Um—you have no idea who I am.” Stiles greeted her so loudly that I could hear him clearly.

“I’m a friend of your daughter’s.” He continued as I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Uh—look, this is gonna sound kind of crazy, um—really crazy, actually. You know what? Crazy doesn’t even describe—”

He was interrupted my Allison’s mom. “Allison! It’s for you.”

Minutes later, after talking to Allison, Stiles jogged back to the jeep and got in. He buckled his seatbelt and stomped on the gas pedal.

“Now we find Scott?” I asked him.

He nodded, looking at the road determinedly, his tongue sticking slightly out of his lips.

“Now, we find Scott.”

The sun was rising when we finally found our furry friend. He was walking slowly on the side of the road. He was shirtless and clutching his right arm in his left hand.

Stiles slowed down and pulled up beside him so he could get in. As I climbed to the back seat, Scott climbed into the passenger seat. It was silent as Stiles started to drive again.

“Are you okay, Scott?” I asked him softly. Scott smiled weakly at me as an answer.

“You know what actually worries me the most?” Scott mumbled miserably.

Stiles glanced at him, a hard look in his eye. “If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

“She probably hates me now.” Scott moaned.

“I doubt that Scott.” I comforted him. “But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology.”

“Or,” Stiles started, a grin on his handsome face. “You know, you could just—tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a fuckin’ werewolf.”

Both Scott and I gave him dirty looks, causing him to sigh.

“Okay, bad idea. Hey, we’ll get through this.” Stiles patted Scott on the arm. “Come on, if we have to, Y/N and I will chain you up ourselves on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it.”

Scott didn’t look assured by this statement, so I tried to assure him myself.

“We’re here for you Scott.” I said gently. “You won’t go through this alone.”

Tag List:

@julzdec @karamelcoveredolicity @thegirlalmighty01 @avadakedabitch @supernaturallover2002

#stiles x reader #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #Stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #stiles x oc #oc x stiles #reader x stiles #stiles series #stiles stilinski series #soulmate au #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles fanfiction #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien

322 notes · View notes

missmarj · 6 years

Text

Should I let you go?

So this is a sequel to How Do I Let You Go?

Summary: You are going to marry Bucky Barnes in a few days and on his Bachelor's party, Steve got drunk thanks to Thor's Asgardian liquor. You ended up having to look after drunk Steve and he ends up having an alcohol-fueled confession about his unrequited love for you.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Mentions: Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, a dash of Natasha Romanoff the rest of the team

Warnings: Implied sexy time lol. Fluff at first, regrets and angst towards the end as usual.

"How do I let you go?" Steve asks again, his voice fading to a whisper as his eyes drifted close and his hand cupping your face and holding your hand falling limp. You sigh, wiping Steve's tear-stained face and fixed his blanket. Your heart felt like it was tore from your chest as you stare at Steve, finally at peace in his sleep.

You couldnt believe the things he had just said. You shake your head. Part of you hated him for not saying anything after all this time. Thinking about how much you and Bucky probably had unintentionally hurt Steve by always having him included in every milestone in the relationship. You've always come to Steve for help for all the anniversaries, preparing for Bucky's birthdays and achievements while Bucky was always telling him pretty much everything about you. Bucky told you that even on picking out the engagement ring, Steve was right there with him. But a part of you is confused and that's what's causing the tears to fall nonstop. You hated that you're feeling confused. You're marrying Bucky in a few days. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

The tears wouldnt stop pouring from your eyes, even after getting a hot shower and crawling into bed in Bucky's arms. The image of Steve crying in agony as he pours his heart out for you haunted you. Thank God for Thor's liquor knocking Bucky out cold because if not, your little sniffs and quiet sobs would've woken him up instantly. That was the first night in forever that you cried yourself to sleep.

The light escaping your blinds burn bright red against your lids. You grimace, putting a hand on your face. "Are you awake, sweetheart?" You nod and smile involuntarily upon hearing Bucky's morning voice and feeling his strong arms pulling you close. His metal fingers grab your face then he's kissing your mouth.

"Good. Morning. My love." he greets with every peck, his lips traveling down your neck. You giggle at the feel of his beard and his hand skimming your sides down to your thighs. "Bucky! That tickles!!" you squeal, swatting his hand laughing. "What?" he asks feigning innocence, looking back up at you but the smirk on his face fades. "Y/n, what happened to your eyes? were you crying last night?" he asks, furrowing his brows as his cool metal fingers ghost over your puffy eyelids.

Shit. Youve completely forgotten about last night. "Oh, no. I must have an allergic reaction to the make up from last night." you shrug. He stares at you doubtfully for a second then his frown deepens. "Stop using that shit please you dont need it anyway." he leans down kissing your lids. "You're already so beautiful. You really dont need anything else." You sigh and hugged Bucky. "Thanks, love." you murmur against his cheeks. The occurrence from last night replays on your head and it's making your heart beat faster.

"You doing okay already? I've never seen you drunk before." you say, trying to keep your mind off of Steve. Bucky props himself on top of you, his chin on the valley between your breasts with his hands on your sides. "Yeah, I'm good now. Last night was incredible, thank you for making me go." he grins. "I'm glad you had fun. You guys were all pretty wasted." you say as you lay your head on your arm to be able to look at him better. "Thor brought the good stuff last night. Sam and Clint were long gone after their first glass. But Steve! Fucking Steve was a monster last night, taking drinks one after the other. I don't know what's gotten into him! And he's the one who dared us all to jump off the yatch!" Bucky laughs, his eyes glazes as he fondly tells you his story. You plastered on a smile and a little fake laugh because deep down you felt bad knowing well the exact reason why Steve was acting like that last night. "Of course we all had to jump off too. Well, I had to at least. The idiot just jumped butt naked on icy atlantic waters. What was I supposed to do, right? He's my idiot." Bucky shakes his head, a reminiscent smile on his lips. "I can't help but see him as this asthmatic scrawny kid even after all these years." his chest rumbles against your stomach as he laughs. You usually love it when Bucky gets all talkative like this. You loved that his eyes lit up as he tells you everything on his mind but right now you really just want to keep your mind off of Steve.

There were 3 knocks on the door and then it swung open. Sam walks in, hands over his eyes and a playful smirk tug his lips as he hears you and Bucky scramble to get decent. "Stark asked me to bring your asses down to the conference room for the last remaining details for the rehearsal dinner." he says with a shrug. Bucky hurl a pillow at him effectively resulting in Sam hitting his face with his own hand with a smack. "Barnes I know I interrupted a possible sexy time and I'm sorry.. That I'm not sorry!" Sam says with a chuckle, throwing back the pillow which landed flat on Bucky's face as well. You hear incoherent grumbling from your fiancee as he starts to climb out of bed, metal hand whirring as he reaches for Sam who is snickering his ass off. You shake your head and grabbed Bucky by the waist, not really in the mood for one of their infamous brawls. "Sammy we'll be down in a minute. Buck, calm the fuck down love!" you grunted holding him back as hard as you could. "Yeah, you better run, Wilson!!" Bucky screams as Sam sprints out of the room laughing like a mad man. Bucky glares at the ceiling, "FRIDAY, didn't I ask you not to let Sam in my room or Y/n's?!" the AI responded ever so calmly, "Sorry Mr. Barnes, but Boss did ask Mr. Wilson to come get you and Ms. Y/LN." Bucky growls, muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ, Buck let it go. It's pretty late in the morning anyways." you sigh as you get up to walk to the bathroom. Bucky looks after you with a disappointed look on his face and asked, "So no sexy time? Stark can wait. I mean, it is our wedding after all." You chuckle as you slip the straps of your night gown down your shoulders. "Let's multitask." you wink, cocking your head towards the shower and Bucky's face lit up before scrambling to his feet, lunging himself at you.

You met with Tony after the steamy shower to run through the details for tomorrow then headed to the kitchen for breakfast. It is quite the ruckus every morning usually but today most of them were groaning and barely touching their food, very much hungover.

Your heart stills when you saw Steve by the kitchen island making himself a cup of coffee. When he looks up, he flashes you and Bucky a smile. "There you two are, coffee?" he asks, raising his mug. Bucky lets go of your waist as he approaches Steve. "Yeah pal, I could use one." he says. You blink and took a second before walking over to them. Surprised that it's as if last night didn't happen at all for Steve.

"You were so drunk last night, Rogers. I had to carry you to your room!" Bucky laughs as he takes the mug in his hands. "Could you not talk so loud??" Natasha groans, dropping her head into the kitchen island. "Sorry about that." Steve wrinkles his nose. "Guess I lost track of the number of drinks I've taken. Thanks for not letting me sleep in my vomit, by the way." Bucky shakes his head as his mouth was still filled with coffee, once he swallowed he turns to you saying, "You should be thanking Y/n. She's the one who dealt with your drunk ass because I was pretty hammered myself too." You saw Steve's cheeks and ears get red as he bites his lip. "Y/n, it was you? Christ, I'm really sorry. And thank you." he says, smiling shyly.

You stare at him in disbelief. He didnt remember that you were there in his room last night, so he probably didnt remember telling you all those things. You blink and plastered on a smile, "Oh, sure. " you say.

