#wait was a piece of ur mind written by a woman.......

[sttoru]

STEP ON ME !

ෆ sypnosis. satoru decides to surprise you by making breakfast in bed since you weren’t feeling well. he leaves the kitchen a complete mess, which only stresses you out more and it eventually turns into a small argument.

ෆ note. had to make some satoru angst (+ comfort at the end).. based on a thought i had of satoru holding back tears & failinf t_t not proofread !

ෆ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, reverse comfort, bits of fluff, satoru holdin back tears because he isn’t used to u raising ur voice.. ehem. that’s all ima say.

satoru’s tongue stuck out between his lips as he was deeply focused on cracking an egg open without making too much noise. he had planned this surprise breakfast for you in secrecy ever since he spotted the stress and fatigue in your demeanour. it was written all over your face: you needed a break from life itself and as soon as it was possible.

the least your lover could do was make things easier for you by doing the simplest of tasks. that’s the reason behind satoru’s motivation this morning. he was determined to make you your favourite food just to be able to see that smile on your face again.

‘then, add 200ml of milk,’ the voice of a woman explaining the recipe on a youtube video sounded from somewhere in the kitchen. satoru couldn’t even spot his phone throughout the entire mess he made; he just followed what the voice said.

there was flour everywhere on the counter along with broken egg shells, spilled milk, ripped open packages of seasoning, some other pans on the stove which got toasts in them (already halfway burning). all in all, it was utter chaos, though it seemed like satoru’s been used to it.

“okay.. now we mix it.” satoru mumbles to himself and grabs a whisk to mix the ingredients in the bowl. he had a joyful expression on his face, dimples showing near the corners of his mouth, blue eyes glimmering with anticipation at what your reaction could be.

‘she’s gonna be so surprised—can’t wait,’ your lover was already imagining just what your face would look like once he surprises you. it fills his heart with pure and unadulterated love.

little did he knew that you were already awake due to the distant noises of destruction in your kitchen. you had awoken with a headache and were already in a bad mood because of whoever interrupted your (already) poor sleeping schedule. satoru was most likely the culprit since he wasn’t in bed with you right this moment.

you lift yourself up with a groan, mumbling some complaints once you realised that you had been awoken at 9 in the morning. today was the first and last day in so many weeks that you could sleep in, yet was instantly ruined. this only fuelled your stress for the day ahead.

what you didn’t expect, however, was to find the kitchen in such a disastrous condition. you freeze on spot and stare at the mess with wide eyes. the only thing you could hope for in that instant, was that this was all part of a very long and realistic nightmare.

satoru wiped some flour from his face as he was too engrossed on perfectly cutting up some of your favourite fruit. he had a proud expression on his face once the last pieces were sliced up and stepped back to admire his work, “absolute masterpiece. bet she’ll be happy about it.”

a long sigh coming from behind the sorcerer made him turn around. his face lit up at the sight of you. especially because he loves how adorable you look in the mornings; a bit grumpy, tired eyes, pouty lips— although there was no denying it; you seemed even grumpier today which didn’t surprise him. you were going through a hard time after all.

“hi, baby!” satoru greets you with a bright smile in hopes to erase whatever was bothering you, “i made you your favourite breakfast combo. i thought i’d surprise you today, but heh, guess you found out before i could.”

you didn’t even pay any mind to what was said nor did you look up at your lover even once. all your eyes were seeing was the complete mess all around the kitchen, on the tiles, counter and walls.

“satoru,” another deep sighs leaves your lips in attempt to calm your nerves and not lose your temper, “what’s all this?”

satoru hesitates a little to speak up once he senses the slight discomfort—no—irritation building up in you. he’s always been attentive to any changes in your mood and that’s how he easily comes to know when you’re upset. this moment was no different.

“hm? what?” satoru slowly asks, voice lower than it was previously. he really was trying not to accidentally strike a nerve, all the while keeping that big smile on his lips. there was a quiet voice in the back of his mind which was telling him that you were at the verge of breaking down. you’ve been on the edge since yesterday. it was only a matter of time for you to lose your temper.

thus, satoru decides to tread carefully, doing that by trying to change topics and feigning innocence. of course, he knew you meant the disaster in the kitchen, however he figured it’d be the right choice to make you forget about it;

“you mean this? it’s your favourite pancakes and—uhh— your favourite fruits and stuff. y’know what i realised this morning? cookin’ is really har—”

“don’t act dumb. you know damn well what i meant, gojo.”

the harsh words pierce through satoru’s soul. the tone of voice used by you sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. it was noticeable, the physical changes satoru went through in under two seconds: his smile dropped, lips slightly parting in mild shock, body freezing and eyes shaky as they looked back at yours.

the last thing he had expected was for you to be so stone cold to him. satoru never has heard you be this hostile against him throughout the entirety of your relationship, hence his reaction.

and the cherry on top? you using his family’s name to refer to satoru as an individual. the only ones using ‘gojo’ to refer to him were his students and strangers. it felt like your long, loving and strong relationship was shattered in that split second.

“b-baby, i..” he stumbles over his own words. what was there left to say, anyway? you clearly felt angry with him to the point your eyes were glaring at him like he was an enemy of yours. not a lover whom had only shown care and love for you all this time.

all satoru wanted was to make you happy. he didn’t want to upset you in any way, but you were too stressed out by everything to even notice his pure intentions. after all, a negative mindset drives you to hyper focus on all the negativity going on in your life.

“just get out.” you sigh as you walk past your lover, slightly bumping against the tall man which-surprisingly-makes him budge and stumble a step back, “i’ll clean this up.”

satoru didn’t even look at you anymore as his gaze was fixed on the cold tiles underneath his feet. there were a thousand questions going through his head. he didn’t want an answer to all of them. he only needed an answer to one:

“are you mad at me?”

satoru’s voice hadn’t sounded this weak and fragile in ages. in fact, satoru hadn’t felt his heart ache this bad in decades. he knows; he knows he messes up sometimes. the mistakes made in the past, which led to disappointment and even breaks of long lasting relationships, haunted him every night. he never blames others for leaving him since the only outcome of staying with him was disadvantageous.

you don’t answer that question, being too focused on cleaning the food and ingredients cluttered everywhere. the fact that you didn’t answer made satoru panic. even if he tried his best not to show his weakness in the moment.

if only he hadn’t made a mess, if only he didn’t try to do something he knew he wasn’t good at, if only.. he never stepped foot in this kitchen today; none of this would have happened. he wouldn’t have hurt another person who was dear to him.

satoru clenches his fists, white locks covering his eyes to hide the pain, panic and despair in them. there was a lump in the back of his throat, one which he had grown to get used to whenever things go wrong.

but, he can handle it; he can just push those feelings away and act like everything was okay. like he wasn’t hurt by your words. he should just go and help you clean up silently; with a smile on his face regardless. maybe it’d cheer you up— it’s always worth a try.

whilst being in hurtful moments like these, gojo satoru couldn’t help but be the most selfless person on earth.

“sorry. i’m sorry.” his voice breaks the uneasy silence between the two of you. without facing him, you could sense the devastation in his tone. satoru clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails making a small wound on the palm. he was trying his utter best not to break down in front of you, because that would be unlike him; unlike the strongest.

“please don’t be mad at me.” what he actually meant by that sentence was ‘please don’t leave me’. satoru’s eye twitches a little as tears begin to blur his vision. he turns his back at you so that you couldn’t notice them— or rather— can’t notice his vulnerability in general.

your movements come to an abrupt halt as your ears pick up on a small hitch of his breath. you knew it well; the little gasp of air before somebody starts crying. that’s when you snapped out of your angry trance, your whole demeanour mellowing instantly.

you turned your body sideways and bit your lip once you saw how satoru had his back turned to you—his shoulders trembling a bit from your point of view. you hesitantly took a few steps towards your lover and when you spoke, your voice was a complete opposite to its earlier used tone, “hey, satoru.”

silence.

you felt your heart break as you realised what you’ve said earlier and how bad it could’ve came across to satoru. your gaze falls on the plates he filled with your all time favourite dishes. the mess surrounding it was just evidence of his hard work— his love for you.

“baby.” you try again, placing a careful hand on satoru’s back. he’s never shown you a vulnerable side of his. you were always met with silly smiles or jokes, despite him being at his lowest.

satoru tensed up a bit as your hand came in contact with his body. it was not out of fear for you, but rather for the consequences of that touch. it was like he forgot all about your irritation from earlier and just set his attention on how you tried to comfort him.

a sigh leaves your lips before you step around satoru’s body to face him properly. his head was still held low and his snowy bangs kept covering his beautiful eyes, though there was no doubt about it: he was silently crying.

you reach out for him, pulling his head to rest on your chest, your other arm draped around his shoulders. soft pecks were placed all over his soft hair while his face was buried in your chest.

in a fraction of just a second, satoru’s entire body melts into your embrace. his arms wrap around your waist while his face was squished against your chest. your scent filled his nostrils which bought him a sense of safety and comfort since it meant that you were still with him. satoru sniffles quietly and squeezes you tightly like he doesn’t want to ever let go of you.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m the one who should be sorry. not you. please forgive me for snapping at you.” you mumble, feeling the guilt hit you in big waves when you took note of the way satoru clung onto you.

quiet sobs, ones that left you devastated, filled the silence in the kitchen. the vibrations of satoru’s soft cries could be felt against your chest and it caused you to hug him tighter than before. you nuzzle your nose into his white, fluffy hair and plant a couple more kisses on his scalp which were meant for comfort.

constant apologies spill from your lips as you realise how bad you must’ve hurt the guy to get him to cry; if anyone else saw satoru straight up sob like this, they’d be baffled yet curious as to what could’ve made such an all time upbeat man finally break down.

all it actually took was you. the most dearest person in his life at the moment, to show a small amount of disappointment in him and satoru felt like his entire future was done for. because, what would a successful future be without you present? it’d all be meaningless, that’s for sure.

“it’s okay.” satoru finally manages to say, his voice hoarse from silently crying in your arms. he slowly pulls his head back to look at you. his blue eyes were glistening with tears, the corners a red hue from all the emotions flowing through him, “i should’ve been more careful.”

your heart sinks at the sight of your lover whom was still insisting on it being his fault. satoru was always like that, no matter the circumstances.

“no, it’s not your fault.” your fingers brushed away the crystal clear drops on satoru’s pale skin, “all you wanted to do was surprise me and make me happy. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

satoru looked up at you and then down at your fingers as they gently wiped off his tears. you treated him so delicately in this moment and he loved every second of it. a small smile crept on his face and he eventually nodded,

“thank you.” the two words were simple ones, however you could feel the gratitude radiating off satoru as he slowly regains his usual form. his white eyelashes were wet with tears, cheeks flushed and areas surrounding his eyes gaining a subtly red colour.

it didn’t take much for your lover to calm down. as long as he has you, he can have the entire world and its population against him and he’d still feel the best he ever was. as long as you stayed by his side and didn’t ignore him nor hate him, he’ll live his best life.

no one else mattered to the strongest except for you. and your validation.

“you’re beautiful.” you mutter as you take a good look at satoru’s face from up close. you’ve never seen him properly cry before, so this sight was a first. and oh, what was it an ethereal one.

satoru’s eyes widen in response and he raises his eyebrows at the comment you dropped out of nowhere. all the pain, frustrations and stress were sucked out of his system. from yours as well.

“aht aht, don’t start now, babe”. he playfully scolds while poking your cheek. satoru straightens his back and gazed down at you with that signature grin of his, “we both know you’re more beautiful.”

you giggle and shake your head. you know it’s coming up next; the compliment war. the only battle which satoru hadn’t won just yet. it always ends up with a draw since neither of you want to give up when it comes to showing your love to each orher.

its what strengthens your bond and made it to what it is today. small arguments or misunderstandings, such as the one from earlier, are no match to the purest form of love that lingers between the two of you.

neither satoru nor you will ever give up on your relationship. you both only have each other left in this world after all.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #jjk x you #jjk angst

[oddishfeeling]

do you have any book recommendations? pls i need lots 💙💙

this is such a loaded question friend. but lucky for u, i am procrastinating assignments, my take out has yet to arrive, and i just finished another book!

horror fic has been my choice for the last several books

the centre by ayesha manazir siddiqi is about a young Pakistani woman living in the UK. she's a translator for Urduru films. language and translation are central to this book. people are becoming fluent in a matter of weeks in complex languages.... the centre is gorgeous if not entirely mysterious, magical even. but whats the catch?? beautifully written. vivid details. anisa is a flawed, honest, and genuine feeling mc, as are the people in her life. i just finished it a couple hours ago n i miss my girls.

slewfoot by brom is set in 17th century Connecticut. our protag, Abitha, is not from this town but she does he best to adhere to the Puritan standards, if not for her well being, than that of her husband's. something stirs in the outskirts of the village, in the forest and beyond. she finds help from an unlikely source while also fostering a deep inner power of her own. these characters felt so well thought out, the writing is magnetic and the action is well paced. it puts so many preconceived notions right on their head. i loved this book and can't wait to read brom's other novel, the child thief, a retelling of peter pan and the lost boys!

sister, maiden, monster by lucy a. synder was oh so gay and oh so cosmically horrendous. this is like h.p. lovecraft wasn't a weird racist. this is like if biblically accurate angels were once just women in love. this is horrifying, visceral, and relevant to our COVID world. i was gawking at so many of the details. there are so many monster themes actually, it's perfect. the story is told through 3 povs of 3 different women. and we love women! and horror! i didn't expect to pick this one up but I'm so glad i did.

mary: an awakening of terror by nat cassidy do u know what it's like to be virtually invisible? forgotten? disaffected? do u know the pure joy of having a precious collection, adding to it over time, and it being almost ur only reason for living anymore?? then you're a lot like mary. and mary is a lot like plenty of women who get the chance to live beyond adolescence, who are cast out by society-- deemed invaluable. mary is utterly lost at a time in her life she feels she should have it all figured out. she goes back to her hometown, an ambiguous small town in the middle of the desert, and some unlikely characters help her piece things back together. i finished this book feeling so close to mary. we are friends now. there is mystique, horror, fables, myths, bad guys, mysterious architecture, and well mary is not the most reliable narrator. loved this one too.

the last house on needless street by catriona ward i had no idea where this book was going and i loved piecing the narrative together through several characters and their povs. it forces u to confront ur own biases regarding mental health. u are sympathetic to the characters in the most painful, heart wrenching ways. there is murder. there is mystery. there is missing children. there are cats. this book surprised me and it was fun to have to find a couple reddit threads to be sure i was understanding the story correctly. i felt like i read this kind of fast! which is always fun too.

brother by ania ahlborn this one pissed me off a bit. but in a good way because i was so deeply invested. this one is set in Appalachia. i'm not one for stereotypes, especially bc i think Appalachians have a bad rep and it's of no fault of their own. that being said, the insular feel of the book and the absolute claustrophobia those mountains create in this story were like a character in it of itself. our protag, michael, knows there's something beyond. he's seen them on colorful postcards. but his own mind and his own heart seem utterly trapped here. this one is heartbreaking. it's horrifying. and it'll make u dizzy from the amount of times u change ur mind. excited to read her other novel, Seed, because this one stuck with me so much!

a couple honorable mentions that fit the theme:

the vegetarian by han kang korean food. infidelity. art. nightmares. inexplicable mindfucks! this story was scary because it felt very.. possible? no monsters this time. no spells. just... the mind deteriorating. could happen to any of us.

a certain hunger by chelsea g. summers what if girlbossing is just a quick pivot from sociopathy?? what if the crimes are so much more gratifying than say, fame or fortune or even love?? women can be sociopaths too, you know!! this one is fun bc the protag is crazy and it's fun to slip into these characters. cathartic even. omg did i mention, she's a foodie too! just like me :-)

#book recs #horror lit #halloween reading list #the centre #ayesha manazir siddiqi #slewfoot #brom #sister maiden monster #lucy a. snyder #mary: an awakending #nat cassidy #the last house on needless street #catriona ward #brother #ania ahlborn #the vegetarian #han kang #a certain hunger #chelsea g. summers

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Hi!!! I randomly found ur Eric northman fic and I’m so glad cuz it’s great!!❤️ I’m obsessed!! It’s such a good idea & idk if u still write for him but I’d love more with him and his wife!!🥰❤️

I actually had another drabble written up about them I never posted, so here you go ;)

If you're new here, this is sort of a part 2/continuing miniseries for my first Eric x Reader one-shot Saccharine.

**

Glamour

Pairing: Eric Northman x F!Reader

Summary: Sookie gets her chance to meet the mysterious Y/N and learns about her odd connection to Eric Northman.

Tags: Eric Northman x F!reader, true blood, vampire, imagine, female reader, reader x Eric Northman, one-shot, true blood imagine, Eric Northman imagine

Words: 1.3k

Rarely did Sookie Stackhouse ever express immediate disdain upon meeting someone.

She was raised in the south, and southern manners dictated a fair assessment before judgment. Though Sookie’s judgement could always be sped up by her telepathic abilities, remaining outside of someone’s mind to make a judgement was something she strived to do. It wasn’t always easy, but keeping company with vampires had changed that.

Up until they arrived at Hotel Carmilla in Dallas, that was.

Sookie and Bill were getting Jessica and the man who’d tried to kidnap them at the airport settled in the lobby. The man was complacent and empty, thoughts betraying nothing to Sookie’s intentional probing. The red-headed vampire sat across from him eagerly, glamoring him out of his mind as she waited for a room. Bill and her had almost made it to the check in counter when a woman's voice drifted to their ears.

“Well isn’t this sweet.”

Sookie was so taken aback by the sugary tone that she froze temporarily. Bill tensed beside her, and his hand found its place on the small of her back.

“Stay close to me.” He murmured.

Sookie swallowed and turned around, locking gazes with the richest eyes she’s ever met. The woman did not appear much older than Sookie, but her presence was ethereal and calming. Her hair was tied into a loose knot, with pieces falling to frame her face and accentuate the vortex of her eyes. They were an odd color, with a cat-like sharpness that snapped Sookie out of her trance.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Compton.” Her voice maintained its original tone, corrupted only by a child-like glee not associated with vampires. “And you must be Sookie Stackhouse.”

Sookie smiled at the woman as she approached. Her hips swayed with incredible cadence, steps silent in the hotel’s nearly empty lobby. Bill grew closer once again, and Sookie was shocked to realize she had forgotten his presence so near her side.

“Yes, and it’s nice to meet you, Miss..?”

Bill stepped forward, gesturing between the two. “Sookie, this is Y/N.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Stackhouse. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Y/N practically purred her name, eyes carefully searching Sookie’s face.

“So, you two know each other?” Sookie looked to Bill for help, perturbed by the intense energy that radiated off of the being before them.

“Yes. We have known each other for many years.” Bill explained, moving to put himself back at Sookie’s side as opposed to in between the women.

Purely out of habit, her mind reached out towards Y/N’s. She felt the familiar warm feeling that a mind emitted, and heard a single word.

‘Gotchya’

Sookie’s hands clutched at her temples as she was thrust out of the warmth. Bill immediately grasped her shoulders, supporting her as she forced herself upright. He bared his fangs, and a raucous giggle filled the lobby.

“What did you do to her?” Bill demanded. Sookie turned into his body, half-hiding against his chest. A hand still clutched at her temple in a feeble attempt to thwart the inevitable migraine.

Jessica appeared beside the group suddenly, fangs bared and pupils narrowed. Sookie was taken aback by her appearance. “Jess?”

“What is that amazing smell?” The young vampire questioned.

It seemed her subconscious knew, as her eyes were glued on Y/N.

“That would be-” Y/N stopped abruptly when Jessica blurred forward and wrapped one hand around the column of her throat. Hypnotic eyes flicked carefully to Bill before focusing back on Jessica.

Y/N smiled from her compromised position, pupils directed to the redhead’s eyes. Sookie watch Jessica freeze completely in place, and her hostage smiled.

“Jessica, is it?”

A single nod.

“Good. Listen Jessica, I am not a buffet. I smell awfully good, but you don’t want to hurt me. I fear you and your maker would be taken from this existence.”

Jessica’s face crumpled. “My Maker?”

“Yes. Now sweetheart, stop choking me please. Go back to your glamoring session with the bald man, yeah?” Y/N directed. Her voice was dripping with honey, and Jessica immediately complied with her request.

The woman brushed off her long-sleeve jacket, which Sookie noticed had Fangtasia’s logo emblazoned over the left breast. Her mind automatically reached out again, only to receive what felt like a slap to the face. Bill’s arm grew tighter around her when she flinched.

“I thought it was clear before- I don’t do mind games.” Y/N licked her lips, raising a single eyebrow at Bill. “And I’d put those fangs away if I were you. I don’t think your sheriff would be too happy if you damaged me.”

“What are you?” Sookie murmured the question from the safety of Bill’s arms, stunned by both the trance she put on Jessica and her flippant attitude.

Y/N smiled, revealing rows of white teeth. “Now that’s a good question. Why don’t you take a seat, and we’ll have a drink?”

Bill looked as if he was going to argue but thought better of it. Sookie allowed him to guide her to a nearby loveseat, opposite the walkway where Jessica sat. Y/N followed behind them, perching on the armrest of a chair. She whistled sharply at a nearby busboy.

“You. Here.”

The boy looked scared upon his approach, but Y/N only smiled sweetly. “Can you bring me a Tru Blood and something fruity and sweet for Miss Southern Belle?”

“O-of course, Mrs. Northman. Anything else?”

Sookie froze at the title, eyes darting to Bill who made a ‘patience’ gesture with his hand.

“That’ll be it, thank you darling.”

Their impromptu host focused her attention back on them, eyes sweeping over the inquisitive look on Sookie’s face. “Am I really that rumpled today?”

Bill forced a smile at her just as Sookie was beginning to understand the false pretense he was putting on in her presence.

“I believe Sookie was curious as to your surname, not your appearance.” He set a hand on Sookie’s shoulder. “Y/N is Eric’s wife.”

Sookie’s eyebrows might as well have climbed into her hairline. “Married? To Eric?”

Y/N waved a hand in the air. “Semantics. It was a legal move many years ago… I always planned on getting a divorce, but what can I say? Being married to a Sheriff has its perks.”

“You’re a vampire? What did you do to Jessica?”

“Now you’re asking the important questions.” Y/N smiled when the busboy came back with a tray holding two drinks. She offered the pink, slushie drink with a little umbrella to Sookie, and uncapped the Tru Blood. Her eyes scanned the contents before holding it out to Bill.

“Thank you.” He gritted, nodding at the woman.

“You are so welcome.” Y/N folded her hands on her lap. “As for your questions: No, I’m not a vampire. And- Jessica- it's just a glamor. That aspect is a bit vampire-esque, I'll admit.”

“Glamor? You can’t glamor vampires.” Sookie knew her statement was worthless, but her half-functioning brain had to spit something in response.

“I never said I didn’t have abilities.” Y/N slid down the arm of her chair, sitting sideways across the cushion. “Most know me as gorgon, of the Greek variety.”

Sookie stared, "Like Medusa? You ain't got snakes for hair as fair as I see."

"Not anymore." She smirks, "A vampire tried to turn me long ago, but the transformation didn't quite take... most vampires call me spirit, and they’re right- kind of- but I’m not. I have a corporeal body.”

“But you are evil.” Sookie clamped a hand over her mouth as Y/N’s jaw opened in surprise.

“Mr. Compton, your girlfriend is quite brazen.”

Sookie was expecting anger, but only childish laughter came.

“But I suppose mythology would see it that way." The woman smirks, canines pointed just a bit more than any human's should be. "Don’t be afraid, Sookie. I won’t hurt you.”

Y/N’s eyes showed no signs of deceit.

“Besides- what would I have to gain? I’ve been alive a long time, I don’t plan on messing it up now.”

True Blood Masterlist | Send me an ask!

#Eric Northman x F!reader #true blood #vampire #imagine #female reader #reader x Eric Northman #one-shot #true blood imagine #Eric Northman imagine

[comfortbucky]

I asked for the doctor!bucky andd you don't have to write but I forgot to ask... He is like a really busy doctor and it surprises the female reader that he is going to do her stitches... Wanda is his assistant. He has to give you a pain numbing shot in your cut and he comforts you when you scream and writh in pain... Thanks xxx

𝗻���𝗺𝗯 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆｡˚

pairing: doctor!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of bloody injuries, medical settings, stitches, needles

A/N: omg i’ve never written for doctor!bucky before so i’m excited hehe :) thank u for ur request! // i changed around who was administering the numbing agent and doing the stitches btw i hope u don't mind, just made more sense in my head for bucky to be able to comfort her if his hands are free!

hope u enjoy! <3 sorry if this isn't that good asjdfhaldf

Y/L/N = your last name

also let me just indulge myself and sprinkle some of my own experiences in this bc a couple months ago i literally slammed my head into a wall and cut my eyelid😃nothing bad enough to get stitches but i do have a scar💗

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Y/N! Come quick!”

Y/N was digging through her dresser for a sweater when her roommate, Darcy, called out for her. She lifted her head up and spun it without thinking, completely forgetting that her dresser was situated in the corner of her room, slamming her head into the wall.

Her ears started to ring and she bent over in laughter, her natural response to pain, as tears threatened to fall down her face.

“Y/N?” Darcy was met by silence, Y/N struggling to respond, her body overcome with laughter so hard she was inaudible. Concerned that Y/N had knocked herself out cold, Darcy peeked her head around the corner of Y/N’s doorway, to find her hurled over, a hand over her left eye, drops of crimson blood on the ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Y/N lifted her head, calming down from her fit of laughter, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course, this would happen to me,” she replied chuckling, taking a tissue from Darcy to put pressure on her cut.

Carefully making her way to a mirror, Y/N grabbed her phone on the way. She stared at her reflection and slowly removed the tissue from her face to examine the extent of her injury. It was steadily bleeding, most likely a bad sign. Y/N placed her tissue back over her cut and reached for her phone and Facetimed her friend Matt, an EMT.

“Hello- What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hi Matt,” she replied, shooting him a grin through the screen. “Slammed my head against the wall, by accident.”

“I would hope so,” he sighed. “Let me guess, you’re wondering whether you should go to the ER or not?”

“You know me so well, Matty.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” Y/N removed the tissue and felt a warm liquid trail down the side of her face.

“No.”

“Go to the ER, please.” She groaned.

If there was one place in the world she despised, it was a hospital. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to convince either of her friends otherwise, and dragged her feet as she reluctantly followed Darcy to her car.

It was a normal night in the ER, which meant a fury of organized chaos. Bucky found himself needed in 6 places, all at the same time. But this was an environment that he had become accustomed to, almost finding comfort in the madness of it all. Although the ER was bustling with patients, there weren’t any injuries that were very severe, mostly just broken bones and lacerations. Simple enough to the point where Bucky felt like he was operating on autopilot mode. Going through the motions of whatever task he needed to do, but not anything more than that. He felt numb. For the last several years of his life, the hospital was all that he knew. Bucky kept himself busy with work, leaving him with only a small social circle and his cat, Alpine. It was enough for him, but he never really felt complete. Which is why he threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner thoughts about a missing piece he never thought he’d find.

“Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 25.”

Bucky took a quick sip of his coffee and sighed before heading off to see his next patient. Wanda appeared from around the corner and started walking with him.

“This one’s a simple laceration, just might need stitches.” Bucky nodded in response to her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She was one of the select few who he considered a friend. Which was a little odd considering he was an attending and she was only a resident. But she was a good student, a fast learner, and one of the only residents he was ever willing to work with. He took her under his wing, fostering a friendship by spending time together in his office, reviewing various medical cases and files.

“Alright, you up to do them?”

Wanda came to a halt, Bucky taking a couple steps before looking back at her, tilting his head, waiting for a response.

“Y-Yeah, yes!” She stammered. “T-thank you, Dr. Barnes.” He nodded his head and turned back around to continue walking, Wanda close behind.

Y/N was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding a blood-soaked tissue over her left eye. Her leg was bouncing, a nervous tic she had developed from a young age. The adrenaline had worn off, forcing her to feel a throbbing pain, her eyes brimming with tears. She avoided crying in front of people whenever possible, so as soon as Darcy left to grab some coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, she let the floodgates open. The sound of footsteps approaching made her freeze and she used her sleeves to sloppily wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

A firm, but somehow also gentle, voice called out to her before the curtain was pulled open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair, a stubbly beard, and stunningly blue eyes standing next to a woman with blazing red hair and contrasting green eyes. Y/N’s gaze was immediately fixated on the man’s eyes, unable to look away for a moment, before she realized she was staring. She quickly looked down and cleared her throat.