"Alright gentlemen, go finish your breakfast, we've got final fittings to attend to. " Tony says as he walks in the kitchen, pausing to give you a peck in the cheek before heading for the fridge to grab an energy drink. "Pepper will be here in about 20 minutes with the designer. She asked me to tell you ladies that she'll meet you at the conference room." he says.

You tore your gaze from Steve who was unbothered as he chat with Bucky and Sam on the corner, turning to Tony. You nod a bit too late and mutter him a thanks. "You alright?" Tony asks, walking over to you. You wet your lips and glanced back at Steve, a frown tug on your lips. "Yes, I'm fine." you say, smiling half heartedly at Tony. He didnt buy it of course, not one bit. "Come on, darling. What is it? What's bothering you?" he pressed, following where your gaze was seconds ago. Tony looks at Bucky with Sam and Steve, trying to think why Y/n looks the way that she does. Suddenly it dawns to him, he turns to you, touching your arm. "Are you getting cold feet?" he whispers. Your chest heaves and you avoid Tony's gaze. "No, I-I just.." you sigh, pulling on Tony's arms, towing him out of the kitchen.

You told him everything because seriously, there's no point in hiding from Tony because he knows you too well. He stares at you worriedly though he didn't seem surprised. "I dont know, maybe it was just the alcohol talking or maybe-" you sigh, dropping you head in your hands. "Steve told you the truth. We've known about this unrequited love for years." your head snapped up looking at Tony like he'd grown another head. "You knew?! Wait, you said, we? Who's we??"

Tony sighs and looks around warily. He asked Friday to secure the area, locking the doors and soundproofing the glasses that divides the room. "Nat and I knew for the longest time. We were on a mission together. Remember Siberia? When we got ambushed and Steve got hurt real bad?" you nod, how could you not? "On the way home, we all thought he was gone for sure and Steve thought so too. He pointed to his things and asked us to retrieve his sketchbook. He asked us to give it you in case he doesnt make it and to," Tony sighs and held your hand. "to tell you he loves you."

"Bucky and I weren't together then." you murmur, your brows knitting together. "True, but Steve knows at the time that Bucky is already head over heels for you." Tony says with a sigh. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, feeling the blood drain from your face as you confessed. "But I was in love with him too, at the time " you confessed, tears stream down your face.

Tony leans back to the couch with an exasperated breath. "This just got a whole lot more confusing, y/n." you shake your head as you wipe your tears. "It shouldn't be. I'm marrying Bucky in a few days. What do I do, Tony?"

"I guess you listen to your heart, kid."

Tags:

@mia-at-work @justmesadgirl @lookclosernow @yafriendlyfangirl

Read next part here: Letting You Go

#bucky x reader x steve #bucky x reader #steve x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel #avengers #mcu #tony stark #sam wilson #angst #fluff

112 notes · View notes

my-last-anywhere · 6 years

Text

Humble Beginnings - TW

Author: @my-last-anywhere

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Sheriff Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Melissa McCall (mentioned), Supernatural!OC, OC’s Mother

Word Count: 2709

Dedication/Author’s Note: This is dedicated to @writingsbychlo because she gave me the courage to write this fic a long time ago. A/N: I wrote a TW fic in 2016 with an old friend that I eventually posted. However, that person and I aren’t friends anymore and so I rebooted the fic starting from Season One of TW in my own image which Chloe gave me the courage to do also! I’m thinking of posting it in it’s entirety soon to like fanfiction.net or something. Please give me feedback and let me know what you think!

Jada’s P.O.V.

It’s Sunday night. First day of sophomore year is tomorrow and I am..excited. Yeah I mean I’m going to try out for dance, Scott and Stiles will hopefully make first line, and we’ll be slightly less unknown to the general population of Beacon High. Or at least known enough to get invited to a party, I’ve never been to a party. My phone dinged and pulled me out of my thoughts. Ah, speak of the devils - well one of them.

Troublemaker🙄: JADA! Are you awake?

Yes Stiles

Troublemaker🙄: GOOD. Cause I’m downstairs

Dude it’s like 10 at night we have school tomorrow my guy

Troublemaker🙄: there’s a dead body in the wooooods

Im putting on my shoes.

“So exactly how good is it?” I said once I got in the jeep.

“Let’s just say it’s the best thing to hit Beacon Hills in awhile.” He smiled.

“I thought I was the best thing to hit Beacon Hills in awhile.”

“A close second at best.”

“Woooow,” I said and he laughed. “Just drive the car, Stiles.”

“Hey text Scott for me would you?” Stiles said as he put the car in drive. “Let him know we’re rescuing him from boredom.”

As we drove I texted Scott but he didn’t answer of course because he’s either asleep or overthinking about lacrosse. Or both, which is entirely possible. We pulled up to Scott’s house and the light was on in his room but he still wasn’t answering either of our texts.

“I know he’s up there.” I said.

“Maybe he’s sleep?” Stiles offered.

“Nah,” I replied. “And even if he is, he’s gotta wake his ass up. I have an idea.”

While Stiles climbed up on the house I found tiny pebbles and threw them at Scott’s window. I also rustled a few leaves for good measure. I saw the light to his room go off and then I hid behind a bush with my phone. The front door opened and I had a to cover my mouth so I didn’t laugh out loud at the sight before me. Scott McCall scared, with a baseball bat.

I signaled to Stiles and then he dropped down causing both him and Scott to scream. I couldn’t take it anymore and fell down from behind the bush laughing. Scott looked from me to Stiles and then started yelling.

“Stiles what the hell are you doing!”

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles yelled back defensively. “Why do you have a bat!”

“That’s a good question,” I dusted the leaves off my jeans. “Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator or something!”

“A predator? You know what that’s not important. Listen, I saw my dad leave like twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called and they’re bringing in every officer from Beacon department and even state police.” Stiles said.

“For what?”

“There’s a body in the woods!” I jumped up and down. “Two joggers found it!”

“A dead body?” Scott’s ears perked up.

“No,” Stiles said as he jumped down from the roof. “A body of water. Yes dumbass, it’s a dead body!”

“So like murder?” Scott said.

“No one knows yet. All they know is that it was a girl and she was probably in her twenties.” Stiles explained.

“Tell him the best part.” I smiled.

“Is there a best part? If they already have the body then what are they looking for?” Scott looked at me.

“They only found half.” Stiles and I said in unison.

“Holy shit are you serious?”

“Yes!” I said. “And we’re going to everyone in the Jeep.”

On the way there we argued over which of us could find the body first, this of course went on for several minutes before I had to remind them that we’re the three musketeers for a reason and we’ll find the body together. They rolled their eyes at me but agreed nonetheless.

As well pulled up to the Preserve I could see Scott getting uneasy. “Are we really doing this?” He asked as we all got out of the car.

“Yes!” I grabbed his shoulders. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Besides,” Stiles said as he clicked on his flashlight. “You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens around here.”

“Yeah but I was trying to get a good night sleep in before practice tomorrow.” Scott said as we started to walk through the woods.

“Right,” Stiles laughed. “Cause sitting on the benches is such a grueling effort.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” I hit him. “You guys could get off the bench this year!”

“You’re cute,” he smiled at me.

“I’m serious!”

“She has a point you know,” Scott said. “We’re playing this year. In fact, I’m gonna make first line.”

“You know what, I admire the optimism.” Stiles said.

“Really?”

“Yes! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” He smiled at us.

“You’re such an asshole,” I laughed.

“Moving on,” Scott said. “Out of curiosity, do you know what half of the body we’re actually looking for?”

“You know what, I didn't even think about that.” Stiles replied. “But hey, that’s the fun part!”

“Okay, well what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

“Also something I didn’t think about.” Stiles said.

“You didn’t really think this through did you?”

“Not really.”

“Both of you are just, tragic.” I shook my head at them.

We walked in silence for awhile until we came up to a steep incline. Scott and Stiles went up first and then they helped me up. We were all winded by the time we were all standing and the cool end-of-summer air wasn’t helping the sharp intakes of breath we were all having.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight huh?” Scott exasperated as he took a hit from his inhaler.

Stiles ignored him and continued walking. I shrugged at Scott and then the two of us followed closely behind. I looked up at the moon and saw that it was full, full and absolutely beautiful. Especially on a clear night like this one. Bumping into something hard pulls me from my fixation. When I looked up I saw that I had bumped into Scott’s back. Before I could ask what the hold up was, Stiles yanked us both down. I was just about to yell at him before I saw the twinkle of other flashlights followed by police and police dogs.

Before I could acknowledge that this was probably not our best idea, Stiles bolted up and took off around the array of flashlights. Scott and I whisper yelled his name but he either didn’t hear us or ignored us because he kept going. I rolled my eyes and then we both got up and chased after him. I, a little faster than Scott who kept taking hits from his inhaler. I caught up to Stiles and was about to grab his arm when the sound of a dog barking and a light being flashed in our face caught us off guard. We fell to the ground screaming and holding onto each other.

“Oh my god please don’t kill us!” I screamed. “We’re sorry, we’ll leave! I’m only fifteen! Oh my god, Stiles this is all your fault!”

“We’re about to die and those are your last words to me, really!” He screamed back.

Only after hearing a distinctive voice did we realize we were not going to murdered. At least, not in the literal sense. “Hang on!” Sheriff Stilinski yelled. “These little delinquents belong to me.”

The officer rolled his eyes and pulled the dog away from us and then looked at us with a very, very disappointed face. “Hi, Sheriff Stilinski.” I looked down at my shoes.