“Y/N, you can just call me Y/N.”

The man nodded and set down his clipboard at the end of the bed before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Barnes and this is Dr. Maximoff.” The woman gave a slight wave as she began charting on a computer. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her anxiety rise as the doctor pulled some gloves on and approached her.

He pulled over a stool to sit on and carefully removed the tissue that Y/N had been holding in place to assess the injury. While Bucky looked at her cut, he stole a glance to study the rest of her face. He couldn't help but take note of the pained look on her face, her eyes still watery and her button nose red from crying. It was the first time in a long time that he felt a twinge of pain while looking at someone's injury, that he felt practically anything at all during a shift. She felt his warm breaths on her face for a moment before he pulled away and replaced her bloody tissue with some gauze.

“Do you mind if she takes a look as well?” Y/N nodded again. Bucky got up from the stool, allowing Wanda to take his spot and assess her eye.

“So it looks like you just need 2 or 3 stitches, very simple procedure.”

Y/N felt her entire body tense up at Wanda's conclusion. She could barely stand sitting in a hospital bed alone and now she was about to get poked and prodded with needles. Bucky noticed and attempted to ease her worries.

"We'll administer a numbing agent, so you won't feel any pain, just pressure at the site."

She looked up at Bucky, who had a kind, tired expression on his face. It looked like he was having a long night and she didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it probably already was. Y/N gave him a small nod and Wanda started to gather the necessary supplies.

She laid back in bed with Wanda and Bucky sitting next to each other on her left. Her hands were folded on her stomach, eyes shut.

"You're gonna feel a slight pinch, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip to try and distract herself.

Wanda proceeded to administer the numbing shot and Y/N squeezed her hands tight, whimpering in pain. Bucky observed the pained expression on her face and placed a hand on her forearm, reflexively rubbing his thumb in small circles. When Wanda pulled the needle out, Y/N slowly fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by Bucky's warm smile. A blush crept to her cheeks and she turned her attention to the ceiling. Immediately, Bucky realized how unprofessional his action was and removed his hand. He had no idea what had come over him, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone like this before.

"Now I'm going to do the stitches, okay? You should just feel a slight pressure." Just as before, Y/N shut her eyes after Wanda spoke and gripped her hands tight. She felt the pressure that Wanda was talking about and couldn't help but squirm at the feeling. Another wave of anxiety rushed over her and she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Wanda removed the needle and quickly turned to Bucky, a panicked look on her face. He gave her a reassuring look before speaking softly.

"Y/N? Do you think you could hold still for just a little longer?" She opened her eyes, brimming with tears.

"Sorry, I just, I hate needles." Y/N fiddled with her hands as she kept her gaze up, trying to avoid the tears from escaping. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight.

"What do you think would help you relax?"

Thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find a solution to relieve her anxiety. Y/N thought back to when she was young and chuckled, remembering a stuffed whale that she got at an aquarium, that went everywhere with her.

"This is stupid but, when I was a kid, I would carry around this stuffed animal around and it helped to hold it whenever I had to get shots."

Bucky thought for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was going to regret the words about to leave his mouth.

"You could hold my hand."

Y/N and Wanda both looked at him with surprised expressions, regret instantly hitting him.

"If you're comfortable with it," he quickly clarified. Y/N felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she nodded.

She laid back down and Bucky took her hand in his. The instant transfer of heat soothed Y/N and she shut her eyes to allow Wanda to get to work.

When she felt the pressure on her eye again, her hand automatically gripped Bucky's tighter, and he squeezed it back to help calm her. Y/N focused on the callousness of his hands, how his hand seemed to fit into hers perfectly. Suddenly, she was thinking about his eyes again, those glimmering blue eyes. Blue was always a calming color for her, reminiscent of her trip to the aquarium where she got her beloved stuffed whale. As she felt Bucky's thumb gently rub the top of her hand, she realized that her whale could never provide as much comfort as he did.

Bucky felt a sense of pride as he watched the tension in Y/N's face disappear. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering, looking at the loose strands of hair on the right side of her face, the rosiness of her cheeks, how she glowed. His heart started to palpate and Bucky realized a flame had kindled inside him. He was feeling again.

"All done!" Wanda chirped, stepping aside to let Bucky check her work. He smiled at her patted her on the back with his free hand.

"You did good." Wanda beamed and thanked him, walking away to complete her charting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, still feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand in hers. He greeted her with a tender smile and slowly helped her up, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"See? Wasn't that bad after all," he grinned, releasing her hand. Y/N's smile faltered, missing his touch, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Barnes."

"Bucky," he stated. She raised an eyebrow. "Call me Bucky."

The pair stared at each other in silence, enjoying each other's presence before the PA system snapped them both out of their trance.

"Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 16."

Bucky sighed, slowly getting up from his seat.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Bucky."

He turned around and was about to pull the curtain open when he paused, turning back around to face Y/N, scratching the back of his head. It took one look at her face and Bucky knew he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" She beamed up at him and Bucky felt his knees go weak.

"I would like that very much." He chuckled in disbelief and smiled.

Bucky had finally found his missing piece.

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x fem!reader #fem!reader #bucky x fem!reader #doctor!bucky #au doctor bucky #soft!bucky #grumpy!bucky #fluffy!bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #soft!bucky x reader #fluffy!bucky x reader

[billyspotato]

could u pls do something w rafe cuddling u and playing w ur hair🥺

A/N: I’m sorry that this kinda sucks, I tried my best but for some reason, it’s not as good as I wanted it to be. Hope you like it, tho.

Cuddly Sunday - Rafe Cameron

Words: 1.429 words

Type: (Extreme) Fluff

Summary: (What’s written on the request)

Warnings: English is not my first language. Sorry if I misspelled something, I proofread this while in Sociology class (still am). 

A/N: Gif’s not mine :)

You wake up with the front door of your home open and close, almost making you jump in bed for not expecting the loud noise. You rub your eyes before looking around in the room and you notice that's it's been an hour and a half (once your eyes landed on the alarm clock) since Rafe woke you up just to tell you that he was going out for a run and then work out in the backyard.

Who even works out on a Sunday morning, anyway?

You pull the covers over your head, letting your head sink into the fluffy feathered pillow.

The door of the bedroom opens slowly, and you decide not to move a muscle.

Rafe walks in the bedroom, sweaty t-shirt on his hand, only wearing his black basketball shorts and shoes. Once he closes the door, Rafe looks over at you and walks over to the bed.

As he leans on the side of it, you peak from the covers to look at him. He stands there, with his messy hair and with his chest glistening from the sweat and with the light that is coming through the curtains.

You outstretch your hand out of your warm blanket in his direction, and Rafe takes it, pulling him down onto the bed and smiling under the covers once noticing the way he looks at you.

You pull the covers away from your face after letting his hand fall from yours while you pull your bed head hair back and try to look more presentable. You hold your hands up and cup Rafe’s face, which was slightly sticky due to the sweat.

Not caring, you pull him down and peck his lips once for a few seconds.

Once Rafe pulls away slightly, you groan and let go of his face as he places his warm hand on top of your exposed leg.

“I need a shower,” Rafe says, making you fake pout while looking at him.

“But I need you to cuddle with me,” you tell him with a fake whining tone.

“Once I’m clean and dressed, I'm all yours”

“Promise?” you ask while holding up your pinky.

“Promise,” He says, intertwining your pinkies and smiling down at you.

His hand gives your thigh one last squeeze before he gets up and walks over to his closet.

You snuggle your face into his pillow as you roll on the bed and out of the covers, and you hug it right away when recognizing the smell.

“I love you,” You say out loud, your voice now muffled by the pillow, as you heard Rafe walking to the bathroom.

“I love you too,” he says, a smile prominent in his voice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

You smile into the pillow as your belly erupts into butterflies just like a little girl who has a crush, and the bathroom door closes.

You turn the TV on once you notice that something might be more entertaining than sniffing a pillow and smiling like an idiot. And you wait for Rafe while watching some weird show on TLC.

The shower is turned off after some time and you almost sigh in relief. You’re bored out of your mind and for some reason, you forgot to charge your phone overnight.

You sit up while looking at the TV, staring at the screen, lost in thought - not actually watching anything.

The door of the bathroom opens after a few minutes and Rafe walks out, wearing a pair of black sweatpants but still shirtless; and his hair is still wet, even though it looked like he tried to dry most of it with a towel since it's so messy.

Rafe walks over to the bed, running his fingers through the mess in his head and you give him a small smile while you open your arms in the air as if you're asking for a hug.

Once Rafe gets close enough, the golden light from the sun hits his tan skin, and he sits down. He falls into your arms, making you fall back into the comfortable mattress with his weight and impact. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him towards you until the two of you are completely laying down.

Rafe snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, making you lightly giggle as his hair tickles your skin, and he shifts his weight a little bit to the side, so he isn't laying completely on you.

The sunlight coming through the window warms his cold back while your hands move along his soft skin, tracing imaginary lines and sometimes gripping his broad shoulders, which you love more and more every day.

Rafe kisses your neck while he melts into your touch, enjoying every single movement of your fingers, sometimes getting some chills as you would trace his spine.

After maybe half an hour, you got up and walked to the bathroom to do your whole morning routine, changing to one of Rafe’s shirts, which always tend to be softer and more comfortable than your own. And once you come back to bed, you notice that Rafe had already chosen a movie for the two of you to watch.

You throw yourself on top of Rafe, who pressed play in the movie before his hands could go to you. You look at the screen while your head laid on his chest, trying to see what movie it was by the opening credits.

While you were focused on the screen, Rafe played with the hem of the shirt that you're wearing and pulls it up to your hips before playfully smacking your butt and giving the back of your thigh a squeeze.

You glare at him once he does it and he smiles down at you.

“Don’t start a war you can’t win,” You warn him, making him chuckle under you.

“And what would be that war?”

“The booty smacking one” You joke while trying to keep a straight face, which didn't really work as your lips started to curve.

“Are you sure you would win that?” Rate teases and you pull yourself up higher to be face to face with him, making his hands fall from your lower back to the back of your thighs.

“I-I’m not answering that,” You say while trying to sound serious while trying not to giggle as your lips were less than an inch away from his.

“Oh, are you scared?”

“A woman is never scared of a man like you” You whisper, making him break his serious expression and actually laugh in your face.

You smile at his contagious laugh and peck his lips while listening to the giggles you’ve always loved. They've always made you feel warm and giddy on the inside and you don’t think that will ever change.

You snuggle in the side of his head while listening to the characters from the movie talk as background noise while Rafe calmed down. You kiss his jaw and his temple before laying your head back down and relaxing on top of him.

(...)

After some hours, you two are still in bed. You've eaten breakfast and lunch already and now, you're just watching some other movie, which was (to you) much more interesting than the last one.

Rafe is sitting with his back leaning on the bedframe, while your head laid on his thigh and your arms wrapped around his hips. 

While you're focused on the movie, Rafe’s fingers would sometimes run through your hair. And when bored, he would grab a small piece of your hair and get entertained by braiding it, which you never realize until you would go to the bathroom and look in the mirror to then see the random braids on the sides of your head.

It's literally like when you just have an afternoon with a toddler that really wants to become a hairstylist.

The whole day was filled with cuddling, playing with each other’s hair, and falling asleep for a few minutes while in complete relaxation.

By the time it was getting dark, you two laid down and just talked. Not caring about any movie, only on the conversation. And when you would talk, Rafe would trace imaginary lines into your skin, while you would play with his hair.

And let me tell you: even though this kind of day may sound boring to other people, you wouldn't trade it for the world. And neither would he.

- - - - - 

🌸✨Sorry, but I’m not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey✨🌸

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #outer banks netflix #outer banks imagines #rafe cameron imagines

[sprstories]

HEY HI ITS UR FRIEND BACK AGAIN TO ASK FOR SOME ROZANDA N CLAIRE THANK YOU SMILES 🙏

— Hey, Claire. — Rozanda put her hands on the shoulders of the named, and looked over her neck at the papers that she has, or rather had, since by the sudden touch, she made her drop the papers out of fright. — what are you doing?

— ...Daily paperwork, Rozanda, at least that's what I was doing until you came. —.

Rozanda noticed that tone, she was angry, or rather more serious than normal, but that was not strange, she always made her that kind of treatment, indifferent and stoic, clearly she still did not trust her, and she did not forgive her for kidnapping some of her people.

— Are you still mad at me? Come on Claire, it's been months and you're still not over it. —

— Are you sorry for what you done? — This time she turned to Rozanda, giving a sharp look, but that didn't intimidate her at all.

— No, but-.

— So we'll talk later. — The mayor gathered up all her papers, scattered on the floor. — See you soon. —.

Rozanda frowned at being totally discarded, who did she think she was to throw her away like that?

She may had enslaved her people, tortured and humiliated them but.. now that she thought about it, it was a bad thing.

She sighed, normally she wouldn't mind getting closer to the mayor more than she intended, but she would only do it to regain her honor.

— You'll see Claire, you'll forgive me, and we'll be the best friends in the world. Take it as a threat! — she screamed, enough for the black-haired woman to hear. — You will feel so comfortable with me that you will not want to leave my side, EVER. HAHAHAHA. —.

Many Robloxians who were there began to walk away in fear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

— Hey Claire. —.

Claire sighed, wouldn't that girl ever stop following her? not even in her own office?

— What do yo— uh... — She was able to capture how the pirate approached her (threateningly) a cup with coffe, it was written "#1 mayor" it reminded her of someone in particular.

— i made you coffe. —.

— i don't want coffe. —.

— Why? it's not poisoned. Come on take a sip. —.

— I don't want your coffee, and how did you get into my office? —.

— i'm trying to be good with you. And, don't question anything, just accept it. —.

— You just me to forgive you, right? — Rozanda stared at her. — I know it, a simple coffe wouldn't restore my people mental he—.

— SHUT UP, TAKE A SIP CLAIRE. —

— NO, NO! —.

— TAKE THE F*CKING COFFE CLAIRE. —

— GUARDS. —.

Then she was dragged outside, at least Claire kept the cup, she hoped that the "gif" would take effect.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

— Hey. — Rozanda walked over to (a very tired) Claire. Before the mayor says anything, Rozanda put a piece of paper in her face. — I have a gift for you. —.

Silently, she pulled the paper from her face to get a better look. She could see little scrawls of her and Rozanda together, with various hearts, fire, corpses, and pirates. Above them, there was a big phrase "FORGIVE ME".

Claire frowned, and looked at Rozanda, who had a confident smile, and at the same time she looked terrifying standing, staring into her soul.

— what do you think? —.

— I... Don't want your garbare. —.

Claire held out her hand with the paper, and let it slowly fall to the floor.

Rozanda's face was a mixture of disappointment, "sadness" and anger.

— just give up Rozanda... —.

— no, I'm not going to give up. —.

The purple-haired girl ran to who knows where, only her mind knew where she was going. Claire didn't really care where she was going.

Then the mayor looked at the ground, looking at the drawing carefully, she would not admit that she was impressed that the same infamous pirate queen did that to her.

And she just threw it away like nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Claire took a deep breath and exhaled, more than tired, exhausted from the pirate's hanging attitude. Context? right now she was being taken on a "blind-eyed walk" she was basically forced.

Her steps were clumsy, because she tried to go slow, the blindfold made her distrust everything, she expected that Rozanda would kidnap and torture her for throwing her simple drawing.

They finally stopped, and Claire gasped in exhaustion. She felt a pressure unleash on her head and she expected the worst.

Then what she saw made her speechless.

— Do you like it? I made this for us. —.

At the top of a hill, where the sun was beginning to descend, the best place for a picnic, there they were.

— you made this for me? —.

— It wasn't just me, some people helped me, it might be a simple thing, but, uh, I have a hard time doing this kind of thing. —.

Claire looked at her seriously and sighed, she understood her somehow, Rozanda was someone with a lot of pride and at a certain point, evil, doing something as sweet as this was difficult for someone like her.

— Well, it's a shame, but I'm very busy right now. —.

— you're always busy. — Rozanda this time was heard more... Hurt? — I just want to make up for the shitty day I put you through.

— But I have to take care of my town. —.

— They will be fine, don't you have someone to replace you? Dusekkar or Lanter? —.

— They are with Antagon, I do not want to put a burden on them. —.

— Fair enough. Protagonist? —.

— Right there. — Claire pointed to a place on the hill, where the protagonist and Scriptliss were on their long-awaited date.

—... TUCKER!? —.

— With Aristris, i think? —.

— DAMMIT! Just... stay, please? i... this really means much to me. —.

Claire thought about it for a few seconds.

— Okay ... I guess they can take care of themselves. —.

She sat next to the pirate, who happy, handed her a sandwich from the basket.

They both stared at the sunset, together, without looking at each other but for the first time having a civilized conversation, without shouting or complaints, without threats or lies.

Still, Rozanda still had something pending.

— Claire, are you still mad at me? —.

— It wouldn't be so much if you at least admitted and apologized for what you did. — Claire took a bite of her second sandwich.

— ...Ok, i'm sorry. — and then Claire choked. — Uh..

— *cof* repeat that.. —.

— DON'T MAKE THIS HARDER, LOOK, I don't regret what I did, but if you ask so much, I apologize for all the suffering i caused before. — Rozanda inhaled. — If you want, I apologize to the people I hurt, I make you coffee every day, I draw you, ANYTHING, BUT STOP AVOIDING ME. IT FEELS WEIRD, AND IT HURTS. —.

— ok, i don't hate you anymore. —.

Rozanda was silent, was it that easy? and she killing her brain to try to have her friendship, yes... Friendship.

— Wait, just that? You won't test me or something? —.

— Well, if you want.. —.

— NO, no. — Rozanda shaked her hands. — it's okay like that, ha.

— Still, only I forgive you, and even if I don't hate you anymore, it doesn't mean that I like you or something like that. —.

— Is there anything I can do to at least please you more? —.

Claire looked at her for a second, then at the sky, then at her, and ended up looking at the sky again that was slowly darkening.

— I would recommend that you personally apologize to the people you hurt, including Tucker, perhaps that will score you points. —.

Rozanda looked at the basket for one minute.

— If I hand you this can of soda, how many points would you add? —.

— That would be five points. —.

They both looked into each other's eyes, and laughed, everything was definitely fine between them now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bonus: Claire returns to her office after the little picnic with Rozanda, and then takes out of her pocket the small paper with the drawing that Rozanda made for her, she saved it. She then turns it over and writes "I forgive you :)" and then leaves it in the mail with Rozanda's (new) home address.

#super paper roblox #Spr #Rozanda #Claire #Rozaire??? #Clazanda??? #Tw: swears

[burnedbyshoto]

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?” 

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou

[knullanon]

So if it's not to much to ask can I get yan platonic ra's, Talia, and still in the league of assassin's damian #56.

# my beloved as well

-🌹

at first when i saw the song i did not get vibes at all but then i listened to it and i was like bro i got an idea. thank u. also these are still open so if yall got anything to send in... pls do im bored. this is literally making me write more than i ever have written. idk why it just does.

xanny - billie eilish

you really hated the smell of smoke. you didn’t know why- you never knew anyone who smoked, you never had any bad experiences with it, but you just hated the smell. you never knew why but it just irritated you to no end. 

anyway, that wasn’t why you were here in the strange part of your town. you were here to hang out with your new friend, damian, he had said his name was. funny enough, he used to hate you, and actually tried to attack you when you both first met. he thought you were another smoker in the area. 

however, he soon found out you were running from some school bully. you were a teenager, and yet, your short ass couldn’t do shit to a 6″ tall guy. which is why damian scared him off, by kicking in his teeth. you saw the damage the next day at school: he wasn’t gonna bother you again.

and that’s how your friendship started.

at first, it was rocky. he only saw you every other day, and it was usually a very cold interaction every time. and then you brought him some leftover food. and he scarfed it down. for a guy with the moves of an assassin, he really was thin. when you asked, he simply said he didn’t have enough money to get food. so, every time you met, you would give him food. 

he was almost grateful every time as well. then he started to get closer, and closer, and well, that’s how you ended up keeping a secret about him murdering some random guy.

of course, you hadn’t meant to see him do it, you were just too early. way too early. you had wanted to surprise him at the top of the building where the two of you met, and so you had gone and spent your money to get a batch of those really good pastries and little snacks from the liquor store. as you were walking past the stairs, you had to cover your nose from the open dumpster that you usually passed. it smelled worse than usual.

which is... strange. usually it was closed. damian said the people living around the area hated it when it was open, which was understandable. and then, while you were walking past it, you had the sudden feeling to get out of the way. so you quickened your steps.

only to hear something crunch right to the ground.

when you looked down, you saw blood running away from you, from the back of your heels to your toes. and it was still flowing. turning around, you saw a dead man that had seemingly fallen from the sky. you looked up only to see-

is that fucking damian?