“Dad,” Stiles said sheepishly.

“So,” he started. “Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?”

“No,” Stiles answered. “Not the boring ones.” I hit him in the arm and he looked at me. “What, Jada?”

Sheriff Stilinski sighed and then laughed. “Where’s the other part of the three musketeers?”

“Who Scott? Oh he’s at home. We tried to get him to come but he stayed like the good kid he is.” Stiles said.

“Yep,” I nodded. “That’s exactly where he is. He said he wanted to get a good night of sleep before the first day of school tomorrow. It’s just me and Stiles. We should really follow in his example, huh?”

“Mhm,” Stilinski smiled at me before he started pointing his flashlight. “Scott are you out there!”

I silently prayed Scott would just stay wherever he was hiding. Stilinski called his name again but he thankfully didn’t answer. He sighed and then turned his attention toward me, “Jada does your Mom know you’re out here?”

“Technically, no.” I smiled. “She’s working a double with Melissa and it would be super awesome if you didn’t call her.”

“Alright how about this,” He smiled as he put his arms around the two of us. “I’m gonna walk the two of you back to the Jeep. Stiles, you are gonna take Jada and Scott home because I know he’s around her somewhere, and then you and I are gonna have a little talk about invasion of privacy, okay?”

“Okay.” Stiles and I grumbled.

After Stiles dropped me off I texted Scott and told him to tell me when he got home and then subsequently passed out. When I woke up the next morning I was full of energy and excitement, I mean it was the first day of sophomore year! I jumped out of bed and got dressed. I did my makeup, made sure my hair looked good, took several selfies and then headed downstairs.

I walked into the kitchen to find my Mom leaning against the counter eating cereal. A matching bowl was waiting for me. “Good morning!” I said before I got a giant spoon full.

“Morning,” She smiled. “Are you excited for the first day?” When I nodded she kept talking. “You know, Sheriff Stilinski called me this morning.”

“Okay before you get mad, it was a last minute thing! And it was a dead body! Plus you know how hard it is for me to say no to my best friends.” I said.

“Your best friends as in plural or just Stiles? Cause you say no to Scott all the time.”

“Really, Mama?”

“I’m just saying you should tell him you have a crush on him.”

“No!” I said a little too loudly and a tiny gust of wind went through kitchen. “Oops, sorry. But no, you and Scott need to let it go. I’ll tell him when I’m ready, which will be never as to not upset the delicate balance of our trifecta.”

“The wind you just sent through the house says otherwise, Jada.”

I ignored her and scarfed down whatever was left of my cereal. “It’s fine, Mama. Everything is under control.”

“Uh huh,” She said as she put both of our bowls in the sink. “Let’s keep it that way,” She handed me my backpack and grabbed her keys.

We were halfway to school when she brought up the wind, or rather the cause of the wind today. “I know you already said you wouldn’t but do not use magic to help Scott or Stiles at lacrosse practice today.”

“I won’t,” I grumbled. “But when can I tell them I’m a witch? It’s literally one of the only secrets I’ve ever kept from them.”

“Soon.” She squeezed my hand. “You have good control but you still have a few slip ups like this morning, your powers are in a direct line with your emotions.”

“I know.”

“You just have to make sure you’re the one controlling the magic not the other way around, okay?”

“Okay,” I smiled as we pulled up to the school. “Thanks, Mama.”

“Of course,” she said. “Oh I see the knuckleheads.” I climbed out of the car and shut the door. She rolled down the window and blew me a kiss, “Have a good day! Remember what I said and remember I want a full report at the end of the day!”

I caught up to Stiles and Scott just as Scott was lifting his shirt to reveal a giant piece of gauze on his side. “What the hell happened!” I screamed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Stile said.

“It was too dark to see anything but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.” Scott explained.

“A wolf?” I said. “Is that why you didn’t answer my text about when you got home?”

“Yeah,” Scott said as he put his shirt back down. “I was slightly preoccupied.”

“Nope, sorry, there’s no chance a wolf bit you.” Stiles said as we started walking into school.

“And how would you know?” Scott looked at him. “I heard the wolf howl.”

“No you didn’t,” Stiles responded.

“I know what I heard.”

“Well then you heard wrong because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not for like at least sixty years.”

“Ah, well then if you don’t believe me about the wolves then you’re definitely not gonna believe me when I tell you I found the other half of the body last night.” Scott smiled.

Stiles and I stopped walking and whipped around. “Holy shit, you didn’t!” I said.

“Dude I wish,” Scott said. “I’m gonna have nightmares for at least a month.”

“Nightmares! You should’ve taken a picture, I would have loved to see that!”

“Exactly!” Stiles said. “I mean this is the best thing that’s happened to this town since the birth of Lydia Martin.” I felt a pang of sadness when he said that, I mean I know he has a crush on Lydia but I was hoping maybe he would have one on me too.

Lydia was walking in our direction and Stiles smiled. “Hey Lydia,” he started but she kept walking. “You look like you’re gonna ignore me.”

Scott and I laughed, although mine was forced and Stiles rolled his eyes at us. “This is your fault, you know.”

“How is this our fault?” Scott said.

“Well it’s not Jada’s fault she’s awesome but you Scott, completely bringing us down with the nerdiness. We are nerds by association. You have scarlet nerded us.”

“We’re nerds anyway,” I rolled my eyes as we walked inside the school. “In case you forgot Stiles you and I literally spent roughly two and half days watching all the Harry Potter and Star Wars movies not even a month ago.”

“That is completely beside the point,” Stiles smiled at me.

“Is it, though?”

After that we went our separate ways before class. Stiles’ locker is on the other end of the hallway from Scott and mine which subsequently are right next to each other this year. I was taking all my books out of my locker for the week, leaving only the one I needed for our first class, when Scott slammed his locker shut.

“What!” I yelled. “Geez why are you slamming your locker like that?”

“Because you need to tell Stiles how you feel about him!”

“Keep your voice down!” I shut my locker and swung my backpack back on my shoulder. “You want the whole school to find out!”

“The whole school does know! The only people who don’t know how you feel about Stiles are you and Stiles.”

“Excuse me?”

“You like him more then you let on! Your eyes do this weird sparkle thing plus you looked like someone punched you in the stomach when he mentioned Lydia.”

“I’ll tell him when I’m good and ready okay?” Scott sighed and rolled his eyes at my comment which in turn made me skeptical. “You’re not gonna tell him are you?”

“No, God!” Scott looked at me. “I would have to sedate you if I did. I’m just saying, we’ve been the three musketeers since third grade and nothings gonna change that. Not even the two of you being together. When you get over that fear I’ll be right here.”

“Worst best friend ever,” I rolled my eyes as we walked into class.

“Love you too,” He laughed as we sat in our seats waiting for Stiles and then the teacher to arrive.

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x oc #supernatural oc #lydia martin #sheriff stilinski #melissa mcall #witch!oc #teen wolf fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

The Kind of Dice You Throw [3/3] (Trixie/Alaska/Katya) - perfectlystill

A/N: There’s one scene where Brian/Trixie refers to Alaska and Katya as Justin and Brian, respectively. It retains the use of feminine pronouns for them, though, which will hopefully make it a little bit easier to parse and a little bit less confusing (especially with two Brian’s).

Thank you all so much for reading and leaving whatever kind of feedback you have. I hope it all comes together for you, doesn’t disappoint, and the ending is satisfying. Again, all I can say, even though it doesn’t properly express my gratitude, is thank you <3

Same warning for mentions of drug use/addiction apply, and now there’s a joke about incest. Amazing! Originally posted at ao3 here.

Summary: Brian feels like there’s some joke he isn’t privy to, but he smiles anyway, letting Katya force them into a final group hug. It makes him feel like the inside joke between Alaska and Katya did: a little bit left out, but with nowhere else he’d rather be. A weird amalgamation of observer and participant. He’d rather feel slightly off-kilter with Katya and Alaska than steady with anyone else.

Katya looks at home in Alaska’s apartment, sprawled on the sofa, one leg crooked over the arm, her neck bent against the back. It seems uncomfortable, but she grins and waves at Brian as he walks into the room.

“Hey! You made it.”

“Barely. The 101 was like trying to shove a dick into an ass without lube.”

Katya grimaces, and Alaska chuckles from the detour she took to the kitchen. “That’s disgusting, and it sounds painful.”

“Which one?” Brian asks, sitting on an armchair. The floral print makes it look as though Alaska inherited it from her grandmother, but the cushion is soft yet firm, almost new.

“Both! I never need a dick up my ass again.”

“That’s fine by me,” Alaska says, offering Brian a glass of water before cracking open a Red Bull. “Fucking someone is too much work.”

“What’s the term Detox told me?” Katya says, twisting her wrist in the air, grabbing as though she’s trying to catch the word. “Oh! Pillow Princess. That’s what you are, except like. You’re a man and you give really good head.”

“So, not a pillow princess at all,” Alaska says, smacking the back of Katya’s thigh.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Princess?” Katya laughs at her own joke, and Alaska huffs before taking a sip of Red Bull.