you didn’t even try to see whatever else was there, you just kept on running. unfortunately, you didn’t see how much blood had gotten onto your shoes. bloody footprints weren’t easy to clean, of course, but they were extremely easy to track.

~~~~

you didn’t stop until you got home. fortunately, your things were in your backpack since you had brought more than usual. looking into the living room, you saw alcohol and beer bottles strewn about in the living room.

at least they didn’t hear you coming home.

you walked up to your room and closed the door quietly before beginning to remove your coat. you tried to think that what you saw was just a joke, was just something your mind made up out of paranoia, and for a minute, you thought it was true.

and then you took off your shoes. still bloody.

fuck.

you slowly turned to look at the ground, and fortunately, there wasn’t any blood. it must’ve all gotten on the sidewalk-

oh wait. the dead man falling from the roof actually happened. 

and was it really damian who threw it?

you weren’t feeling as good as you thought you would be.

you stopped thinking when you heard you phone chime. oh shit, damian!

you rushed over and opened the text only to see that yes, it was damian who had texted you

Hey, I’ve been waiting for a while for you here. Where are you?

well now you really feel like a piece of shit. stupid paranoia. making you ruin your friendships.

omg im so sorry!! its just been a long day, and i forgot to tell you im not feeling too well. i dont think i’ll be able to make it.

while you did feel like a shithead for doing this, you really didn’t want to have to explain why you didn’t feel ok going outside. and the blood on your shoes did not help anything.

Are you ok? Do you need me to come over?

you were about to say ok, but then you remembered your parents were downstairs. not a good thing to have with friends over.

i wish. my parents are downstairs and they aren’t welcoming of guests, and ur also a boy. no offense, but i would get my ass handed to me.

you were about to shut off your phone when the door started to knock. getting up off your bed, you wandered over to see who it was, since your parents definitely weren’t the kinds of people you wanted to see standing at the door, when you heard the door bust down.

“_____, what the fuck are you doing-”

nothing else made you want to jump outside the window and run. however, you saw damian already in your room. 

“damian! what the fuck, dude!”

you tried to rush to the window, but he blocked your escape. “dude, what are you doing? we have to go!”

he shifted uncomfortably, and said, “sorry, _____, but both my grandfather and my mother wanted to meet you.”

“I- bitch, you have parents?!” turning around, you saw a tall man in your doorway. he almost reached the top of it.

he gave a small nod, to you or Damian you didn’t know. “Hello, _____ I have been told much about you.”

There was a woman standing behind him, and suddenly she walked towards you with something in her hand.

“We hope you will like your new home.”

#dad!ra's al ghul #🌹 anon

[grimoire-of-seven]

Because I’m an angsty bitch, could you do a head cannons from the seven with a terminally ill MC? Or at least really, really sick. Thanks! Love your writing 💕

PROMPT: “If Only We Could Have More Time…”

Rating: SFWWords: 600-700Characters: Demon Boys + MC / Gender-Neutral ReaderNotes:  Hi! I tried not to make the situation all much worse by means of pressing too hard with the subject in a sense, but to end it with something both parties could cherish. I hope you will all enjoy it!~Oh! And this is written in their perspective.~

Lucifer

Shit..Shit..Shit..

F*ck..

Screwsaving face, the Avatar of Pride himself soon began sprinting through the palehallway, missing to register himself by the lobby as his eyes were fixated bythe red beaming light under the sign; emergency room.

It was imprudentto put his phone to silent at his meeting with the prince of Devildom. Heshould have known better not to… otherwise, he would have read your messagehalf an hour ago, their voice replaying in his mind as his feet quicken itspace.

“Heyumm.. Luci? I know itis a bad time to call you.. but umm.. I’ll be having my operation again in anhour according to the doctor. I hope you’ll take it easy with those meetings and take care!”

“I’msorry sir but you could not enter from this point on. I’m afraid you have towait at the waiting area.”

“But Ineed to see them! Are they already there?” The light-bringer tried to reasonwith the man in a white coat but to no avail. His fears only heightened whenthe doctor reminded him of the day’s operation and how it could grave it couldgo further..

“They do tend to get worse every cycle..”“Why?”“Because each infusion gets harder and the doctors say that Ishould expect that I’ll get weaker every moment.”“Then why place yourself in that situation..?”

Thosebitter words clung into the air as the embodiment of Pride could no longer holdhis composure as one of the nurses by the station assisted him to take a seat.With his fingers entwined together, letting his chin rest on it, his feetclearly indicate how uneased his spirit was as the sole continues to move upand down as though it were to pounce to the emergency room.

 Lookingthrough his surroundings, there were also people under his shoes. Hands claspedtogether with their forehead close to it, mumbling under their breath as thoughthey are talking to…

 God?

 Prayingat every second spared before the judgment on the other door. And…

Should he do the same?

 “Ma’amChase?”“Yes?”“Yourdaughter is doing fine now. The operation was a success thanks to Dr. Pomatter.”“Oh thankGod! Can I go see her now?”“Yes, ma’am!This way.”

Thank God?They are thanking… Father? 

He hadresented any forms of communications within the Celestial Realm, only forming aprofessional relation to Simeon and Luke under Diavolo’s rule yet… why are histhoughts claiming otherwise?

No.Why should he ask for mercy?He is Lucifer.The eldest and the leader of his pack.A fallen angel to whom prowess never left, despite his glorytainted by the burning sulfur.Yet here he was, incapable to put Death far back on his drawingboard for picking his human for its next kill.Unable to take his human out of it…

Takinghis focus away from the mortals that surrounded the waiting area, thetelevision played a soap opera and with no remote to control its channels, itwas projecting a tragic scene with the woman dead on her lover’s arms.

 What if their life would be cut shorter than it already is becauseof this operation?

Could he ever digest the thought that within those times they weretogether, he did not spend it wisely because…Because he let his pride in between? Because he considered hisreputation more than..

Closinghis eyes once more, taking in a series of deep breaths, he, the Avatar ofPride, has always seen the display of empathy as a visage of helplessness andit was their little exchange student that demonstrated it to him otherwise.

Nonetheless,with his human weak.. why should he too, present himself in the same conditionjust because of his worries?

It wouldnot be right.He doesnot want to see his human frown just so his face is.

Maybe there is something he could do.. He thought to himself. Ifhe could not bail his human out of the cold-lighted room, perhaps he could maketheir stay un-cold. Something that could make him see them smile again.

Lookingthrough the window as the room itself has proven itself unable to distract thedemon on his own thoughts drowning his own rationality, there was a signagebeaming with fluorescent lights that made him stand and read; 

“Seven..Eleven..”“I wonderif there have any ice cream there..”

 Mammon

 For being the Avatar of Greed, he sure do brag about bein’ their little human’s first to ever make a pact with. He ain’t letting it pass on as just that.

Just to see his brothers sneer and hiss from mentioning it.

It’s like this bullet that could penetrate even to the thickest skull out there.

An accomplishment and for once, it was a pact he felt that wasn’t a curse. The witches should def. take down some notes from his human~

Yet…

He thought to himself…

There’s no one like his human.

 Recalling how his human would ride along to every trouble he creates, every idea he makes, it was this exchange student who was only staying a year that somehow, taught him companionship. And…

He couldn’t take it out of his chest, that he, the Great Mammon, had failed them.He was their first demon to ever make a pact with yet he didn’t do much being one.Perhaps, thinking now, most of them did more than he.Showed more care. Provided more care.And all he did was to get himself out of troubles and the consequences of his actions.Correction: It’s his human that would bail him out… like a mom.

But then, was there anything he could do to being with?

“Dang.. How much am I going to pay you now?”

His human has never even once mentioned of this illness resulting to Death..Well, all diseases would lead to Death but not with this higher rate of going to Death.It‘s like a parade to Death with his human the star of the show.

“I knew I should have bought Boardwalk the moment I landed on it the first time round!”

Maybe he should be the one to blame here.Maybe he didn’t ask more. Known them better.To think even money could betray him because there’s no known cure yet for them.Just like what the doctor said.

“Rent revenue of 50 dollars plus a three houses, umm..”

“Mammon?”

 …

“Mammoney?”

 …

“MonMon!”

“Ya?” Clearing his headspace, the Great Demon of hell went straight to his Boardwalk card. Sure thing that the visit was expensive. He’s getting all the money from this human plus his property, that’s… for sure..

“Is there something wrong?” they asked, their eyes piercing and hoisting only the truth on the sea of lies, he had come up of saying; “For you not to be interested with mone–“

 “I wish I could have known this sooner..”

“Mammon..”

“I could have not wasted your time too much with tossing you from one chaos to another.. and—“

“Mammon…” taking his hand with theirs to entwine with, their little cash-based board game folded in half as they inched closer;

“Why didn’t you ask me to make it go away?”

Did his voice just crack?

“Mammon..”

“I’m the first demon ya got to make a pact with. I got some witches and we might have been able to conjure some potion to get ya ou—“

“Because I just want to spend my time with you..

I do not want our time to be spent on looking for a cure when we could have so much more fun alone.”

Pause.

“Before meeting you, for a while, I was in your shoes too. Looking for a cure that was not there and I am glad that I snapped out of it meeting you.”

“Ummm…” the Avatar of Greed gulped down.

Did he just screw up?

“Because if it were not for you, I would not have enjoyed living. Having fun. Making troubles. I felt alive.”

 For someone whose lifeline is in the near end… a demon, a particular avatar of Greed demon could only comprehend so little. Here was a human, frail and like the money he knows would soon be gone out of his pocket, talking of living life to the fullest with him..

Because of him…

 “So.. are we still playin’ Monopoly or we’ll just snuggle ‘til the nurse bails you out of visitation hours?”

Leviathan

“What do you think we should play next?” Looking to his rightside, his little human was watching intently at the monitor of his laptop,completely ecstatic as he was able to defeat the final boss of the game. He wasable to manage to get through the final boss because of the UR armour pieceshis human was able to pick whenever he has to decide which crate he should openafter completing another level.

“Shall we go for.. Ruri-Chan Idol or A!3?”

“Whatever you decide on, Levi! As long as I’ll get to watch you.”

His eyes tried not to leave theirs but with his eyes inevitablytracing the cord from the IV down to their hands, injected for how long theycould have been admitted, playing video games became much more of a distractionfor him than it was for his human.

“Levi?”

“Y-y-yes?”

Making his eyes return to the person staring back at them, hecould definitely see a glistening spark as their lips curled, reaching theirears.

“Are you afraid of needles?”

Needles?Afraid of needles?Why would he be afraid of needles?

“Me? Afraid of needles? ROFL LMAO. The only thing I’m afraid of isnot having enough diamonds to purchase another UR Ruri-chan for the next event.”

It wasnot the needle that he was afraid of..But rather, on how swollen their hands are.It must have taken a lot from them..

“Then why are you looking at it like it’s some boss level at oneof your video games?”

Just as there were no room left to insert an excuse from hisinventory, he shifted his attention back to his folder of video-games that hewas able to install for offline playing purposes when he heard them laugh oncemore.

“Look at my hand, Levi! It looks like a balloon. I can’t move it..”

“Let me get the nurse then.”

“Why aren’t you saying ‘lol’ or ‘lmao’?”

Leviathan dead-panned looked at his human for quite some time, hiseyes fixated on theirs going to their hand and back again;

“You want me to lol when your hand looks like it weighs a ton?! Ifthis were an otome game, your intimacy with me would go down!”

“I am just kidding.. hahaha”

That laugh. That silly laugh that even a shut-in could not helpbut be flustered every time his ears are graced with it.

“I already rung the nurse station. Someone would come assist meanytime soo-“

“Good day, how could I be of assistance, sir?”

A woman dressed in all white looked at him before it was able todetect the cause of her call.

Her hands soon untangled the weave by his patient’s left hand, askingto keep their hand still as a ball of cotton soon veiled how the needle wasejected from…

And that was when he turned away from the scene and gave the nursesome space as he went through once more to his file of games..

Whichgame would best distract me?

He could always trust his video games.Video games has always shut him out of facing the outside world.Had always been his comfort blanket.But with him always in this comfort blanket, could he be truly there to supporthis human?

“You could look now, Levi!”

Why arethey smiling? What is there to smile? One hand told to be careful and anotherstuck on a board so it would not bend and have the needl—Maybe he is, sort of, afraid of the needle…Because of how it could be dangerous to them!

“How could you be so chill in all of this?”

“Because, I’m used to it?”

“But you see me with every boss level. Yes, I am used to gameshaving boss level but it is still different..”

“Well.. it was quite painful..”

Then whyare you so chill about it?Is this perhaps.. jealousy with how their human could handle things that ademon couldn’t?Him shutting in and them.. facing it?

“But today, I feel fine today.~”

“How come?” the Avatar of Envy looked once more to their hands,knowing how their left hand would soon be swollen too after a couple of IVs anddays..

“Because I have you.~”

Thishuman..

Sensing his cheeks go crimson red in heat, he tried concealing hisface with one hand, hearing once more that silly laugh, making him moreflustered. “Warn me next time when you’ll go cheesy, human.”

“How about this.. I’ll play a game and you will watch whileresting on my shoulders.”

“What will you be playing?”

“Do you have that game where the owner of a fast-food restaurantof chickens in a dating simulator?”

Satan

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Watching his human finish the last spoonful of their supper andpausing a video from their phone, it was prominent to his tone how angry he wasto himself. Mixed with frustration as his efforts of spending more time at thelibrary, looking at every bookcase for a book with a solution to theircondition, wasted as he found none.

Of all the spells and ancient writings, Devildom is provided with,none could enlighten the Avatar of Wrath on how he could just make theirillness non-existent which only added fuel to the fire considering how there isa book that could swap two entities to the other’s bodies but none about makinga mortal’s terminal illness gone.

“What were you listening to?”

Trying to put the subject or reason of his tardiness to rest bymeans of bringing up another conversation, right now, what the devil wants, isto turn his brain from overthinking off, and more on thinking about them.

“Oh! I was listening to a podcast with a holographic fanatic.”They beamed as though they had spent their time fruitful compared to his. “Youlook a bit tired..”

“A bit tired?”

Are hiseyebags prominent once more? He most definitely would not like to put his humanin worries or to even look tired.That he took from Lucifer.

“But still pretty charming.~”

“Now that is cheesy.”

Putting the food tray and the food container that looks similar tothose at the cafeteria away and near to the door, he saw his human shiftingmore towards their left, a clear invitation for him to be nearer, resulting toSatan putting his coat by the sofa readily available for a visitor.

“What was the podcast about?” He asked as he kept on shifting toattain that perfect and comfortable position to lie down next to them. The bedwas not relatively bad, much to his surprise.

“Just mundane stories that I just missed while being in here.”

If only asickness could tremble and run with his wrath, he would have done it in a snap.Why does sickness have to constrict someone from living?Especially them?

“I’d rather hear about you.~”

Surprised, his features were much more of confusion, somethingthat made his little human laugh and smile as though they were not in such confinedsituations.

“About me?”

“Mhmm!”

There itis again. Those kitty-like eyes.Those eyes that would make him fall for them once more.And make his cheeks flustered and in heat.

“What about me?”

“Anything. Childhood, fondest memories, life as a student..anything! I just want to hear more about you.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Eh?”

“Well, there is nothing interesting about me, darling.”

“Don’t say that!”

Hethought he was the Avatar of Wrath..But with his human angry at his reply..He could be dethroned with that title and just be the VP of being the Avatar ofGreed.

“You are interesting!”

“Darli—“

“You truly are! You are interesting to me.”

Interestingto me.

Sensing his ears getting hotter and hotter, he looked up by thepale ceiling, the fan spinning round and round when he felt an arm wrap aroundhis abdomen, warmth coursing through; “Pleeeeaase?”

“All right, all right. Maybe I could tell you how Asmodeus taughtme how to lie to save a kitty.”

“Yay!”

Asmodeus

“Asmo?”

Sensing his fingersentwined further to theirs, the Avatar of Lust fluttered his eyes open, seeingtheirs holding a reflection of himself making his body jerked itself to functionand boost up at once.

“You’re awake!”

How long was he asleep?

“Good morning, beautiful.~”

Beauty?Now now, little human..Let the Avatar of Lust handle the flirting.Although hearing their compliment was definitely  more boosting than any reserved slot or timefor spas and saunas.

“How are you feeling,dear?”

Looking through his phone,it was already 4am by his lockscreen, garnering how the Beauty himself wouldalready have underbags on his eyes. But that is something a cold slice ofcucumber and sleep would cure. Unlike theirs, where the operation was rather concerning in regards of how their body would take it. How the body will heal and take in the changes..

“How long have you beenhere, Asmo?”

This human..When will they ever learn to answer before asking?

“Just an hour ago. Then Ifell asleep instantly.~”

Lies.He had been there for hours and perhaps a day?It had been so long since he moved from his seat from their operation and truthbe told..His buns.. his “ass”ets are kinda flat by now.Nevertheless..He would not miss being the first demon his human would see when they wake up.Never.

And to think he was out-waken by his human.

“Was there a nurse thatcame to visit me?”

“There was one that replacedyour IV and checked pressure while ago.”

Both eyes were soon by theIV with its fluid contents were nearly empty, something his lies however, couldnot cover.

“Wow.. Only a while ago withmy IV already up to be replaced? Asmodeus..”

Oops?

“Fine..I have been here formore than a while..”

Pouting their lips with theireyes gazing afar from his to the round décor by the wall, it was evident how hehad spent overnight beside them without any flinch or reconsidering even tomove from his seat before he could see his reflection once more on their eyes.  

“You have dark circlesunder your eyes already.. Do you want to switch places? I will take a seat andyou will lie down on my bed?”

“You are not yet advised toeven sit up, darling.” The demon argued. “Dark circles could be remediedeasily.”

This human just woke up and their first concern is him?Or more specifically, his looks..Truth be told, the same could be said with him but They now come in second.His main priority is them.

“But..”

“No buts now, dear.”

Smiling seeing theirfeatures an upside down reaction to his, he nudged his seat closer to them, hesoon let his pressed his lips against their forehead before stroking a fewstrands of their hair that were, unfortunately, bit too sleek to his liking;

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Want me to help you.. wash?”

“Asmo!”

Blushing at his suggestion,it was more of a concern rather than his usual evocative invitationsconsidering how several cords would hinder the progress, not to mention how thenurse would dutifully remind him of how their hand where it is injected to,should remain unmoved otherwise, blood will come out and ascend to the tube;

“I am quite serious.”

“Eh?!”

“I could wash my darlingbefore breakfast. What do you say?”

“Asmo…”

Finding this all amusing,it was quite difficult to put the talk into a more serious tone but with thenurse coming in an hour or two for their breakfast, it seems the Avatar of Lusthas to surrender it all;

“I could get a towel and abowl so you could work clean yourself while I will be in charge of cleaning anddrying it What were you thinking, silly?.”

“Oh..”

“It looks like someone ishaving a different idea. We could always do that.~”

“Asmo!”

Oh it is good to have them back.

Beelzebub

“Is this what they have inthe cafeteria?”

It was then, that even theAvatar of Gluttony found food unappetizing. They were looking rather bland andfrom the faces of the people eating, they seem to care more about filling inthe void there is at their guts rather than actually enjoying the food.

He would most certainly beable to tolerate it, especially when he sensed his tummy rumble when his palmrested on it but, for his human to also have the same experience?

It was a big no-no.

With an hour and a halfbefore the nurse or staff would give their meal for the noon, the Avatar ofGluttony followed his second brain to scout and find stores that sells betterfood.

Tastier food.

Just the thought of it hadhis stomach grumble as his nose then sniffed out, making several stops near thehospital’s vicinity, surprised with what mortals could do with simple and fewingredients that the demon presumes to be readily available.

Perhaps he should come around and know their delicacies more?He had always heard stories from them about some food that are spoken not tohis language despite being Gluttony himself.

With goodies in a largebag, truth be told, he was not accustomed to what his person would call “terminalillness”. It was a shock and the thought of it became overwhelming. His pacewere gradually slower as his mind could not erase their confession of theirailment, how they warned him, but did he listen?

He did.But he did not want to let it hinder them.And he will never let it be.

…

“That’s all for you?!”

At this point..

His eyes were fixated ontheirs, breaking its trance with the sound of the door shutting, making hiseyes travel lower down to their figure. They have been getting thinner thanthey were when they were introduced, having his rear colored with dark blues.

Perhaps, it reminded himtoo much of famine.. Seeing it onto the privileged’s eyes as they take what is supposed to be shared to others.

Taking the moment to settlewhat he had brought over by a small bedtable, his lips subconsciously drew asmile, refraining himself from making a comment or two about it.

“Why is that what you wouldalways say..”

With a giggle or two, therewas already a feast laid out on the table, making no room for the food providedby the facility, something he would just have to eat all to himself to trickthe staff, his eyes reflecting how swell they looked from sensing the newvarieties offered on their plate.

“Didn’t I mention we would have lunch together?”

“Yup. And I always get myusual hospital food.. But not anymore!~”

“Now hold on before diggingin..”

Munching the food away toreplenish the sense of famine within him, diverse yet complimenting flavors overwhelminghis tongue, it was obvious the Avatar of Gluttony could not help either to moanto compliment the divine food he just purchased or continue munching as thoughthey were alive and would run away.

“Umm.. Beel?”

“..Yes?”

Hearing them laugh ascrumbs went onto his shirt like a waterfall, his eyes fell too onto theirplate.

They have not even touched their plate..

“Could you help me slice upthis chicken?”

Is this why they are so thin?Because the food is rather inaccessible for a one-hand person?

“Of course.”

It took quite a while forBeelzebub to settle his fourth hamburger and mince to their favored sizes.

If that is the problem..Maybe he could offer them a solution instead.Him.

“Now say ahh..~”

“Beel!”

“Hmm?”

“I could do it on my own..”

“Not when I am holding yourfork, you couldn’t.~”

Belphegor

Violently shaking what heheld dearest onto his arms, not even a flinch or any movement came about totheir chest, making himself tremble, holding them closer to him.

It couldn’t be true.This is just a dream..He needs to wake up.

Belphegor could take on anyhardships there is, burden there is, but not facing the inevitable yet.. He wasnot ready yet.

And probably never will.

To an Avatar of Sloth,wasting time had been his forte, and to spend it efficiently.. is this what hisdream is communicating him with?

“Nnnn…”

“No.. no..no…”

“Nooo…”

Sensing his consciousnessseeping through, his body felt like being electrocuted by the door creaking anda stranger’s voice entering.

How long has he been passed out?

Usually, he could care lessabout such trivial matters but feeling like sleeping schedules and body clocksbut with someone’s life given with a countdown…

…

“Good evening. Is he your guardian?”

Turning his head to facethe voice, his vision soon could interpret the man as the hospital’s securitywith his record book at hand and a pen, his eyes for a moment, on Belphegor’sstate.

“Yes he is.”

There they are, sitting onthe sole chair provided for the guest with the metal rod or pole accompanying them,assisting the flow of the IV through their veins.

“Will he be stayingovernight?”

“He will be.”

“On it. Seems like he’s thepatient rather than you are. Ta-ta!”

“That’s not true…” Hemuttered, dark hues reappearing on his rear just as they were visible in hisdreams.

“Are you okay, Belphie? Youwere sleeptalking again..”

“I was?”

Shit.

“Just a random dream, Isuppose.”

By the looks of theirfeatures, it did not take too long for Belphegor to know how his response wasunpleasant.

So much for someone who just woke up..

“I just had a nightmare.The curse of sleeping too much.”

He dare not bring up hisown troubles. That would be insensitive nor does he wish to press an issueregarding their limited lifeline.. Truth be told, humans are mortal beings butwith an illness pressing them down towards the inevitable further…

“Would you like to tell meabout it?”

Tell them about it?

“It is just nothing..”

“You’re not really a goodliar, Belphie. How about we get to talk to it with a cup of coffee?”

Though the mattress wasrelatively comfortable and the pillows plump with the scent of theirs, like acertain paradise created for him, his body voluntarily get up and made them coffee.

“Don’t you think my habitsis just wasting your time?”

Crap.. What was he thinking?This is why he should have coffee first before even saying anything..Caffeine before making a mess out of himself.

“What do you mean?”

Too late. He dug himself deeper into this.

“Well..” his back facingthem as the kettle was settled down to two mugs, the powdered mix adding hue tothe pouring hot water; “I am the Avatar of Sloth and I tend to take naps moreoften.. sleep, you know… waste ti—“

“No.”

“No?”

“Because any time with youaround is time spent worthwhile.~”

Bewildered with howcheerful a mortal could be despite their lifeline drawing thinner by everyshift there is on the hands of their own clock?

“I do not understand..”

Parting his lips to gentlysway the heat away from the cup, their hands touch as they reached out for thecup, something with their heat warmer than a hot cup of coffee could provide…and it is rushing towards his cheeks;

“Because I get to hear yousnore.~”

Excuse me??Snore..Have his human mistaken him for Beelzebub?

“I do not snore!”

“You do! And yousleeptalk.~”

“That’s another thing!”

Giggles turning tolaughter, made it all the more embarrassing should he, indeed, does snore. Hishuman was someone who could not lie convincingly, at least for someone who istrained efficiently to sniff the BS out of his brothers;

“I do not snore..”

“Yes you do!” And theyproceeded to imitate it.. or make it looklike he does..?

“Okay, that’s enough..otherwise, I would make sure you get to sleep first before I do.”

“Noooooooo” and theyproceeded to sip their cold coffee, preparing themselves for the battle on ‘who gets to stay awake longer to witness the other fall asleep’.

_________________________________________________Updated masterlist here.

#obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #anon ask #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mod shin-seul

[fullsunalicia]

It’s alright!! Maybe Kun x idol reader? Her group and wayv collab and they’re paired up. I can’t think of a good scenario :(

perfect duo — QK

when two vocalists meet, they create love in the shape of a ballad. though, slowly you’re thinking, it’s not only the song you’re pouring your heart into - but also in the flawless man that is qian kun.

dw bubs that’s a good scenario!! i’m still sorry idk the movie, forgive me for being uncultured 🥺 but i hope you’ll like this!

[01:22pm] qian kun: hey! what’s ur favorite coffee? i’ll bring some to the studio :)

[01:23pm] qian kun: oh, and don’t think about paying me back - it’s on me!

“A man after my own heart,” is the very first thing you say to Kun when he first steps into the room, armed with two to-go gups. He grins and sets them down so he can stretch out his hand as a greeting, and you take it. His grip is firm and reassuring. Both of you burst out into laughter as you try to “out-bow” each other, and you settle on admitting defeat so you can sit down and talk.

It’s a wonder you even manage to speak. Qian Kun is beautiful, breathtakingly so. You had known of him for a long time, since he had debuted before you. It was a big honor that this collaboration was able to happen, and with a lot of luck, you were chosen to participitate in it. Not only is Kun a feast for the eyes, his voice is pure honey, too.

To put it short, you’re basically collaborating with your celebrity crush. And you’re desperately trying to stay professional. But how does one manage to do that, when Kun smiles in such a cute manner while he offers you the coffee?

You jolt yourself out of your daydreams and accept the drink with just as big of a smile. “Thank you so much,” you tell him, and Kun waves you off. “I’ve been craving one all morning, but today it was a little busy in the dorms, so I decided against coffee and for being punctual.”

“I would’ve forgiven you, anyways. Enjoy your coffee.”

He’s assertive, as expected for a leader. But it’s not an order, at least Kun doesn’t deliver it that way. Softly spoken, kindly. It’s a favor you instinctually want to do. So you reach for your cup, and the smile you get as a reward makes your heart flutter.

You really like Kun. He shines with his personality and his looks, and in that way, he’s flawless. Of course you know he’s only human and just like you, he’s adapted to conceal his bad habits. But he’s the closest to what you consider perfect.

“So, what kind of song do you want to go for?

You lean away from the cup. “Well, I’d love to go for a romantic song,” you offer. Even though it’s your idea, the heat starts settling in your cheeks. “I’ve never really written or sung a ballad before, since my group isn’t going for that concept right now. So I’d love to experiment with that, and try it out... If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You’ve never been in love before. But if you had to describe it, maybe it’s the fuzzy feeling Kun sets off in your heart and in your head when he beams at you, nodding quickly as a sign that he supports your idea. “Sure!” the young man says. “I would love to, (y/n). I can’t wait to hear your precious voice in a slow song.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Kun ends up taking you out as “inspiration”. Though you always need to dress up as to not be caught by fans, it’s still quite fun to watch Kun stress over where he’s gonna take you. You know he’s very strict when it comes to work, yet he still enjoys spending time with you as a person aswell. To him, you’re (y/n) first, idol second.

Many afternoons are spent working on the song together, though you’re only concentrated on the melody and composition right now. You’ve helped with composing on your own group’s songs, but songwriting is something you’ve never dabbled in, and Kun promises to help you. You also manage to wrangle the promise out of him to cook for you some time.

That’s how you end up here, at the WayV dorm, 8pm in the evening.

You should never mix work with pleasure, or in this case, a crush. It’s useless - you can’t help yourself to grasp at every chance you can get to spend time with the dreamy man who’s managed to charm you in just a month’s time.

Something in you wants to scold you for being unprofesssional. Come to your senses and leave. But the other half of you is cheering you on and wants to spend the next few hours listening to Kun’s warm laughter, no matter how late it gets. So you raise your hand and knock, excitement setting every nerve in you ablaze. You’ve never met his members before, so you’re not sure what to expect.

The face which welcomes you inside is a familiar one. Dong Sicheng gifts you with a grin as he opens the door open wide and asks you to come in, closing it behind you when you take his advice. “The woman of the hour,” he hums. “Kun’s been really excited for you to come. He cooks for us often, but it’s been long since he went all out for someone that isn’t a birthday boy in our group. We’re glad you’re here, (y/n).”

“Thank you for having me.” The smile you both share soothes your mind, and you let him hang up your coat while you stroll into the living room. The only way to find Kun is to follow the heavenly scent that belongs to the food he’s cooking up. Meat is sizzling in a pan while Kun stirs what you assume are noodles, broad back turned to you.

Perfect for back hugs. But no, that’d be invading his personal space. So you clear your throat to alert him about your presence, and you grin when he turns to look at you. “Good evening, Chef Qian.”