Brian doesn’t understand the specifics involved in the term pillow princess, but he doesn’t want to ask and get another lecture from Katya about women in the LGBT community and not letting his ignorance turn him into an accidental misogynist. His mom is his favorite person in the world, he would do all those stupid things Bruno Mars sings about in that song about explosives for his sister, and he’ll google it later if he remembers. All the knowledge and none of Katya’s disappointment. Nevermind that Detox had to tell her about Alaska being, or not being, a pillow princess.

“I’m sorry he’s being insufferable today,” Alaska says.

“I’m sorry she’s insufferable every day, and that you’re the one who has to deal with her now,” Brian answers, a smirk shaping up around his mouth. “Actually, I’m not sorry at all. It’s a pretty good deal for me.”

“Why do I like him again?” Alaska scrunches her nose up, and Brian thinks about how cute it is before he can stop himself.

“Beats me.”

“Hey!” Katya says, finally sitting up. “I’m right here.”

Brian blinks. “We know.”

“I’m great! I’m pretty and kind of funny and very charming.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Brian swipes at some condensation on his glass with his thumb, watching the easy way Katya grabs the Red Bull from Alaska, taking a sip before handing it back. “Thirteen-year-old girls seem to like you.”

“More than they like you,” Katya confirms.

“Oh no! What will I do?” Brian rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it.

“Make less money than me. And the next time we negotiate with anyone, it’s none of this ‘we’re a team’ nonsense. We go in as individuals and see whose Twitter followers get them a higher paycheck. You win or you die.”

“Stop saying that,” Brian says. “Someone is going to see my text messages and think I’m being threatened.”

Katya and Alaska both laugh, shifting together so their shoulders brush, and Brian bites back a smile.

“All he ever texts me are dick pics,” Alaska says with a shrug.

“I’d rather have that than a string of emojis I’m supposed to understand. She’s not Carrie Fisher.”

“I wish!” Katya splays her hand over her heart. “Alaska won’t even roleplay Jabba the Hutt.”

Brian screams his laugh, and Alaska drops her head into her hands, but he can see she’s smiling even as her face flushes, her knee now poking against Kayta’s.

“I tried to compromise and let her be Luke, but apparently she’s not into incest.”

“You’re out of options,” Brian says, deadpan. “Guess you’ll have to return the little bikini you bought.”

Katya gasps. “Never. I’d sooner dump this broad and hire a hooker who will let me live out my fantasy.”

Alaska pouts, bottom lip pushing out further than should be possible. She hooks a hand around Katya’s elbow and looks at her. “You don’t mean that.”

Katya holds for a few seconds before leaning in, a quick peck to Alaska’s mouth. Brian feels like he’s missing a conversation, and he wonders if this is what the people at WOW feel like when they’re trying to film an episode of UNhhh. Except this makes his chest feel warm and his toes tingle in his shoes, and he imagines the producers feel annoyance and frustration whenever he and Katya get off topic or their transitions are only logical to the two of them – granted Brian managed to follow Katya’s train of thought in the first place. He presses his mouth in to a thin line and can’t bring himself to look away.

“No,” Katya says, soft and genuine. A beat: “I mean it.”

Alaska laughs, that asthmatic chuckle that Brian already loves too much, and the sound is contagious, catching until all three of them are laughing.

Brian didn’t expect this to feel so natural. When he got stuck in traffic, he considered calling and cancelling.

He’s glad he didn’t.

He likes making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Katya, cutting the crusts off his and Alaska’s and letting Katya eat them. He likes the little frustrated groans Alaska lets out as she sets up the TV. He likes the Golden Girls coasters she has, and the way her face lights up when she explains they’re a gift from a fan, even if she can’t remember who gave them to her, their gender, the city or the year. And he likes the way Katya wedges herself between him and Alaska on the sofa, all of them barely touching as they watch, cozy and warm and nice.

Katya’s looking at her phone as she enters the basement to film, an eye glued to the center of her forehead.

Brian’s throat dries, and he clutches at the flimsy material of his skirt.

When Katya looks up, she smiles, but it falters when she processes Brian’s expression. “What? Is there lipstick on my chin again?”

“No,” he manages, scratchy and low. “No, you look good.”

“Thank you.” Her grin widens, brighter than it was before, and she pulls out her skirt to curtsy. “I am the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m glad you’ve finally noticed. Everyone else has.”

He swallows, wipes his palms, and tries to stop his brain from short-circuiting. Or maybe his brain is simply working when it wasn’t before. “I never said any of that.”

“Potato, potah-toe,” she hums, sliding onto her stool. “I didn’t like, stop your heart, did I? You look kind of … pale.”

“Under all this?” Brian points at his face and the layers of makeup caked onto his skin.

She laughs, a tiny and tight thing. Her brows are furrowed, and she leans in, placing her hand on his head. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m okay.” He blinks, bats her hand away, and shakes out his shoulders. “I’m just going to get some water and then I’ll be ready.”

“That’s how I got lipstick on my chin!”

He shoots her a thumbs up, and she reciprocates, but her body looks tense, her expression all concern.

Brian doesn’t understand how he didn’t figure it out before. Not when Katya sat in his hotel room, gluing googly eyes onto a cheap piece of fabric she would tie around her wrist as a bracelet later that night, not when she was reading 1984 at the airport, sketching unblinking eyes into the margins, and not when she spent almost an hour trying to explain the third eye to him.

Katya is his soulmate.

Fuck.

He knocks and waits, but he doesn’t hear any shuffling. He knocks again, and then he gets a message from Katya: I’m running late! Be there soon.

Brian sighs, typing out a quick response before shoving his phone back into his pocket. He thinks about sitting in his car. It’s winter in LA, so it’s not an unbearable heat chamber, but just as he steps off the small porch, the door swings open. “Oh, I thought you meant–” He cuts himself off, seeing Alaska. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She forces a smile, but it’s impossible for her to hide the wetness in her red eyes. She looks like she splashed water on her face to make it seem like she hasn’t been crying. It clearly didn’t work. “Sorry, Brian went to pick up a dress or something.”

Brian nods. “The usual traffic.”

“He’ll be back soon. Come in.” She holds the door open further, retreating backward.

Brian clears his throat. He knows if almost anyone showed up at his place and he’d been crying, he’d want them to pretend they couldn’t tell. But when he settles into his armchair, he sees the DVR paused on the end of the All Stars episode, and he sees Alaska’s phone, Instagram open, teetering near the edge of the coffee table.

“Do you want something to drink?” Alaska asks, leaning against the archway, left toes dancing against her right ankle. Her lips are too thin for someone with filler, and her eyes are too wide. Her tone aims for flippant and kind, but she misses the mark.

“I’m okay.” He gestures toward the television. “The episode was good, huh?”

Alaska grimaces, and she seems to collapse into the wall. “Sure was entertaining.”

“That’s the kind of drama we need,” Brian says. “None of this kumbaya bullshit. That’s boring.”

“Yeah.” Alaska chews on her bottom lip.

“You can like, leave. If you want. I have a phone to pretend to scroll through while I wait for Katya. If you don’t want to talk about it. Or at all.”

Alaska nods, shuffling toward the sofa. “Sorry. I just. I knew it was coming, and the reception hasn’t been as nice as season five for a few weeks, anyway. But. It’s hard when everyone is telling you that you’re an awful person, pasting snake emojis all over the place and telling you to die.”

“Shit,” Brian exhales. “That’s bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alaska says, running a hand through her hair.

Brian bounces his knees, eyeing the space between them and the sofa. “Yeah, but I’m still sorry. I’m not a monster.” A beat. “Not like you.”

A sudden snort of laughter rips from Alaska’s throat. She covers her mouth, her eyes welling with fresh tears. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Brian says, using the arms of the chair to push himself up. He settles next to Alaska, arm wrapping around her shoulder, squeezing and rubbing small circles. “Not even that tantrum. You’re a drag queen, for god’s sake, if you’re not having a meltdown at least once a week, you need to quit. We’re meant to be divas.”

“I know.” She sniffles and wipes under her eyes. “I know that. It just feels like everyone hates me, and I know it doesn’t matter. All the people online who hate me don’t even know me. But it’s hard when everyone is actively rooting for you to fail.”

“Not everyone. I’m sure there are like,” he pauses to hum and taps his fingers deliberately against Alaska’s shoulder as though he’s counting, “five loyal Alaska fans fighting everyone on Twitter. And only two of them are Katya’s old incognito accounts.”

Alaska laughs, a softer, kinder one than her first. Her hand finds Brian’s knee. “What about you?”

“Oh, I only use to Twitter to trick the youth in to thinking I’m relatable.”

“No.” She slaps Brian’s knee the way he’s seen her tap Katya, and his heart burns with it. “Do you hate me?”

“Hate you?” Brian’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

He feels a lot of stupid feelings for Alaska, but hate isn’t one of them, and it never has been.

She looks him in the eye. Hers are red and puffy, but they’re clear. They narrow a little, searching, and Brian drops his hand from her shoulder, feels her gaze prick goosebumps all over his body. “Good. I don’t hate you, either.”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

Alaska smiles. “I’m going to go wash my face again and get some water. Brian should be back soon. He’s probably having his own diva moment. Fashionably late.”

“There’s nothing fashionable about her.”

This time Alaska laughs that loud, uninhabited, embarrassing thing that Brian fell in love with the first time he caused it.

Brian crowns Alaska the night the finale airs, and it’s magical.