“It’s certainly good now that you’ve arrived.” Kun laughs and momentarily abandons the counter to embrace you. As always, the action makes your cheeks take on all fifty shades of red, and you hope he just doesn’t take notice of it. “Sit, dinner’s almost done. I hope you like your steak medium rare.”

“I do, actually,” you hum. Despite him being busy with conjuring up a nice meal for the both of you, everything is clean and tidy. That makes you jealous. Whenever the members and you cook, it takes hours to clean up, and the dishes are often made your duty. “How’s it going with our little love song?”

“Almost finished. But we’re not talking work today.” Kun shuffles away from the stove to grab some glasses out of a cupboard. He places both of them infront of you, and seconds later, Kun fills them with wine and pushes the drink closer to you. “We’re playing 20 questions today, like the children we are. I think I have to find out more about the woman I’m going to serenade to, don’t you think?”

You try to ignore how your heart starts racing at that, but that’s an impossible task. “Romeo didn’t have to know Juliet to serenade her,” you giggle, and Kun juts out his lower lip in a fake pout. “Are you that unserious about our relationship? Ouch. Maybe we should turn it into a break-up song.”

“Absolutely not. No man who’s mentally sound would ever break up with a woman like you.”

The words seem to suprise you both, even though it was Kun who said them aloud. He escapes confrontation by turning back around to the food, the sound of his utensils scraping the pan snapping you out of a trance. “You think?” you hear youself ask.

Kun looks over his shoulders. This time, he’s absolutely serious.

“I don’t think, I know, (y/n),” the man assures you, completely unaware of the butterflies he brings to life in your stomach. “You’re wonderful. There’s no need to be humble - confidence looks good on you, just like anything else you set your mind to.”

Turns out that WayV’s vocalist is quite the charmer. You never move from the kitchen as the night progresses, opting to sit there together. Occassionaly, he scoops up a piece of his own steak to offer it to you, and you welcome it with open arms mouth. It tastes absolutely amazing. You now understand why his group members are swooning about the food all the time. From time to time, his knee brushes yours, setting off electric currents where your bodies meet. He doesn’t shy back from fixing your hair or raising your head with a finger below your chin.

You really should’ve ran when you had the chance. Now you’re into deep, fallen right into the honeytrap that is Qian Kun.

Though, it doesn’t bother you. Never do you recoil from his touch or do not seek out the chance to be close to him, and meetings where you should be working, you spent talking and ranting. He vents about his stress and pressure as a leader, while you are given the space to confess how underapprecuated you sometimes feel as the vocalist of the group, and how hard you have to work for the company to realize your worth.

You understand each other. Kun and you just click. That’s why it doesn’t take the man long to understand that he sees you as way more than just a colleague and more like a girl he’d like to sweep off her feet. He wants to be the one you entrust all your secrets too, and he wants to be the one you smile at when you’re happy or excited. When you feel upset, Kun wants to be one to hold you close and protect you from the rest of the world. Most of all, he’d like to be the first person in your head to share good news with.

Crushing on an idol is really complicated. Especially when you’re an idol, yourself. Now, Kun has to struggle with work stress and non-existent relationship stress, because he wants it to be real.

And he wants to know whether you would want that, too.

❀ ❀ ❀

Kun is the last person to be careless or scatterbrained when it comes to work, or his fans, or an award show. But when Ten spends the entire evening making fun of him for not approaching you, he can’t help himself from pulling you aside the second you step off the stage after accepting an award.

He pulls you into an (thankfully) empty room, quickly locking the door behind you. You want to question his actions since this seems so unlike the man you’ve been getting to know in the past few weeks, but you’re not given the chance as Kun pulls you into his arms and holds you tightly against his chest. The scent of expensive perfume mingling with his own fragrance makes you dizzy, yet your arms move on instinct to wrap themselves around his neck and pull him as close as humanly possible.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kun whispers against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps adorn your skin seconds after, both pleasant and infuriating. You wish you could kiss him. “I knew you could do it. You’re such a talented singer, the people would have to be deaf not to vote your group. You all did well. But I’m especially proud of my (y/n).”

The praise rings in your ears and makes your stomach flip. Coming from him, it sounds beyond sensual, and you’re glad he’s holding you up right now. “Your (y/n)?” you question.

His hands settle on your lower back. “Do you not want to be?”

“I do.” No hesitation, no need to think about it. It’s funny he thinks you aren’t already his, when he’s got you in the palms of his hands, free to do with you whatever he desires. You’d let him. No matter what Qian Kun would ask of you, you’d let him.

You don’t know when your heart had decided to be his and his only. Maybe it was when he carried you home after dressing up nicely for a restaurant Kun liked and your high heels were starting to hurt your feet. Maybe it was when he kept believing in you as you practiced hard for your comeback, or when he had sent you all the supportive voicemails when you couldn’t meet. Perhaps it was meant to be all along.

You’re just glad it happened.

“That‘s good.” Kun holds your waist against his, grip tight, but his eyes soft when he leans back to lock gazes with you. Your favorite paradox. “I’m excited for writing on our song tomorrow. Don’t be late, my (y/n)ie.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Kun’s hand on your thigh is very distracting. Distraction isn’t very good when you’ve never written a song in your life before and are expected to finish this piece before the deadline that’s been stressing both Kun and you out.

You space out way too many times during this session than affordable, but it’s hard to concentrate when Kun keeps carding his fingers through your hair or complimenting you for several minutes straight.

Working on a song has never taken so long.

Thankfully, Kun decides to cut to the chase when you pout in the most adorable way because the text keeps annoying you. “Okay, that’s it,” he mumbles, and then he just reaches over to hoist you up into his lap.

Your hands fly to steady yourself on his shoulder. “Kun!”

“(y/n),” he deadpans. “We both haven’t been concentrating on the task at hand for the past hour now and I’m not the guy to slack off at work. So I have to get rid off what’s holding me back.”

You swallow audibly. „And... what‘s that?“

Kun grips your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. His gaze makes your insides melt, and you‘re suprised you‘re not turning to a puddle on top of him. „I can‘t stop thinking about all the words I want to say to you instead of putting them into the song,“ the vocalist confesses. „I keep thinking about verses I want to tell you because I adore you and you‘re running around in my head all the time. It‘s not song text. It‘s just the words my heart‘s been carrying for you, and I want you to hear them. I like you, (y/n). A lot.“

All the stress you‘ve been experiencing lately seem to be disappear with just one confession. Like a heavy weight that‘s been lifted off you, you‘re finally able to breathe freely and the giddy smile caused by that is uncontainable. „I like you too,“ you admit to him, heart soaring when he breathes out in relief. Your hands wander from his shoulders to his cheeks to cradle his perfect face in your hands. „I like-like you.“

„Oh yeah? How much?“

It‘s childish, but it still makes you happy that Kun craves reassurance from you. He lets you trace his cheekbones and mess up his hair while you mumble: „Very, very, very much.“

Kun curls both arms around your waist, tight grip keeping you in your place. „Stop being so cute, (y/n),“ he orders you, voice serious, but there‘s a hint of amusement in his eyes before he closes the gap to kiss you. It‘s lovely and heartwarming and leaves you wanting for more when he parts from you, teeth tugging at your lower lip before he lets go. „I know it‘ll be hard because we‘re both idols... But I promise to love you always. That I will always take the time to be there for you, and I‘ll do anything to make this work.“

„That‘s all I ask for.“

The text writes itself so much better when its‘ authors are lovers and partners. It‘s filled with love declarations and unspoken admiration, the result of pining after the other for such a long time. Honestly, you wouldn‘t want it any other way. In the end, Kun and you found each other, and that is the best possible ending there is to this song.

When your song storms the charts and earns you an award at the next show, Kun doesn‘t shy away from shamelessly kissing you infront of Ten as he lifts you in the air. Though, Ten is quickly comforted by the celebration of your shared win over a bottle of champagne and Kun‘s amazing food.

#i listened to maye‘s tú while writing this and it was honestly a 10/10 experience #that song is HEAVEN i assure you #i heard it in a nomin edit and my heart went 💕💞💓💗💖💝💝 #just like when i look at qian kun #our king of china #look at that perfect man go 😪 he‘s stunning #i Adore him #qian kun #nct u #wayv #nct #qian kun x reader #nct u x reader #wayv x reader #nct x reader #qian kun fluff #nct u fluff #wayv fluff #nct fluff #qian kun scenarios #nct u scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct scenarios

[obxlife]

Friendship for Dummies (Pogue Dynamic)

A/N: I can’t believe I’m writing again! Like I swear to god I haven’t written in like a month and idk I feel like this isn’t going to be top-notch but whatever. Also, thank you anon for requesting! 

Pairing: None (Only Pogue dynamic)

Word Count: 3,487

Request: hi! I have a request if ur interested? I love your jiara comfort fic, especially how u included all the pogues. I was wondering if u could do a friendship pogue fic that sort of follows how the pogues have protected Kie over the years from when they first met to the present. idk if this makes sense but I love the friendship dynamic in comfort and how JJ was so protective so I would love to see that extend to the other pogues and just see them get all big brotherly anytime someone messes with Kie

Summary: Basically situations where Kie either gets in trouble or gets hurt and the Pogues stand up for her or protect her, etc. 

Warnings: Swearing, some underage drinking, some weed (because, you know, JJ) and I think that is it! Oh, and some really harsh swearing towards Kie.

FRIENDSHIP FOR DUMMIES

Kiara had a knack for getting in trouble. Actually, her friends had a knack for getting her to tag along on their crazy adventures and get in trouble. 

It all began before high school when Kie was in seventh grade and still adapting to her growing body. She knew she was different from the rest of the kids in her neighborhood, mainly because they mostly cared about the newest iPhone while the dark-skinned girl cared about the waves down at the beach. She had always had trouble forging friendships and was pretty much used to being alone. In fact, she was used to standing up for herself every time one of the stupid Kooks from the part of the island where she lived.

That was exactly what had been happening when she was approached by her soon-to-be friends. 

“Piss off, Jeremy,” Kie had said to Jeremy Blanchard. He lived down the street from her, and much like the rest of the Kooks from Figure Eight, he went to the only middle school in Kildare Island. He was a year older than Kiara and had been teasing her about being friendless and a ‘Kook traitor’ for years. Kie didn't mind him much, normally ignoring whatever he would say, but sometimes she just couldn’t do so. 

Every once in a while, Jeremy’s teasing would get to her head and she would cry. A lot. But then she would pull herself together and deal with it.

This one particular time though, Jeremy was being meaner than usual, and for some reason, his words seemed to be stabbing Kiara in a way that made her feel weak. 

Tears were already pooling around her eyes as she shoved Jeremy back, which led to her body being pushed further into the wall she had been leaning on. Jeremy and his friends laughed at Kiara’s lame attempt to push the bigger and stronger boy away from her before closing in on her again.

“Shut it, traitor,” Mark, Jeremy’s friend, sneered.

Kiara began to feel a bit claustrophobic, and she swore she saw the three boys surrounding her grow taller than they truly were. She felt small and weak, contrary to what she tried to portray to them, and her breathing was becoming ragged.

All of a sudden, Jeremy was pulled back by his shoulder and to the ground. Kiara felt a little more air enter her lungs as she realized that Jeremy’s two friends were being pulled down to the floor as well. The ambush of her bullies permitted her to flee, but Kiara’s feet were glued to the floor. She couldn't look away from her three classmates defending her. 

She recognized all of them. They were in her grade, and she easily recognized them as residents of The Cut. She couldn’t care less though. All she cared was that they had helped her. 

One of the three boys stood up from where he was laying across Jeremy’s friend and approached the trembling girl. His dark skin was entrancing, and his curly hair looked unruly, but his smile made Kiara feel safe. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Kiara tried to find her voice, but no sounds came out of her open mouth. She only nodded, clutching the books she held in her hand closer to her chest. “You’re Kie, right?”

Once again Kiara nodded. She felt bad for not knowing their names. Before that day, Kiara had not cared to learn the names of almost any of her classmates. The few she knew were because of fancy Kook dinners she had attended during the years.

“Well, I’m Pope,” the boy presented himself to the tall girl. His hand was pressed against his chest, and then he pointed at the other two boys that were approaching them. “That’s John B and JJ.”

“Are you okay?” the long-haired boy asked. Kiara finally found her voice.

“Yeah. Thanks for the help,” she muttered while looking down. Although the boys made her feel safe, she was slightly ashamed in herself. She had never needed anyone to defend her or protect her, and now she stood with three boys who had done just that. They must think I’m some weak, little girl, she thought.

“Jeremy is such an ass, I swear,” the blond said while passing a hand through his hair. Kiara took notice of how worn his clothes looked compared to the other two boys, and she noticed a stain that looked a lot like blood. She shook her head, deciding for once that she wouldn’t judge her peers.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said sarcastically. “I’ve been dealing with him and his jackass friends for years.”

Pope widened his eyes at that statement. How come we’ve never seen them bothering her before? he wondered. 

“Really?” John B asked out loud. “You must be tough, then. We’ve seen him make a lot of kids cry because of his teasing.”

Kiara felt proud of being referred to in that term. She always felt she was tough, but she had trouble portraying that to other people. Especially Kooks that wanted her to fit into the mold of a small, needy girl.

“I guess,” she decided to reply. The three boys shared a look, having a silent conversation in which they quickly decided that the girl standing in front of them was worthy of their friendship.

From that day Kiara found herself accompanied by her boys. They would hang out after school at the beach or at The Wreck (Kiara’s family-owned restaurant) and during classes, creating messes everywhere they went. Here new friendships brought even more judgment from the Kooks, but Kiara couldn’t care less. For the first time in her life, she had friends that she actually liked and that had her back. All she needed was them. As long as she had them everything was completely fine.

*********************************************

During their last year of middle school, the Pogues began to involve themselves in illegal activities. Not drugs or alcohol or anything like that, but they often found themselves breaking into houses that were under construction or buildings that were usually empty at night. Most of the time they would sneak into the pools of some Kook house that was empty during the school year before entering the house and snooping around for a little while. 

They had been nearly caught many times before, but the Pogues liked walking on the edge and trying their luck. They would wait until the police cars were just outside of the vicinity they had broken into before running off. Or sometimes they would taunt them while running away, calling the policemen names and teasing them about their job.

Usually, it was only JJ and John B that would do this.

One particular night they had entered the home of a woman that would visit the island every summer. Kiara recognized who the house belonged to, having served her at The Wreck multiple times in past years. 

“C’mon,” JJ ushered his friends along the empty street that had mansions on both of its sides. They were trying not to attract any attention, but anybody that looked outside of their windows would realize how misplaced the three boys were. Their dirty and worn-out clothes were a clear indicator of their lack of money, and their mannerisms were found to be despicable by any Kook on the island. Kiara might have passed a little more unnoticed, but her style of clothing reflected that of a girl from The Cut (even though most of her pieces were actually on-brand). 

JJ almost moaned when he finally dipped his feet into the pool. He removed his hat and his shirt before throwing himself into the depths of the water. Pope and John B followed suit, tossing their belonging on the grass behind them and jumping into the clear water while striking a pose in the air. This made a giggle rise from Kie’s lips as she removed her clothes and stepped into the pool. A shiver went up her spine from the cold but she moved further until she was completely submerged.

When she came up for air she realized the rest of her friends were already splashing water at each other. She laughed as Pope got a wave of water thrown directly at him causing him to cough and splutter. 

They continued to splash around until John B realized there was a small jacuzzi a little bit off from the main pool area. He sped towards it, jumping in and searching for the button that would activate its jets.

“Guys, help me find the button for the jets!” he ushered the rest of the Pogues. JJ gladly began to help his brunett best friend, but Pope and Kie hung back a bit.

“Don’t you guys think that’ll attract too much attention?” the dark-skinned boy questioned. “I mean, that makes a lot of noise and I’m guessing that if the cops haven’t been called on us already, then they definitely will be if we turn the jets on.”

“Agreed,” Kie chimed while crossing her arms across her chest. She didn’t notice how the boys’ eyes darted towards her chest for a brief moment. “And I really don’t want to be caught by the cops. You guys know my dad will be pissed.”

“Live a little, you guys,” JJ said while turning his back towards the hesitant half of the group. “Oh, I found it!”

The blond pressed a small button on the side of the jacuzzi which caused the jets to begin shooting water out immediately. John B and JJ relaxed while Kie and Pope shared an incredulous look.

“We should start rounding our thing up,” Kie suggested to the boy beside her. “The cops will probably be here soon.”

Pope followed the girl and got dressed along with her. After that, they grabbed onto the clothes and towels their other friends had thrown away just as they began to hear police sirens in the distance.

JJ and John B didn’t seem to realize that the law was on the way to catch them as they continued to play around with the settings in the jacuzzi. However, once the blue and red lights stopped moving (meaning that the cops had pulled up outside), they began to run after Kie and Pope. Jumping from on house to the other, they crossed almost all of Figure Eight before arriving outside of The Wreck, where they had agreed to group up if the cops were to arrive at the house they broke into. Adrenaline was pumping inside each and every one of their veins and Kie tried to level her breathing as she gave John B his clothes.

Just as JJ and John B finished getting dressed outside of the restaurant, a cop car approached the small building. Eyes widening, the Pogues darted inside. However, they didn’t make it very far as Deputy Shoupe and Sheriff Peterkin stepped inside and grabbed into them. 

Just then, Kiara’s dad came from within the kitchen and was surprised to find that his daughter was being handcuffed. 

“Hey! What’s going on? Why are you arresting my daughter?” Mr. Carrera asked Shoupe.

“Breaking and entering. Mrs. Longfield’s summer house,” the police officer grunted out.

“What?” Mr. Carrera screamed. He was furious, especially at his daughter. He had relentlessly advised her to stay away from the boys she had been hanging around with, but she hadn’t listened at all. “Kiara, do you mind explaining what the hell Deputy Shoupe is talking about?”

Kiara’s words seemed to be jumbled. She couldn’t find it in herself to explain what had happened, not wanting to face the disappointment that was already beginning to cloud her father’s eyes.

“She wasn’t with us,” Pope spoke up suddenly. Kie turned towards him, surprise in her eyes. Why was he lying? 

“Yeah, we bumped into her outside just now. She let us in,” John B explained, his gaze not wavering from Mr. Carrera’s eyes.

“She didn’t know we were running away,” JJ added. And with that, they made Kie look completely innocent in front of her father and the police. 

The male Pogues knew just how much Kie’s father would pressure her into behaving like a Kook and having Kook friends, so the least they could do for getting her in trouble was getting her out of it. With their lies, Kie’s father would only be attacking her about her friends and not about her actions.

“Is this true?” Peterkin asked the girl. She contemplated if she should shake her head and tell the truth, but as she shared a look with each of her friends, she realized that they were pushing her to lie along with them. So, she nodded. 

The handcuffs came off her wrist at once. Her father tugged her towards them and they watched as the three teenage boys were dragged off towards the police station. Kiara promised herself she would visit all of them in the morning, and she would thank them endlessly for what they had done.

She watched the cop cars pull out from the restaurant’s parking lot and turn down the street. The blue and red lights faded into the night sky.

*******************************************************************

The first months of high school completely sucked for Kie. She was always alone in the hallways, and she never missed the muttered comments that came from the rest of her classmates.  ‘Traitor’ and ‘dirty Pogue’ were the classics.

It had been a while since she had been all alone in school, and she was not used to it. See, this year was her first year at the Kook Academy, which meant that the rest of the Pogues were not with her at school right now but instead in the public high school on the other side of the island.

So, yes, the first months of high school completely sucked for Kie. That was until she met Sarah Cameron, the Kook Princess.

She had invited Kie down to the beach to help her save turtles, an activity which Kie was more than glad to take part in. She enjoyed herself so much that she hoped Sarah would invite her to do the same soon.

And, surprisingly, she did.

Kie found herself more and more often over at the Cameron residence and spending less and less time with the Pogues. It wasn’t that she was purposely avoiding them, no. She just simply began to spend so much time with Sarah that she barely had time to fit them in her busy schedule. 

At first, Kie tried to maintain as much communication as possible with the boys. She would even hang out with them every so often. But every so often become once in a while and once in a while became almost never. 

By then it was the middle of November, and all Kie found herself occupied with was numerous activities that Sarah would drag her to. The blonde girl was so much fun and she ensured that Kie would be accepted within the Kooks anywhere. Who wouldn’t want that? After all, if the Kook princess herself considers you enough to be her friend, then the Kook community would as well.

However, Kie wasn’t aware of how some of the rich people would talk about her behind her back. Especially Rafe Cameron and his crowd of goonies. 

It was well known that Kiara had been friends with the Pogues for the past two years, and the Kook boys would often discuss this topic among themselves. They would talk about it at the country club while playing golf, at their houses while partying and trying drugs, or just out and about during the day while they were running errands.

This is how one afternoon Rafe and his friends ended up fighting with the Pogues for their first time. This fight would eventually lead to a long history of fights between the teenagers of the two social classes, all of which began because of Kiara Carrera.

She, of course, didn’t know this.

Rafe and his goons had been searching for some marshmallows and hot chocolate as they were going to be hosting a bonfire later that night at one of their mansions. They were commenting on who would be attending and who they were hoping would attend when they first mentioned Sarah’s name.

“Dude, I hope Sarah comes tonight,” Jeremy (yes, the same Jeremy that would bother Kiara) said to Rafe while reaching a shelf where the cookies and sweets were. 

The blond Kook immediately shoved his friend while laughing a bit. “You know she is off limits! Why don’t you go for Kie instead? I’m sure Sarah will drag her over tonight.”

And just as their bad luck would have it, on the other side of the shelf stood John B, Pope, and JJ, listening to everything the other boys had said.

“Dude, no,” Jeremy replied with disgust. “She’s a Pogue. Plus, she’s always been an attention-seeking whore.”

The male Pogues saw red on the other side of the shelf. They began to make their way towards the end of the aisle, all of them knowing exactly what was going to go down in order to defend their friend.

“You can say that again,” another boy from the Kooks said. They were all laughing as if Kie was some kind of joke, and the Pogues hated it. Even though they hadn’t seen her in a while, they still cared about her and would defend her to whatever extent.

“You guys better watch your mouths,” John B said once he and his friends found themselves only a few feet away from the teenage Kooks. Jeremy visibly winced a little at the brunett’s voice, remembering how John B, JJ, and Pope had beaten him only two years ago for making fun of Kie.

Rafe, however, scoffed. “What are you three going to do? You’re just some dirty Pogues.”

Without processing what he was doing, JJ jumped towards Rafe, punching him with such force that the older boy’s head whipped back. John B grabbed onto a boy he didn’t recognize that had stepped forward to help Rafe. He placed a punch towards his face and another towards his gut. Pope advanced towards Jeremy, and although the dark-skinned boy wasn’t used to fighting, he could hold his ground. He only had to punch Jeremy once before he was on the ground and squirming away from the scene.

After a while the brawl had been torn apart by the store clerks, pulling JJ and John B off of the boys they had been assaulting. The store clerks dragged both of them outside where Pope joined them. They could hear Rafe still saying some nasty comments about them (mainly about how much of a low life they all were) and Kiara (mainly about how much of a traitor she was). The teenagers didn’t care, wiping their mouths and noses before turning to walk down the street and back to The Cut.

Later that night, Jeremy recounted the story to Sarah (although he made himself seem much less scared in his version), which caused Kie to listen to what had gone down that afternoon as well. She couldn’t believe the Pogues had gotten into a fight because they were talking about her. Although she didn’t catch what exactly had been said, she still couldn’t believe it. Did this mean they still considered her their friend?

She wasn’t sure.

************************************************************

The following year, Kiara found herself alone once again. In school that is. Her fall out with Sarah had occurred around six months ago, but she couldn’t care much about it anymore. She was much more focused on getting the Pogues to trust her again.

JJ was being especially difficult, but Kie was sure she had improved on getting them to care about her again. Little did she know they had never stopped.

So this was Kiara’s life now. During the day, at school, she was a complete loner, but during the afternoons and at night she belonged with the Pogues. Just like it had been before her Kook year. Before her mistakes.

Kiara was happy to be back where she truly belonged, and she realized she was a lot more comfortable around the Pogues than she had ever been around Sarah. She never stopped smiling when she was with them. And she realized she had never stopped caring about them when she had been away.

She promised herself that she would never do what she had done to them during her Kook year. She would never let other people insult the Pogues without defending them and she would never not be there like she had done when Big John disappeared.

Kiara came to realize just how safe she felt around the Pogues and how much they had done for her during their years of friendship.

All she wanted to do was return the favor now.

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #obx netflix #jj maybank x kiara carrera #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b #john b routledge

[loftec]

Hi i don't know if anyone haven't ask you about it or i'm the only one who wants to read it but CAN YOU PLEASE SHARE YOUR NOTES (ch.44) i don't know if you were serious about that but i really would love to read them cause i'm obsessed with everything what is ntw related 🖤 hope ur well

Hi friend! It’s possibly just you (or one other person, in case of separate anons) but that is enough! I was absolutely serious. 

Note on the notes! This is not all of it, because my notes for this chapter were often repetitive and very messy, and some older notes were from four years ago when I didn’t bother writing things out properly, so they barely make sense even to me. But! I’ve done my best to sort everything in some kind of linear order, and removed most of the repetition. And, well, you asked for it... sorry! 🖤

Ian shows up in the morning, Mickey digs out the magazine Iggy stole from Amelia’s dentist’s office the other day and confronts Ian about the big-ass article in Rolling Stone about IAN’S BAND, says he’s listened to some of their songs, takes out a paper where he’s written down some lyrics that sound strangely familiar.

You’re famous!

I’m in a band, people know about us right now, tomorrow they might not. I’m not famous.

You’re kinda famous.

Ian talks about Mickey recognizing him because of Frank. Hints that there might be several songs inspired by Mickey. It’s awkward as fuck, didn’t want you to know.

Were you ever gonna tell me?

Oh yeah, I had a plan. 3 dates, dinner and a movie, day out with Yev, dinner at my place turned vigorous love-making. Second prong; cohabitation, engagement, marriage, then on our wedding night I tell you about crushing on Justin Timberlake when I was 12,

then I tell you I’m semi-famous, if it still applies.

Mickey thinks his face might be on fire.

What the?

I’m fucking with you, Mick. Figured you already knew.

This again?

You angry?

No, I’m not fucking angry. Just-

Freaked out.

Kinda, yeah.

You shouldn’t be. Please.

It’s weird that I didn’t know, I feel like a schmuck. (And I’m pretty sure by your count we’ve already been on those first two dates.)

I’m sorry. I thought you knew and by some fucking miracle didn’t treat me different. I’d been gearing up to maybe have to have this conversation on our date, ‘cause it’s shit sometimes, you know? I don’t do interviews and I never talk about myself when I gotta do them, but there’s still a limelight and a lot of bullshit that complicates

I’ve been crushing on you since we met basically, and I thought I’d just… let it run its course, keep my mouth shut about it and deal until it went away and we could remain friends without me fucking it up.

Didn’t work, by the way.

Good.

Mickey is talking about it with Etch, who suggests that Ian’s been writing at the diner for a reason.

Etch looks up some lyrics and Mickey caps locks them to Ian

You might have inspired a few lately…

Fuck off. How many?

Since we met? Pretty much all of them.

Maybe one or two made it on to the album, but I wrote those before we really got to know each other so they’re just like… about moments, and how I would feel around you.

Didn’t think of it as creepy but it kinda sounds that way now.

No it’s fine

I won’t do it again.

Said it’s fine. Kinda like it.

Yeah?

You gonna tell me which ones are about me, or is that a secret too?

What are you doing tonight?

Thought you said you were going on tour?

We are, it starts tonight. It’s a small fan club gig here in Chicago.

You have a fan club?

Kinda. I’ll put you on the guest list if you want to come.

(Mickey calls Svetlana to make sure Yevgeny can stay with her over the weekend.)

It’s fine if you don’t want to, we’ll do something else when I get back.

Calm your tits Gallagher, course I wanna go. Needed to make sure I’ve got Yev covered.

Oh okay, good. You’re on the list. Doors at 7, gig starts at 8, no support.

You’ve got no chill.

(Ian doesn’t answer for a while)

I like it.

Good, that was torture. Never doing that again.

(Etch teases him about having his nose in his phone, and makes him aware of new guests arriving)

Gotta get back to work

Yeah, me too. See you tonight?

No chill at all.

Ian invites him to the concert and gives Mickey his phone number. Mickey makes sure Yevgeny stays with his mom on saturday, and after work he goes home and gets ready. Showers and cleans himself thoroughly, puts on cologne and a band t-shirt he hasn’t worn in ages, it’s gotten kinda tight on him since he got it. (He puts on a dress shirt first, tucks it into his pants and glares at his reflection).

He’s on the guest list when he gets there, the girl in the box office can’t find him at first but then Anne shows up and points him out, he’s on the VIP list and gets a pass that he’s told he needs to carry so it’s visible. He makes a point of shoving it in the admission guy’s face, but then shoves the ostentatious thing down the pocket of his jeans. Anne shows him in and tells him about the gig, about how the fan club got started. Anne says he can go backstage but he says he’ll pass, thank you. He gets a beer and finds a good spot, there’s a balcony halfway through the venue where he’s got a perfect view of the stage without having to stand in the front.

They text a little, Mickey says he’s there and Ian says he’ll make a sign when they play a song inspired by him.

run-through of the concert, Ian touches the side of his nose when the song is about Mickey. He’s sexy as fuck, and has some ridiculous stripper moves.

He takes off his hoodie at some point, and sweating through his tank he and Anne put on gloves and start hitting the barrels with crowbars.

Anne is the maestro, maybe Ian crowd surfs at some point? Warren Ellis that violin, man. He has little routines with Anne, and some with Jon too. One song, Anne gets one of his guitars and he does noisy stuff with his violin and plays on the oil barrels with Stran, completely in sync.  

They got some good stage banter going, and at some point Ian does a Tom Waits impression, and Anne groans and says he’ll sing the whole thing if they’re not careful. There’s a reason why he’s

For the encore, Ian touches the side of his nose and they start playing a song, Anne saying that this is a first. It looks like Ian is about to sing, but then it looks like he changes his mind and they start playing a song that Mickey sure as fuck hope isn’t about him. The insufferable man on a date right next to Mickey tells the woman he’s with that they were about to play the mysterious title track from their last album that never ended up on the record

“it’s derivative, but cute”

how can it be a title track if it’s not on the album

the guy talks about how he’s got a friend working as an engineer in the studio and he’s sent him an early demo version. It’s not their best song by far, but it’s cool that pretty much no one else has heard it.

Mickey asks the girl if she’s ok with this joker, and she says she’s fine. He offers to get her a cab or something, if she wants to get out of there.

She says she’s not interested

Lady, if I wanted to get with either of you, it wouldn’t be you. Just sayin, I ain’t picky, but that guy would’ve gotten the boot ten minutes into the date if he were here with me, no offense.

WHAT IF.

The concert is over, and crowd starts to let up. Then a fight breaks out at the front and Mickey makes his way towards it. It’s over before he gets there, and sees a guy in his 40s with a bleeding nose, and Lip shaking out his fist, a security guard between them.

Mickey talks to the guard and defuses the situation, putting the bleeding man in the position of a sad overzealous fan. It somehow warms Lip to him, absurdly, and he finds himself apologized to, Lip shaking his hand and wincing when Mickey grips his bruised knuckles a little too hard. Lip vaguely explains that that was an old ex of Ian’s, a real piece of work, and then offers Mickey to come backstage with them to see Ian. Mickey declines.

It’s Lip, Carl and Debbie (Liam is too young, and Fiona too pregnant).

“I was drunk, and wrong, and when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong. (IT’S FROM DIRTY DANCING YOU LITERALLY FORGET EVERY TIME AND HAVE TO GOOGLE IT WHENEVER READING THIS NOTE should I really be quoting Baby’s dad in this fic? Probably. If anyone can, it’s Lip.) And Ian tells me you’ve been there for him a lot lately

I wouldn’t say that

But he did, he doesn’t tell me a lot these days, but he told me that.

Mickey gets another beer at the bar as people mill towards the merch and exit, he sits on a stool with an eye on the backstage passage. He watches the band come out to talk to some of the lingering fans and sign shit. Ian comes out and is immediately surrounded by fans, he locks eyes with Mickey across the room and Mickey raises his beer in a silent cheers. Ian comes up to him after a few minutes, he looks damp and exhilarated and unexpectedly nervous,

How was it?

Not bad, Gallagher.

he asks Mickey over. He has to pack up his shit and do the rounds, but he’ll be done in half an hour, tops. Mickey says he’ll meet him outside.

Ian leaves and Mickey finishes his beer, watching Ian talk to some fans, signing shit and taking pictures. He goes for a piss and then goes out for a smoke.

Ian comes out after twenty minutes, carrying two guitar cases and a large wheelie-bag. Mickey takes one of the guitars off his hands and they walk together.

(maybe Ian has a banjo and he gives it to Mickey to carry and Mickey is all really? I wanna kick your ass so bad right now, country boy, but then carries it anyway.) (banjos are cool)

Walk from the club. Mickey mentions talking to Lip. They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it) (Note from 2020: I DID NOT REMEMBER IT.)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

Ian tells him a little about his different instruments, Mickey picks up the beat up guitar Gus first gave to Ian and strums it, Ian asks him to play him something but Mickey snorts and says he’s counting on getting laid tonight and him playing would be detrimental to that plan. Ian doesn’t think so, but accepts it when Mickey gives him the guitar.

”I’ve walked some thousand miles,” he starts softly, eyes on his left hand, moving over the strings, ”I have slept many hundred nights, and people’ve said hello and bye through the years since you were mine. But don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue. Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser I cry for you.”

”Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie,” ”My darling boy, sweet old times, as long as I keep you in mind I will remember what love is like. So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue.”

”Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser.”

”I cry for you.”

I’M THINKING OF WRITING MY OWN SONG BECAUSE I WAS THIS MOMENT TO BE MORE BEFORE SUNSET THAN ANYTHING, ALL SMILES AND DRAMA FREE. SO MAYBE A TEXT THAT IS A LITTLE MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

Ian plays the song and when he’s done, Mickey kisses him and they have really enthusiastic sex on the couch. Mickey is about to leave after when Ian invites him to stay,

How about some long-ass foreplay on the couch and then they move into the bedroom.

They start on the couch, they take it to the bedroom, they collapse on the bed after and Mickey is feeling too good to argue when Ian mumbles at him to “stay”.

(Sings the song, says it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a song, it’s one quick thought put under a spotlight. Feeling like he should have known Mickey his whole life already. It’s too much, isn’t it? In the kitchen.

”do you normally take guys home and serenade them?”

”nah, don’t think it’d be very effective with most.”

”But you figured I’d swoon?”

”Figured you’d want the truth.”

”which is?”)

??? Need to find a good mix of excitement and new and easy, balanced with ho shit wtf are we doing this isn’t going to end well i think i fucking love him shut the fuck up. needs to be sexy and a little rough, as well as painfully sincere against better knowledge. kissing will do that. they’re doing stuff the way they usually do stuff, but for some reason it feels completely different.

Important that Mickey kisses him.

They stand up and stand chest to chest, Ian says they don’t have to do anything, Mickey says shut up and get naked

he helps ian take his shirt off and kisses him the second his face comes back into view

They fucks on the couch.

OR ALT FADE CUT END and don’t go explicit. Just saying, it’s an option. A valid option.

They can go at it in one of the sequels? Like the roadtrip can be more explicit? If I want? But also not?

I mean, there is such a thing as a nice middle ground right.

I just don’t think I’m interested in going all out porn after 40+ chapters of whatever.

THEY KISS AND THEN THERE’S A MOTHERFUCKING FADE TO BLACK MY FRIEND, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I HAVE DECIDED. Soz

WHAT IF!!

Iggy comes in, is all: guess what I found at the dentist this morning?

M: again? Did Amelia break another tooth?

I: It’ll grow back, take a look at this

E: Did you steal that from the dentist’s office?

M: Rolling Stone, wtf?

E: your dentist’s got rolling stone?

Mickey reads the headlines out loud as a customer comes in and asks Etch about something they’ve lost the other day, and Etch starts rifling through boxes behind the counter as Mickey moves over to sit down in Ian’s booth, rifling through the magazine.

M: what am I looking for?

I: I marked the page

E: what’s this note?

Mickey starts reading the article, realizing that the blurred picture is of Ian, and the interview is with Ian, and holy shit. Ian is legit famous.

Etch starts reading the list of coffees, eventually turning the page over and pointing out that there’s a phone number.

Iggy comes to the diner in the morning, Etch is rifling through stuff behind the counter and Mickey is doing the rounds with the few guests still there after the morning rush.

Iggy shows him the magazine he found at the dentist’s and Etch is in the background like wtf is this, reading from Ian’s note with the coffee orders, Mickey only half listens, trying to take in the fact that Ian is fucking famous.

Etch says there’s a phone number too and Mickey brushes him off.

Then he’s like, hold the fuck up! And gets the note from the trash and tries the number, and Ian fucking answers. And they have the you’re famous conversation on the phone and voila, Mickey has his number and vice versa.

So Mickey calls Ian in the morning, then there’s text talk during the day.

From Ian

So, you’ve had my number for x days and you only now decided to use it?

That’s cold.

From Mickey

You wrote it on a piece of paper you then balled up and threw on the floor, asshole, it’s a miracle it didn’t end up in the trash. didn’t know I had it until this morning.

You suck at this. (This is a nice revelation that he likes, but Maybe that doesn’t come across in text.

Not a complaint btw, just gleeful observation.

From Ian

Are we still on?

From Mickey

Of course.

Dumbass.

Ian

I probably deserved that.

At some point Mickey starts capslocking and sending lyrics to Ian, who has to explain through text why he’s written songs about Mickey, saying that he’ll point them out tonight.

HERE’S A QUESTION

SHOULD I SKIP THE WHOLE “WRITING SONGS ABOUT MICKEY” BUSINESS??

Isn’t it enough that Ian is famous and kept this fact from Mickey? Isn’t the writing songs business a little creepy? and if he did write songs about Mickey, would he really publish them without Mickey’s consent? No. Maybe I’m deliriously tired and about to fall ill right now, but I actually think I should skip that part. It’s a little sad because it’s been part of this idea for three years, but if I’m uncertain about it now imagine how I’m going to feel about it later?

When I started writing this story, it was supposed to be a quick and silly thing, and now it’s something else. It’s not important or anything, but also it is. To me. And making a decision on the rating was a big deal for me, and I think this is another one of those things. I’ve been holding on to this idea for so long but when I really think about it, is it even romantic? It’s romantic in that kind of teenage dream way, maybe? It’s more romantic to me if they fall in love for reasons other than Ian writing songs. But he’s written NTW, and he still thinks about performing it live, but we skip the whole thing about songs being about Mickey.

So they talk on the phone in the morning, and then there’s a text coming in after a little while asking if Mickey wants to come to the show.

HEYHO IT’S A REVOLUTION AND I FEEL FREE

Mickey and Ian text after the show (after Mickey declines going backstage) Ian asks him to meet him round back in twenty minutes. When Mickey goes out there, he sees Ian talking to a couple of fans by the bus and Mickey hangs back to smoke while he waits. The fans leave and Ian looks around, checks his watch, he has a bunch of guitars with him.

I AM LEANING HEAVILY TOWARDS MICKEY KISSING IAN HERE. He’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters against the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

They’re in the elevator, then they’re in Ian’s apartment. Ian plays him the song, Before sunset ending.

almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

(almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

yeah, it’s not a very good song. is why we cut it from the record

oh yeah? thought it was ‘cause of the like, intensely personal subject

that too)

They smile at each other like fools and Mickey feels like he is exactly where he’s supposed to be, and there’s no rush. Fade to black.

Etch finds the paper, says there’s a phone number on it. Mickey dials the number and goes out back as it rings out. When Ian answers, he reads a question from the interview and they talk.

He goes back into the diner and basically blows the whole thing off, it doesn’t make any difference to him and he has to go back to work. Yevgeny does his homework and Iggy leaves, and Ian invites Mickey to the gig via text. Etch invites Yevgeny to stay over at theirs for a movie night.

Does Mickey tell Yev about the gig?

Start with Mickey out back, smoking. The phone rings and he waits for Etch to take it, but it keeps ringing. He bangs the door and yells PHONE and then it stops ringing. He kills the cigarette and goes back inside. Etch is behind the counter talking on the phone and going through the lost and found, looking for whatever the caller has lost. Mickey clears a table. It’s afternoon. Etch hangs up but keeps going through stuff in the box, talking to Mickey, when Iggy comes in.

It’s maybe more like afternoon (?) when Iggy comes in and shows Mickey the magazine. He calls Ian and they have a quick conversation (he probably goes outside to have it, to escape his audience) and they establish that Ian is sorta famous. Then they text back and forth a little, until Ian invites him to the show.

Mickey calls Svet to arrange it so Yev can stay with her, and then accepts. He goes home after work to eat, have a shower and change out of his clothes. He wears the only band tee he owns, mostly because it’s funny and because it’s kinda tight and he doesn’t think he looks too bad in it (and a dress shirt is way too much for a concert not-date, not that he tried on a couple first. Then he does a little bit of cyberstalking only to find very little personal information and a lot of crazy fans. Maybe he watches a couple of music videos, but they’re all really weird cartoons so they give him nothing. They’re cool though, and guess the music’s alright, even though he doesn’t have a connection yet to it so it’s hard to tell if he likes it.

Yevgeny calls, because Mickey switched the days and he wants to know why. Mickey asks if he knows about the Broken Bells, and Yev’s like duh who doesn’t? And freaks out when Mickey tells him about Ian. He doesn’t tell him about the whole date situation though, just that he’s going to the concert. Maybe Yev asks for some merch.

Mickey takes an Uber to the venue, even though it’s not too far from the diner (but on the other side, so at least a 30 minute walk) and it seems like they’ve already started letting people in. He hangs back until the admissions office is clear and then tells the lady that he’s on some kinda guest list. She can’t find him, and he’s about to give up and go home when he sees a familiar figure in the background. He calls her Stay-puft first, but then also remembers that her name is Anne and calls her that too. She remembers him, and finds him on a different (VIP) list, the venue staff woman is embarrassed, but Anne is borderline flirting she’s so nice about the mistake. Mickey gets a pass that he’s supposed to keep around his neck, but he shows it to the guards and then tucks it down his back pocket. Anne shows him inside the venue and asks if he wants to come backstage and say hello, but he kindly declines.

He has a quick peruse of the merch table (he checks the CDs, and then sees a smaller table next to the merch with a guy handing out pins, Mickey talks to him and finds out that it’s “fan club” pins to commemorate the gig and Mickey asks if his VIP pass gets him one, it does, and then the guy asks if Mickey wants to sign up for the newsletter) and then gets a beer, before finding a good spot on the mezzanine floor. He’s got a balcony railing for support and beer holder, and he’s got an excellent view of the stage. The floor is filling up with people packing themselves against the front. He texts Ian saying he’s here and they text a little back and forth. He gets someone to watch his spot and goes to the restroom. There, he finds a kid getting cornered by a middle-aged man. The kid looks vaguely familiar and not older than sixteen. Mickey steps in and casually accuses the guy of creeping on a kid and the guy immediately backs off, the kid says thanks and that he’s eighteen (because it’s an 18+ gig) and Mickey says sure.

Getting back to his spot, There is a douchebag on a date behind him that he wants to move away from, but he doesn’t want to surrender his good spot. He decides to tune him out, he’ll hopefully shut up once the set starts. It’s just a couple of minutes after eight when the lights dim and a song comes on louder than before, and the band start coming out on the stage. Ian is wearing jeans and a hoodie, like he normally does, but he’s clean shaven and his normally smiling face is set in blank determination. Anne is the front person, and she commands the audience with the slightest gesture. It’s obvious that the venue is filled with old fans, they all know exactly what to do exactly when she asks them to do it. Ian’s got like four guitars and a whole lot of other shit around him, and he’s super focused on doing his stuff, but now and then he does little routines with Anne and Jon, and gets a big cheer for his occasional solos.

A few songs in, Ian gets up to stand on one of the oil barrels, and Anne starts banging on it with a crowbar. That’s when Mickey starts to really get into it. It’s cool, and it’s a lot harder than Ian made it out to be, but kind of theatrical at the same time. Ian is brilliant, even though he dances like an uncoordinated stripper.

There is banter between the songs, mainly between Anne and Stran (girl sure bangs those drums!) Anne starts banging one of the oil barrels again and Ian and Jon do a little step dance next to each other across the scene.

At some point Ian takes off his hoodie. He’s wearing a white tank and he’s already sweating through it. He gives his guitar to Anne and puts on gloves. Him and Stran do a little bant-y thing and then they start a new song by both banging the barrels in unison while Anne and Jon start playing (maybe Jon plays something else, like an electric piano or a marimba?). At the crescendo of the song, Ian takes out a baseball bat and goes to town on the barrel, sweat shining on his muscly arms and his wet hair flopping down his forehead.

They go off the stage, but come back when the crowd chants a song, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Anne says they’ve got one more song for them, and they start playing. She moves away from the microphone and it looks for a second like Ian is going to step up and sing. Douchebag behind Mickey tells his date about an unreleased b-side to the last album. But then Ian steps back and says something to Stran, who nods and moves into a slightly different beat. Without blinking Anne, steps back up to the mic and sings the last song.

Some of the crowd lingers by the stage after the lights have gone back on, but most move towards the bar or the merch table. Mickey hangs back to watch the crew take down the stage, and the two oil barrels being handed over to someone in the audience, along with set lists and left-over picks. Walking down from the mezzanine floor to go look for the restrooms, a fight breaks out on the floor. Mickey immediately recognizes one of them as Lip and the other one as the creep from the bathroom, and intervenes by clearly positioning himself on Lip’s side and reminding the creep that he could get him in trouble, the creep backs off and agrees when Mickey tells the security guards it was an accident (in a way that isn’t obviously helpful, but in the end still makes sure that Lip isn’t hurt or arrested for punching a guy) (because he did, he punched a guy, who is thrown out by the guards after Mickey’s intervention). Lip, Carl, Debbie, and Liam is there, but it’s only Lip who knows who Mickey is. He hangs back to talk to Mickey while his siblings go backstage (and PROBABLY DOESN’T tell him a little bit about the guy being Ian’s ex, making it clear that Lip really doesn’t like him). He also apologizes to Mickey for last time. He asks if Mickey wants to go backstage, but Mickey declines. He’s decided earlier with Ian through text that he’ll wait for him and thinks it’s better to do it somewhere that isn’t backstage where he might get asked questions and have to talk to people who aren’t Ian.

He gets another beer and stands in the bar next to the merch, watching as Ian and the rest of the band come out to sign some stuff and shake hands. Ian still looks slightly damp from sweat, even though he’s obviously changed clothes and run a towel through his hair. Mickey wonders if his skin tastes like salt. He drinks his beer.

Ian comes up to him after a little while, asking well? (or texts him, which probably makes more sense? But I also want Mickey to see Ian post-show)

Not bad Gallagher, not bad at all.

Ian looks pleased and asks if Mickey wants to come over, even though Ian has an early morning. Mickey says yes and Ian asks him to wait until they’re done packing up.

Mickey finishes his beer, goes to the restroom (where he sees douchebag by the urinal) and then he goes outside to wait for Ian. (He talks to douchebag’s date and offers to get her a taxi before the guy comes out.) He smokes a cigarette, and before he knows it, Ian is by his side, carrying a fuck ton of guitars. They decide to walk, for some reason, talking on the way.

HEY

Ian says he’s got a car coming and they walk a little bit to where they’re getting picked up. They talk about trumpet lips and stuff and Mickey kisses him. They get interrupted by the car arriving, and Ian picks up his guitars and says “you coming?”

Fuck yes

They sit in silence in the car, but it’s a good one. Ian says

Lip told me what you did back there.

He didn’t tell you shit.

He did, told me you stepped in and stopped him from getting arrested

He was getting his ass kicked, someone had to help the guy

And Liam told me you got him out of a tough situation in the restroom

That was Liam? Some pedo’s creeping on a kid by the urinal, I’m not gonna stand by doing nothing.

You know that’s not what happened

Yeah, well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

He isn’t a pedo, and Lip would’ve beat the shit outta him if you hadn’t stepped in.

You defending this guy?

No, trying to say thanks.

You’re shit at it.

Thank you, Mickey

Better.

So… friend of yours.

No. (Ian isn’t forthcoming with the info)

Alright, whatever.

And he’s definitely not someone I wanna talk about, tonight.

(Ian is smiling at him, all the promise in the world in his eyes)

Fucking fair enough.

They arrive.

OR Ian joins Mickey outside and they stand around and talk

They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

That’s when a taxi pulls up and Ian walks toward it

Could use some help with these.

They ride in silence

They carry Ian’s instruments from the car, and Ian says something cute

Mickey’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters on the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

There he asks Ian to play him something that other people don’t get to hear (mostly to be a cheeky monkey, but also because he wants it) and Ian plays him None the wiser.

I’ve walked a thousand miles to end up in your corner booth

Grinning idiot when you bitch, falling fool for your dirty mouth

Sitting on my busy hands when you swagger by and I say -

Hey waiter, pour some coffee in my cup and bring me my toast, before you fuck me up

I’ve been in some thousand fights and it’s clear that so have you, too

Faded threats and cigarettes, sharp glass polished by the sea

Wish you’d put your hands on me and make your feelings clear

Hey waiter

meet me ‘round the back door, tell me I’ve got it wrong and fuck me up some more

‘Cause I’ve fallen a thousand times but never felt this way before, like I should have met you long ago

Walked with you by my side and had your back through thick and thin

Sickness and health, come what may, and I say-

Hey waiter

pop the damn champagne

None the wiser

you fuck me up again

Hey waiter

tell me you’ll be mine

I’ll give you my life

and fuck you up in kind

I wish I was just a plain white shirt

then you could wear me off to work

and I’d be one of the things you keep close to your heart

soft white cotton wrapped around your heart

(Contrasts have faded now

but color still haunt my mind

And words ripped off from their lines

Make bitter tears flood my eyes

Don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you)

Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie

My darling boy, sweet old times

As long as I keep you in mind

I will remember what love is like

So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you

’Cause I always say ’I love you’

when I mean ’turn out the light’

And I say ’let’s run away’

when I just mean ’stay the night’

But the words you want to hear

you will never hear from me

I’ll never say ’happy anniversary’

Never stay to say ’happy anniversary’

Bom-chaka bom-chak 23 verses

And he climbed up a mountain

And he looked around

Some kind of forest

With all these dinosaurs

And he stripped his woman

He stripped her bare

But there was a pterodactyl

There!

#Anonymous

[1989dreamer]

When the Stars Align

And here is part two of why @evanesdust​ had to be so, so patient for their prompt to be fulfilled.

AO3 Link

Written for this prompt (same as Seventy-Five Percent).

Yes, I wrote three stories for the same prompt. It was a lot of fun.

Summary: Derek has a coworker that is a little too enthusiastic about getting him alone, so he asks Stiles for help. Stiles gladly volunteers but neither of them quite know what they’re getting into. A pissed off Kate Argent isn’t to be trifled with and neither are the growing feelings Stiles has for Derek.

Tags: Stalking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Murderer Peter Hale, Deputy Cora Hale. Human AU, Getting Together, Fake Dating, Kate Argent is Her Own Warning, Fear, Non-descriptive Panic Attacks

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon, and Stiles was out at the park with his sketchbook and pencils, just trying to draw random sketches of his characters, trying to find the natural flow of their movement for the big battle they had coming up. Suddenly, almost sweetly, he heard the words: “I’m going out with Stiles.”

His head shot up. He was going out with someone? News to him. Who could be making such a bold claim?

He studied the people nearest him: Derek Hale, older brother of Stiles’ closest friend, Cora Hale; some blonde woman standing way too close to Derek; and a sallow-faced, shady-looking fellow who reminded Stiles of his sadistic chemistry teacher.

Derek pointed at Stiles. “My boyfriend,” he said, somewhat stiffly, upset and uncomfortable, and excuse him but Stiles was a national treasure. Dating him would be nothing but a delight.

The blonde woman seemed unperturbed by the fact that Derek was one) clearly trying to escape and two) his “boyfriend” was right there.

Stiles stood up, shoved his sketchpad under his arm, and sauntered over to them. He cocked a hip and tucked a hand around Derek’s waist, noting the way Derek sagged against him in relief. “What’s up, babe? These idiots bothering you?”

The woman’s face sank into a sour expression, and Stiles almost laughed at how angry she appeared. Almost as if she’d known Derek was lying to her, but Stiles had decided to play along. Whatever. It wasn’t like Stiles had anything better to do than to rescue the older brothers of his friends.

The woman stuck out her hand. “Kate Argent,” she said, as sour as her face.

Stiles ignored her hand. “Stiles, Derek’s other half.”

“Certainly not the better half,” Kate laughed, something malicious lurking beneath her false smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Derek said, and wasn’t he being so sweet? Stiles pinched him to make him close his mouth.

“Now, my question still stands: are you bothering my boyfriend?”

Kate didn’t answer. Instead, she stomped off, her companion trailing after her. Derek didn’t immediately pull away, which surprised Stiles.

“What’s up with that?” Stiles asked when Derek finally disentangled himself.

Derek rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She works with me. Technically she’s my boss.”

“And how does dating me come into it?”

Derek rolled his shoulders again and Stiles realized that he was shrugging.

“If you date me for, say, a month and then break up with me, spectacularly, publicly, Kate would think I’m undateable and she’ll leave me alone.”

“And why me?”

Derek shrugged again. “I panicked?” he offered.

“Oh, I see. I’m the convenient choice.”

“No,” Derek said. “I just.” He blew out a breath. “You were right there. I knew you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to do it. I can find someone else.”

For some reason, that was more of an insult to Stiles than the fact that Derek had chosen him in the first place. “Now, wait a minute.” He grabbed Derek’s hand. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

Derek’s eyebrows scrunched together. “You’ll do it?”

Stiles nodded. “Who knows why? Probably because you’re the big brother of my best friend, and Cora will never let me hear the end of it if I let you get pressured into dating your boss.”

Derek made a face. “Cora can’t know about the fake dating thing,” he said.

“Why not?” Stiles shook his head. “She’s my best friend. Of course, she’s going to know.”

Derek sighed. “Fine. It’s not like she wouldn’t have found out anyway.”

“So, what are your rules for dating?” Derek shrugged. “No, seriously. What’s on the table? What’s off? Pet names? Touching? What kind of dates do you want to go on? I mean, you want Kate to actually think we’re dating, right?”

“I guess?” Derek frowned. “I-I think so? Would it be easier to meet up at, like, one of our apartments and plan this out?”

“Sure. That works. Want to go now?”

Derek nodded. Honestly, he looked a little lost. Something wasn’t adding up. “Why can’t you just tell Kate’s boss or HR that she’s bothering you? Why go through this subterfuge?”

Derek sighed, and Stiles felt the vibration of it in his chest. Derek was bone tired, exhausted, and frustrated. He was thoroughly vexed.

“Kate is the HR department,” he said. “Her dad owns the company. All my coworkers just tell me to buckle down and date her.”

“But,” Stiles said.

“I’m not comfortable with dating. There’s been rumors of some of the men she’s dated before. She likes challenges, likes to break her partners. She’s taken my disinterest as a challenge.”

“There’s got to be some way to report her. Will any of her former partners file a police report against her?”

“I don’t know. I think she, like, collects evidence that her partners are the ones who hurt her.”

Stiles shuddered. “Dude, I am so sorry that she’s targeting you.”

“So am I.” Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry I got you involved. Kate will probably try and scare you off. I don’t know what tactics she’ll use, so I can’t warn you more.”

“Well, how about we worry about the logistics of the dating before we worry about what Kate will or won’t do?”

Derek nodded, sitting down on the grass next to Stiles. He held out his hands, like he was showing that he was unarmed. Stiles smiled at him. While he hadn’t known Derek well when he and Cora were in school together, he’d been the cool older brother. The hot, cool older brother that Stiles sometimes daydreamed about kissing until he lost his edge.

Talking to Derek now, finding out that he liked some of the same things Stiles did and dates would be easy enough, that he liked slow dancing and kissing in the rain, that it took more than a few meetings before he made up his mind as to whether or not he actually liked someone romantically was all cute and good. It also made it a little more embarrassing that Stiles wanted to kiss him even more now.

Derek nodded at the sketchbook. “Anything good?”

“Just character studies,” Stiles replied. He was not in the habit of sharing his work before it was ready to publish. He was also used to people not respecting his boundaries when he said he didn’t want to share, that he was already expecting Derek to demand his sketchbook anyway.

“Cool,” Derek said. He gripped a handful of grass, tugging at it too gently to break any blades. “I write stories that are sort of like that.”

“Oh really?” Stiles smiled to let Derek know that he thought that was cool too, but it was wasted because Derek never looked up. “Hey,” Stiles said, “you know that if you put words on paper, then you’re a writer regardless of what anyone else tells you, right?”

“Right.” Stiles heard the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He could also relate to being told that his “hobby” wasn’t a form of real art. Well, he had time. He would start working with Derek to shed the negativity and embrace his passion.

“So, um,” Derek said, “did you want to do the first date tonight?”

“Yes,” Stiles said before Derek could take it back. “Absolutely. Pick you up at 7:00?”

“Sounds good.” Derek pulled out a small book, tore out a piece of paper, wrote down his address and phone number. “Just text me something so I have your number too.” He handed the paper to Stiles.

“Absolutely.” Stiles waved when Derek stood up. As soon as Derek was out of sight, Stiles sent two texts.

One to Derek: This is stiles now u have my #

And one to Cora: Dating ur bro don’t make it weird

Derek did not respond immediately, but Cora did.

Y

Y what

Y my brother. Leave derek alone u ass

He’s my bf now. Srsly tho, i’m helping him. Don’t give him grief

Fine. But if he cries over u, i break ur knees

Fair

Stiles set his phone aside and picked up his sketchbook again, tracing the shadow under his main character’s face. It wasn’t perfect, but Stiles wasn’t trying. This had been an exercise to get him out of his apartment. Finding out that Derek was in need of a rescue just like Malcolm was not at all how he planned his Thursday to go, but it was still nice enough. Besides, he’d secured a date with the hottest senior at Beacon Hills High—never mind that Derek hadn’t been a senior in high school for almost seven years and Stiles had graduated college and moved back to help out his dad, who was looking to retire from the position of Sheriff of Beacon County within the next two or three years. He’d started taking some graphic design classes at the community college when he realized he could only get so far with his self-taught art.

He still liked hand-drawing things, and he was almost ready to move onto sketching Mallorca when his pad was forcibly lowered.