Everybody in the crowd is excited to witness her reaction and to be with the winner tonight. She’s a real, flesh and blood person in front of them instead of a villain on their televisions. Brian knows there are a lot of people who are pissed off, and they certainly outnumber the people who are happy for Alaska tonight, but it doesn’t matter right now. Not with a crown on her head as she performs, captivating and radiant.

She earned this: the title, the sparkle on her head, and the joy.

By the end of the night they’re both drunk, and Brian’s de-dragged except for the faint stain of red on his upper lip that mirrors the way his usual pink always takes at least 24 hours to completely fade. Alaska’s in her underwear and a T-shirt that hangs loose on her bony frame.

“Do you want to pool?” she asks, peeling off one of her eyelashes and placing it carefully in the little box she pulled it out of.

“Yeah, just hurry your ass up.”

She shakes her butt and winks, her laugh bubbling over. Brian laughs, too, always easy for it when there’s too much champagne in his system.

It takes Alaska twice as long as it should to finish cleaning up and pack her belongings, clumsier than usual and chatting with the promoter as they finish clearing the club. Brian taps his foot without fuss, leaning back in his chair, texting Katya and waiting for the dick pic Willam will send of the trade he left with. Brian’s eyes droop with the pulsing soreness of exhaustion he’s gotten used to.

“I’m ready,” Alaska says, one bag slung over her shoulder, reaching out with her free hand, the other around the handle of her large, wheeled suitcase.

She helps Brian up, offers to carry his makeup case, and he lets her. He follows her to the side of the building where they wait for the Uber, watching her hips sway as though she’s still padded and wearing heels instead of Converse.

The night is dark and chilly. Brian shifts his weight to help keep warm, arm brushing against Alaska’s flannel. “Congratulations,” he says.

“Condragulations,” she corrects, smile splitting her face.

He rolls his eyes. “Sucks that Katya’s not around tonight.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “We already celebrated.”

“Do tell.” He waggles his eyebrows. Vodka soda still swims in his veins, and a nice fuzziness frizzes in his head. He’d never ask for details from Alaska otherwise. Propriety, or at least the illusion of it, too important to him.

Alaska smirks. “Girl really loves to eat ass.”

“I’ve heard.”

“She’s really good at it,” Alaska drawls, the words elongated, even for her. “I was sore for days after, too. The combination of his happiness for me and … I don’t know if it was jealousy or disappointment or anger or what, but it was great.”

He whistles as their Uber pulls up to the curb. “Sounds like it.”

“But I’m glad you’re here tonight.” She looks at Brian, eyes blown but sincere as she reaches for his hand, holding it between both of hers. “I’m glad I got to share this with you, too.”

Her words catch in the back of Brian’s throat, and he suddenly feels too sober for this. “Me too.”

They clamber into the back of the car, the ride quiet except for the lull of soft rock the driver plays. Alaska leans her head against Brian’s shoulder. She smells like perfume and alcohol and sweat. Brian closes his eyes and inhales, his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

Brian watches the videos Katya and Alaska post from Aspen: Katya on the red phone, singing “Purse First” and voguing down an empty hallway, filming each other as they get into the car. They’re both laughing and smiling, their joy infectious through the screen, making Brian laugh and smile too. His chest feels warm, and he tucks up on the sofa, rewatching their stories an embarrassing number of times.

It’s nice.

He misses them.

It causes an aching feeling in his chest that makes his breath shallow, prompting him to close his eyes and focus on an inhale and the answering exhale. It doesn’t make him sad, though. Brian finds missing them is nice, too.

The smell of buttery popcorn mixes with the low lights and the ugly, patterned carpet. Brian blinks as his eyes adjust, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He squints up at the board behind the register. The lights are digital and red, but one of them is broken, the top of the T gone

“Three for the 4:15 please,” Katya says.

“What?” Brian asks.

“I got it.” Katya smiles. “I’m dating a rich superstar.”

Alaska snorts, but her lips twitch with a smile. “You really got a dime.”

“I don’t do drugs anymore.”

“A perfect ten,” Alaska clarifies, an edge of annoyance, but mostly exasperated fondness.

“A real robbery.” Katya reaches out, squeezing Alaska’s wrist, her grin stretching with the contact. Her smile is large and white and blinding. It’s the kind of smile that would read fake on anyone else, but Katya’s eyes are just as bright. Brian thinks she has the happiest smile in the world.

As Katya hands the poor cashier her card, Brian leans into Alaska, stage-whispering, “If you need help suing, my brother’s a lawyer.”

“I don’t think I can afford him anymore,” Alaska laughs.

“I’ll set you up with the family discount,” Brian says.

“Thanks,” Katya says to the employee before turning to them. “Your brother loves me and would never sue me. He’d defend me. Pro-bono.”

“That’s probably true,” Brian admits, shrugging. “Katya bought everyone presents when she went back home with me last year, claiming they were Christmas gifts four months late.”

“Or early or late birthday gifts, depending on which was closer,” Katya clarifies.

Alaska’s face softens, head tilting as she looks at Katya. “You’re the best.”

Brian nods. “Unfortunately, she really is.”

Katya twirls her hands, a little gay flourish that causes Alaska to laugh and Brian to roll his eyes. “Finally! The respect I deserve.”

Alaska insists on paying for refreshments, and when Brian tries to protest, Katya smacks his arm. “Let him, he’s loaded. And if you don’t, I’ll have to hear him whining all the way home about why you hate him and wouldn’t let him treat you to bland popcorn and that thing you keep calling pop but is actually soda.”

When Alaska goes to the bathroom an hour into the film, followed two minutes later by Katya, a hand on Brian’s knee she uses to leverage herself up, Brian half-expects them to come back with sex hair. But only a minute goes by before Alaska’s back, leaning over to whisper in Brian’s ear and ask what she missed. “The less attractive sad man cried in the shower. He doesn’t have any muscles, so you’re good.”

They go out for beer when the movie’s over, and Katya orders a water with a huge bowl of lemons on the side. “What’d you think?” she asks.

“It was okay,” Alaska says, mouth a flat, slanted line.

“About 30 minutes too long,” Brian groans. “By the second misunderstanding, I was ready to walk out of the theater.”

“God, I know. If you’d just talk to each other, you’d know that attractive lady at the opera is just the sister of more attractive sad man.” Katya shakes her head before taking a sip of water.

“I know we don’t communicate as well as lesbians,” Alaska starts. “But they were acting like straight people.”

Katya wheezes, and Trixie screams. “It was not the kind of tragedy I wanted to watch.”

“One day, they’ll be more quality gay movies we can waste $50 on,” Katya says.

“Hopefully soon. Especially since you refuse to see those Marvel things with me.” Alaska takes a pull of her beer before reaching across the small table and fiddling with one of Katya’s lemon slices.

Brian arches a brow. “You like those?”

“There’s too much testosterone most of the time, but the nerdy comic book kid in me needs to see how badly they’re gonna mess up my heroes.”

“He’s lying.” Katya rests an elbow on the table, leaning forward. “He ranted for ten minutes about how much he loved the green Guardian of the Galaxy a few weeks ago. He loves that boring shit.”

“Gamora,” Alaska corrects. “And a broken clock is still right twice a day.”

“I think I would suffer through someone as handsome as Chris Evans in a tight suit for you,” Brian says.

Alaska flutters her eyelashes. “The sign of a true gentleman.”

“Perfect!” Katya claps her hands together once. “Works out for everybody.”

“I reserve the right to change my mind depending on how hot the men are and how tightly their uniforms fit, though.”

“Oh, of course,” Alaska says, taking a sip of Katya’s water before setting it down between them. “That’s why Paul Rudd was Ant Man, so you’d agree to come over and watch a movie with a shit name like Ant Man.”

“If you think I haven’t seen Ant Man already, you’re deluded.”

Alaska shakes her head, her smile apologetic. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Katya takes a few large gulps of water before grabbing the lemon slice Alaska has been turning between her fingers, squeezing it into the half-empty glass. “Yeah, I had to hear about it for a week straight.”

“Shut up. You sent me a stupid Contact meme two weeks ago.”

“Contact is art, Mawma!”

Brian watches as Alaska and Katya squeeze so much lemon into the glass it’s almost three-quarters full of liquid again. Katya tries it, grimaces, and drops the last lemon husk she’s holding in, some water splashing out and onto the table.

Alaska wipes it away with her napkin. “Do you think they sell dessert here?”

“No,” Brian and Katya answer.

“Didn’t you eat half the tub of popcorn?” Brian asks.

“I have a fast metabolism.”

“I hate you both, I really do.”

Katya kicks him underneath the table, but then strokes his shin. “You love us both.”

Brian holds up a hand. “I plead the fifth.”

“Let’s stop for something on the way home,” Alaska says. She takes a small sip of the water, seemingly swirling it around her mouth before swallowing. “I want something sweet.”

“Nothing chocolate or fruity,” Katya says.

Alaska hums. “Deal, but I get to pick out what we get if I follow those guidelines.”

Katya holds out her hand. “Deal. And Trixie’s our witness, so if we come home with a strawberry ice cream cake, I get to Snap her and she’ll know how much of a liar you really are.”

Alaska rolls her eyes, but she shakes on it. “Fine.”

They only agree to let Brian pay if he lets them tip, and he even though they only bought two beers, Alaska sets a five on the table.