He gripped his pencil, aware of how much damage he could inflict even though it was dull. Kate’s face popped into view and Stiles restrained his hand.

“What do you want?” he said, blandly. Uninterested. Kate seemed the type of person to hate that.

Stiles was right. She barely waited a second more before thumping his sketchbook down on his lap.

“Listen, Styles,” she hissed.

“Stiles,” he corrected.

Kate looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “That’s what I said.”

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “You said ‘Styles,’ like style of clothing or something. My name is ‘Stiles,’ with an i.”

Kate glared at him. “Whatever. Just stay away from Derek Hale. He may think he’s your boyfriend, but there’s only one person who’s right for him, and it’s not you.”

“Maybe so,” Stiles agreed easily, “but you know who has to make that decision? Derek. Not you.” He picked up his sketchbook, tucked away his pencils, and walked away from Kate.

This wasn’t high school. And no one should ever be able to call dibs on a person anyway.

Kate needed to grow up, but Stiles doubted that she ever would. She’d had lines by her eyes and a little gray in her hair under the bad dye job. She’d probably never had to work for anything in her life, working in Daddy’s company, having men thrown at her feet either by themselves or by circumstances.

If dating Derek got Kate off his back, then Stiles was game.

His phone chimed.

Derek.

Thanks. What did you want to do tonight? Dinner? Movie?

Stiles paused, thinking. He’d only been planning on taking Derek out to The Boot, a steakhouse on the edge of town. Jeans and flannel almost a requirement. But a movie…No, Stiles didn’t like movies for first dates. There was a small park—just a bench and some trees—near Stiles’ apartment that he liked to sit outside and dream up new adventures for his webcomic.

Maybe he could take Derek there?

Stargazing actually. If thats okay?

Derek’s reply came a few seconds later. Sounds good. Thanks.

Stiles couldn’t help the elation those words gave him. Yeah, it was Derek’s idea to pick out Stiles as a potential date, but the fact that he was agreeable to Stiles’ suggestions was a nice departure from Stiles’ usual dates.

See you at 7.

Stiles smiled at his phone, sending, See u then and then basically floating home, his steps light and unfettered.

He would make tonight awesome for Derek. And himself. The start of something new and beautiful.

The end would be fiery, and he’d have to guard his heart, but there wasn’t any harm in playing pretend, right? Thinking of a future where Derek did really want to date him. Where Kate Argent wasn’t a reason Derek needed safety or that Stiles could provide that safety.

Yeah. It was a nice fantasy.

~ * ~

The Boot wasn’t too crowded and the food only so-so, but when Derek got going, he could tell a story and keep Stiles sitting on the edge of his seat.

Using interrogation tactics gleaned from a lifetime as the son of a law officer, Stiles managed to extract Derek’s online persona from him, filing away the information for later in case he had to live a sudden Derek-less existence.

Like after publicly breaking up with Derek to make him undesirable.

After their meal, which Derek paid for and Stiles vowed to get the next one, they headed to the little park by Stiles’ apartment. He was acutely aware that sometime during their meal, the sallow-faced man Kate had been with showed up, and now he was following them.

“Excuse me a moment,” Stiles said, ducking into the bushes, like he was going to take a leak. Instead, as soon as he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Cora, asking her to look into Kate Argent and her associates.

Cora was a junior deputy at the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department and as such had access to resources that Stiles could only dream of—legally—obtaining.

Her reply came immediately: What am I looking for?

Stiles made sure his flash was off before he took a quick snap of Derek standing under the streetlight, back tense, facing down the sallow-faced man, who was perfectly illuminated, if even more washed out because of the quality of the light.

Fella on the left

On it

Stiles put away his phone and stepped out from the bushes, tugging at his zipper like he was just redoing it.

Derek sagged, visibly relieved to see him.

“Problems?” Stiles asked, putting his arm around Derek’s waist, making sure to keep his hand from actually touching him to keep up with the illusion that he’d just handled his dick.

“No,” Derek lied.

The man nodded his agreement. “Just thought I recognized him.”

“And do you?”

“Yeah,” again it was Derek who spoke. “This is Jerry. He works in Kate’s office with her.”

“Jerry, huh? Well, glad to see that you’re not a stranger I have to call the cops on. Just a coworker.”

Jerry shrugged. “I’m not who you should be worried about.”

“And neither is Kate. Go tell her the date was great. And we’re going to have sex now.”

Jerry scuttled away, his expression somewhat relieved. Puzzling.

Stiles’ phone pinged and he checked it to find a text from Cora.

Jerry has priors. Stay clear of him.

Priors, huh. Could be why he hung around Kate so much outside of work, if she had something on him.

Will do, he sent back. Well, he would certainly try. If Kate and Jerry had plans to keep running into Derek and him when they were on dates, Beacon Hills wasn’t the largest.

“Let’s get you home,” Stiles said to Derek, wondering at the stricken look he received in return.

“I thought we were supposed to go stargazing?”

“Yeah, if you want. I thought after running into Jerry, you might want to go home so that you wouldn’t risk running into him again.”

“I mean, isn’t it better to give them more evidence that we’re dating?”

“Sure. Okay.” Stiles took Derek’s hand, led him to the park. The whole way, he couldn’t shake the sensation that he’d done something wrong.

They sat on a bench, and Stiles let his head fall back. Even though they were competing with all the light pollution of the city, the stars were still breathtaking. Stiles liked to imagine that he was on a different world, exploring like his webcomic. It sure beat studying graphic design and living in his skin some days.

“Are we really going to have sex?” Derek asked quietly after a few minutes.

“No.” Stiles moved his head so that he could see Derek’s profile. “Did you want to?” He’d thought the whole ruse of them dating was to get Kate off Derek’s back so that he wouldn’t have to be assaulted.

And then he remembered what he’d said to Jerry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up and turning to face Derek. “I shouldn’t have said that, and especially not without clearing it with you first.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Derek, you’re allowed to be upset and to stand up for yourself. That’s what the ground rules are for. If I say or do something that makes you uncomfortable, then I need to know so that I don’t do it again.”

Derek nodded. “Okay. So, wanna point out any constellations?”

Happily, Stiles leaned back, lifting an arm. And then realized that Derek was putting him on. Amateur stargazer that he was in his spare time.

As first dates went, it wasn’t either the best or the worst, but it was a solid seven-and-a-half in Stiles’ book, and he had to remind himself, after walking Derek home, that they weren’t really dating.

It would undeniably get more difficult the longer they played the ruse, but at least there was an end. Even if it painted Stiles as the bad guy. It wasn’t like Stiles needed his reputation to remain pristine for Kate Argent. In fact, the more she disliked him, the better in his opinion.

Maybe he could work this storyline into his webcomic. It wasn’t like his adventurers were currently on an adventure.

On the one hand, Stiles had based Malcolm on Derek, subconsciously. And something like this—needing to pretend to date to throw off an unwanted suitor—was something Malcolm could potentially encounter. On the other, more logical hand, Derek probably read Stiles’ webcomic. Cora certainly did. Better not to muddle it with real life situations.

Shame though. It’d make a great arc. Even though he’d need to create a whole new character because Mallorca was asexual and uninterested in dating anyone platonically, and Stiles already knew that if he put a fake-dating in his comic, he’d have to end it as a real love story. Too bad real life couldn’t mimic fiction.

Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked home, mind already spinning with the storyline he couldn’t post.

~ * ~

Stiles woke up to a barrage of texts. Some from Cora. One from Derek. And seventeen from an unknown number.

Stiles opened Derek’s text first.

Kate got your number. I let Cora know too. If she bugs you, file a report. Maybe we can get her on harassment.

Stiles turned to Cora’s three texts.

Derek told me about kate getting ur #

If she bothers u let me kno

Come by the station. We’ll get u set up w/reports

He sent a text to each Hale thanking them for their concern. And then he read each and every one of the unknown texts.

It was definitely Kate.

She moved from a joking tone to downright threatening.

Well, Stiles knew what he was doing with his morning. Derek and Cora were right that he needed to establish a pattern of harassment. He’d suspected that being in Derek’s orbit was dangerous but to actively be threatened with bodily harm was another thing. Kate wasn’t stupid enough to actually threaten him, was she?

No. It was more likely that these texts were from Jerry or some other associate-slash-lackey.

Still. Stiles could give the phone’s owner hell. Maybe teach Kate a lesson by proxy.

He shot another text to Cora, letting her know that he’d stop by the station because of the texts he’d received.

Then, he took a shower, grabbed his textbook for his 1:00 class, and headed out.

Cora met him at the front desk. She snapped her fingers at him until he surrendered his phone.

While she copied the texts to an evidentiary phone, he poked his head into his dad’s office.

“Stiles,” Dad said in the way that usually meant he wasn’t pleased to see him. “I hear you’ve got a new boyfriend.”

Stiles winced. “Yeah. Meant to tell you about that.”

“You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions.” Dad rummaged in his desk until he found a bottle of antacids. He popped a couple in his mouth, chewing with a grimace. “You’re not here because your boyfriend is being a possessive asshole, are you?”

“No, not my boyfriend.” Stiles winced again. “Actually, it’s someone who wants to date my boyfriend. Kate Argent. She didn’t use her own phone to text me. She’s too smart for that.”

“Great.” Dad ran a hand over his face, digging at his eyes. “So who’s phone did she use?”

“That I don’t know. I think Cora is trying to figure that out now.”

“Great.” Dad rattled the antacids before putting them back in his desk. “Keep us in the loop if there are more incidents. And tell your boyfriend that I’d like to meet him some day too.”

“Dad,” Stiles whined, “it’s still so new. Let us see if there’s something there before we start introducing each other to families.”

Cora knocked on the door before his dad could open his mouth again. She handed Stiles his phone. “You were right that Kate didn’t use her own phone. She used Jerry’s. The kind of threats on there…” she whistled. “Well, let’s just say that it violates his parole.”

“So Kate’s burning her bridges.” Stiles bit his lip. “Hey so, Jerry followed us when we were on our date yesterday.” He blushed, embarrassed that he’d even said anything at all last night. “I told him we were going to have sex because I knew he was only following us on Kate’s orders.”

“And did you?” Dad asked.

“No, not that that’s any of your business. Thing is, Kate might be punishing Jerry for bringing her news she didn’t want to hear.”

“That’s definitely a possibility.” Dad sighed. “Okay, Stiles. I know you have class today. How about you head out? Let us know if you get any more texts.”

“Will do.” Stiles left the station with a nod to Cora. What a fucking mess. Derek didn’t need a boyfriend: he needed a bodyguard. Hell, Stiles needed a bodyguard after this morning.

How could Derek continue to work at Kate’s family’s company when she was such a menace?

Or maybe it was the fact that Derek was “dating” Stiles that made her flip out on him.

Whatever the reason, Stiles needed to warn Derek. There was a good chance that Kate would escalate, and Derek was probably her intended victim.

She was worse than what Derek had said. She was dangerous and volatile. And Stiles wanted to be the one to bring her down. He didn’t want to hide or let her win because doing either of those things meant that she’d get Derek, and that was not an acceptable outcome.

Yes, they were fake-dating, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t care for or not love Derek.

He sent a text to Derek, asking to meet him after class ended at 5:00 and to watch out in case Kate tried anything retaliatory.

Then, he tried not to vibrate out of his skin with pent up anticipation and worry and every negative emotion he could feel in a four hour span.

~ * ~

Derek brought Stiles a coffee when they met at the park by Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles accepted the coffee and sat on the bench. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down, no matter how he pressed on it. “Hey, so did Kate do anything to you today?”

“No.” Derek took the seat next to Stiles, put his hand on his knee and then pulled back. “She was tied up in meetings all day. Jerry, though, got arrested over lunch.”

“Oh?” Stiles tried to play at being surprised but Derek touched his leg again. “Okay, yeah. So I think it was Kate, but someone blew up my phone today with threats and things.”

“Are you okay?” The worried furrow that appeared between Derek’s brows was adorable, and before he could stop himself, Stiles reached out to smooth it away. Derek smiled at the gesture.

“I’m fine. I filed a report with the Sheriff’s Department. That’s probably why Jerry got arrested. It was probably his phone.”

“I’m sorry that I got you roped into this. I didn’t think that she’d try and go after you.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Stiles took a sip of the coffee. It was too sweet, but that was okay. There was plenty of time to teach Derek how he liked his coffee. “If she gets mad enough, she’s going to make mistakes. We can stop her with those mistakes.”

“Yeah but, I just don’t want one of her mistakes to be hurting you.”

“That’s so sweet.” To make his point, Stiles sipped at the coffee again. “Look, Derek, you knew she was possessive. It’s why you made yourself unavailable. Anything she does is on her. And your sister is a freaking deputy. Kate should know better than to mess with you.”

“And yet,” Derek murmured.  He set his hand on Stiles’ knee again, and Stiles realized that his leg wasn’t bouncing anymore. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of Kate, so I think we should back off the dating thing.”

“You think so? I mean, if Kate was mad enough to burn one of her associates because of one date, imagine how much damage she’ll do to herself the longer we ‘date.’”

“I guess.”

“Besides, I thought the date was actually kind of good. And if Jerry isn’t going to be around to interrupt us again, then all the more reason to do it again.”

Derek looked away. “I don’t want to trap you,” he said quietly. “I panicked when Kate demanded that I produce my boyfriend immediately. I saw you drawing, and I—I blanked. You were familiar and that’s why I picked you out. I’m sorry.”

Stiles managed to hook a finger under Derek’s chin and draw his gaze back. “I wouldn’t have agreed to date you if I hadn’t wanted to help out.”

“But it’s not real dating,” Derek said, bitterly.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s doing what it needs to do,” Stiles said, just as bitter. He was a little mad that Derek kept reminding him that it wasn’t real. Stiles wished it were, but he also didn’t know how to broach that subject, especially because it was officially only the second day they’d been dating. And how had his dad heard about it? Stiles hadn’t told him, hadn’t wanted to jeopardize whatever rapport he and Derek had. After all, it wouldn’t do for his dad to confront Derek and announce “About damn time.” Yeah, Stiles had been friendless for nearly three years after his childhood best friend Scott McCall had transferred to a school close to his grandmother after his mother was injured in a workplace accident and his dad couldn’t take him in.

In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been Stiles’ best idea to get drunk and confess to his dad that he was bisexual and crushing on the star of the basketball team. Surprisingly, his dad had taken it well and had taken to teasing Stiles about seeing Derek when he and Cora became friends.

Now it was a matter of time before Dad hunted down Derek and demanded to have a father-boyfriend talk with him. And knowing his dad, he would probably take the opportunity to embarrass Stiles with his long-standing crush. Nope. Better to keep them apart.

“Look, Kate was probably upset because Jerry reported what I said to him.”

Derek shot Stiles a scathing look. “You think I don’t know that? Why’d you tell him that anyway? It’s not like I do that. And especially not on the first date.”

“But that wasn’t supposed to have been our first date,” Stiles pointed out. “I mean, it went toward establishing our—your alibi to having been dating me for a while.”

Derek flushed, glaring at his lap. “I guess,” he mumbled, as close to a “You’re right” Stiles was likely to get.

It did not make him feel any better. He’d still used Derek, albeit in a way that had actually helped his case. Maybe. Still, Stiles felt skeevy, like Kate had crawled under his skin and jack-hammered the crudeness of declaring sexing up Derek Hale out of his mouth.

It was not a pleasant sensation.

“I am sorry about telling him that.”

Derek shrugged, and Stiles realized he was trying to play it cool. Why though? “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, as you pointed out, if we’ve been dating for a while, it’s pretty obvious that we would have started having sex at some point.”

Or maybe not, Stiles thought, studying Derek’s suddenly green face. “Dude, are you sex-repulsed?”

“What?”

It was Stiles’ turn to shrug. “I don’t know. Like, the thought of sex, especially you having sex, makes you feel physically sick or something. Repulsed by the idea of sex.”

Derek looked thoughtful for a minute. “Maybe,” he finally said. “I guess. Cora just calls me asexual.”

“That’s probably a part of it.” And now Stiles felt even worse about telling Jerry that he and Derek were off to do the horizontal tango. Great. Guilt felt a lot like heartburn, except Stiles wouldn’t be able to chew a few antacids and have it go away. “So, I’ll understand if you really don’t want my help anymore.” Stiles bit off the rest, Not that I’ve been much help so far, because this really was not about him and he had actually helped even if it was just Kate throwing a tantrum.

“No. Kate probably smells blood,” Derek said. “She’ll probably double-down and I don’t know if I can deal with that alone.”

“Hey, you’re not alone,” Stiles hurried to assure him. “You’ve got Cora and you’ll still have me on your side even if you decide that the fake-dating isn’t working out.”

Derek seemed to think about that for a few minutes before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Hey thanks, Stiles.”

He leaned over, gave Stiles a one-armed hug, and then jumped to his feet. “I was wondering if you wanted to schedule another date now? Maybe Sunday night? There’s this really cool spot out in the preserve. Even better for looking at stars than this park. Would you like to go?”

Stiles couldn’t stop the smile or the skip in his heartbeat. “I’d love to,” he said, trying to force his tone not to jump. He wasn’t very successful but Derek didn’t seem to notice that he was unnecessarily happy for their next date. “Midnight picnic?”

“Sounds great. I’ll pack the food.”

“Okay, see you Sunday.”

Derek smiled and walked off.

Almost immediately the guilt came back, wriggling its way into his mind, spreading tendrils of doubt and disgust.

Stiles sighed, deflating down as he thought about just what he was doing. How could he survive a month of dating Derek, a month of “pretending” to be in love, and then break up like nothing happened?

How was he supposed to yell at Derek and make him un-date-able when Stiles was walking-breathing proof that someone wanted to date Derek?

He cursed himself for not asking out Derek earlier. Yes, Derek probably would have said no. It was his sister’s friend. They’d known each other since Stiles was a freshman and Derek was a senior in high school. It would have been weird, and Stiles would have been hurt by the rejection, but it surely would be better than this pseudo-relationship they were in.

Stiles needed advice, and he only knew one expert on Derek Hale. Well, only one that he was willing to talk to. Derek had another, older sister who still sometimes scared Stiles.

And there was no way Stiles was talking to either of Derek’s parents.

Nope. Cora was his go-to encyclopedia on her brother. Even after eight years.

He shot her a text, asking to meet to discuss personal things.

Her reply was almost immediate: told u

Which, no she hadn’t. She’d threatened his knees over text and then laughed her ass off when he told her face to face about dating Derek, because apparently her brother was indeed un-date-able and definitely some form of asexual. She revealed that he’d never even confessed crushes in high school.

“Sucks,” was what she’d said before she changed the subject to the upcoming Beacon Hills celebration days.

Well, told-you-so or not, Stiles still needed advice, and Cora was still going to give it to him, whether she wanted to or not.

~ * ~

Well, being adults kind of got in the way, and Stiles had papers due that he worked on all day Saturday, and Cora had a double shift at the station, so it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that their schedules finally managed to line up enough for him to crash into her room and fall onto her bed, spilling out the whole story, leaving nothing out. Before, he’d only told her that he was going to be dating her brother as an experiment, per Derek, not him.

“You did what now?” Cora asked for the third time.

“I agreed to fake-date Derek even though I am in love with him,” Stiles dutifully repeated for the third time.

“Why would you do that?”

Finally. A different question.

Stiles shrugged. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how uncomfortable he was. And Kate wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Derek told me that she’s targeted other men like him and that she always gets away with it because she files reports first.”

Cora narrowed her eyes. “Reports like what?”

“Rape and assault.”

“Jesus fuck, really?”

Stiles nodded.

“So you were helping him?”

“More like he panicked, picked me out so that he wasn’t ‘available,’ and then I agreed to keep up the charade.”

“And now you’re here,” Cora confirmed. “In love with my brother and fake-dating him.”

“Yep.”

“So is the public dumping still on?”

“Is Kate in custody yet?” Stiles countered. Cora glared at him. “Then yes. Yes it is.”

“Well that’s fantastic. Are you planning on telling my brother that you’re in love with him?”

“Ah, no. I was actually hoping that avoiding that particular problem might make it go away.”

Cora blew out a breath through her nose. Secretly, Stiles agreed. He didn’t think this was a problem that time would solve. In fact, the longer he let Derek believe that he was just helping him out instead of trying to save up as many memories of dating Derek as possible, the more their separation was going to hurt. Stiles knew he could heal from a broken heart because he’d done it before. He’d just never had to heal from his first crush.

And he didn’t want to. Selfishly, he wanted Derek to realize that dating Stiles was the best thing ever and they would never break up. Mopey, he voiced this sentiment to Cora.

“Well, you could always confess your feelings to, you know, the object of your feelings.” Stiles vigorously shook his head. “Then, something else you can do is just never break up with him. Eventually he’ll have to realize that you’re dating.”

And then Stiles would get promptly broken up with.

“We need to remove the threat of Kate,” Stiles said. “Without the excuse of why we’re dating, I can maybe ask him out again properly.”

“So how do you get rid of Kate?” Cora asked.

Stiles thought for a few minutes. “Well, she blew up my phone with threats after learning that Derek and I were ‘going to have sex.’” He aggressively shoved his air quotes in Cora’s face in an attempt to ward off any smacks or grossed out reactions she might have to him fucking her brother.

Cora fell over laughing. “Derek? Having sex?” She was practically hooting, and while Stiles understood the sentiment, it still stung.

“Hardy har har,” he intoned. “Yes, me having sex with your asexual brother is so fucking funny.”

Cora swallowed her laughs and sat up. “I’m sorry. That was really mean. It’s just, growing up with Derek gives me a perspective that maybe you’ll get to learn someday. There’s no way Derek’s having sex any time soon. In fact, if he ever has sex, I’ll buy you a diamond ring.”

“The diamond market is an evil industry and I won’t be a party to its support.”

“Jesus, Stilinski, it’s just an expression. I’m never going to actually buy you a ring of any kind.” She paused, staring into space, before a gleam came into her eyes. Stiles did not like that look. That look got him in trouble for boosting his dad’s whiskey sophomore year, leading to his bisexual confession. That look got them busted for sneaking into the only bar in Beacon Hills that didn’t card minors but called their parents.

That look was going to be the death of him one day, and while he might protest the whole way, he was still going to do whatever it was that gave Cora that look.

“What if you could incite Kate into giving herself up just by doing something really simple?” Cora asked, far more innocently than whatever she had planned.

“And how can I do that?” Stiles returned, apprehensively.

“By proposing.”

“To Kate?”

Cora hit his arm lightly. “No, idiot,” she said affectionately. “To Derek.” Stiles stared at her, incredulous. “I mean,” she rolled her eyes, “instead of breaking up with him, propose to him. Publicly so that Kate gets wind of it right away. I’ll be there so I can arrest her if she tries anything.”

“It’s been a day,” Stiles said. “If I propose now, Derek will think I’m crazy.”

“You can always ask him out again. Right now, isn’t it more important to get rid of Kate? As long as she’s around, your relationship will always be about keeping her away from Derek. Without that threat, Derek would be more open to dating you.”

“If he forgives me,” Stiles muttered.

Cora waved away his concern. “I’ll make sure he still likes you after.”

“Wait, he likes me now?”

Cora snorted. “No. He doesn’t like anyone. It’s Derek. You remember him from high school.”

“I remember him being really hot and me being too chickenshit to talk to him.”

“Well, you’re certainly not shy now,” Cora pointed out. She stood up and grabbed something off her dresser. She tossed it at Stiles, and he juggled it before she plopped down next to him again.

“What is this?” Stiles knew it was a ring box. Why Cora had given it to him, he didn’t understand. Was he supposed to use this ring to propose to Derek?

Cora opened the box, revealing a simple silver band set with a single black stone. “Zirconium,” Cora explained. “Not a real diamond.”

“Suits you,” Stiles said, because it did. Cora had had a goth phase in high school, and the only reason she probably still didn’t wear all black was because of her job. And that was only because Beacon County deputies wore brown uniforms.

She didn’t paint her nails or wear heavy makeup but that was probably because Cora was Newton’s First Law embodied—a body at rest will stay at rest even if that body wants to have heavy eyeliner and black fingernails.

“And this ring won’t be weird to propose to your brother with?” Stiles asked. He couldn’t see Derek wearing any jewelry. Hell, he never saw him wear his class ring even after agonizing about getting it.

“Well, it’s not like you’re really proposing. You’re just trying to get Kate off his back long enough for me to find something to charge her with.”

“And you’ll definitely be there?”

“How do you think Derek is getting there?” Cora paused. “You are proposing at the mall, right?”

“It is the most public place in Beacon Hills, and Derek did want it to be public.”

“Good. Okay, so I’ll make sure Kate is there to witness it.” She closed the ring box. “Stiles, Derek might say yes if he feels pressured, like if he sees Kate, so if you’re expecting him to break up on the spot, he might not.”

“I’m already fucked,” Stiles said, tucking the ring box into his pocket. “It’s not like I can fall anymore in love with him.”

“Don’t speak your own prophecy,” Cora said. “I’ll do my part, but Derek can’t know that I suggested the proposal. He’d never forgive me.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if he hates me after?” Stiles asked, just a little bitter. Derek was Cora’s brother. He’d eventually be okay with her. Stiles, though, wasn’t family, and as soon as he’d outlived his usefulness, Derek would have no obligation to keep in contact with him. It sucked that this was Stiles’ dream but Derek’s nightmare.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t hate you forever,” Cora promised.

Time would tell if it was an empty promise.

“Okay, so, should I have a script or do you want to leave it up to chance?”

“Words,” Cora immediately replied, retrieving a notebook and pen from under the bed. She flipped to a blank page and wrote at the top: Stiles’s Proposal Speech.

Then, she sat and tapped her pen on the paper for about five minutes.

“Can’t think of anything?” Stiles asked. “Like, maybe I should mention that even though it’s been such a short time, I already know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him? Or is that too much?”

“Might be a bit much for Derek, but it’s perfect for Kate.” Cora wrote it down. “Got anything else?”

Stiles had plenty of other ideas, years of observing and loving Derek from afar was enlightening, but he didn’t want to burn everything on this proposal that wasn’t even going to be real. So he only gave Cora a few more ideas, checked his phone for the time, and made the excuse of having to get ready for the date with Derek to escape.

Cora didn’t respond, too busy stringing together his ideas into what was certainly going to be a melodramatic, eloquent speech.

Stiles would collect it tomorrow, and then he and Cora would set the trap for Kate. It felt like trapping Derek too.

And Stiles was not okay with that.

It was one thing for Derek to claim him as a boyfriend to try to escape Kate��s persistence, but it was another thing entirely to trap Derek in that lie by proposing and having Kate there. Of course, Stiles could always take it back after Kate was arrested, but that was if Kate reacted the way they expected her to. If she didn’t, and Derek still was pressured to say yes, then Stiles thought he was no better than Kate.

He took a deep breath, took out his phone to text Derek to cancel tonight, and saw a message from Derek.

Just wanted to say, really looking forward to tonight. I really like hanging out with you, and I’m so thankful you’re here.

Stiles paused, mind spinning. Derek liked him? He would have given anything in high school for Derek to acknowledge him, but now, it felt cheapened.

Can’t wait 2, Stiles texted back. And that was not what he needed to say, but he figured he could think about it and talk to Derek tonight. Maybe they wouldn’t even need Cora’s plan if Kate realized that they were going on a date to an isolated area.

But that sounded like a great way to get murdered by her without having backup.

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t even know what was right anymore. Get rid of Kate by proposing to Derek? Don’t propose to Derek?

Either way, he wanted one last date with Derek before the shit hit the fan. He’d make tonight the best that he could and then if Derek decided to break contact after tomorrow, then Stiles could subsist on the what-if of a relationship with Derek with reality sprinkled in.

Life was going to suck so much, but Stiles was used to it. Mostly.

~ * ~

He and Derek met at the entrance to the preserve, and Stiles scoffed at the “No Entry After Dark” sign. The Hales had installed it after a few too many teens got caught out there, having the kind of fun their parents didn’t want them to have.

It was a lame measure, easily navigable, except for the stretched chain that meant they couldn’t take any vehicles with them.

Derek hefted a basket that must have held the midnight picnic, and Stiles lifted the chain so he could duck under it. It gave him the perfect opportunity to ogle Derek’s ass, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Guilt was choking down most of his other emotions and, not for the first time, he was thinking it had been a grave mistake to come here.

Even worse was there was no cell phone service out here so he couldn’t even send an SOS text to Cora.

It wasn’t long before Derek made him forget about his misgivings. They lied on a blanket, looking up at the stars. Which were definitely more visible without the light pollution of Beacon Hills.

It wasn’t Stiles’ intention, but he found himself talking about his webcomic, about the adventures the characters were on. Turned out Derek was a big fan, had read it from the start.

“Don’t be mad,” he prefaced his confession. “Cora told me all about it back when you first started posting it. I liked it enough to keep coming back.”

Stiles smiled. He didn’t mind. He hadn’t sworn Cora to secrecy until after the comic had taken off and gained Internet fame. It was actually a relief that Derek had seen the comic and hadn’t made the connection that Malcolm was based on him.

Before he quite knew it, they’d been there for three hours, and Derek was dozing, head on his shoulder.

Stiles nudged him. “Should we go home?” he asked, thinking of the sign at the entrance of the preserve.

Derek yawned, snuggling closer. “Don’t wanna move,” he mumbled.

“We should though,” Stiles said. “I’m sure that even your parents don’t want you out here all night.”

Derek sighed before sitting up. “You’re right. Come on. We can crash at my parents if we’re too tired to drive home. They live just off the side of the preserve.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he should take Derek up on that offer, but he had to admit that it was really nice to have Derek next to him as he fell asleep. And just like that the guilt was back.

“I should get back to my apartment. I have class tomorrow.”

“And you let me have a late date?” Derek asked, incredulous.

Stiles shrugged. “I really like hanging out with you. It’s not a big deal, and it’s not like I’d already be in bed anyway.”

“Still, I don’t want to get in the way of your schooling. Or your interests. You don’t have to go on dates with me. It’s not like Kate’s watching us that closely.”

Stiles grunted in agreement. Except, the minute they were back on the access road and had service again, both their phones dinged with incoming messages.

Stiles had several texts from an unknown number and two voicemails. Derek frowned down at his phone. Stiles punched in his voicemail.

Cora.

“Stiles, where the fuck are you? Don’t go back to your apartment. We got a call out. Fire was dispatched. Kate Argent—not proven of course—just burned your apartment down. Call me back now.”

Sent almost an hour ago.

Stiles turned to Derek, and he was ashen, his own phone to his ear. Faintly, Stiles could hear someone screaming over the speaker.

“Are you okay?”

Derek nodded, but he didn’t move even when the message either stopped or dropped to a volume Stiles could no longer hear.

Stiles dialed Cora’s number, putting her on speaker. “Stiles! Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m at the preserve,” he answered, “with Derek. We’re both okay.”

“Stay right there. The Sheriff is sending a deputy out to you.”

“What’s up with my apartment? Someone burned it down?”

Cora blew out a breath. “We won’t know until the arson investigator takes a look at it. We were able to save most of the building, but you’ll have to file reports with your insurance.”

“That’s just great.” Stiles sighed, running a hand over his head and tugging at his hair. “Thanks for doing that, Cora.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Just get in your car and lock the doors. The deputy should be where you are in less than half an hour. And keep Derek with you.”

Derek moved to lean over Stiles’ phone. “Why?”

Cora blew out a breath. “We’ve found some disturbing imagery at the scene,” she said. “You’re both not safe.”

“Cora, I got some messages from Kate, I think. It was a little hard to understand what she was saying. I’ll pass on the messages when the deputy gets here.”

Someone spoke to Cora, their words coming through the line like a heavy blur. Stiles thought he recognized his dad’s voice though.

“Okay, so the Sheriff wants you to go to the Sheriff’s Station. Someone will meet you there to take copies of the messages you’ve both received.”

“Both?” Stiles asked. He hadn’t mentioned the messages he’d gotten. How had she guessed?

“Both,” Cora repeated. “Look, if this is Kate, she’s escalating and quickly. Stiles, you had those messages from before. I would be surprised if you hadn’t gotten more. Now, get in your car and start driving. We have no idea where Kate is, and for all we know, she found out where you are. Get in your car, lock your doors, and start driving. Don’t stop until you’re at the Sheriff’s Station and a deputy can escort you in.”

“And I guess you want us to stay on the line?” Stiles took Derek’s hand, leading him to his Jeep.

“Preferably, yes,” Cora answered. “Are you in your vehicle yet?”

“Yep.” Doors were locked too. Derek buckled his seat belt, setting the basket down by his feet. Stiles buckled his own belt and turned the key in the ignition.

The headlights came on and Stiles swallowed back a yelp. Derek next to him wasn’t as lucky.

“What?!” Cora cried. “What’s going on?”

Kate Argent was standing in the headlights. How they hadn’t seen her, Stiles didn’t know. He threw the Jeep in reverse and punched the accelerator.

Kate lumbered after them, raising her hand to throw something after them.

Derek yelled again when glass shattered over the hood of the Jeep, fire spreading with it.

“We’re on fire!” Stiles yelled into his phone.

“What?!”

“She threw a fucking Molotov cocktail or some shit at us.”

“And now you’re on fire?!”

“Yes!” Stiles shifted to drive and stood on the accelerator. “Where is she?” he asked Derek.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see. I think she pulled off after she threw that thing. Are we okay to keep driving even though we’re on fire?”

“No!” Cora answered. Stiles ignored her, pressing the gas a little harder. “Stop driving! Get out and hide! We’re all coming to get you!”

“I’m not letting that bitch get her hands on us or my Jeep.”

Quietly, Cora asked, “Even if it ends up costing you both your lives?”

“Here she comes!” Derek shouted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw headlights aiming right for them. He jerked the wheel, switching to the brake. The whole Jeep shuddered and the brakes squealed as he executed a sharp turn. The vehicle, looked like a two door car of some kind, missed them by inches.

“We’re heading west from the preserve, back to town. Kate’s still chasing us.”

“And are you still on fire?”

Derek unbuckled his seat belt and shrugged out of his jacket. Stiles bumped the Jeep up onto the pavement and slowed. Derek leaned out of his rolled-down window and beat at the flames with his jacket.

After a few tense moments where Kate came barreling out of the preserve and turned on to the road, tires screeching, the flames were out, and Derek was back inside, buckled up again.

“No,” Stiles said. “Not on fire anymore. But Kate’s chasing us, and I hate to say it, she’ll probably catch us. My Jeep is not the fastest thing on the road.”

“We’re coming to you. Do not deviate.”

Already, Stiles could see flashing lights up ahead. Behind them, Kate slowed and then turned off.

“She’s not with us anymore,” he announced.

“Good,” Cora said. “Keep driving. You’ll have a police escort to the Station. We’ll put your car in the evidence garage so it won’t be left unattended. Are you both okay?”

Stiles nodded, mentally checking himself over. Yeah. He was fine. He turned to ask Derek the same question and realized that Derek was not okay. He was hyperventilating, shaky and pale, soot smudged over his face, his jacket forgotten over his lap.

“Uh, negative. Think we’ve got a panic attack going on. Will need assistance ASAP.”

“You or Derek?”

“Derek.”

“Roger that. Just keep driving. Help is just a little farther.”

Stiles put the worry about what Kate was doing right now in the back of his mind and focused on reaching the deputies, parking and unbuckling Derek’s seatbelt so that the first deputy to reach them could just open the door and pull Derek out onto the pavement.

Stiles climbed out, grabbing onto another deputy, who was really the Sheriff.

“You’re okay,” Stiles’ dad said, leading him to a cruiser. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Stiles gestured at Derek, still surrounded by deputies. “We saw Kate. She found us when we got back to the Jeep. We were on the phone with Cora ‘cause my apartment got burned down?”

“Not fully down,” his dad said. “The fire department responded quickly enough that they were able to save the building, but your stuff is probably another matter.”

“Well, fire must be Kate’s choice of weapon for the night because she threw something at my Jeep and suddenly, we were on fire.” Stiles’ phone trilled sharply and he pulled it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Did you reach the deputies?” Cora asked. “We got disconnected.”

“Yeah, my dad found us.” Stiles craned his neck, trying to see how Derek was doing. His view was blocked by at least three deputies. Another two were inspecting Stiles’ Jeep. “I don’t know how Derek’s doing. He was having a panic attack last I knew.”

“Was it Kate Argent?”

“Yes. She pulled off when she saw the lights. I don’t know if she’ll go home or if she’s lying in wait somewhere.”

“Well, for safety reasons, the Sheriff will probably have you stay somewhere with a guard.”

“Great. Well. Thanks for everything. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Cora drew in a breath like she was going to say something else but then all she said was, “Bye.”

“We’ve got a hotel room for you,” Dad said, taking Stiles’ shoulder and leading him to where one of the deputies was sitting with his arm around Derek. “Isaac is going to stay with you to make sure that Kate Argent doesn’t attack you.” The deputy with his arm around Derek half-waved at Stiles.

“And how are we getting there?”

“I’m driving,” Isaac said. “We can’t risk Argent seeing either of your vehicles and attacking you again.”

“And what about my Jeep? Cora mentioned putting it in the evidence garage?”

“Absolutely. We have a few deputies going to retrieve Derek’s Camaro just in case Kate Argent attacked his things like she did yours.” Dad takes Stiles’ keys

Stiles and Derek were stashed in the back of a cruiser and whisked to the station.

A few hours later after their statements and a preliminary search for Kate, Isaac the deputy and Isaac’s partner, Boyd, drove Stiles and Derek to a motel in Hill Valley.

Before he left to patrol the area, Boyd handed Stiles a lump of something. “We think this may have been the trigger for Kate’s aggression tonight,” he said, cutting a quick glance to where Derek was huddled on one of the beds. “I’m so sorry for what she’s putting you through.”

Stiles just nodded and then threw the deadbolt as soon as the door shut.

He checked his phone and noticed that Kate hadn’t sent any more messages to him. Good.

The lump Boyd had handed him weighed heavier on his soul than his palm and he squeezed it tightly. It was Cora’s ring. Kate had attacked them because she thought Stiles was going to propose to Derek. Which he had been. That had been the plan.

He sighed and stuck it in his pocket. Derek’s phone buzzed, and Derek flinched but didn’t otherwise move to answer it.

“May I?” Stiles asked when it buzzed again. Derek shrugged, handing him it, swiping his thumb over the back to unlock it.

Stiles opened the messaging app. Eighty-five texts. Eighty of them from Kate. The phone buzzed again, three times in quick succession. Make that eighty-three texts from Kate. Stiles jumped to the texts from Cora.

Don’t come home

Got camaro to garage leaving keys with sheriff

Plz call asap

Tell me ur both okay

Derek?

The time stamp on Cora’s texts meant that they’d already touched base with her after she sent the texts, so Stiles moved on to Kate’s messages.

All of them threatening and graphic.

Apparently Kate really wanted to eviscerate Stiles, pull all his bowels out, and while he was suffering, she wanted to rape Derek next to his dying corpse. She even had attached a picture of herself fucking the bottle she’d thrown at his Jeep.

Stiles promptly called his father, asked for someone to collect Derek’s phone, and then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to offer what little comfort he could to Derek.

“She isn’t going to stop, is she?” Derek asked. He was ashen, still shaken from his panic attack.

There were no words to say that would assuage him. And after a deputy had taken Derek’s phone, which had received several more graphic and certainly disturbing texts from Kate, Stiles handed Derek one of the toothbrushes Deputy Isaac had left for them, and then lied on his bed and didn’t sleep.

~ * ~

Dad called bright and early, and Derek’s phone was returned shortly after. Bad news all around: Kate hadn’t been found and had been using a now-disconnected burner phone, so all they had were her texts to Derek, and that one graphic picture. Nothing else to go by.

Derek was shaking too hard after that call that Stiles had gone down to the corner store, using techniques his dad had taught him to slip a tail, used the ancient and only payphone in all of Beacon County to anonymously dial Derek’s workplace and let them know he had taken ill. He also took the opportunity to call his professors and ask for a week off to deal with the fact that his apartment had burned. He was trying not to think about all the things he’d lost, like his physical copies of his webcomic or the quilt his great-grandmother had made for his mother when she was a baby.

Then, Stiles went back to the motel, taking a long and meandering way again, and prayed that Kate hadn’t seen him.

Derek wasn’t any better after lunch, even though it was Cora’s shift with them, and she spent all of it huddled on the bed with him.

“Before we met,” Cora said suddenly, “Derek had a stalker. He was a friend of our sister Laura. About a year after they met, he took Derek. There’s this old root cellar in the preserve. Laura had shown him it so that they could have peace and quiet away from the brats, as she called us then. He took Derek out there.”

Derek shuddered, pressing against Cora’s side.

“We had therapy for years and years. In fact, I think Derek still goes.” He nodded when she patted his arm. “The cops never caught him.” A hard glint came to her eye. “He’s buried out there in the root cellar. Or he was. It’s blocked off now anyway. Our uncle Peter still has five years before he can seek parole.”

That explained why Derek was so shaken. Stiles would be too if an event like what had happened during his childhood had repeated itself.

It also explained his urgency in picking out Stiles and calling attention to the fact that he was with someone. It hadn’t worked to dissuade Kate, but Stiles would make damn sure that it would be her downfall.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing the ring off the night stand next to his bed, “what if we lay a trap for Kate? Make sure the deputies can find her?”

He opened the box. The ring was still intact even if Kate had burned the box itself. Derek looked at the ring. “A proposal?” he asked, weakly.

Stiles nodded. “It’s why she snapped.” Guiltily, he explained about their previous idea of catching Kate when Stiles would propose. Now, things had changed. Kate had escalated far faster than any of them could have predicted. “If we go somewhere public where we can hide a bunch of deputies in the crowd, then we can lure her out and she can be arrested,” Stiles said.

“That could work,” Cora agreed. “We already know that she’s got a bunch of burner phones because she keeps contacting Derek’s phone. We’re trying to run traces on them, but it’s not really working.”

“How would you lure her?” Derek asked. When neither Cora nor Stiles said anything, he huffed. “Is she still contacting Stiles too?”

Stiles checked his phone. He’s gotten a text from each of the burner phones, but he wasn’t paying attention to it, too worried about Derek to worry about himself. Or too arrogant. Trying to keep his mind off what’s already been done to him. “Yeah. I have texts from unknown numbers.”

Cora read a few of them. “She’s definitely threatening to kill you.”

“So, here’s how you lure her: you send a mass text to everyone in your contacts except me or me too, doesn’t matter. It’s not like she knows it. And you say that you’re planning on proposing but you want a flash mob of familiar faces for support.”

Stiles stared at Derek. “That’s brilliant. It just might work.”

“Kate will know that there will be other people there,” Cora butted in. “She might not fall for it.”

Stiles picked out a text and showed it to her. In the text, Kate had described how she was going to flay him open and set his insides on fire. “I don’t think she cares about a crowd. She’ll probably show up with a gun and try shooting.”

“Let me run this plan by the Sheriff. He’ll probably want to get state police involved.”

“Tell them to wear sneakers and no watches. No visible ear pieces,” Stiles said. “I’ve seen enough pictures of undercover cops to know that they’re easily spotted a mile away. They need to blend in. Lives, more than just ours, are at stake if Kate has a weapon.”

“Just hang tight,” Cora said, phone already up to her ear. Someone rapped at the door. “That’ll be Boyd. We’ll call you with details, but just hang tight. Love you, Derek. Like you, Stiles. Don’t worry about anything, and don’t do anything without backup.”

She let Boyd in and hurried away, barking at the Sheriff. Stiles knew his dad would appreciate the information, but probably not the plan. He hoped Cora told him it was Derek’s idea.

Boyd held out his hand, and Stiles surrendered his phone.

Then, because there was nothing else to do, he pushed Derek aside and lied next to him on the bed. Eventually, he managed to drop off to sleep, mostly because Derek turned on his side, put his head on his shoulder, and weighed him down.

It was dark when Stiles woke up, and Isaac was the deputy watching them.

“The Sheriff wanted you to know that the operation has been planned for tomorrow at 1300 hours. He also wants you to know that he loves you and that he and Deputy Hale will be your escorts during the operation.”

Next to Stiles, Derek yawned widely before snuggling back down.

“Can I send the text now?” Stiles asked.

Isaac shook his head. “A text has been sent for you.”

Great, more waiting. And Stiles didn’t even have his sketchpad so he couldn’t exactly distract himself. Something else lost in the fire.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Derek prompted.

Stiles rolled his eyes and dutifully repeated the words. Then, Isaac settled in the corner, staring at nothing in particular. Derek tugged at Stiles’ arm.

“Wanna try spooning,” was all he said when Stiles looked at him. Then, he flopped over, ass pressed against Stiles’ crotch, one of Stiles’ arms over his waist, curled right above his dick. It was surprisingly intimate, especially for someone who possibly was sex repulsed, like Derek, so Stiles worked at keeping his breathing even as he experimentally threw a leg over Derek.

He hummed a little, kicked it back over and then drew it between his own legs. “Better.”

Better for Derek maybe, better for an accidental boner for Stiles. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t mind the imminent erection.

Might as well enjoy the whole experience, Stiles thought a little desperately, dropping his head to nose at the back of Derek’s neck. Derek shivered from the contact but didn’t voice any complaints, so Stiles kept his face there.

He wished it were real, and maybe that was why he didn’t fall asleep again until Derek accidentally rolled out of his arms during the wee morning hours.

~ * ~

Stiles climbed out of his Jeep, his dad hopping out of the passenger seat. Cora was driving Derek’s Camaro with Derek riding shotgun.

Derek looked pale again, nervous. He’d woken up and refused any and all touches. He’d only waved a little when Cora collected him about thirty minutes before Stiles’ dad had shown up with the Jeep.

They’re at the mall, and while a lot of Stiles’ actual contacts had regretfully informed him that they had work or school and couldn’t attend, they wished him the best. The deputies and state police officers had taken Stiles’ advice and were near indistinguishable from the regular shoppers.

“What’s the timeframe again?” Stiles asked his dad, just for something to do.

“You go in, walk around for about ten minutes, and then get to the food court—it’s been shut down for ‘repairs.’ Get on one knee, say something pretty to Derek, and we’ll grab Kate if she’s around. We might get her before then too.”

Stiles had checked his phone in the morning and had a text from one of Kate’s burners: see u there :) so she was definitely aware and at least planning something.

Derek joined them at the entrance where Dad loudly announced his plans to visit that one store that looked like a hunter’s wet dream.

“Turner’s Outdoorsman,” Stiles muttered when he marched off. “It’s called Turner’s Outdoorsman.”

“Might as well be a hunter’s wet dream,” Cora remarked. She glanced around, a casual casing to see if they’d been spotted yet. “I have to get a present for Mom. See you at the meeting place.”

Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ hand as soon as she vanished into the crowd.

“I don’t like this,” he said under his breath.

“Neither do I, but I don’t see another option to getting Kate to stop unless you want to break out your uncle and let him do what he does.”

“There’s an idea.”

“I’m not serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

They walked slowly, window shopping. Derek pointed out a few things that his sisters liked, and a telescope that he wanted. He was saving up for it, and though his job paid well, it sucked so much joy out of his life. “I don’t know that it’s even just Kate,” he told Stiles as they walked past a cluster of deputies, Boyd and Isaac the only ones Stiles can identify, enjoying hot pretzels.

“Those look good,” Stiles said. The deputies had been good about bringing them food, but at the motel, Stiles had been a little too nervous to eat much. Now he’s starving.

Derek wrinkled his nose at the cheese sauce, but he bought a pretzel for Stiles.

“It’s true love,” Stiles declared, dunking his pretzel and stuffing a third of it in his mouth at once.

“Twoo wuv,” Derek began quoting, and Stiles choked on his pretzel. And then, their ten minutes was up.

“Wanna check out the food court?” Stiles asked, false casualness.

Derek shrugged. “Sure, why not? Seeing you scarf that monstrosity actually made me a little peckish.”

They arrived at the food court, and Stiles pretended to be disappointed that it was closed. They could still walk through and sit at the tables, but there was caution tape littered everywhere.

It wasn’t a very romantic spot for proposals, but it was the most open and empty place in the mall right now, plus there were a few pillars that could provide emergency cover if they needed it.

Could also hide Kate, but the undercover officers swarmed the court from all angles. There was nowhere for Kate to hide now.

Derek pretended to be interested in picking up the tape while Stiles pulled out the ring, in a new box, and dropped to one knee. He waited for Derek to notice him, and when he didn’t, he cleared his throat.

Derek turned, and then, suddenly he didn’t seem to be acting anymore. His eyes filled with tears as he stared at Stiles, knelt down in the middle of an empty food court.

“Derek Hale, we’ve been dating for long enough. I know you, and I know you make me happy. I know I never want to see another day without your bright smile and charming wit in it.”

Stiles almost broke down there because he realized that he wasn’t pretending either. If he was really proposing to Derek, these were the words he’d use.

He rambled on a little bit about love and what Derek meant to him, and then he asked, “Will you marry me?”

Derek nodded, almost frantically, all but running to lift Stiles off the ground in a hug. Stiles barely noticed the commotion in the background because he and Derek were kissing. Derek’s wet face was pressed to his, their hands tangled together.

When they finally pulled apart, several of the deputies were hauling away a fighting and snarling Kate Argent. She’d dyed her honey-blonde hair dark brown and a pair of glasses were askew across her face, but it was definitely her.

“We’ll make sure her bail is too high to get out,” Dad promised them. He nodded to the ring. “Congratulations. You’re good for each other. Hope to have you over for dinner soon.”

Cora waved at them too. “I’ll text you later. Give me details, but not too many. I want to be your best man, Stiles.”

Stiles stared after them, a little shocked. “They do know that that was part of the plan, right?” he asked Derek.

Derek plucked out the ring. “Doesn’t matter if it was. It’s real now.” He slid the ring on his finger, admiring it. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Stiles barked out a startled laugh. “I think you’ll find that it is you who is stuck with me,” he countered. Soberly, he asked, “Do you want it to be real? Because Derek, I really do love you. I really would like to marry you. I’ve had too many tastes to say I can give you up. Besides, the agreement was only for a public dumping to get Kate away from you.” He pointed at the retreating group of deputies, Kate Argent in their midst, still fighting. “She’s going to be very far away from you now.”

“How about this answer?”

Stiles turned to Derek because that wasn’t an answer at all, and gets another kiss. A little drier this time until Derek pokes him with his tongue.

“Thought you didn’t kiss people you don’t know well,” Stiles joked.

Derek just grinned at him. “I spooned with you. I took you to my spot to star gaze,” he protested. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and led him out to the parking lot. And that ring looked damn fine sitting on Derek’s finger.

 ~ Three Months Later ~

They kept the engagement, did the rounds with the parents and celebrations. They even had a registry for their wedding. Just a few bottles of champagne to toast with. They were also moving in together at the end of the month.

And they had gone on several dates. Derek had even written a full length novel based on Stiles’ webcomic.

Currently, they were out in the preserve, lying on a blanket, Derek’s brand new telescope set up behind them while Derek pointed up at the stars, explaining the constellations again. To Stiles, they still looked like dots, pinpricks in the dark velvet of the night.

He raised himself up on one elbow. “Hey, so what happens when the stars do align? Is there some kind of cosmic energy?”

Derek shook his head. “They’re all dead or dying. They’re so far away, and we won’t know if maybe when they align, it’s because one is killing another, or they’re merging or something. Not for billions of years, anyway.”

“Well, I know what happens on Earth when the stars align.”

Derek glanced at him, raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked. The little furrow of consternation was beautiful. Derek was beautiful.

Stiles leaned over him and slotted their mouths together. “This,” he whispered into the warmth of Derek’s lips.

For a long moment Derek didn’t move or respond. And then, just as Stiles went to pull away, he dragged him down so that now their legs were tangled. He’d become a lot more bold, more willing to test the waters, as it were.

“You asshole,” he said, smiling. “The stars didn’t align for that.”

“They could have,” Stiles retorted. He could argue his point all night, but he’d rather kiss Derek. And it seemed like Derek agreed with that plan.

On Derek’s finger, the ring glinted as brilliantly as the brightest star. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned for this, but Stiles thanked them all the same as he managed to make Derek gasp his name to them.

~ End ~

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #evanesdust #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Kate Argent Warning

[g0thb4rbie]

@princessrabies , mind u half of this was written high and i didnt edit this . also dont steal it lol

{title}

the hours of knocking finally stopped but the migraine that eliza had was still raging. her phone was thrown across the room sadly still ringing. eliza had entertained a few toxic people in her life but none of them acted like casey. casey was a 3 week old fling who became severely attached.

*27 missed calls*

“answer me”

“answer or ill kill u”

“i kno where u live”

“this is torture”

“ill kill u bitch”

“how could u do this to me”

“god i fucking hate u”

“u know how much i loved u right”

“nobody will ever treat u better”

“u dont even deserve better”

“ur such a fucking whore i hate u”

“i have pics of u”

“ill show everybody”

eliza sat sobbing in the corner opposite of the device, letting the insults sit on the home screen. she’d heard it all before. he had nothing. she barely even kissed him let alone send him photos of herself. they talked romantically and hung out 3

times in total. she used to fall for it but after the second time she gave up believing anything casey said. her head was buried in her knees and her sobs echoed through the room.

“can you shut that fucking thing off?”

her roommate cherry was sitting in the living room watching tv. footsteps followed the path from the couch to eliza’s room. eliza looked teary eyed fearful of what was to happen. she couldn’t handle that much more emotional distress. if cherry yelled at her she didnt know what she would do. the door flung open and cherry stood calmly with a tub of ice cream held between her arm and side and a lighter in her other hand.

“is that casey” she slurred, her mouth filled with melting ice cream. cherry never had a good feeling about casey. she’s right about most people eliza talks to, saying they give her “bad vibes” or that they “seem weird and off. “ she claimed she was psychic but maybe its because most of the people eliza dates say weird or off shit within the first few minutes of meeting cherry. cherry always brought out the weird in people. she was the weird in people. she constantly spoke about the devil and cults; sometimes spoke about how cool it would be to have one of her own.

“follower or leader” she said, “im there for the ride. “

“yes...” eliza spoke between breaths.

“oh lord” cherry walked toward eliza and handed the tub with a spoon stuck in the ice cream down to her. “i’ll handle it”

cherry found her way over to the phone. buzzing less often with the same threats of exposing eliza. cherry picked it up and pushed her thumb on the home button. eliza and cherry decided that in case of emergency they should have each other’s passcodes.

“cherry don’t... please. you’ll make things worse”

cherry raised a joint to her mouth and lit it.

“shut up. everything will be fine. he needs to know his fuckin’ place” she spoke through clenched lips. cherry waited for the line to pick up while pulling smoke tricks. the smoke rose to the ceiling and the call ended. “oh so now you don’t have anything to say” she called again this time the rings ending after thirty seconds. “pussy...” she chuckled and padded towards eliza, still teary eyed but distracting herself with the ice cream rather than focusing of the situation at hand.

“did you seriously buy the neapolitan kind again?” eliza stabbed the spoon into the strawberry section and dug out a small piece.

“yes its good, suck my dick.” she retorted. sitting down next to eliza and taking another hit. “what’s he even doing? he was begging like a minute ago”

“let’s pray he gave up.”

“he shouldn’t get off the hook that easily!”

“no, but i should.” eliza reached over cherry for her phone and turned it off.

“he has to pay... somehow.”

“he is. he’s a lonely scumbag who jerks off to Instagram models. he’s not worth my time.”

cherry sighed, “i just think that we both deserve better. i’ve had to deal with that prick for far too long.” she pulled up Twitter and began scrolling.

“i don’t even know what i could do to him. he shouldn’t even matter. it was three weeks.”

“yea and the terrorist activity has been going on for what. a month? i’ve lost sleep over this fucking guy. im pissed.”

silence fell over the two as cherry finished smoking.

“im serious. you always leave me with the strawberry, i dont fucking like it. just buy-“

“shhhhhhh, this might make you feel more empowered. check out eileen wuornos here. “

“who?” eliza turned her head.

“shut up, look.” cherry turned her screen to show a news headline that read: LOCAL WOMAN USES “DEVIL MAGIC” TO PUT HITS OUT ON ABUSIVE EX-LOVERS.

“Ha, that’s what they get.” Eliza scoffed and looked back at her lap.

“Wouldn’t that be so cool?”

“What, giving our souls to the literal Devil himself?”

“Well no, not the part,” Cherry looked off to the side in annoyance, “but the idea of getting anything you wanted, if you just chanted a few words and drew a little blood.”

“I would love to be invisible and never ever have to deal with being weak again.”

“Weak? You’re not weak.” Cherry’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, I am. I can’t even deal with this stupid guy.” Eliza dropped the spoon and put her hands on her face muffle her cries.

“I’ve dealt with guys like this before. I’ve done the same shit you do. You’re not weak.” Cherry sat on her knees and rubbed a comforting hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s watch this video of that lady. I bet she sounds crazy! Crazy like ‘Oh fuck, you aren’t going to prison but you’re going somewhere for a long time.’ Cherry played the video as Eliza sat the tub next to her and rested her chin on her knees.

“So... May I ask? Why did you do this?” A T.V doctor spoke through a grey mustache. He wasn’t required to do anything but make her a laughing stock. She sat in front of him with long stringy hair, sunken eyes, and pale skin. She looked crazy but refer to his job description to figure out why.

“I felt compelled to the dark side of magic. Someone through the mirror called to me, asked me what my desires were. I told them simply and they said that for a price. I could be an elite. “ Her voiced was calm and pitched down. Her dark eyes stared at the camera as the last words trickled out of her mouth.

“What did you pay?” He watched her intently; waiting for her to jump at him or exorcise herself *LIVE ON CAMERA!!!!*

“The only money that matters... My soul...” She leaned forward, now glaring at the doctor.

“Right... So what did these men do?” He looked away.

“Well, they cheated, lied, stalked, beat and revealed pictures of me nehkid. “ Her southern accent poked through.

“You mean, naked?” The doctor dismissed it as soon as her asked, “And how do you contact those in the mirror, as you said?”

“I lit a few candles, said a few words, drew a little blood and asked for what I wanted.”

“Did you want them dead, initially?”

“No, I wanted them to feel as hurt as I felt when they did all that stuff.”

“And where did you find this... this chant?”

“Well the internet, obviously.” She rolled her eyes as the clip came to an end.

Cherry pulled her phone back closer to her and began looking for “Satanic rituals” as Eliza stared in thought of what she just viewed.

A small gasp left Cherry, “Eliza.”

“What?”

Cherry clicked a link and showed Eliza a website filled with gothic and bloody font and pictures of goth girls in corsets. “I know exactly what we’re doing tonight.”

[cozymochi]

How did Yamcha and Marzi reunite?

Short answer: Yamcha runs into her in a remote jungle thanks to rampaging dinosaurs.

Long answer: 

Okay okay, honestly I never told this story before because I couldn’t think of anything that worked properly ever, and yknow after a good 2ish years of having avoided really getting into that, I suppose now is as good a time as any to tie up this gaping loose end. And I’ll start by copying and pasting an icloud note I found that was written back in 2018 that detailed at least half of it, because at this point- I may as well go with this absurd thing instead of having nothing. Past me went into an outline about some kind of story setup but didn’t get to finish the “payoff” per se, because I suppose I thought I would come back to it and add more details later. BUT GUESS WHO DIDN’T BECAUSE I FORGOT??? SO, bear with me under this read more cut. 

(2018 OUTLINE NOTE)

Once upon a time fortuneteller baba held a day where she was telling peoples fortunes (amongst other shit) for free because she lost some kind of vague bet with Master Roshi. Thousands of people show up, and Yamcha is one of those people (along with pu’ar and yantan whom he dragged along). This occurs nearly 8 years after Yantan was spawned into existence.

Yamcha wants to ask Baba about love shit. Cuz oh boy. That love life still ain’t working out. But hell if he knows where to look maybe he’d have better luck. 

Yantan hates her life cuz waiting in line for like 10 hours is actual hell. But so long as she’s fucking there she might as well ask Baba something. Pu’ar is just along for the ride to make concerned quips. (He has nothing to ask he’s just there for moral support) 

MANY HOURS PASS THEY FINALLY REACH BABA and Baba is rightfully pissed. She could’ve been making a lot of money that day, like, the fuck man. Yamcha asks Baba if he’s destined to meet the girl he’d ultimately end up with. 

Baba just says “looks like you already met her.” And Yamcha is just like WAT And Baba is just like “Yeah. You already did. Don’t think u noticed tho. That’s ur own fault.” 