The light in the parking lot flickers, broken, as they stand by Brian’s car. Alaska tugs him into a hug, hands squeezing around his shoulders and pulling him closer. She’s warm, the scent of her aftershave lingering through the popcorn and lemon.

Katya hugs him after, chin poking sharply into his shoulder and fingers dancing along his spine. “We’ll have to do this again the next time we’re all in the same place.”

“I’ll pencil you in for next year,” Brian jokes.

Katya pretends to look at a watch on her wrist. “May 16th?”

“I already have plans then,” Alaska answers. “I’m seeing my other lover.”

Katya’s hand still lingers by Brian’s waist, and she pulls Alaska into her other side by the elbow. “Trixie and I would love to fuck him, too.”

“Sister wives!” Alaska screeches, and Kayta laughs. Brian feels like there’s some joke he isn’t privy to, but he smiles anyway, letting Katya force them into a final group hug. It makes him feel like the inside joke between Alaska and Katya did: a little bit left out, but with nowhere else he’d rather be. A weird amalgamation of observer and participant. He’d rather feel slightly off-kilter with Katya and Alaska than steady with anyone else.

Katya Snaps him a picture an hour later, arms crossed over her chest, face twisted and sour, mouth turned down into a pout. She stands in front of what looks to be two pineapple upside-down cupcakes. The text across it reads: the 2nd one is for you! xo Justin.

His mom tells him all about the cases his brother’s been winning, along with the accompanying promotion and salary increase. Her voice is proud, the equivalent of a puffed out chest, and Brian can remember a time when it would have felt like an unspoken comment on his own inability to excel in ways she understands. She would never walk into work and shove her phone in a coworker’s face, demanding they watch a joke Brian told on UNHhhh, and not just because she doesn’t know how to get internet on her cell. But Brian doesn’t mind anymore. He knows his mom loves him. She does her best, and she shows it by laughing heartily at all the puns he tells her over the phone and always asking if he’s drinking enough water on the road.

“He met this lovely girl, Brian. She has long blonde hair and an MBA,” his mom says, her voice dropping into an excited whisper. “I think she might be the one.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t get your undies in a twist,” she scolds. “It’s exciting! Your brother is really happy. And speaking of romance…”

“Mom,” Brian groans.

“What! I want all of my children to be happy.”

Brian scrubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

She hums, and he can picture the disappointed shake of her head. “This isn’t Facebook, I’m your mother.”

“Exactly.” He loves her so much. It’s kind of annoying.

“What about Katya?” she asks.

They’ve had this conversation before, sitting at the small kitchen table, a book shoved under one leg to make it stable. Brian had stared at the stain his sister made from spilling water and forgetting to wipe it up in a timely matter. His mom nudged his shoulder, smile tight and eyes prying. Any time Brian comes home without a boyfriend, his mom asks, always circling back around to Katya. “His one fault is that he has the same name as you,” she had said. “It’s a good name, though. For a good man. A good husband. Brian squared.”

“I don’t know,” he sighs now, unable to lie to her.

“Oh, that’s different.”

“Yeah. He’s dating Alaska.”

“Who?” his mom asks.

“Alaska. She won the season of All Stars Katya did. They’re like,” he pauses, trying to button the bottom of his flannel over his T-shirt. “They’re really good together? Katya’s sent me a video of Alaska snoring three days in a row. It’s this wheezy thing she does when she has a cold, I guess? And god, they make fun of each other more than any boyfriend has ever let me rib them, but it’s always so… affectionate. If you can’t make fun of your boyfriend, who can you make fun of, you know? I mean, besides everyone.”

His mother chuckles. “Sense of humor is very important.”

“It is.” He swallows. “And Alaska bought Katya’s favorite shampoo without telling her. Katya just showed up at her place one day and it was there, with her name scrawled across it in permanent marker, as though Alaska has some awful, imaginary roommate who eats other people’s food if it isn’t labelled. Katya’s moving in with her soon, already has a key and everything. I’m going to be out of town that weekend, though.” Brian shrugs. “They’re good. Really happy.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mom whispers.

“What?”

“I can’t tell which one you love more.”

He blinks. His hand shakes, third button up, and he can’t get it through the hole. “Come again?”

“It’s okay. You have a lot of love in your heart, and from what I can tell, Katya does, too.”

Brian exhales. He feels the tears welling behind his eyes. “She does.”

“Bring Alaska by next time, too. I’d love to meet her.”

He closes his eyes, presses his palm against one until his vision kaleidoscopes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s gonna work out. Moms know these things.”

Katya throws a small bundle of bananas into the shopping cart, and Brian winces. There will be brown splotches all over them now.

“I’m not kidding, he had a meltdown because he couldn’t find that stupid roll of black tape he puts under his eyes like he’s some sort of football player instead of a scrawny, gay, drag queen,” Katya huffs. Her voice goes high: “Brian, did you steal it? I know you think it’s ugly, but have you seen literally everything you wear? Black is timeless! Wait!” She halts, throwing her hands out to the side, the cart rolling a few inches before stopping, too. “Did you steal it to use? Am I going to go into your closet and find a stupid dress covered in stripes of my tape?”

“Oh my god,” Brian mutters.

“I know. Unbelievable. And you know where he found it?”

“In your sock drawer where you were hiding it?”

Katya’s mouth twitches, but she fights the smile back. “No, but he riffled through all my shit. It had rolled under his vanity.”

Brian laughs.

“He was almost late to the airport, and he left me to clean up. But guess what, Mimi? I didn’t!”

“Wow, maybe she’ll divorce you.”

“I could only be so lucky. Unfortunately, we’re bound for life. Two lesbians in love.” Katya sighs, grabbing the cart again and turning it down the first aisle.

Brian presses his mouth into a thin line and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Lesbian love, huh?”

Katya shakes her head, glancing at him as she scans the shelf of canned soup. “Yeah, I mean. We’re soulmates, so obviously.”

“Soulmates?” he chokes out. The word breaks in his mouth, so obvious. There’s a metallic taste like the time he was little, fell and bit his tongue on the way down. He blinks. His lungs constrict and air feels too heavy.

It’s an overreaction.

He knows they’re good together. He knows they love each other. He doesn’t have any delusion about either of them leaving the other for him. Besides the fact that it would be completely fucked up, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to lose either of them, and he doesn’t want them to lose each other. The idea is almost as awful as Katya casually throwing out that they’re soulmates.

“Trixie,” Katya begins, grabbing a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and putting it next to the container of caramel dipping sauce she’s getting without any apples to dip. She has no taste, and if Brian wasn’t finding it hard to breathe, he’d let her know. “When I got back from Europe, she had organized my drag by era and whether she would ever wear it, and she’s always the one who cleans the bathroom even though I have to unclog the drain. She actually likes letting me shave her ass. Plus, my red lipstick mark is on said ass.”

“What?”

“It’s one of her marks.” Katya shrugs.

“How do you know it’s you?”

“I don’t!” Katya laughs a high, bright, and hoarse thing. “Does it matter?”

Brian shrugs. “I guess not. Soulmates are just. Stupid, I guess.”

Katya looks at him sideways, her eyebrows drawing in. Her hand tightens around the shopping cart. “Wait, I thought you really believed in all this bullshit? Wanted to find your one true love or whatever?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the boxes of ramen noodles instead of Katya. “I did. I do.” She touches his arm, and he makes eye contact. “I’m tired, and the universe doesn’t give a shit, or else my mom’s soulmate wouldn’t have been an abusive asshole. She feels guilty that it took her so long to leave, because if he was her soulmate, shouldn’t it have been perfect? So like. My soulmate’s probably an asshole, too. It’s genetic.”

Katya snorts. “Your soulmate is definitely an asshole.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Katya smiles, sympathetic and small. “You’re right. The universe doesn’t care. That sucks for your mom. Assholes should get saddled with assholes, not nice Wisconsin women with good hair. But your soulmates are going to be so…” Katya trails off, her smile somehow softening and her hand circling around his wrist, warm and wonderful. His chest feels it, too. “You’re going to get the kind of soulmates you deserve.”

“Thanks.” A beat. He pulls his arm out of her grip. “Let’s stop having a moment in the grocery store. It’s tacky.”

Katya hip bumps him, the crows feet around her eyes smiling. “The lighting is all wrong for it. Besides, if I don’t buy those disgusting vegan burgers for Justin, I’m in for another tantrum.”

“Those are actually really good,” Brian says.

“You are both disgusting, and it should be illegal to call them burgers.” She shoves the cart forward and has to jog to catch it before it crashes into the shelving.

Brian laughs under his breath.

He really loves her.

Alaska’s a terrible dancer, but then again, so is Katya.

The awkward, disjointed way they move together fits. There’s something beautiful about it. Maybe it’s how comfortable they look. They both know they can’t dance, but they don’t care, and neither of them have had any alcohol to loosen them up. Maybe it’s because they’re in love, and Brian knows that. They’ve shared it with him, constantly and consistently. It hurts sometimes, but he thinks it would hurt more if they didn’t.

Brian’s heart burns as he leans against the bar and sips on his drink, watching them move in tandem. Alaska leans down and whispers something that makes Katya laugh, her head flinging back, Adam’s apple bobbing. Her hands flutter around Alaska’s waist, fingers slipping underneath her T-shirt. Her forehead drops to Alaska’s collarbone, and Alaska runs a hand through Katya’s hair, eyes closed, swaying back and forth.

When the song ends, they break apart. Katya heads toward Brian, and he averts his gaze, pretending to look to the left of them.

“Hey, I’m going to the bathroom. Make sure no one makes fun of his dancing,” Katya whisper-screams.

“What if I do?”

“He’ll laugh.” She squeezes Brian’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

He shakes his head and looks back at Alaska, some of her hair is stuck to her forehead, and her shirt is still rucked up from Katya’s hand. She spins, stumbles, and spots Brian staring. She waves, smile goofy and wide, before crooking her finger and beckoning him forward. He shakes his head no, and she nods yes.

Brian takes a last sip of his drink before setting it down behind him, exaggerating a long-suffering sigh and pushing himself up.

He can’t actually hear Alaska laugh, but his brain provides the sound.

“Howdy, stranger,” Alaska smiles, pretending to tip an imaginary hat.

“Ma'am,” Brian answers, bowing before holding out his hand. “Fancy a square dance?”

Alaska takes his hand. Her palm is soft, and she raises their arms up, forces him to twirl her around. “Lead the way, partner.”

She grabs his other hand and slots her thin fingers between his. Her hands are cold, just like the club, the bodies around them failing to make up for the air-conditioner going full blast. Alaska swings their arms in and out, wiggling her hips and closing her eyes. Unlike Katya, Brian feels awkward, shifting his weight more than swaying, eyes jumping to the people around them. None of them seem to be paying attention, but he itches to turn around, stretching his neck and trying to spot the people behind him just in case they are.

The song changes, Alaska opens her eyes, and one side of her mouth tilts up. She pulls him closer and drops his hands. Her fingers find his belt loops. “I thought you were going to lead.”

“There’s no way I can lead a lost cause,” he answers, hands floating by his sides.

She laughs, and he feels the warm air of it on his mouth. “Sorry. I’m trying to be found.”

Brian laughs, half-hearted, his hands finding purchase on Alaska’s forearms. He blinks and pulls them away almost instantly, feeling like he’s been burned. She pushes even closer, lining up their hips. He freezes, glancing in the direction of the bathroom. His heart hammers, and Alaska looks at him with wide, serious eyes. She places her hands delicately on his shoulders, tapping out the beat of the music. Her mouth is thin, slanted down. Brian settles his hands on her waist, as lightly as possible. He swallows. She holds his gaze, and he can’t breathe.

The ache in his heart builds, builds, builds.

Then it cracks.

Alaska kisses him.

It’s a soft, steady press of her lips to his. His eyes flutter shut. He melts, knees dropping an inch and hands tightening around her hips, feeling her protruding bones through her jeans. The kiss is warm, and despite the cold, his entire body is on fire, electric and pulsing. Brian didn’t know he missed this. He didn’t know he could miss someone he speaks to so often, someone he only hooked up with once. But he did.

It takes too long for him to pull away, because any time at all is too long.

“Katya,” he breathes.

A soft hue of blush paints Alaska’s cheeks. Her eyes bright. “She’ll be so jealous I got there first.” Her voice is shot, breathy and light and lilting.

“What?” Brian glances toward the bathroom, but he doesn’t see Katya making her way over to punch him yet.

“We’ve talked about it,” Alaska says, her voice full of laughter. “You don’t think you’re so irresistible that I’d cheat on him?”

Brian shakes his head, a self-deprecating chuckle pouring out of his mouth. “This is unbelievable.”

Alaska’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes dilated like she’s drunk. “Wait, was that … okay?” she asks, taking a step back. Her face pales. “Sorry, I thought–”

“Ladies!” Katya shrieks, throwing her arms around both of their shoulders. “I hope they didn’t play any good music while I was gone.”

Brian looks at Katya, and then back at Alaska. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes downcast. “No Erykah Badu,” he says.

“Thank god!” Katya grins, pulling Alaska and Brian closer.

They both stumble, their hands going around her waist, and when Brian’s bumps Alaska’s, she shifts her hand up and away. She looks down at Katya, eyes wide. “I think I made a mistake.”

“Huh?”

“I kissed him,” she says.

Brian watches Katya’s mouth part, eyebrows shooting up. “Bitch! Finally!”

Alaska clenches her jaw, shaking her head.

Katya turns to Brian. “Wait, what happened?”

He inhales, pulls himself out of Katya’s grip. His heart is going wild again. “I’m confused.”

Katya leans in, causing Alaska to shift with him, the two of them still touching. “Can I kiss you?” she asks.

She’s asked before: while they’re filming and when they do joint shows, small pecks that simultaneously mean nothing except for the screaming of the crowd, the comments they’ll get on Youtube, and everything. Tiny little assurances. She used to ask seriously, too, before season seven finished airing, when she was open about wanting to fuck him. She was always nonchalant about it, though, skirting around anything uncomfortable. But this is different, her eyes focused on him, lips dry and twisted in seriousness.

He exhales and catches Alaska’s eye. “Sure.”

Katya kisses like Brian imagined she would. Her lips are firm and solid against his own, and she’s unflinching. It takes him a moment to realize he can participate, move his mouth against hers and not feel like it’s weird or wrong. Instead, he wants to move closer. It’s somehow sweeter than he would have expected, though. She tastes like cinnamon, and her hand finds its way to his face, thumb brushing against his cheek.

He follows her when she pulls away, and it takes a couple of blinks to clear his vision, find focus. “Okay,” he says.

“Is it?” Alaska asks.

He eyes the lack of space between them. Katya’s hand has fallen to the small of Alaska’s back, and Alaska twists a ring around her finger. Katya’s looking at him the same way she did before she kissed him, her lips parted, and he feels it swelling in his chest. He loves them. He really does. He’s in love with them. He reaches out, uses Katya’s shoulder as leverage, and kisses Alaska.

She sighs into his mouth, relieved, and it turns into a smile pressed against his lips.

They stumble back to Alaska and Katya’s place.

The drink Brian had has long faded from his bloodstream, the beating of his heart and fuzziness in his brain solely the product of kissing and light touches that promise to be more. They fall into bed, haphazardly pulling off clothes. Justin’s hands roam, a different pressure than Brian’s mouth nipping down his chest. It’s almost too much. He’s never had a threesome before, but he doesn’t think that’s it. There’s something about these two people. He loves them, and they love him. They haven’t said it, but he knows.

Brian bites at the eye painted onto his chest, and Justin’s fingers trace over her symbol, spelling out the individual letters: A L A S K A.

He kisses both of Brian’s wrists, the crown and the star.

“That’s Justin,” he says, voice quiet and awed, thumb brushing across the crown. He taps his finger over the blue vein that runs through the star. He’s seen her marks before, but it feels like the first time. “And that’s me.”

He’s never seen Justin’s marks, though, and he remembers the intern from Drag Race telling him they were on her ass. It feels like a lifetime ago, when she didn’t mean anything to him, when he just wanted a gossipy distraction from a beating in his heart so different from the way it vibrates in his chest now.

The intern was right.

There are two lipstick prints: Trixie pink and Katya red.

His heart catches in his throat, and he splays his palm over them, the corner of each mouth peeking out.

“You’ve definitely put on lipstick for the sole person for kissing over this, haven’t you?” he asks.

“Duh.” Brian rolls her eyes, but a smile flirts around her lips.

Justin looks back over her shoulder, lifting herself up on her forearms. “More than once.”

Brian sautés spinach and onion for his omelette, hip resting against the counter and squinting out the window. The smell of coffee permeates the kitchen, and anxiety flutters around his stomach. He knows it’s ridiculous. His mom has been supportive, had even said “I told you so” over the phone when he broke the news. But she didn’t tell him so, and they had bantered back and forth about that before he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, and relenting.

He finishes his omelette, sliding it onto a chipped plate before starting one for his mom.

By the time the front door opens, Brian’s finished breakfast, prepared coffee for his mom and Katya, and avoided putting anything in Alaska’s tea, because she hates it. There were only so many ways he could organize four plates around the kitchen table, and he figured she wouldn’t notice if he dissolved a pinch of sugar in the bitter earl grey. She might actually thank him when it tastes better, so the fact that he didn’t is a huge feat.

“Hi, Mom,” he greets, rushing to the small entryway, kissing her cheek and prying her purse out of her fingers. Alaska lugs her suitcase inside, and Katya reaches behind her to close the door. “How was the flight?”

“Too early.” Her smile is well-worn, the wrinkles around her eyes deeper than the last time Brian saw her. “But half-empty. You didn’t have to spring for business class.”

“It’s the only way I can impress you.”

“Not true! You have two very sweet boyfriends.”

“We are very sweet.” Katya smiles a shit-eating grin, knowing Brian won’t smack her in front of his mother.

“We’re taking her to the dentist after breakfast,” Alaska pipes up.

Brian snorts and rolls his eyes, but he’s pleased by how his mom shifts to smile at her: “Did you get that joke from Brian?”

Katya wheeze-laughs. “Brian wishes he were that funny, Mom.”

“Mom?” Brian’s eyes bug, and he chokes on nothing.

“They’re your soulmates, Brian, they can call me Mom. Even if this one here doesn’t believe in marriage,” she says, pointing at Katya with her thumb. “I’ll let it slide, but only because our court system has yet to figure out how to deal with this universe-approved arrangement. I’ve checked.”

Alaska bites around a smile. Brian knows because she does it a lot, especially with Katya.

His mom peeks over his shoulder, edging around him and heading for the table. “Now, did you make sausage, or am I going to be disappointed?”

“Ah-ha!” Katya says, skipping after her. “He made sausage, because I am your fellow carnivore.”

“See, I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Not the only carnivore,” Alaska whispers to Brian. “But she doesn’t need to know about last night.”

They all settle around the small table, and Alaska lets his mom try her tea, laughing when she puckers her lips and grimaces. Katya’s knee presses against Brian’s, and she dominates the conversation. Her shoulders are pulled back, she sits up straight, and it’s almost like she’s onstage. She tells an embarrassing story about almost peeing her pants in elementary school, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by asking the teacher to use the restroom. His mom counters with the time Brian got carsick and they didn’t have Dramamine, so he vomited all over himself.

It’s appropriately awful.

“I’m trying to eat,” he says.

“Oh, honey,” his mom laughs. “We don’t want you getting sick again.”

Alaska and Katya laugh, but Katya rubs Brian’s thigh, comforting circles that help keep his breathing even.

He’s embarrassed himself more in front of Katya and Alaska than his mom ever could, but the stress comes from somewhere abstract. Katya’s met his mom before, but it’s different this time. This time she’s his future. She and Alaska both are. It feels more important and permanent than anything else in his life. Telling his mom he wanted to wear makeup, put on a dress and perform in clubs was less pressure.

“Is there anything you want to do while you’re here?” Alaska asks his mom.

He shoots her a smile, grateful for the change in topic.

“Hollywood Boulevard! I need to see Bob Hope’s star. And the sign, of course.” His mom hums, finger circling the rim of her mug. “I’ve never seen the ocean before, so that might be fun.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” Alaska asks, tone curious but polite, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, no. Lake Michigan is the closest I’ve gotten.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” Katya says.

His mom nods. “That’s what I always thought.”

Alaska laughs. “It’s different, too. You’ll feel it when we go. Would you want to see a drag show, too? There’s always a drag brunch on Sundays.”

His mom tilts her head and scrunches her nose, sighing. “No. I don’t think so. Like how coffee isn’t your thing? Drag shows aren’t my thing. I listened to your song, the one about tea, I hated it. Rap is awful, and it was crude.”

Brian can feel Katya’s body vibrating with the urge to laugh, and he knows she and Alaska are going to bring this up constantly for the next six months.

Alaska blinks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I once made the mistake of watching the Brians’ show.” She shutters. “Disgusting and nonsensical.”

Katya wheezes, Alaska laughs, and Brian makes a show of banging his head against the table. “Learn some tact, Mom.”

“Why?” she asks. “You don’t have any.”

“Oh my god,” he mutters.

“I see where he gets his sense of humor.” Alaska smiles, bright and winning. “Are mani-pedis your thing, though?”

“Yes! I’d love that. But I don’t want to waste my trip to see you all alone in a salon.”

Alaska’s palm flutters to her chest. She blinks slow and gasps. “I’m getting one.”

“Count me in,” Katya adds.

“Brian?” His mom asks, eyebrows arched knowingly.

“I think … I’ll skip that.”

“You’re always a party pooper, huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t let me play with dolls as a kid, and now I don’t want to paint my nails pink and it’s a problem?”

Katya leans across the table. “This is better, anyway. You can tell us all of his embarrassing childhood stories without him metaphorically retching over all our fun.”

His mom cackles, and Katya squeezes his knee, sending a wink his way.

He drops his mom off at the airport five days later. She thanks him for a good trip, even though she swears she never wants to come back. “You’ll visit me,” she says, decided.

“You bet.” He smiles.

She grabs his hand, her skin papery and thin, and leans in. “You did good. Brian and Justin. I don’t understand it, but you’re all very happy. It’s right.”

He shrugs. “The marks make sense.”

“Of course. But that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?” He frowns, slouching so he’s shorter, tilting his head. They’re not at eye level, but his mom’s spirit is so tall it feels like they are.

“So many people exhaust themselves trying to find the one, and when they do,” she pauses, holding up her hand. They’ve argued about this before (“There are billions of people in this world. My soulmate’s probably in China.” She had rolled her eyes: “Then you better start learning Chinese.”), but he wasn’t planning on doing it an hour before she gets back on a plane to Wisconsin. “And when they do find them, and they always do, they’re too tired. They’ve made too many other bad choices along the way. It says more about all three of you that you made the right choices to get here than those marks ever did.”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, honey.” She stands on her tiptoes, hugging him tight, rubbing circles into his back. She rests her hand over his heart. “Right here,” she says, accompanied by a single tap. “I’m proud of you.”

He gets home two hours later.

Katya sits on the sofa, chewing on her bottom lip, an astrology book spread over her lap.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Justin’s packing for his flight, and I’m trying to figure out what part of his star chart means that,” she pauses, raising her voice so Alaska can hear, “he has to throw his clothes all over the floor every single time!”

Alaska emerges from their designated drag room, stringy, orange, shake-and-go wig on her head, a bra hanging off her finger. “If you could just keep to your corner of the room, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Katya looks down at her book, finger running along the page. “What time were you born again?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs, slinging the bra at Katya.

Brian watches them argue for a moment – about who’s neater (he is, but he doesn’t say that), who does the most cleaning (whoever happens to be home), the value of astrology (he has his doubts) – the fight ending with Alaska texting her mom for information on her birth time and coordinates. Katya thanks her, agreeing to wash her pads before she goes.

“What are you going to do?” Katya asks.

“Huh?”

“Well, Justin’s packing and I’m washing his disgusting ass pads. You need to pull you weight in this relationship.”

He shakes his head in faux disbelief. “I’m agreeing to date two selfish narcissists. What more do you want from me?”

Alaska chuckles, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into her side. “As if you’re not a selfish narcissist, too.”

“You’re the worst,” Katya says, arm snaking next to Alaska’s, hand finding her belt loop and pulling her closer. “Love you losers.”

“I’m a winner,” Alaska says reflexively. “But, I love you both, too.”

Brian breathes out a laugh. “How did I get so lucky?”

Alaska hums, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Katya answers: “Just lucky, I guess.”

Life gives him not one, but two marks over his heart.

Along with them, he gets the two most annoying, frustrating people he has ever known. Alaska always waits until the last minute to pack, whether it’s for work or for a vacation to Hawaii. She stresses Katya and him out, and it’s almost enough that they refuse to go anywhere with her. She screams bloody murder any time she finds a centipede or silverfish in the bathroom, and cuddles close to Brian at night, latching on and making him too hot. Katya cracks a window open and smokes inside, the scent embedding itself into the furniture and lingering. She refuses to get a pet, arguing there’s never a guarantee any of them will be home to take care of it, and shaking her head when they suggest different pet sitting options. She FaceTimes Alaska and him in the middle of the night, after gigs when she can’t sleep, with no respect for timezones, waking them up and chatting their ears off about nothing and everything.

Brian knows he’s not all that he’s cracked up to be, either: he has the bad habit of leaving just enough in a container – leftover takeout, juice, cereal – that he doesn’t have to throw it out, but not enough for Alaska and Katya to actually enjoy whatever it is. He forgets to put the toilet seat down, and he always interrupts when they’re trying to talk through a problem with him. He asks, and then refuses to listen to their ideas and advice, causing them to roll their eyes and groan. So, he can’t complain too much. Only a little.

Besides, Alaska and Katya are also the best people he has ever known. Alaska never fails to send a text making sure their flights landed safely, even though he and Katya don’t know how she keeps track when she can hardly keep her own schedule straight, and sometimes they don’t even know when they’re going from one city to the next themselves. She updates the grocery list on the fridge without fail, and mumbles cute things in her sleep when she’s overly tired. Katya always senses when either of them need a hug, even if she’s just walked in the door. She doesn’t complain about being the only one who ever takes out the garbage, and she marks passages in books she thinks they might like with post-its, a paragraph about why slanting upward on them.

Every kiss is nice. Little pecks on the corners of mouths when they part, hot, open-mouthed things in the middle of the day because they have time and attraction sparks in their blood, sweet and steady assurances when they laugh at each other, the taste of it soothing any potential hurt.

Brian loves them.

He stands in the archway, bowl of popcorn in his right hand, one can of pop in his left, and the other under his armpit. The menu on the DVD loops, and the lights are off, so Brian strains to see. He watches Alaska and Katya, leaning into each other on the sofa and splitting Oreos in half, Katya eating the side with more frosting. He loves them so much he feels like he might combust, except it’s good. Better than good.

Alaska spots him first, a smile stretching over her mouth. “Hurry up, we miss you.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “I’ve been gone for less than two minutes.”

“Don’t care,” Katya says, patting the spot next to her. “This song is giving me a headache.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees with a quiet laugh.

The flame in his chest burns, always reigniting but never fading away, something he can count on to keep him warm and comfortable and safe. A blazing fire he knows, somehow, stupidly, will never burn out.

FIN.

#katlaska #trixya #alaska x katya x trixie #au #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #alaska thunderfuck #perfectlystill #rpdr fanfiction #the kind of dice you throw #canon compliant #poly #rare pair #tw incest joke #tw past drug addiction

26 notes · View notes