So at this point yamcha is pretty fuckin shook and asKS WHERE SHE’S AT NOW AND WHERE HE CAN MEET HER. And Baba jus denies answering that question and if he wants to ask more shit he better pay up a hundred million zeni. “NEXT.” 

Out of desperation, Yamcha now begs his cynical child to ask Baba about his own bs. Yantan doesn’t want to. They make some kind of deal that i do not know the details of as of yet that ultimately makes Yantan agree to waste her free question about her future on her wacky father. 

So SHE asks where tf Yamcha can meet this lady and Baba reveals her location. THEN THEY IMMEDIATELY FUCKIN LEAVE TO DO JUST THAT. And by “they” i mean Yamcha leaves and Yantan and Pu’ar have to follow behind. #Comedy

So Yamcha ends up in the general area of where this “person” is. It’s off putting a bit - and by a bit I mean A LOT because it’s a frickin’ jungle full of mega-flora and wild animals everywhere- totally the last place any person would be at all. Yamcha ultimately lets that slide. 

Yamcha suddenly freaks out at the realization that hE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT HE’S GONNA SAY and that he really didn’t think any of this through. What SHOULD even say? That he came all the way here to date this woman and come across some kind of weirdo or creep?? And if he already met this person WHEN DID HE MEET THEM? It could literally be any girl he’s ever met in his life. He doesn’t even know her name so how would he know who the right person is?? Amongst a fuckton of other million miles a minute thoughts. 

(2018 OUTLINE NOTE END)

When it comes to that specific set up prior to the jungle, idk if I still wanna follow it. But It’s something. 

Here comes my end of 2019 “I haven’t thought about this in eons” amendment: 

Leaving off of Yamcha’s panic attack I’m pretty sure he and Marzi run into each other via some kind of dinosaur hijinks. I’m pretty sure if memory serves Marzi was TRYING to feed dinosaurs as she usually does (she’s living her life after all), but for some reason on this day she had a technical failure. THIS would also have to serve as Marzi’s first proper introduction ever, so this event would also have to function as a way of establishing who she is as a character as well. God knows what that would entail.

Which, in this situation, she’d mostly come across as a person whose “eyes emoji” appearance doesn’t line up with being in an untamed jungle decking around with a carnivorous and predatory animal. 

The only reason Yams wouldn’t remember meeting her was because their actual first meeting was more of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it encounter 30 years ago that wasn’t really relevant to his own memory. (Not even worth getting into here tbh, it’s so brief) So, y’know. Fuck you Baba.

It’s hard to say if Marzi herself would recognize Yamcha right away considering the last time she saw him, Yamcha was soft-faced with short hair and all cutesy 21st tournament looking, which THAT to NOW is quite the jump— but rest assured she does. It’s hard to say what her initial reaction would’ve been in response to suddenly running back into your one-sided high school infatuation after 3 decades of absolute radio silence. My mind always pictured some kind of comical reaction. 

Either way, this shit should happen only after the wacky hijinks, because!!! THAT’S THE KIND OF WORLD THIS IS! I wanted a bizarre action set piece that ends comedically quickly because Yamcha essentially has god powers. (WHICH, YEAH. HE DOES. Especially in comparison to how he was in early DB. By this point this guy went from above-average martial arts protégée to full on superhero) If I still had the energy for DB I would have scribbled a possible visual demonstration but, I really doooon’t jgvhgbkhjj

A wise man made this summarizing prediction really and I think this is the best thing to follow: 

“I sort of figured Marzi ran into him one day after everything kind of settled down and he wasn’t dead or in space or something, and there was an awkward period where she wasn’t sure what to do about him being so accessible. And Yamcha didn’t know her well to begin with, so to him she’s just an eligible bachelorette, and he fusses over how to impress her, because he has no idea that she’s been fascinated with him for decades.” - a wise man, 2019.

So yeah. That. 

#cozy ask #if no read more shows up imma be mad #anonymous #sometimes it doesn't work properly #blaaaaaaah #marzi

[9uk]

Let Me Stay Close To You : part 6

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 5.6k

⌲ genre: angst

⌲ warnings : mentions of abuse, snakes

⌲ a/n : i’m so so sorry this is unedited and written at 4 am & i just wanna thank you guys for waiting and please give me all the feedback i need to improve so bad. idk sometimes i think my writing is little draggy but it is lacking lots of info as well, or maybe i don’t like to read long descriptions or something idk lol just tell me ur opinion.

part five >  part six  > epilogue

It is a feeling long gone but never forgotten.

It must be the most cruel joke of the year—Jeon Jungkook in the arms of Y/N.

He feels breathless, like the infinite darkness has consumed all the oxygen in his lungs, sucking every last bit of him out of his body like the blackhole. He hated it. He absolutely detested it.

The dark. It was something that reminded him of the times he hid in the corner of his bedroom, praying with bleeding lips —that he had bitten down onto so hard out of fear—and trembling hands, as he awaited the lashing he was going to receive. 

He started to think that it was happening on a daily basis now, how at any point in time at night he father would bust into the room with a cane, his dark figure looming by his door and Jungkook would shudder away as the tears involuntarily slip from his eyes.

 At 3 am, he would sit by his window and watch the moon with much resentment, silently as he sinks into the abyss of the night. 

The deep cuts and harsh bruises on his body was painful. But nothing could compare to the betrayal he felt when he sees his mother happily chatting over tea with a friend—all this while, when he was locked up in a random room—almost getting beaten to death with a thick rod away in the late hours of the night.

Jungkook doesn’t care if he gets caught loitering in the open hallway like that, he had nothing to lose and was ready to risk it all if he was granted just one look of his loving mother. 

He missed her a lot. 

The quiet times he spent in the suffocating room made him think about how much he took her love for granted.

 Was love supposed to be earned? 

He didn’t know that love—something he thought was the warm embrace of his birth giver, the extra marshmallows she would pop into his hot chocolate, the peonies she picked and tucked into his hair, the voice as smooth as silk aiding him into a deep slumber—would too, consist of a unimaginable amount of lies after lies, betrayal at its finest, and the revelation of the ugly side of it all. 

Her eyes fall onto his frail figure, one that has been tortured physically to a point of plain damage.

He was a hundred percent sure it was his mom—from the way she habitually blinks with her right eye a couple of times between normal blinks, from the way her fingers wrap around the entire teacup rather than the mini handle. Yet, instead of her eyes widening and growing with worry for her child being abused beyond the line of humanity—she furrows her brow, and her gaze turns into a glare, one he always faced when he picks on his vegetables, and she storms to him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him back to the room where he’d belonged.

She aggressively shoved at his shoulder, “You’d better dare not come out of here again. If father sees you, I don’t know what he will do to you. And I won’t be able to help you.” She wipes at her skirt, as if she had just laid her hands on a piece of garbage.

“Mommy!” He can’t help but cry out at her entire change in attitude towards him,

before her face contorts in disgust, slamming the wooden door in his face followed by a locking noise at the keyhole.

Jungkook refuses to believe what had just happened, so he screams as loud as he could, not caring about how piercing the shrills of his voice were—hoping that she would hear his expression of his misery through the seperation and feel at least a tinge of pity for him.

 He sucks in a deep breath, tears successfully rolling down his face a waterfall, and he screams even louder if that was possible—he wants her to have his yells of plea engraved in the back of her head, appearing every so often to haunt her in her sleep and taint her with guilt. He wants his mother to snap back to her old self, the one who would be carefully placing bandaids over the tears on his skin.

Unfortunately, her footsteps fades into the distance, and she returns to teatime with her acquaintance, shredding all of her last bit of conscience for her son.

A piece of garbage he was.

Freedom shined like a butterfly crawling out if its cocoon bathing in fresh sunlight for the very first time. 

Jungkook was released from his room like a convict when the grim news of the passing of his brother arrived to the household. He wasn’t even allowed to attend his biological brother’s funeral, like he was a bad omen or something of the sort.

During this period of time, he was frequently left alone in his room with his usual three meals and toys he grew bored of. The monster didn’t visit at night, for the grieving over his brother was too much to bear apparently. It gave him enough time for his injuries to heal, a skin forming over them barely covering anything except to provide protection against infections honestly.

However, after a several days pass the door unlocks and he trembles in pure terror. Was this his fate?

That there would be no end to the treatment his own family gave him, that he would have to spend all his birthdays along with his Ironman plushie as he sang himself to being an age older.

He prayed, for it was all he could do.

To his surprise, he never knew the bedroom door opening this time, was to a whole new world for him. Jungkook begin going to school, being able to eat meals at the main dining table, put his foot up on the couch if he wished, enjoy hot showers and roam freely—even out of the estate.

A unfamiliar yet eye-opening concept of life.

He wasn’t complaining.

His father remained cold as ice towards him and he couldn’t bother much about his mother, after seeing the way she left him to drown on his own in a pool of misery and despair. He was no longer desperate for parental love or attention, they ignored him but kept him in check when needed and he enjoyed life more than he could have ever imagined.

‘Study hard’ and ‘Take over the company’ were two phrases he heard a lot coming from both freaks and he just did as told, knowing how his grades would get him whatever he wanted now.

He didn’t even have to ask, and the poshest car or the latest limited edition pair of shoes would arrive at his doorstep. 

His life seemed almost perfect now, except that he still hasn’t learnt how to sleep with the lights off. 

And that is because he simply can’t. The absence of light would bring him back to those days where he tossed and turned with nightmares swirling in his mind, worries overtaking his pounding heart and his father showing up with a potential weapon in hand. 

He doesn’t see his father often, assuming he is coped up at the office with work and his mother still endlessly mourning over the loss of his brother, finger tracing over his smiling features in his middle school portrait. The boy was long gone but never erased from his mother’s heart.

 While he was at the brink of death and she did not even bat an eye.

 He was smart—he just had to be obedient and he would get whatever he wanted, no more bad treatments anymore—he was now treated like a king. Sometimes he thinks that he owes his life to his brother. 

It was like a sacrifice made to save him from his predicament.

A really, depressing and tragic sacrifice.

One that switched the initial plan of the Jeon Family and their business—one that his parents decided to use and groom Jungkook to become the heir.

One that made the girl stop visiting ever since.

One that changed the destinies of the two children who met at the company dinner.

Jungkook has never fallen asleep with the lights switched off before. 

That is, until he did exactly so in your bedroom.

 He is unable to comprehend how he actually managed to do just so, fall asleep peacefully in complete darkness. Nonetheless, he did wake up after a couple of hours breaking out in cold sweat with his arms clutched around your stiffening form. 

Jungkook hates how the feeling of holding and pulling you close to him is so comforting in an unexplainable manner, and how you felt nothing less than home. Jungkook is beginning to doubt why the hell he started these petty grudges with you—when you were a fibre away from the woman he used to love wholeheartedly. Keyword : used to. However, it was a tad too late for regrets.

 He was only left with two choices of compensation and reconciliation. They were undeniably difficult to carry out, especially having hurt someone to an extent that far it’s almost outrageous. He thinks what he has done in the past to you is absolutely unforgivable. 

Because if he was asked to do the same for his father’s mistakes, there would be only one option.

“You’re back early today. No dates or parties to attend tonight?” You cheekily tease as Sooyoung walks through the front door.

 A few moments later, she doesn’t reply as she settles her bag down onto the couch and toss the car keys onto the table.

 There was resentment written all over her face, she looked annoyed and in an extremely bad mood. You decided to keep quiet, considering that it isn’t the best time to speak when she felt this way over god knows what.

Sooyoung fumbles around some clothes, before she is heading for the door again, completely ignoring your existence.

  No, please just Jungkook ignoring me would suffice.

You couldn’t let this slide and worry about what you had done to offend her for the whole night.

Just as she slings her bag over her shoulders, you open your mouth again. 

“Sooyoung-ah, where are you going?”

She barely even looks over her shoulder to face you, before replying, “To meet Seulgi and Wendy.” 

She was brushing you off so casually.

 You felt like this more than the number of fingers on both hands could count, when people offered you help after Jungkook threw your pencil case in the bin or poured your lunch over your papers, you would think there would be a chance in making proper friends with them and escape this cruel torment. It wasn’t until you tried to sit with them in lunch and the whole group of students suddenly went quiet, the feeling uncomfortable to beyond. It’s like your presence made them stop discussing about anything, they awkwardly scratched the back of their necks before hurriedly placing the food trays back and scurrying off to class, leaving you alone at the table.

 It was silly of you to think that people have begun to accept you just because they offered you a piece of tissue paper.

That day, you looked at your food and watched the tear drops fall into the gravy.

And from then on, you never went down for lunch ever again.

You’re thinking about why you weren’t invited, especially when it was always the four of you, no more or less. You didn’t want to lose this precious bunch of friends, and you surely weren’t overthinking when you felt that they were leaving you out on purpose.

“Uh, I’m not invited?” 

The words came out way more obnoxious than you had intended, it had an aftertaste of bitterness and spite. You regret it immediately as you witness her face fall even more, into an irritated frown.

“You want to be invited after what you did at the party?”

Kiss Taehyung? Scold Jungkook? What was it?

“What... I did at the party?” You genuinely question, scanning every small action or word you had done or said back then.

“Oh c’mon. Let’s quit playing dumb. You clearly knew how much Seulgi liked Taehyung and you had the audacity to make out with him?”

Your lips parted in shock. Sooyoung was clearly the one who suggested to go over and converse with Taehyung, as well as the one who left you alone with him. 

Why was she being so pretentious about the whole situation?

Did she like him?

But you had to admit Seulgi totally slipped your mind when Taehyung wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you hard.

“I just-“ You try to explain yourself. Only to face a dead end. 

It was your fault, and all the fingers were pointed at you right now. You exhaled, “My mind wasn’t in a clear state when that happened, and I just went with the flow, I really did not mean to hurt Seulgi or anything-“

Wow, you sounded even more pretentious than Sooyoung.

“Do you know how upset Seulgi got, when Taehyung was filling her up with details of how you practically threw yourself at him like a whore?” ‘And disappointed’ She mumbled softly to herself, but it wasn’t missed by your ear.

 “I never knew behind this facade of obedience and innocence lied someone who was so sly and disloyal.”

Your friends felt betrayed. 

You had no words to retaliate or argue with what Sooyoung had just said—because you think it’s true, you see yourself as that kind of a person too.

 You ignored the fact that Sooyoung kept complimenting Taehyung right in your face, that nothing really happened between the both of you that night thanks to a certain someone, and that Taehyung deviously lied about you throwing yourself at him. It happened because of both parties’ consents and desires. 

And despite all these facts that they never went to consider before labelling you as a whore, the damage has been done. 

The true colours have been revealed.

She swipes her car keys off the countertop when you’re left speechless and guilty, heading out once more. 

You felt like crying, but for some reason you couldn’t.

It was something you should have expected from the very start.

Losing the people you hold close to your heart was something you were beginning to get so used to. This felt worse, because you chose to hurt them.

People would comfort you by saying that it is unintentional and that you didn’t have the need to feel bad or upset, but you’re starting to feel like a monster yourself. You are rather thankful for your first ever friends after so long to leave your side, because it’s what an asshole like you deserves. 

A new chance had already been granted to you, and yet just so easily and quickly—you screwed everything up. Maybe a person like you did not deserve to live a normal life. 

You were meant to be alone, you always have been and you always will. 

The loud slam of the wooden door is a finger snap to your face, and you realise why all those years you had shut yourself off from people—you don’t think you are able to handle the kind of pain that squeezes tightly at your heart and constricts your chest when they leave. 

If people come and go so easily, you had might as well not let them enter at all. You think it saves a few more heartbreaks and opportunities of getting hurt.

Your whole body is stinging with numbness as your mind is nothing but a blank, you walk over to the coffee table—one which you and Sooyoung had shared the local pastries over a season of Friends for one too many a times—and ur heart clenches at that. 

Sly and disloyal. 

You don’t think you are able to forget those words that callously shot like daggers at you—for it was done by someone you loved and cherished a lot since you offered to share that damn kettle.

Picking up your wallet, you flip it open only to be met with the genuine smiles—something that the both of you often shared when you were younger. 

The old photograph was taken in the middle of summer, when two carefree kids hung out at the beach with silly floats and fancy swimsuits, rainbow popsicles in their hands. The glaring sun light as seen in the picture reminded you of how your childhood was filled with nothing but fragrant flowers and fresh sunshine, that made one feel young, wild and free.

You never saw that sunlight again.

Instead, you choose to view the moon in the darkest shade of night now, admiring how celestial and full it looked—to replace the emptiness you felt in your heart. Junghyun is someone you would rarely forget, for the round shining whiteness in the sea of black was always there as a constant reminder of the boy who played a major part in your younger years.

“Look at the moon, if you ever feel sad. Then think about me,” Your best friend nudges your elbow with a playful quirk of his brow, he turns to look at your tear stained face with something close to adoration. “And always remember that no matter where I will be,”

“…I will always love you.”

You chuckle at how stupid you must sound, reciting something as small as a foolish promise between two kids to comfort yourself. You’re laughing and yet, the tears never seem to stop falling from your eyes. 

The memories of that fateful day was sewn into your mind—the two of you were kicking water in the shallow pool, only for you to carelessly drop the Tamagotchi you have in hand into the water. Junghyun immediately dives in forgetting about any form of hesitation, fishing out your sinking device like a lifeguard. ‘It’s okay’ he says, ‘I’ll get you something even better.’ When your pet is glitched out and doesn’t respond to your commands anymore, you began wailing like the little brat you are. After he wipes your tears causing an unbearably cute pout is formed on your tiny features, he said those words you’d never thought you would cling onto for life. That night, it was the first time he ever asked for something from his parents.

Both adults were initially confused by the sudden request, but compiled to it anyway without further questions. And when Junghyun woke up to a brand new Nintendo DS placed on his study desk, his face gleamed with satisfaction.

There’s a knot forming in your throat and your lungs are deprived of air as you attempt to cease the relentless sobbing. 

The illumination of the moon—for some reason—seems extraordinarily fluorescent tonight.

The anatomy project has long been finalised and submitted. The grades of it would even be released by the end of this week. It’s been over weeks since Jungkook and you have ever spoken a word to each other. Since the complicated yet warm hug had taken place between the both of you, you detached yourself from his body after your breath steadied and your mind clear of the drunken, built-up frustration—only muttering an excuse to hurriedly leave before he could say anything else to you. 

You left him standing there feeling more peculiar than ever. 

The hug, the party. You words slap him across the face once more as he recalls the exact thing you had said to him. 

You were never more right.

 He was this horrible, sick-minded and sadistic piece of trash—was he any better than the man who beat him to death on a daily basis?

Taehyung wasn’t the best for you, but he had no right to interrupt whatever was going on at that point in time between the both of you.

 Simply because he wasn’t any better. 

In fact, he feels like he’s much worse than his friend—who sticks his dick in every living thing—Jungkook is a dick himself.

At least Taehyung was nice without trying and he knew the correct things to say or do, even more so he knew how to control his emotions and temper. Maybe that’s how he gets all the girls hung up on him even after he uses them like rags of clothes.

Jungkook wasn’t good at any of that. 

Properly communicating and interacting with people just wasn’t his forté.

 If he’s angry, he lifts his hand. If he’s happy, he says things that cross the line. If he’s sad, he converts that to anger and resort to violence to shield that one bit of vulnerability from anyone, not wanting to seem weak at all. 

That is why his circle of friends is small, and he feels like he doesn’t even truly know and understand any of them. But you? Damn, you knew his temper like the back of your hand, you’ve seen him in his angriest form, you’ve witnessed fear overcome every cell of him and undergo a panic attack, you’ve watched him on the brink of tears as he ventured through another nightmare—and yet, he knew nothing about you.

You would forever remain as this mysterious and unpredictable person to him—and that, never failed to make him feel exasperated by the overpowering need to explore every millimetre of you, inside out. 

He was unable to identify your soft spots or pick on your weaknesses—you were typically unreactive to anything that he does. 

The time he spent in college with you was nothing but an emotional rollercoaster, an absolute train-wreck. 

In class, he wouldn’t even notice your presence for you snuck in five minutes late in a dark hoodie and black jeans, lurking in the corner of the lecture hall, before hastily leaving the second the lecturer ended the lesson.

He realises that you were becoming similar to the girl in high school, he notices that your group of friends at the cafeteria had one person missing and it was always you. He wonders if you have “left the squad” or aren’t on talking terms anymore. He wonders what had happened to cause the falling out between you and your friends. Or maybe you were just being yourself, avoiding contact with humans in general. Like a shadow, you loomed in the secret spaces, disappearing and reappearing as and when you wished.

It wasn’t until that day he roamed the streets around town, exploring the people and places a little with his giant camera. He felt like a tourist in a foreign country when he was actually studying and living on this land.

 For him, everywhere felt foreign, even the posh villa (and many other more estates) he owned didn’t even feel like home. Nothing was close to the feeling of his mother’s fingers intertwined with his own—aforementioned lady long gone and burnt to ashes in the back of his mind.

Home—a feeling he cannot grasp despite the fountains of cash and power coming his way, the throne at the very top of JEON entertainment hungrily waiting for him to take over—Jungkook only felt it again after what seemed like decades, in your fucking bed, hugging you to sleep. 

The thoughts of you are shaken away violently when he—whether by fate or luck— decides to enter a fast food restaurant wanting to grab some fries. Not only did he get the strips of potatoes he craved for, he also managed to spot you just behind the counter, eyes wide and brows raised. It was adorable to see how you acted like you didn’t notice him at all, clearing your throat and blindly meddling with the smoothie machine.

Jungkook simply snickers at your obvious reaction.

It was almost as if the sight of you effortlessly stuck a smile to his face.

The joint only had customers leaving one by one after dinner time, the queue to the cashier nonexistent and he made good use of that matter of fact.

He confidently strides up to you—acting like he didn’t recently get yelled at by you, then hugged you, and at the very same time get ditched by you—and you quickly whisper to one of your colleague’s ear, begging him to take Jungkook’s order for you. Judging by how you were speedily undoing your apron, he takes the hint and waits for a while before backtracking and joining you in the bathroom with a smirk plastered on his face.

He had you trapped and not even your shadow wouldn’t be able to escape this time.

“Hello.” He greets lowly with his palm of the wall and his legs crossed, taking up the whole doorway when you emerge from the cubicle.

“Oh my fuck-“ You jump and his heart does little somersaults.

“Long time no-“

“Is there something you need?” He is cut off short in the speed of light, your dumbass face looking unbothered to the point where it’s scary.

Your tone is dead and dull, lacking any sort of energy and emotion, but the prompt sounds snarky coming out of you.

Your gaze was in all directions other than in his, you seemed uninterested and distant.

He shrugs it away, before answering, “Yes actually. I will wait till you knock off.” 

You want to argue and tell him that it’s a bad idea, and that he was the last person you want to see—but he spins to leave leaving you no choice.

Jungkook emitted a stench that leaks of a strong sense of dread and burning infuriation inside of you. The whole restaurant smells of Jungkook and you want to shun away from his incessant staring at your working form.

 “Is that handsome dude your boyfriend?” Kihyun points to the culprit of your everlasting dread and the persistent sighs coming out of you with his chin and he pokes your side with a side of his lips curling upwards. 

You squeak and smack his hand away, “Is not.” 

He scoffs at the firm denying of yours and continues, since number of customers were at minimum and there was nothing much to do left with a quarter to closing.

“As if. Why the hell is waiting for you then?” You roll your eyes.

When he obtains silence, he proceeds to press at your buttons.

  “To hold hands and smooch on the way home together!” He purposefully sings aloud for Jungkook to hear and you kick his butt trying to shut him up.

It’s a pity Kihyun is a young father of twins and the most fun and easygoing manager you could ever have. To tell the truth, he’s part of the reason why you’d stay working at this shitty place. You’d think he would make a great bestfriend if not for his age and family responsibilities. His personality also sadly resembled your late bestfriend a lot—funny, selfless and wise.

It was the first time you couldn’t even bear to clock out, because that would mean it was time to deal with Jungkook.

He excitedly leapt up from his seat, making his way to your side as you hooked your bag over your shoulder. It had been a long day of school and work, and Jungkook was there to extend it even more. Your shoulders visibly slouch at the thought. 

Stepping out of the restaurant, Jungkook stood beside you with a takeaway in hand, looking like he’s been dying to ask you stuff. You didn’t feel like interacting with anybody though, just wanted to be on your bed as soon as possible after standing for what seemed like ages past the clock.

“Are you hungry?” He is looking at you with those big round eyes again, and you shift your gaze to the floor, afraid to meet his brown orbs.

What the fuck.

“I bought this for you.”

Your head shoot up, then flicked to the plastic bag he’s carrying with one hand.

No fucking way. Wasn’t that his supper or something?

“W-What.. you didn’t have to-“ He throws the bag of burger and fries into your hands without blinking and you struggle to catch it.

“It’s actually okay.” You couldn’t accept his kind gesture or some reverse psychology effect he was trying to make you feel. 

The grumble in your stomach comes on cue, roaring louder than thunder.

You nervously laugh before helplessly stealing a fry from the bag, contradicting your earlier sentence.

“Great. Now you’ve accepted my offer, you have to answer three of my questions.” He shoots you a winning grin. You were already shoving the fifth fry into your mouth, munching away without any care in the world.

Fuck it, three questions it is. The fries tasted too damn good for you to give it back or run away from the golden crispy and fluffy treat.

Jungkook bites on his lips and contemplates for quite a while. Like the question was a hard one to raise. You tap at your feet in a bit of anticipation. Just a bit.

“Why does it seem like you’re avoiding me?” He finally gets it out.

It wasn’t just him, you had practically cut off all contact with any ape that was intelligent enough to speak and alienated yourself from this world. You wouldn’t even greet the birds in the morning like you always do, you just suffocated in the haze of self-pity and hatred.

“I’m just busy working.” You kept your words to minimal, not wanting Jungkook prying into your personal thoughts and feelings about yourself.

Lame excuse, that’s what Jungkook thinks of your short answer. But he is popping out his second question mark. 

“Hmm, seems fair.” He fakes and cocks a brow up. 

“Then what happened to you and Sooyoung or something,” 

The fact that he remembers your friend’s name almost lets a chortle slip from your lips. Your expression remains stoic—you were a professional at concealing the display of your real emotions—and even though you’re pretty upset at how the topic of the friends you once had was raised after so long, you reply from the bottom of your heart, “I don’t want to be associated with anyone right now.” 

It was the truth, and it wouldn’t hurt Sooyoung or you in any way.

He hums in understanding before, “Then... are you alright?”

You want to cry.

 Why does Jungkook, number one asshat and jerk towards you your whole life, have to act so sweet and caring when you’re at your lowest? It makes your heart want to give in and succumb to him completely. You had rather die.

The affection and concern Jeon Jungkook is showing you is too much for you to handle, and you don’t know what to make that of. 

Why does he even fucking care if you were okay or not?

You instantly turn on your heel—a copy of your actions back then when you first met Jungkook again—ready to escape the conversation and rush home—like you should have done ever since he stepped foot into your workplace. Jungkook has been recently making you feel things and all sorts of things—from the first time you bumped into him at a party, or when he laid over you and fell asleep like a baby, and embracing you after he made you cry— the last thing you want is to even feel anything.

It doesn’t take longer than a second before Jungkook is stomping towards your leaving form. He wasn’t going to be left hanging off a cliff by you, twice.

Being asked about your wellbeing was like mishandling an unpinned grenade, causing a spark in a room filled with methane and running through a minefield.

A wrong move and instead of exploding, you would vanish into thin air in a snap.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Jungkook grabs your arm in time to halt you and narrows his eyes sternly at you.

“One moment you’re cuddling with me, and then you’re scolding me, and another you’re hugging me back, and now you’re trying to run away from me.” The confrontation sounds like something that would happen within a couple and an inevitable blush grows on his cheeks as he tries to stay as fierce as ever. 

You look surprised upon his rant, but there was no response.

You were at a loss of words until, “If you can answer this, then I won’t distance myself anymore.”

You’ve had enough, and closure is what you both needed most.

“What are we? We’re not friends, nor are we acting like enemies, and we’re not together either.”

You put the truth out in the open like a glass ball handled with butter fingers , exposed and fragile to touch.

“Maybe this is what it feels like when you go against, to try and change something that’s meant to be, what we’re meant to be forever–” His features softened and his grip loosens as the realisation dawns upon the two of you, allowing your hand to fall by your side. 

You huff in a deep breath, sparing a brief moment to collect every thought and reach your conclusion.

 “Bully and victim.”

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #s: lmscty #bangtan smut #bangtan angst #bangtan fluff #bts writing #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fan fiction #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys