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bungeenomin · 3 years

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COMPETITION- KIM DOYOUNG

genre: e2l doyoung x reader

word count: 5.2k

summary: your entire life, your neighbour has been nothing but competition. from as soon as you had the ability to form an opinion on people, it was engrained in you to hate kim doyoung. but can you still hate him when you reunite as adults after getting hired under by same company? is he still competition?

warning: oral (m+f receiving), dirty talk, sex

a/n: feel free to send me requests, asks and leave feedback!

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from when you were a kid, you were taught to hate the kim family. ironically, both your parents and mr and ms kim pretended to like each other. they acted like they didn’t completely despise one another, but they knew they did, everyone did. the feud was so petty, you’ll admit. your families constantly competing with who was the richest, who had the nicest car, who had the better education, who’s children were more talented. no matter how petty you knew the feud was, it was ingrained in you to hate kim doyoung with all your being, and that’s exactly what you did.

when your parents and the kim’s pretended to get on, you and doyoung never dared speak to each other. in both of your eyes, you were just competition, feeding into your parents on going feud. as you sat glaring at each other at dinner meals, your parents would brag back and forth about how amazing their dear children are, constantly trying to one up each other and get the last word.

you didn’t hate anyone, you thought hating was harsh. but kim doyoung was different. you had deep, deep hatred for him. your only conversations were cold, offensive, hateful. he was an obstacle in the way of your success from the day you were born until the day you moved away for college. he was nothing but competition.

December 5th 2020

“good look today my love” your mother beams through the phone, full of pride. it’s your first day at your new job, an extremely well paid job, a job to make your parents proud of you.

“thank you mom but i have to go now, being late on the first day wouldn’t leave a very good impression” you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you. “i’ll fill you in later mom, okay?”

“yes, yes of course!” your mother enthusiastically responds. “your father and i are so proud of you, talk to you later”

you sigh, locking your phone. you love your parents, you really do, but sometimes they can be intense. too intense. in their minds, everything has to be perfect first try. according to them, successful people leave no room for errors. they leave no one pass their level of success. they get distracted by no one, keep their eye on the prize.

the building is exactly the same as you remember it from your interview, extremely large, but not too difficult to find your way around, signs and directions places frequently throughout the building. “hello, my name is y/n, i start working here today” you confidently tell the receptionist.

“ah yes” she responds, “one of mr lee’s new recruits”. one of? clearly multiple people were taken on at once, not that it’ll be a problem to you. “follow me, i’ll lead you to where the rest are waiting” she smiles softly, walking you down a corridor and into a waiting room. “mr lee will be with you shortly!”

there are four or five people in the room, you assume all starting work today, but your eyes lock on one person. kim doyoung. after what, five, six years? he looks the exact same, slightly better skin with more prominent facial features. he wears a slick black suit. classic. he can’t help the cold chuckle that leaves his lips the second his eyes land on you, eyeing you up and down in the process, judgementally. the last thing you expected was to see him here. after all the years you spent competing with him, you never thought that you would be back at it again after college.

“long time no see” he mutters.

you roll your eyes, “yeah, pity, i finally erased your ugly face and shitty attitude from my memory and now i’ll have to start all over again”

doyoung chuckles leaning closer to you, “ouch, i’m hurt. well now you have plenty of time to watch me beat you, like i always have done”

“you fucking wi-”

“hello everyone, nice to meet you all as employees and not applicants this time. as i’m sure you’re aware, i am the ceo of this company. i take great pride in my company and only hire the best of the best, people who i know will aid my companies success”

“shame he hired you then” doyoung whispers.

“now, i am a busy man, but that does not mean i won’t see if people are slacking. If you are slacking, you get one warning. If you continue to not put in one hundred percent, you’re fired. it’s as simple as that. i will constantly be able to view your work, so i expect everyone’s full effort. i believe i pay you very well for your job, so expect it to be done well. anyway, with that being said, welcome to the company! i hope we can all do great work together”

as soon as mr lee finishes his introductory speech, you are brought to your offices. it is one big room but fortunately, there are walls between each desk, allowing for privacy to work. you notice there is someone in between you and doyoung, which you are eternally grateful for, you really don’t know how you would be able to work to the best of your ability knowing he’s beside you.

it doesn’t take you long to get stuck into your work load. quickly setting up your desk to your liking and turning on your computer. honestly, the morning goes really fast. with the work load you have, you’re constantly busy. what distracts you slightly is when you see a familiar face walk to mr lee’s desk, handing him a stack of papers he was working on, ready for mr lee to read. “thank you doyoung, i appreciate your hard work already”. with that doyoung turns to go back to his desk, not before looking your way and sending you a sarcastic smile. fucking idiot.

by the time lunch rolls around, you’re just excited to try the food that is served in the cafeteria, everything looking and smelling delicious, leaving your mouth watering. once you get your food, you sigh in defeat as you look around for a table to sit at, only to be left disappointed when you see they’re all full. your eyes slowly pan the cafeteria, looking for anywhere you can possibly sit, until your eyes land on a free seat, beside the one and only, kim doyoung, who’s sat quietly on his phone as he eats his lunch. him working here is going to be more hard than you thought.

“can i sit here?” you question.

“gosh y/n, looks like you’re a little obsessed with me huh?” doyoung replies, a smug look on his face.

“you fucking wish. i wouldn’t come near you unless it was absolutely necessary, which unfortunately, it is. there’s no other seats”

“whatever” doyoung rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone as you take your seat. arrogant prick.

“so” doyoung speaks up amid the awkward silence, “how has little y/n been?”. to anyone else, they would think he was being nice, but you know he’s just nosy. prying into your business as usual.

“i’ve been great. i graduated top of my year in university, got to travel a lot. all good things” you reply, a smug expression on your face.

“you know y/n you should really get the stick out of your ass, it’s very unprofessional” doyoung replies, him now wearing a smug expression as yours drops.

“oh fuck you doyoung”

“i’m sure you’d love to sweetheart”

the rest of the day went relatively fast, without any more encounters with doyoung, thankfully. before you know it, you’re back in the comfort of your own apartment, relaxing with a glass of wine. you’ve already informed your parents about your first day, causing them to almost burst with pride. what throws them off slightly is the mention of doyoung. ‘don’t mind him’ you mother advised. ‘don’t let him get in your way’ your father informed. not that you intended to take notice of him, certainly not intending on letting him get in your way.

December 14th 2020

working with doyoung is proving to be a lot harder than it seems. he’s very, in your face. always chiming in with his opinion and what he thinks is right. his presence alone gets on your nerves, let alone when he opens his mouth. to everyone else, he seems like a great, hardworking guy, but to you, he’s just in your way. a headache. an inconvenience.

“doyoung these files are for you” you sigh standing at doyoung’s desk with your hand extended.

doyoung looks up from his desk, taking the files from your hand and flicking through them. “no they aren’t” he nonchalantly responds, handing them back to you.

“doyoung why the fuck would i lie about something so stupid?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “these are for you”

doyoung sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “how do i know you’re not just loading your work onto me, hmm?”

“fucking hell doyoung why are you the most difficult person in the world? jesus. they’re yours. take them, if you don’t do them, it’s you falling behind, not me” you groan, once again extending your arm out with the files that doyoung insists don’t belong to him. as doyoung takes the files from you, your hands brush off each other swiftly, but it’s enough to make your cheeks turn pink to your dismay.

doyoung chuckles slightly at your reaction to such a small touch. “are you okay?” doyoung questions, playing innocent.

“of course i am” you respond sharply.

“whatever you say darling” doyoung chuckles turning his attention back to his computer, leaving you standing there with your mouth hanging at his words. “it’s rude to stare y/n, am i that attractive to you?” doyoung asks, completely focused on his computer screen.

“fuck off” you mumble before storming back to your office. that’s the thing about doyoung. he’s cocky. too cocky. always thinking he’s better than everyone, above everyone. thinks he’s beautiful. he makes you sick.

doyoung doesn’t mean to stare. he honestly doesn’t. he catches himself doing it quite often though. the coffee machine is placed in perfect eye line of your desk. it just so happens that doyoung spends a lot of time at the coffee machine. he convinces himself that he looks in anger. you stress him out after all. you’re his enemy. his competition. he never gets caught staring at you, well, until now. “it’s rude to stare kim!” you shout at him from your seat when your eyes meet his, only earning an eye roll from doyoung. you giggle lightly at his reaction. you’ve always loved getting under his skin.

December 19th 2020

you honestly thought your day was going great. there was very little traffic, no line at the coffee machine, you were way ahead on your work. That was until your boss entered your office, asking specifically that you and doyoung stay back a few hours to get through some work with him. of course, this is your worst nightmare, but who are you to turn down your boss?

“just wait inside my office” mr lee announces to the two of you, “i’ll be back in a few minutes i just have a quick phone call to take”.

the silence between both you and doyoung is severe as you sit in the two seats across from mr lee’s. you try think of something to say, literally anything, to break the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything. reflecting now, you and doyoung have ever had a casual civil conversation.

“doyoung can we just- can we just cut the shit for this?” doyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “we’re doing this with our boss, and the snappy comments and awkwardness is just gonna look bad, so can we just pretend we don’t hate each other for this”

“fine” doyoung snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing straight ahead, you doing the same. once again, the silence is deafening. it’s been a significant length of time since your boss left now, probably getting caught up on the call. “remember that year our families went to the lake together?”

you look across at doyoung, thrown back by his sudden conversation starter. “of course i do, it was a fucking disaster” you chuckle lightly, thinking back on the events.

“the literal worst” doyoung responds. “it felt more like family bootcamp than a break”. it really did. both of your dads spent the whole trip trying to one up each other, making sure their family was presenting themselves as best as they could the entire time. It was intense.

“no, the worst was when our dads kept trying to one up each other on the jet ski’s” you giggle, “they literally just embarrassed each other”. at the time, you hated the trip. you felt tense the whole time, on edge. looking back now, you can’t help but to laugh at the mayhem.

“they really did” doyoung cringes, remembering how hard his dad tried to show off his ‘jet ski skills’ when in reality, he was a complete amateur, just like your dad.

“we beat you in the family tennis tournament though” you tease, remembering how happy you were with the victory.

“oh whatever, as if i was gonna go hard on a girl. i’m way better than you” doyoung scoffs.

“oh my god, remember when our dads decided to make a barbecue together!” you laugh loudly, your eyes welling with tears.

“stop that was so bad” doyoung chuckles, “we just ended up with way too much food and they burned half of it”

once you both calm down from your fit of laughter. there’s a weird atmosphere. everything feels lighter. you and doyoung sit there for a minute, just staring at each other with silly smiles on your face. “i still fucking hate you”

“thank fuck for that” doyoung replies, rolling his eyes once again, playfully this time.

“i’m so sorry!” mr lee announces as he barges into the office. “i’ve kept you here for over an hour without doing anything. look, just go home for tonight i’m so sorry” the older man sighs.

you and doyoung ensure him it’s okay, before getting up and leaving, going your separate ways into the old december night.

December 24th 2020

the usual christmas eve agenda didn’t even cross your mind when you started your new job. of course, your christmas eve will be spent in doyoung’s families house. this was typical of your families at christmas, the host house alternating every year.

“merry christmas!” ms kim greets at the door, allowing you enter into her home. “go to doyoung sweetie, he’ll get you a drink” she suggests, extending her arm to the living room, where sure enough, doyoung was.

doyoung’s eyes devour your figure as you stand in front of him. your dress hugging your figure beautifully, showing you off in all the right places. “your mom told you to get me a drink” you say, an eyebrow raised.

“wine?”

“red”

soon after you giving your order and taking a seat on the now empty couch, doyoung returns, two glasses of red wine in his hand, taking a seat beside you. “don’t you want to go into the dining room with everyone else?”

“do you really want to listen to them more than you have to?” doyoung questions, earning a giggle from you as you sip on the expensive wine.

“absolutely not” you reply, getting comfortable on the couch, facing doyoung slightly. “are you going to the new years party in work?”

“mhmm. it’ll be nice. it also would leave a bad impression on the boss if i didn’t show” doyoung replies sipping on his wine. things are weird between you two since the day in mr lee’s office. it’s like something switched inside the two of you. maybe it’s because you’re speaking as adults now, not children. maybe it’s because you’re both independent of your parents. for whatever reason, you can’t find the same hatred you had for doyoung previously. “are you going?”

“mhmm”

“will you look as beautiful as you do now?” doyoung questions, tilting his head slightly sideways.

“w-what?”

doyoung leans in, so close to your lips, eyes stuck on them. you close your eyes, thinking doyoung was about to close the gap between, but instead he whispers in your ear, “maybe you’ll get a midnight kiss”

“doyoung, y/n dinner come on!”

doyoung stands up, a smug smirk on his lips as he extends a hand to help you up.

“You’re insatiable Kim Doyoung”

December 31st 2020

the work new years eve party is going much better than you thought it would. everyone mingling, getting to know each other more than just ‘the person in the office beside me’. everyone is currently sat on the rooftop of the building, a cozy little set up. the addition of alcohol in the coworkers interactions allows them to feel a lot more casual and at easy with each other.

“everyone it’s just time! come on” someone shouts from beside the large projector mr lee had brought up for the countdown. everyone rises from their seats, glasses of champagne in their hands as they walk towards the projector.

“ten”

“nine”

“eight”

“seven”

“six”

“five”

you feel an arm sling around you wait. looking up your eyes meet doyoung’s.

“four”

“three”

your heart is pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to finishing the countdown, doyoung’s eyes remain glued on yours, like no one else is present.

“two”

you place a hand gentle on his upper chest.

“one”

“happy new year” doyoung whispers.

“happy new year”. before you can even process the celebratory screams and shouts around you, you feel a soft pair of lips against your own.

the kiss is so soft, delicate, lips gently placed together. you pull back slightly, looking up at doyoung, who rubs soft circles on your waist. you pull doyoung closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the body on body contact driving you wild. The kiss this time is harsher, needier, more desperate, your lips moving passionately against each other with such ease.

reality hits doyoung, remembering you are surrounded by colleges. he pulls back and whispers in your ear, “let’s get out of here baby, hmm?”

your back is against doyoung’s door the second you both make it into his apartment, doyoung’s lips attacking your neck, peppering it in kisses, sucking large marks all over. “mmh doyoung” you moan, tilting your head to the side, allowing the man have more access.

“jump” doyoung mumbles against your neck, tapping your thighs lightly as an indication, to which you comply. you jump, wrapping your legs around doyoung’s waist, him holding your legs up with his arms, his hands resting on your ass squeezing it as he begins bringing you to his room. “gonna fuck you so good” doyoung announces, nipping on your neck.

doyoung lays you on your back, him on top of you, not once detaching his lips from your neck. your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, signalling for doyoung to remove the garment. doyoung complies, pulling back to unbutton his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room. “your dress is so pretty baby, but i think it’ll look prettier on the floor” and with that, doyoung removes your beautiful red dress, allowing it to move to the floor, leaving you in your red lace lingerie. “fuck baby, you look so good for me” doyoung praises, already working on unclasping your bra.

the second your breasts are free from the confines of your bra, doyoung’s lips are on your right nipple, sucking on it harshly, flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub, leaving you a moaning mess. doyoung doesn’t neglect your other boob, messaging it with his large hand, pinching and twirling your nipple between two fingers. “fuck doyoung” you moan, grappling onto his hair, a small groan escaping doyoung’s lips in response, the vibrations against your nipple driving you wild.

doyoung trails kisses all the way down your stomach, making sure to leave his mark on the way. “you want me so bad huh? you’re a moaning mess for me already baby” doyoung smirks against your skin.

“doyoung, i’m supposed to fucking hate you” you moan out as doyoung starts kissing along the lining of your soaking wet panties.

“baby, we both know we’re passed that point now” doyoung chuckles as he pulls down your destroyed panties, proud of the mess he caused as he see’s your glistening folds, your juices starting to drip down your thigh.

doyoung places open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking in all of you. worshiping every inch of your body, the whimpers escaping your throat being music to his ears. “mmh fuck doyoung” you moan as doyoung licks a stripe up your dripping folds, collecting your juices on his tongue.

“taste so good baby” doyoung groans, dragging two fingers up your folds and bringing them to your mouth letting you taste yourself, airy whines leaving your lips as you suck on his slender fingers. “gonna make you feel so good”

with no warning, doyoung shoved two fingers into your tight hole, a scream escaping your lips as he does so. “f-fuck doyoung faster” you moan, grabbing the bed sheets tightly. doyoung listens, picking up his pace, fucking your dripping core with his fingers faster than you can even process.

the room is filled with your load moans, your legs shaking as doyoung’s pace gets faster and faster. doyoung smirks at you before bending down and attaching his lips to your clit, gaining a scream from you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “doyoung i’m gonna cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto his hair tightly.

doyoung moans against your clit, sending you over the edge. doyoung’s fingers and mouth don’t stop as you reach your high, continuining to move the whole way through and continuing after, sending your body into shock. “fuck doyoung i came already stop” you moan, causing doyoung to finally let you calm down, stopping his actions and looking at you with a proud look on his face.

doyoung meets your lips again, placing a chaste kiss on them before whispering in your ear, “you haven’t even taken my dick yet angel”. you look at him with doe eyes, as you feel his hard dick through his pants rub against your stomach.

“are you gonna take me like a good girl, hm?” doyoung questions, tucking your hair behind your ear. you respond with a nod but that’s not enough for doyoung. “words angel. use them”

“yes doyoung”

“good girl” he smiles, placing another quick peck on your lips before leaning back to remove his now very tight suit pants and boxers, allowing his hard dick to slap against his stomach, earning a small whimper from you.

“sit up for me baby” doyoung smiles, extending a hand for you to take, helping you sit up. “knees angel”

you comply to doyoung’s request, getting on your knees for him, now eye level with his hard length. doyoung pumps himself twice before tapping his length against your lips, giving you the hint to open for him, which you do.

you wrap your mouth around his leaking tip, collecting his precum on your tongue, earning a groan from doyoung. you move your lips to the base of his length, dragging your tongue all the way back to the top from the bottom, following the vein the goes the whole way up. “stop teasing fuck” doyoung grunts, grabbing a fist full of your hair. “suck”

you once again wrap your mouth around his tip, but before you could move by yourself, doyoung shoves your head down his entire length, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. “pretty” doyoung smirks, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as you look up at him as he fucks your throat. moans and groans spill out of doyoung’s lips as your tongue works wonders on his hard length. a moan escapes your lips, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “enough”doyoung groans, pulling your head off of him, “i’m not cumming until i fuck you baby”

doyoung effortlessly lifts you up, laying you down in the middle of his king sized bed. “do i need a con-”

“no!” you reply sharply. “no i’m on birth control. you don’t need one” you blush at your quick response.

“fuck you’re perfect” doyoung groans, attaching your lips together for the umpteenth time tonight. you’ve had your fair share of kisses, but none of them feel like doyoung’s. his lips feel like they’re made for you. your mouths move in perfect synchronisation, making you feel so whole, so excited.

you moan against doyoung’s lips as you feel his dick against your wet folds. “doyoung please i need you” you whine against his lips, earning a smirk from doyoung.

“so desperate for me angel” he teases. “how badly do you need me?” he questions, teasing you more by just sticking the head of his length in you.

“mmh fuck so bad doyoung i need you so bad, please” you plead, eyes wide showing your desperation.

“good girl” doyoung kisses you softy before moving his hips slowly, moving inside you inch by inch until he bottoms out, both of you whimpering at the feeling. “ready?”

“yes please move” you whimper underneath him.

doyoung wastes no time in grinding his hips in and out of you, fucking you at a fast pace. “you look so pretty angel” doyoung praises, “i love how fucked out you look for me”

“f-fuck doyoung” you moan as he picks his pace up again, you grabbing onto his forearms. “fucking me so good mmh”

doyoung throws back his head in pleasure, your words making him harder and harder, snapping his hips more harshly into you. “you’re so tight for me angel. such a good girl. you make me feel so good angel. all those pretty moans”

doyoung’s praises earn a loud moan from you, digging your nails into his back. you feel doyoung twitch inside you, he’s close. “my good girl. you’re mine angel aren’t you?”

“mmh yes doyoung fuck, just yours, no one else”

doyoung brings his hand to your clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves rapidly as a string of moans escape your lips. “cum with me baby yeah?”

“mmh yes fuck” you moan loudly as you both reach your highs. loud moans from both of you bounce off the walls at your euphoric feeling. “fuck” you whisper as doyoung pulls out of you carefully, his cum dripping out of your hole.

doyoung throws himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face in gentle kisses. “my good girl. you did so good for me baby, so so good” he praises, moving your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you cleaned up my love, okay? i’ll be back in a second” he says, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead and walking to the bathroom.

doyoung returns a minute later with a wet wash cloth, sitting in between your legs. “i’ll try be gentle angel” doyoung warns, earning an appreciative smile from you.

“Ah sore, sore, sore” you complain as doyoung meddles at your sensitive area.

doyoung pouts seeing your pain. “sorry baby, i’m done now”. doyoung throws the wash cloth in his laundry basket before climbing back into bed with you, something he hopes he can get used to doing. he pulls you close against his chest and plays with your hair, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t hold you tight.

“doyoung?” you question, looking up at him with soft eyes.

“yes baby?”

“why did we spend so long hating each other” you frown.

“well when we were kids, it was inevitable. but when i became a teenager, it was easier to still hate you than to admit my feelings for you” doyoung shrugs.

“huh?” you reply confused. he liked you then?

“i liked you a lot when we were teenagers silly” doyoung chuckles. “you’re beautiful, you always have been, you can’t blame me!”

“so you were mean to me because you liked me” you scoffed playfully.

“exactly” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“you know y/n” doyoung speaks, “when i liked you back then, i knew we wouldn’t get together while still living at home. i knew we were both too stubborn, and our parents would be too difficult. but i told myself that i’d wait for you. that in the future, we’d meet again and you’d be mine. now, i have you, and it was so worth the wait.

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. the kim doyoung who caused you all that struggle and strife, has been waiting to call you his. wants to love you. wants to be there for you. “bold of you to assume i want to be yours” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him.

“well do you want to leave me?” he responds with an amused raised eyebrow.

“never” you whisper, connecting your lips once again, your new favourite hobby.

January 1st 2021

you had the best sleep of your life last night, in the arms of the one you love. you had the best morning of your life, waking up to cuddles, kisses, breakfast, coffee. it was nice having breakfast with him, the small talk and jokes, it just felt so domestic. so normal. so right.

“babe, they’re going to be staring at my neck” you pout, as doyoung takes the keys out of the ignition as you pull up outside your workplace.

“good” doyoung smirks, “they need to know you’re mine”. with a quick kiss on the lips, you’re both out of the car, walking towards the company building.

walking in to your work hand and hand with doyoung, your neck littered in hickeys from him feels so right. you’re proud to be his. proud to let everyone know. you get some looks from coworkers as you walk through the building, but you couldn’t care less. he’s yours.

“i’ll see you at lunch angel” doyoung smiles, leaning up against your office wall.

“that’s if you can resist me for the long” you giggle.

doyoung rolls his eyes playfully, “brat”

never in a million years would you have believed you would end up loving kim doyoung. up until two months ago, he was nothing but competition to you. an obstacle to you. now, you want to be with him all the time. you love seeing his head sticking around the corner of your office when he’s at the coffee machine. you love hearing him talk. you love seeing him thrive at his job, no longer seeing him as competition. after all these years, you and doyoung are on the same team. your own team, not your parents. telling your parents about your relationship will probably be, a lot, but you’ll go through whatever it takes for kim doyoung. now you have him, you’re never letting go.

———————————————————————

@bubudays @uhyikesbro @whoe-dis @nctxtrash @junglewoos @ajhdr @obligatoryidolblog

454 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

eve you have been killing the content game lately!!! I have a suggestion for the team to do the cut video where someone guesses their starsigns!!

This was a really interesting fic to write, since I know next to nothing about astrology! It’s also the longest I’ve spent researching for a fic--I will apologize in advance for any errors I made. All the birthdays/ signs came from Haz’s page (@lumosinlove) and SW credit belongs to her! Hope you enjoy <3

Marlene was practically bouncing as the video began. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! I’m Marlene McKinnon, and I can’t tell you how excited I am for today’s video. Would you like to introduce yourself, Elaine?”

An older woman with her graying hair piled in a bun waved to the camera. “Hello! My name is Elaine, and I’ve been studying astrology for about forty years now.”

“We’re so glad to have to here! Today’s video is going to be a guessing game with some of our Lions players, where you ask them a few questions and then match their zodiac signs.” Marlene handed her a small pile of cardboard signs with strings tied to the tops.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Elaine adjusted her reading glasses and flipped through the zodiac cards. “I’ve never done anything like this officially, though it’s a bit of a hobby when I people-watch. Ms. McKinnon, would I be correct in assuming you’re a Leo?”

Marlene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

Elaine nodded. “I thought so. Alright, where do I start?”

Marlene waved off-screen and seven young men walked in, lining up in a semi-circle behind them. “Take it away, Elaine.”

As Marlene disappeared behind the camera again, Elaine scanned the group. “This is very interesting,” she muttered. “You all play on the same team, yes?”

“We do,” James said.

Elaine’s lips twitched into a smile and she beckoned him forward. “Are you the team captain, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “Assistant captain, though. I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James. Were you popular in high school?”

James paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always been pretty friendly and hockey helped with that.”

“You’re confident, and you don’t like sitting still.” She tapped her chin and gave him a once-over. “Can I take a look at your ears?”

“My ears?” James blinked at her, clearly surprised, but obliged and leaned down to her level.

Elaine made a noncommittal noise. “Ears say a lot about a person. Capricorns often have more vertical ears, but yours are quite round. You strike me as an Aries.”

James hung the sign over his neck and headed back to the line with a smile. “She just called you annoying,” Finn teased, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, no, Aries’ can be lovely people once they mature.” Elaine tilted her head and motioned to Finn. “Could you step up to the plate, dear?”

“Sure thing.” Finn kept his hands in his pockets, but straightened up a bit and rocked on his toes as he took James’ place. “My name’s Finn.”

“You’re certainly a fire sign,” Elaine laughed. “But you’re not quite an Aries. Are you a generally upfront person?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Finn smiled. “Anything where I could be around people.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah, with those two.” Leo and Logan waved and Elaine’s smile widened.

“You’re a Leo, and a lucky one at that.” She carefully slid the sign over his head and patted his shoulder. “Good for you. Could the young man in the black jacket come up next?”

“I’m Sirius, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand before taking a step back.

“Nice to meet you, too. You’re the captain, right?”

He glanced at the camera, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you certainly could be another fire sign, but there’s something different…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers on the stack of zodiac cards. “Are you friends with our lovely Aries over there?”

“I’m the godfather to his son.”

Elaine held her hand over her heart. “Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re not another Aries or Leo, then. How much do you value your privacy?”

Sirius snorted. “A lot.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He held his left hand up with a slight smile and inclined his head toward Remus. “Engaged for about six months.”

“Point him out for me, please.” Elaine kept her eyes on Sirius as he pointed toward Remus, then turned to the camera crew. “Did you all see that?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “See what?”

“You’ve been so tense and focused, but your whole face opened up when you looked toward him. I’m going to guess you’re a Scorpio.” She surveyed the group as Sirius returned to his place, then beckoned to Leo. “You have the prettiest eyes!”

“Oh, thank you.” He blushed slightly. “I’m Leo.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo. Do you believe in astrology?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I think it’s neat, though. Stars are cool.”

“Good. You’re young, and I’m glad you’re not letting it dictate your life.” She scrutinized his face for a moment. “Turn sideways, please. There are certain face shapes that are more common than others for specific signs…if we had an argument, would you apologize to me?”

Leo smiled slightly. “Depends on what it was about. I’m not very confrontational in the first place.”

“So you like keeping things equal?”

“I do, yeah. As you can probably tell, I’m not big on making hard decisions,” he laughed.

She smiled and shuffled through the cards. “I think you’re a Libra, but this was the hardest one yet. Which one is your boyfriend again? Not the Leo.” Her face brightened. “Ha! Leo with a Leo!”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin and Leo groaned. “Oh, god, he’s never going to let that go.”

Logan was still laughing a bit when he walked over. “Bonjour, I’m Logan.”

“Oh, this makes lots of sense.” Elaine looked between the three of them and nodded. “Are you a hothead?”

“Usually.”

“What sets you off?”

Logan exhaled slowly as he thought. “Most fights on the ice come from people pushing me or my friends around. I’m not one of those weird angry guys, though. There’s always a reason.”

“I bet there is.” Elaine laughed a little. “What are your thoughts on liars?”

He made a face. “Nothing good ever comes from lying.”

Elaine hung the ‘Sagittarius’ sign over his head. “If you’re not a Sagittarius, I need to find a new career. Could the Scorpio’s fiancé come up here?”

In his thick sweater and blue jeans, Remus was the polar opposite of Sirius. “My name’s Remus.”

“You are a sweetheart,” Elaine said with a laugh. “Oh my goodness, no wonder he got all mushy! Have you always played hockey?”

“I was supposed to be drafted out of college, but I got injured and became a physical therapist for six years instead. That’s how I met the rest of the guys.”

“Interesting.” She bit her lip. “Why did you choose physical therapy?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to stay close to hockey and help people. It was tough, but it made me happy.”

“Would you say people underestimate you on the ice?”

Remus hummed in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a big guy, but I’m fast.”

“Well, all your friends are nodding behind you.”

“What?” He turned and they all hid their smiles in their hands. “Guys!”

“They do!” James defended. “Literally everyone we play against underestimates you!”

“Let’s say we get in an argument. Would you apologize to me?” Elaine asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Was I right?”

“Yeah, you’re a Pisces.” She handed him the card, smiling. “Congratulations on the engagement. We only have one left, correct?”

Kasey shook her hand as he walked up. “I’m Kasey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kasey. Do you believe in the zodiac?”

“Nope,” he said. “But my girlfriend does, and she has cool necklaces and stuff.”

“You don’t strike me as a hothead.”

He shrugged. “I’m a goalie. It doesn’t usually come with the job description, but I’d take the gloves off for my friends.”

She flipped through a few of the cards. “You care deeply for them, then?”

“Absolutely. They’re basically my family by this point.”

Elaine hesitated. “This is a tough one. I’m going to go with Taurus, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Are you patient?”

“With some people, sure. It varies.” Behind him, the others were stifling their laughter. Elaine gave them a look, but hung the Taurus card over his head.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Marlene said as Kasey rejoined the group. “Raise your hand if she guessed you correctly.”

Five hands went up; only Leo and Kasey stayed still. Elaine clapped her hands happily. “Oh, I didn’t do too badly!”

Marlene ushered them into a line. “So, Elaine, how did you know James was an Aries?”

“He’s just…” She waved a hand in her air. “He’s very confident, though I feel like he’s matured over the past few years. Something big happened in your life that settled you down, right?”

“My son was born just over a year ago,” he said. “That definitely toned me down.”

“Thank god for that.” Finn muttered, giving him a playful nudge. James smacked the back of his head with a grin as he walked to the end of the line.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got your boyfriends,” Elaine said. “Leo’s often struggle with their identity when they’re younger, so it’s wonderful to see you’ve figured things out a bit.”

Finn blinked, dumbstruck. “Am I that much of an open book?”

“Yes,” the other six chorused. He paused for a moment, nodded, and made room for Sirius to step forward.

“Ah, I knew it!” She beamed at him. “Scorpio and Pisces are very compatible.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sirius laughed.

“You’re the hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Making up for lost time?” At his shocked expression, she her smile became gentle. “That’s usually how it goes. Don’t be afraid to be soft, okay?”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment longer before joining Finn and James at the end of the line; James touched his elbow in solidarity while Leo walked forward.

“Oh, an Aquarius!” Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “I should’ve guessed. Well, that’s a good thing. You’ll be a good counterbalance for the reactive parts of Leos and Sags.”

“Thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “Can I blame Finn’s puns on his zodiac sign?”

She laughed. “Yes, absolutely.”

“It’s good to know there’s a reason for it,” Logan said as he took Leo’s place. “You guessed me pretty fast.”

“You were bluntly honest.” She shrugged. “Sags can be difficult to narrow down, but you fit right in for all the good parts.”

Elaine smiled when Remus stepped up. “You seemed really certain about me,” he said.

“You’re the most Pisces to ever Pisces, dear.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re kind, but I don’t think you take any shit either.” At the back of the line, Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, and he agrees!”

“He better!” Remus grinned back at him.

Elaine gasped when Kasey held up his new sign. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My girlfriend is a Taurus and some of that might have rubbed off on me.”

“Does she have a big personality?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow.” She gave him a quick once over. “There were some parts of Sagittarius that came through, but you were a tough one.”

“It’s the goalie face,” James called from the back of the line.

“Sorry,” Kasey said. “It’s a habit.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” She stared at him for a second longer before shaking her head. “You’re much softer than most of the Sags I’ve met. It’s hard to believe you and the Energizer Bunny back there share the same sign.”

“Did you have fun, Elaine?” Marlene asked as she collected the zodiac cards.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting me!”

Marlene smiled at the camera . “Thanks for watching, everyone. Be sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

221 notes · View notes

darter-blue · 3 years

Text

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four , five , six and seven on tumblr

Bucky

It’s a little like whiplash, one minute Bucky is in Steve’s arms, pressed against the elevator wall, getting his mind blown by Steve’s giant hands on his bare skin and his giant dick rutting into Bucky’s, hips rocking into Bucky’s, and the next minute there’s a crash and Steve is gripping Bucky tight and shielding him with his body.

Bucky could be mistaken, he is a little hungover, but it looks like Iron Man has just landed on the roof of their elevator. Presumably to save them from the terror of being trapped at the very high height between the first and second floor.

Except Iron Man - Tony Stark, even Bucky knows who Tony Stark is - is looking at them both with a very pleased expression and seems to be leering in at them through the service cover.

'Well well well,' Stark says, shaking his head, 'I leave you alone for five minutes.'

Bucky may be having a hullicinatory episode.

‘Tony, I mean,’ Steve looks down at Bucky, at the pink ‘groom’ t-shirt and the ring on his finger - down at his own much smaller, matching blue ‘Elvis said we do!’ t-shirt - and then back up at the superhero peering in at them. He steps back and carefully lowers Bucky to a standing position, but keeps one giant hand on his waist. ‘I guess this is actually exactly what it looks like.’

‘Oh I know,’ Stark says, boosting himself up by his rockets (wowowow, Bucky is four feet from the most advanced piece of mechanical engineering in the United States right now) and hovering through the hole and into the elevator, ‘it’s all over twitter, genius.’

‘Oh shit,’ Bucky says, ripping the phone he had put on silent (because fucking Darcy would not stop texting him) and sees way too many missed calls from his sister. One from his mother.

The texts from Darcy are still rolling in.

‘Twitter? You flew all the way here because a bunch of people twittered about this?’ Steve’s voice had dropped to a tone that Bucky doesn’t recognise but oh, he likes it.

‘Tweeted,’ Stark says, shaking his head.

Steve narrows his eyes, and the sweet open face that Bucky has been staring at all morning suddenly morphs into something much more menacing.

If Bucky hadn’t just come in his pants he'd be in trouble - as it is he can feel his heart rate picking up again at the effortless authority Steve is exuding. Okay fuck, now that’s he’s thinking about it, his dick is perking up and no, no, no. This is not the time.

Please do not let this situation get any more weird than it already is.

‘Tony, what are you doing here?’

Iron Man - looming huge in his suit in the tiny elevator - takes a small step back from Steve, and doesn’t seem confident when he answers, ‘Rescuing you?’

‘From what?’ Steve asks, ice cold.

‘From being stuck in a broken elevator?’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve says, less cold, more heat this time.

‘Uh, okay, look, full disclosure, I flew here in the quinjet to make sure that Thor hadn’t addled your brain with his god juice and left you to get yourself vegas married to a gold digger,’ he looks over at Bucky, whom Steve tightens his grip on, moving his body further between Stark and Bucky with zero subtlety, ‘seems like I maybe underestimated how literally you would take my advice to do something crazy.’

Steve is shaking his head in a sharp, hard, definitive no.

Bucky is letting him do all the talking, having a… not a great memory of what had gone down the night before (flashes of images, feelings, sounds. An overwhelming sense of comfort and happiness. Contentment… but no real basis from which those emotions have stemmed) and also this is Tony Stark, Iron Man… and Bucky isn't really sure what to do with that.

Just staying out of it seems like the wisest course.

Steve, in lieu of using his words, chooses to reach past Bucky and depress the emergency button.

‘Woah, hey!’ Stark says, grabbing at the wall as the elevator starts to move.

‘Don’t you have something rich and important you should be doing, Tony.’

‘Okay, I’m getting the impression that you’re not that happy to see me.’

‘Gee, you have some real keen observational skills,’ Steve snaps.

‘Look-’

‘With all due respect, Mister Stark-’ Bucky starts.

‘Mister Stark was my father kid,’;

‘Mister Iron Man,’ Bucky says, heavy on the sarcasm, ‘This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Listen Kid,’

‘Bucky,’ Steve corrects him.

‘Bucky?’

Bucky doesn’t bother to nod, he lets Steve’s glare do his talking.

‘That’s a name?’ Stark’s lip is raised in a grimace.

‘It’s a great name,’ Steve has his shoulders squared and his Jaw lifted and he looks suddenly one hundred percent a man not to be questioned.

Bucky can’t help the smile spreading across his face. Doesn’t even want to.

‘Steve, you can’t be serious about this.’

The elevator comes to a stop on their floor and Steve’s grip on Bucky loosens as the doors open.

‘Excuse us, Tony.’

‘Steven Grant Rogers you are trending. There’s photos of you in this ridiculous T-Shirt all over the internet. We need to do damage control!’

‘What’s wrong with his T-shirt?’ Bucky asks, hands on his hips as he lets Steve lead him out of the elevator with a gently hand on his lower back. ‘Are you being self righteous about Elvis, or about the fact that Steve married a guy?’

‘Hey now,’ Stark says from the elevator, ‘I’m mad that he didn’t know you yesterday and today you’ve got matching rings on your fingers.’

‘And?’

‘And that's… Not normal!’

Both Steve and Bucky turn around at Stark’s words.

‘When, Tony, in your entire life, have you ever aspired to be normal?’ Steve asks, standing to Bucky’s right and crossing his lovely arms over his very large chest.

Tony Stark has his mouth halfway open, his eyebrows pinching into a ‘v’ over his narrowed eyes, standing in the doorway of the elevator as the doors move in and out like a concertina at the obstruction.

‘Am I a grown man, Tony?’ Steve asks.

Stark rolls his eyes at the question.

‘Have I ever once interrupted you or questioned your life choices in the middle of a romantic interlude.’

‘Interlude? Steve, come on.’

‘Have. I. Ever?’

‘Okay, no-’

Bucky’s phone rings for the thousandth time - his mother again - and, as fascinating as it is to watch Tony Stark get his ass handed to him by a man that might really actually be Bucky’s husband - his husband - they probably do need to take a step into reality for a second.

‘Steve?’ he says, interrupting the argument and drawing both sets of eyes his way, ‘I think maybe we need to, maybe have a quick chat and ah… make some decisions?’

Steve’s face freezes, then smoothes out to as close an approximation to expressionless as Bucky has seen it all morning.

It looks wrong. It looks… like a mask.

Steve nods his head slowly, his shoulders creeping up before he forces them back down, taking a deep breath.

Stark starts talking before Steve can say a word, ‘I think that’s wise, Kid, I have some questions-’

‘Not you,’ Bucky says, shaking his head at Stark, ‘If we need you, we’ll call you, Mister Iron Man.’

Stark lifts a finger to point it at Bucky, his suit suddenly receding like magic and shrinking into a cuff on his wrist, ‘Listen-’

‘Give us some time please, Tony.’

Stark looks between Steve and Bucky and back again. He narrows his eyes at Steve and then nods once. ‘Okay. You have ten minutes.’

Steve glares at Stark again but doesn't protest. He turns away and leads Bucky the few steps back to his room and opens the door for him.

‘Should we… did you want to sit? Or…?’

‘We can sit,’ Bucky says, sinking down into the couch in the lounge area of the suite.

‘Are you… can I…’ Steve looks so lost as he takes a seat next to Bucky, mirroring Bucky’s slight angle, their knees facing towards each other.

‘I want to ask you something,’ Bucky says, palms on his thighs, swallowing awkwardly. Wishing he had a clean pair of pants to change into.

Steve just nods, his mask slipping further and further away as his face pales and he shrinks into himself.

‘How much of this is real?’

Steve’s face cracks, he winces, something like pain, and it cuts into Bucky. Slices at him. He doesn't know this man - at least… he doesn’t remember why he knows him, or how he knows him, but the pain on Steve’s face reaches in and pulls at something in Bucky and it hurts.

‘For me?’ Steve asks.

Bucky isn’t sure that’s what he was asking, but he nods, because he wants to know the answer regardless.

‘All of it,’ Steve whispers.

Bucky has to take a deep breath. Has to steal himself.

‘I want… I want it to be real for me too.’

Steve’s eyes snap up to Bucky’s.

‘I mean, it feels real.’ Bucky twists at the ring in his finger. Feels the texture of the metal, solid against his skin.

Real.

‘It feels like… not a mistake,’ Bucky says.

He’s trying and maybe failing to explain this right. But whatever he’s doing, it might be working, because Steve is staring at him, not breathing, not moving, but there’s colour back in his cheeks, and he starts leaning slowly closer and closer as Bucky continues.

‘I woke up and thought, you know, maybe I’d just gotten lucky enough to spend a night with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life... and then,’ Bucky looks back down at his ring, ‘and then I saw this, and I thought… fuck. I thought I’d won the lottery maybe, or somehow dreamt my fantasies into reality. And you…’ Bucky looks back up at Steve and his eyes… His eyes are so cool and blue and limitless. Everything Bucky ever needed or wanted is reflected there back at him. ‘You feel like home to me.’

‘You feel like home to me too, Buck.’

‘And you… you want to stay married to me?’

Steve nods.

‘Even if it turns out I’m a complete disaster?’

‘Especially then’ Steve says, a smile spreading across his face, reaching his eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

‘No, I’m serious, I’m awful.’

Steve shakes his head and Bucky nods, emphatic.

‘No, listen, I’m a mess. My refrigerator is full of cheap beer and canned cheese, and one jar of twenty year old mayo.’

Steve is laughing but Bucky won’t have it, he needs Steve to understand the total dumpster fire that he has unwittingly attached himself to.

‘No, Steve, my bed is so covered in bike parts right now I’m sleeping on the floor.’

‘I sleep on the floor every night, Bucky.’ Steve has reached out and stopped Bucky’s hands flying through the air, is holding them, bringing them to rest against their knees between them.

‘You do?’

‘I do,’ Steve says, fond and sad all at once, ‘first time I’ve slept in a long time was here with you last night.’ He looks over at the rumpled sheets on the bed, the bed where Bucky and Steve woke up wrapped around each other.

It hits Bucky that, if they’re married, are they supposed to move in together? Where would they even live?

‘I live above my shop, Steve,’ Bucky says, panic making his voice squeak.

‘It’s not a problem, Bucky, we don’t have to work everything out all at once.’

‘But I… It’s like two rooms and a toilet.’

‘My apartment is just an empty space Shield gave me to live in because I had nowhere else to go.’

Bucky’s body is moving before his brain even realises. ‘Baby, no,’ he says, pulling one of his hands free and reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek, ‘your apartment is a shitty walk up over a bike mechanic with no space and the kitchen from hell.’ He runs his thumb over Steve’s perfect cheekbone. ‘We just need to move your stuff in.’

‘I’m a terrible cook anyway,’ Steve says, huffing a laugh.

‘See?’ Bucky says with an exaggerated sigh, leaning his head in to rest against Steve’s forehead, ‘it’s meant to be.’

‘I know you’re joking, but I honestly believe that.’

‘Who says I’m joking?’ Bucky smiles as Steve laughs. ‘So what do we need to do to get all this finalised? I’m gonna need to call my mother back at some stage.’

That snaps Steve into action, he sits up straight and pulls Bucky with him, so that Bucky is almost sitting in his lap.

‘We need to get the paperwork off Mavis, we need to get our stuff, and then I guess we need to figure out whether the license is even legal outside of the state of Nevada.’

‘Well,’ Bucky says, moving himself fully into Steve’s lap and swinging a leg over to straddle him, ‘I can think of one way to make it legal.’

‘You don’t have time for that!’ Stark yells from outside the door.

‘Goddamn it Tony!’ Steve yells back.

Bucky is laughing, he can’t help it. And Steve is laughing with him. Bucky’s head falls onto Steve’s shoulder and Steve rests his palm against the nape of Bucky’s neck. Safe and familiar and blanketing him in warmth. It feels like the kind of comfort that Bucky has spent his whole life searching for.

‘We better go.’

Bucky nods his head as much as the limited space will allow. They both pull away slowly, reluctantly. But they’re smiling now. The air around them is full of promise.

Happiness.

Even Tony Stark and his ugly tracksuit and his disapproving glare can’t dampen it.

‘Where now?’

‘To the chapel,’ Steve says, pulling Bucky along by the hand and smiling ridiculously wide.

‘To file for annulment?’

‘No Tony.’

‘To pick up the wedding album,’ Bucky says with a laugh. He’s not even sure where the thought came from, but it’s vivid, a hot pink vinyl album cover, Bucky can see it. It has to be a memory.

Steve is looking back at him and smiling, somehow, impossibly wider.

‘Jesus Christ on a cracker,’ Stark says, rolling his eyes, feet shuffling to keep up with them.

They all ride down the elevator together, Steve and Bucky practically glued at the hip and Stark shaking his head at them the entire way.

It’s objectively hilarious. Bucky is holding back his laughter, but the smirk is surely stuck fast to his face.

They make it to the Casino floor, wind their way through the mostly empty gaming rooms and dance floors to a familiar set of swinging doors under a garish ‘Wedding Chapel’ sign, where a strangely familiar man is leaning against the wall only to jump up and shout as he sees them approach.

'Cap!'

'Scott,' Steve replies, much more subdued.

'Hey, Bucky,' he says, looking Bucky's way, then doing a double take as he spots Tony Stark. 'Hey! Iron Man!'

'Who is this?' Stark asks, turning to Steve, 'Steven, who is this?'

'Hey, I'm Scott,' Scott says, reaching out a hand for Stark to shake, then pulling back with a shrug when Stark makes no move to accept it.

'Scott was our best man, Tony,' Steve says, smug and smiling.

Scott looks a little like he might faint at the title, but he pulls it together, nodding along like an excited puppy.

'Oh, Bucky, I sent you the video like you asked. And then I saw all the internet stuff this morning and I thought, well I just thought, you know… did you guys need anything? A getaway van? I don't know. I know a guy, you know?'

'We're okay,' Steve says, calm and relaxed in the face of Scott's exuberance. But Bucky’s too busy checking his phone to hear anymore.

A video.

Of the wedding.

He finds the text from Scott (whose contact info he must have entered as ‘Scott - Cap?’ last night). Opens the video file and watches it like a starving man staring through the windows of a restaurant as the images load and it starts to play.

He can feel Stark leaning over his shoulder but he doesn't care.

It's there. In colour.

Steve and Bucky, at the altar. Elvis between them, Scott filming from the side, a woman Bucky recognises - Mavis, his brain helpfully supplies - beautiful blonde beehive and rockabilly skirt and everyone is smiling. Laughing.

And Bucky remembers.

He remembers standing there next to Steve. Remembers reading his vows from a tiny scrap of pink paper, remembers Steve saying Bucky was his fate, sliding the ring onto his finger.

Bucky looks down at it now, touches it reverently. 'For we are but two halves,' he says, remembering the inscription, the way it had felt so perfect. He looks back up at Steve, who is watching Bucky, waiting for something, eyes shining. 'Together whole.'

And Steve crashes into him, clutches at Bucky, pulling him close and pressing their lips together.

'You remember,' he says between kisses, running his nose against Bucky’s nose, cupping his face in his hands, 'You remember.'

And Bucky just clutches him back. Kisses him back. Just as desperate, just as joyful. 'I remember everything, Steve-Steve Rogers.' He presses his hands against Steve’s chest. Against the beat of his heart. The most beautiful part of him. 'We danced together. We've been dancing together from the very beginning.'

'Always,' Steve says. Oblivious to their audience, to Scott's squeals and Stark's scoffs.

To the crowd gathering around them.

'Forever.' Bucky whispers it. Barely a word. But he knows Steve can hear it. Knows it will thrill him.

Means it, as crazy as that seems.

They both do.

And they have the rest of their lives to make it the truth.

#steve x bucky #stucky #shrunkyclunks #fluff #bucky barnes #modern bucky #captain america steve rogers #my writing #accidental husbands

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Lost Time II // Luke Patterson

Summary: Weeks after discovering his greatest joy Luke visits his former girlfriend to make up for the lost time. Unable to do it alone his band gives their support to find her and stand by his side as he faces his greatest regret.

Warning: Talk of death, allusion to homophobic parents, teen pregnancy and angst

Words: 3.1k

The book Midnight Club by Christopher Pike came out in 1994 but to fit this fic the book came out in 1993. Also, Alex’s last name will be Mitchell in this.

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

A/N: Jesus I love Ben with my entire heart and I am a cruel person to have ripped Luke and Ben from each other before they had a chance. Enjoy!

Part One

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1993

A sunny summer day spent outside reading a new book that had come out recently nestled in your hands under the large tree. The tree that had many tire swings before your parents caved to get a swing set. Now the tree was a companion on lovely days providing shade under the hot sun.

Alex was at band practice with the rest of Sunset Curve in the garage, or studio as Luke deemed it. More often than not, you would be in the studio watching them rehearse, but things changed, things had gotten more serious with Luke in the past six or so months. Plus, Bobby seriously was someone you wanted the least amount of time spent with.

“Hey.” Luke sighed, dropped on the faded blanket you had settled on. Raising one finger, you finished the page before placing the bookmark in.

“Hi.” You grinned leaning in as he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, “Used my Chapstick again?”

Luke hid his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m addicted to it, or it’s just your lips.”

He snuck another kiss before nudging you to adjust lay against his chest between his legs, a familiar position. One where you could read a book, and he could wrap his one arm around you while he wrote in his songbook with the other. God, you loved the boy with your entire heart.

“How’s the book?”

“It’s okay.”

“What’s it about?” Luke asked, wrapping his arms around your midsection.

“Five terminally ill teens living in a hospice tell scary stories every night. They all made a pact together that whoever died first would have to try to contact the others.” You sighed, dropping the book beside you to rest your arms on his.

“Sounds depressing.” Luke hummed, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I can think of more exciting things to do.”

“Over my dead body.” Alex snickered walking passed the young couple on his walk to the house. Reggie following after him with a laugh of his own; it was still odd to see Luke so loved up.

“I was talking about going to a concert!” Luke called out as his friends entered the Mitchell house, leaving the couple alone.

“You totally were not.” You spoke already knowing the answer as Luke nodded his head, “It’s a shock he lets us be alone.”

Turning to face Luke, you couldn’t help the blush that grew from the soft look in his eyes that you had only noticed after he asked you out. The boy had had a crush for a long time even if it was awkward given the previous thing he had with Alex.

“He’ll have to get used to it.”

“So, have you gotten a gig at The Orpheum yet?” You asked, shifting again to nestle against his side content to spend the time there in the backyard.

“Nah, we booked some smaller venues, but we’ll get there. I know it.” Luke was completely confident that one day he would be playing in the most popular venues. The other thing he was confident was his relationship.

“Where will I be?” You spoke looking at the recently turned sixteen-year-old boy who had quickly become the most important thing in your life. Never expected to fall in love with Alex’s ex-fling.

“Cheering us on. Have to have my number one supporter and wife because she’s been there since the dream began. The dream just expanded?”

“Wife?” You breathed.

“I’m not dating you just to date. I’m dating you because when I dream of my future, you are right there next to me.” Luke admitted caressing your cheek the pad of his thumb, “Wherever in the world, we find ourselves I want you there.”

“What about kids?”

“We’ll have as many as you want. Or however many we are lucky to have.” Luke breathed growing more excited as he finally revealed his ideas and firm belief, “Of course I want to be married first. After The Orpheum I want the next thing to focus one hundred percent on is a wedding that you deserve and-“

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me.” You raised to your knees cradling his face in your hands, “That’s what I dream of too. Having a career but something that lets me travel with the love of my life and my chosen family.”

“It’s not how I want…I want it to be special and romantic because you deserve it.” Luke adamantly spoke, pressing his hands on yours still resting on his face.

“Luke. I love you. Just sitting here like we are is special and romantic.”

“Will you marry me?” Luke whispered, leaning to press his forehead on yours. The orange beanie tickling your skin.

“Yes. As soon as I turn eighteen.” You didn’t care if you had two more years to wait. As long as Luke was by your side, you didn’t care about how you got married just as long as you married him.

Los Angeles, 2004

There are times that Reggie knows that the last thing people need is his goofy personality and jokes. When Luke returned from wherever he had gone, it was evident that something had drastically changed since the last time they had seen him.

“Luke?” Reggie gently spoke hesitantly moving to the boy curled on the couch, sobbing into his hands. Reggie had never seen Luke like this before, not even when it cemented that they had died and Luke’s future with Y/N shattered in a moment.

“Reg-“ Alex poofed in next going stock still at the distraught teenager. His eyes widened as he quickly made his way to Luke, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I saw Y/N.” Luke choked out, shaking his head, “I knew it would hurt, but it felt like I died again. Like I literally watched my hopes and dream just shatter before me.”

Alex was quiet taking in that Luke had seen Y/N. Alex missed his sister with everything in him, but Luke had plans.

“How is she?” Alex whispered, grabbing the hands of one of his best friends in the entire world. The one guy he had wholly trusted with his sister’s heart.

“She looks so good. God, it’s been nine years for her but only a few weeks for me. She’s more beautiful than I remember.” Luke breathed, raising teary eyes to meet Alex and Reggie’s concerned expressions, “I also saw Ben.”

“She got married?” Alex questioned surprised, “Please tell me it isn’t Bobby. I don’t think I could stomach that.”

“His name isn’t Ben and he probably tried after deciding on a respectable time for it to be okay-“

“Reggie.” Alex hissed motioning him to stop talking while Luke knew that Bobby had had feelings for you, he didn’t think he would try anything.

“I don’t think she’s married, but Ben is definitely a big part of what I missed out on.” Luke sighed, picking at a loose thread on his jeans, “I’m sure you know that in the three years, I was actually alive and with her that things happened.”

“Things like…?” Alex trailed off having a feeling he wouldn’t want to know about whatever Luke was hesitant to announce.

“Um…well we were, I am in love.” Luke grimaced at how odd it was to word his feelings for a girl he had died while planning a future, “in relationships you show affection in particular-“

“Okay as you struggle to finish that I will.” Reggie spoke, turning to Alex, “Luke and Y/N as a couple were having sex.”

Alex’s eyes went wide at the blunt statement that he never wanted to hear again in his life because you were his sister! He didn’t need to even think of anything to do other than the kissing he sometimes walked in on. He knew already but didn’t want to know either.

“I died, leaving Y/N pregnant! Which I didn’t know about.” Luke shouted poofing to the other side of the garage when he saw Alex’s fist start to clench. He poofed to the loft when Alex appeared to his last place, “C’mon man!”

“You knocked my sister up!”

Reggie’s mouth dropped at the physical aggression that Alex was showing because Alex was more peaceful and non-violent.

“I didn’t know! He’s eight!” Luke yelped when Alex grabbed him in a headlock, “Dude! I didn’t know! We were gonna get married when she turned eighteen! I love her, man!”

Reggie pulled Alex away from the lead guitarist before a fight happened, and even though part of Reggie wanted to see Alex fight…he wanted Luke here as well.

Alex was quiet, “What does he look like?”

Despite the agony of not being there for his son Luke launched into a description of the little boy.

With a white lie out of Julie’s mouth, she had gotten the address from Emily and Mitch for Luke and Alex. The address led to a small house with pretty flowers and a bike in the front yard; the place where Luke’s son had been growing up in since he was two years old.

Julie’s fist raised, knocking on the white door listening as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. The door opened, revealing a little boy with startling green eyes that he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas!” You huffed turning the corner with a frown, “You may be eight, but you are still not allowed to open the door alone!”

The little boy slouched at the greeting before his eyes met three boys behind the Peurto Rican pretty girl.

“Oh my god. He looks just like you!” Alex hissed to Luke unable to remove his gaze from his…his nephew. His attention pulled to the woman his sister had grown to be.

“Julie, right?” You spoke gently tugging Ben closer to you, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, mumbled a thank you as you welcomed the girl into the small home you had made. It was small but perfect, “Did he get stitches?”

“Oh yeah! I guess you were there when he got hurt.” You nodded, moving a book from the couch for Julie to sit down. Your attention was on Ben as he went to the corner to play with toys, “He did. He’s kinda like my brother and his dad in that way.”

“Oh, god.” The overly familiar voice snapped your attention.

Sitting on either side of Julie were exact replicas of three boys that tragically died back in 1995, everyone froze. Even Ben looked up from the tension.

“Mama?” Ben asked, furrowing his brow.

“It’s okay Ben. Can you go to your room?” You asked, staring pale at the two people that you hadn’t noticed before. They hadn’t been visible to you at the time until they sat beside Julie. The scampering of feet and the gentle closing a door left you alone with four people.

“She can see us.”

Mutely you nodded at Alex’s statement slouching into the couch in shock, “What is happening?”

“I found a CD in my garage, and I played it. Out of nowhere, Luke, Reggie and Alex literally appeared in the room. They’re ghosts.” Julie spoke softly, “I’m not sure how I can see them, but I can.”

“Wow.” You breathed leaning back into the couch, unable to tear your gaze from the three boys, “Let me guess. Your first order of business was haunting the hell out of Bobby?”

Bobby, Trevor as the world knew, had lived up to your predictions of him being a lowlife rat boy. If you didn’t have Ben, you would have gone after him, but you couldn’t risk what little you had at the time.

“He stole our songs,” Luke grumbled crossing his arms so like you remember from years ago. He was still the passionate, caring musician you fell in love with so quickly.

“I know. I tried everything but with Ben…it was too hard, but hey he’s gotten little success from his new stuff. Guess he didn’t think of how stealing songs wouldn’t pan out.” You shrugged, twisting a ring on your finger that Luke gave you a few weeks after the spontaneous proposal.

“So Ben?” Alex questioned, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees with great interest in the new topic.

The tsunami of happiness broke through the heavy fog of sadness when your favourite subject came around. Talking about Ben could go on for years you swore with the amount of love for him.

“His name is Benjamin Lucas Patterson. He’s eight years old and obsessed with music, they say playing classical music helps with mental intelligence. Still, he wouldn’t settle unless I played rock.” You laughed glancing over your shoulder at the closed door, “He adores Bear in the Big Blue House and Dragon Tales. Not fond of Barney or Sesame Street but he’ll still watch it.”

The guys ate it up listening to every detail of a little boy they missed even if they only recently learnt about him. Reggie was silent listening to your stories of the young boy.

“His prized possession…come with me.” You gestured turning to head to the bedroom, “I didn’t ask for a lot of baby stuff, just the essentials and anything someone could make. Sunset Curve. You guys were significant to us, so I wanted Ben to have that.”

Ben was settled playing with the cars by his toy chest barely glancing as four people came together. Julie decided to stay in the living room. With a hand, you grabbed the blanket Ben absolutely always needed. It was a homemade blanket made entirely out of clothing—one of Reggie’s flannels, a few shirts from concerts with Luke and clothing that Alex loved.

“Y/N,” Alex spoke, brushing his fingers over the worn material touched at the action of doing something so little yet powerful.

“I’m going, to be frank. After you died and I went to your fun-“ the word choked you as if you were back in 1995 sitting beside your mother wearing that black dress; a dress you burnt in the bathroom tub, “Mom found the test in my room. Rookie mistake. They weren’t thrilled about the baby and who the father was.”

“They kicked you out?”

“And Luke’s parents immediately welcomed me into their home. I owe them a lot, and Emily made this for Ben, she may not have approved of the band, but she knew it was important, so she wanted Ben to have a piece of his father’s greatest joy.”

“Mama? Can we have burgers tonight?” Ben asked quietly from his toys, “Can they stay for supper?”

Ben was shy with new people, but once he got to know someone, he was just like Luke with his bubbly and passionate personality. He was the spitting image of Luke with his hair and eye colour, but he got your nose and skin colour.

“If they want to.” You smiled, reaching over to pull the eight-year-old into your arms only wanting him to never grow up.

Alex, needing a break from the grief, wandered to a picture hanging on the wall that was a shadow box with his very first drum sticks. Underneath was Reggie’s old necklace that had to be replaced. Lastly underneath was the very first pick Luke used for the first song the band had performed.

“I’m Ben.” The boy spoke, meeting the eyes of the newcomers, “You’re the band that passed away, right?”

“Yeah. This may be confusing but Ben this is Alex, Reggie and Luke.” You replied, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. Ben returned to his quiet nature before looking at your eyes.

“That’s my family, right?”

In perfect sync, Alex and Luke started silently crying at the little boy’s words wishing that that night had never happened. It seemed at the time the right way to start the new chapter with one last street dog.

“Yeah, baby.” You cleared your throat nodding along to the innocent words your son spoke before he was wandering out of the room, “One hour of cartoons young man.”

“I’m gonna go.” Reggie spoke gesturing after the boy, “I wanna watch Cartoons.”

Reggie poofed out of the room following the little boy out of the room, leaving three sad people. The room was heavy in loss, so sad it could choke a person.

“Does Mom and Dad have anything to do with him?” Alex asked as the boys covered their grief by wandering around the bedroom. Taking in the pictures of Ben from throughout the eight years, some with you or with his paternal grandparents. Few had Alex and your parents.

“They moved a few months after you died.” You admitted, “After the way they reacted to Ben I didn’t want him in that environment. We get Christmas cards and calls on his birthday, but I don’t have the time to travel.”

Alex nodded vividly remembering the way they reacted after he had told his parents that he didn’t like girls. It was challenging since Dad was always excited for the family name to be passed down, he didn’t see that the name could continue no matter who Alex loved. Mom was more open but stepped in line with her husband instead of her hurting son.

“I’m sorry.” Luke blurted stepping closer to you, allowing you to see the ocean of tears and pain swimming in his tortured gaze, “I shouldn’t have gotten that street dog. I should have stayed with you, you weren’t feeling good.”

“Things happen for a reason, Luke.” You sadly reminded the boy, “I wish it didn’t happen, but it did, and I’ve learned to live with that. Ben has a wonderful family and a good life.”

“He knows about us too,” Luke spoke, thinking back to barely half an hour ago when Ben acted as if he knew Luke all his life. God, Luke wished he could have seen everything.

“I have videos of Ben if you want to see them.” You offered the boy, “There’s a television in the den where Ben has his baby book, and the home videos if you want. You can stay in there all you want.”

Luke nodded, playing with his fingers, “I’d love that.”

“If you want to be alone, I can take Ben for ice cream. You can have the whole house to watch alone.” You graciously offered the boy you would always love and believed before that you would see him in decades after your own death.

Luke silently nodded following as you took him to the den where it had a child-sized guitar and floor to ceiling bookshelves. A television was tucked in the corner with a video camera stored on a shelf with a VHS player. In a sealed container, the home videos were kept safe along with the baby books.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. It’s nice to see you, Luke. Really.” You told the now younger boy keeping his eyes on the opened bucket. A bucket that held all the firsts he had missed out on a little boy he had loved since first seeing him in his family home weeks ago.

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florenceandthemachine · 3 years

Text

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

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spahhzy · 3 years

Text

A Better Tomorrow-Chapter 1. Secure the keys.

Finally time to start this story.

It was a nice house, a nice little two story red brick home down nestled somewhere in the country side. A bed of flowers out front that led to a staircase out on to one of the dirt roads.

The sun that would gleam down on it gave it such a holy aesthetici too it but it is in the night, when the moon is full that you are able to truly appreciate its beauty.

Small candle lights lit up the window giving it the cozy warm feeling from the inside.

All was quiet in this little house except for one room.

"Do you have to go?" A small child's voice asked from inside this room the voice sounded sad.

"Yes...I do" came an older male voice as a sniffle could be heard.

"I know it's going to hurt now but what I do...I'm doing fo-" the older man started but was cut off.

"A better tomorrow yeah" came the child too which earned a chuckle from older man.

"Come...I'll read you your favorite story hm?" He asked and the sadness that laced the child's voice was gone. Replaced only with excitement.

"You mean the one about the eight warriors who defeated the grimm in the Great War!?" The child asked to which the older man hummed in agreement.

A creaking of a bed could be heard before boots clanked the hard wood floor.

" It began long ago...on the battlefields of the Great War..."

"If the first step doesn't happen, neither does the journey"-Craig D. Lounsbrough

Winter stared at the small strike team before her. Nothing was said in the bullhead as it flew towards the outskirts of Ansel.

-Bullhead, Journeying towards Ansel

She looked to her right to see a red head girl staring intently at a photograph, peeking over her shoulder it was a photo of six people.

A girl with black hair with red tips, silver eyes shined brightly she was smiling riding on the back the man in the photo, followed up by a blonde girl with lilacs eyes, she too was smiling as she held onto the man's left hand, she was flanked by another black haired girl with hazel eyes a bow was ties in her hair a small smile was featured on her face as well and she was close by the male rounded up by a girl with white hair, her sister, she was to the right of the male clutching his right hand a smile present on her face as well.

Finally their was the red head herself ...before finally in the center giving a big hug to everyone she could.

The man in the center had blond hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes, he gave a gentle smile to the camera as he looked content and happy.

Everyone was smiling in that photo but it was his smile that shined the most.

"When did you take that photo penny?"

The girl now revealed to as Penny looked at Winter with a sad smile.

"Before Salem attacked mantle it was a very brief moment of peace for all of us..." Penny said her voice full of sadness as she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I miss them Winter...so very much" as she turned to her general whomst gave her a look of sympathy.

"Me too Penny...but we accomplish this then we could possibly get answers" She told her to which brings some comfort to the younger red head to nod.

"General"

The Bullhead shook as Winter looked to the team.

"Its time to go over the briefing once more" said one of the soldiers said as Winter nodded.

"Right alright squad...our mission is of the utmost importance!" She told them as she stood up from her seat.

"We succeed here then we succeed for mankind!" All the soldiers nodded.

"Now the mission is to infiltrate, locate and retrieve this artifact"

She pressed a button and up popped up the Relic of Creation.

"Our Intel confirms this relic is too be located at the heart of Ansel...located at this location pricesly"

Another image this time it was a three story home.

"It is the old Arc Chateau"

A soldier raised his hand.

"Wasn't this area destroyed during the event now coined 'Destruction of Ansel'? " He looked to the rest of the squad.

"Our last reports said that it was all scorched and now only the grimm inhabit the area" he said to which Winter nodded.

"Yes you are true right since the queens attack on Ansel the grimm have been their ever since" She confirmed to him.

"So why bother with 'infiltrate' if the area is all but a breeding ground" the solider argued.

"Because me and agent Penny here will be leading a diversion to spring forth the grimm, while you, strike team, will grab the relic" Winter told them which caused chatter amongst the soldiers.

"That's a suicide mission General if what the Intel reports theirs about 2000 grimm in the surrounding area ALONE!" the soldier spoke to Winter who remained unfazed at the numbers.

"We don't know how many more are at the center guarding the staff!"

"It doesn't matter" said the voice next to Winter.

Penny looked at them all confidence radiating clearly in her eyes.

"We will succeed...we must...we must" She said to them to which got the soldiers to chatter once more.

"Gents we got the Maiden and former Maiden on our side...we can do this" a older soldier spoke out as he looked towards Winter.

"When do we jump ma'am"

Winter smirked

"One hour"

-----

Far away in a castle shrouded in darkness the queen of grimm was in a particularly good mood as she could be seen hummimg a song while looking into her crystal ball.

Tyrian while happy to see his mistress in such a joyful mood couldn't help but wonder why?

"Uh mistress not that I don't like that you are happy but why are you happy" he asked her to which she didn't acknowledge but only continued to hum the same song.

"I mean I haven't seen you this happy since when we rescued the bo-"

"Tyrian"

That shut him up quickly as Salem looked up from her crystal ball at him.

"Yes mistress?" He asked obediently.

"Take a Bullhead to Ansel it seems we have...unwelcomed guests coming" She told him to which Tyrian growled at such rudeness! who would dare!?

"And do what when I find these rude fiends?" He asked to which Salem flashed a smile at him.

"Nothing"

Baffled, he asked.

"Nothing Mistress?" He asked not understanding.

" that is correct...some one will be handling our little guests himself" She told him which only further confused him as he let the information sit and sit and sit.

Before suddenly realization hit his face and an twisted smile made its way to his face as he lept out of his chair in joy.

"Right away mistress!" He said before running out to do his task set before him.

Salem smiled as she looked back into the crystal ball.

---

A terrifying roar filled the skies as up in the clouds a dragon whose size rivaled that of Beacon academy and whose scales were the darkest of night, it's red eyes glowed blood red as it traveled at break neck speeds.

As the monster sped through the blue sky a figure could be seen riding on its back.

The figure stroked the dragons sides before the dragon let out another roar before going even faster.

-----

After the briefing was over, every one was going over the final preparations.

Strike team will be dropped four hundred kilometers away from Ansel right outside the dubbed 'exclusion' zone and will proceed to Ansel on foot.

Meanwhile once within two hundred kilometers General Winter and Agent Penny will leave the ship, Winter will cause a distraction in the air and Penny will provide the assault on the ground.

The two will reconvene where the old Arc Chateau used to be and defend thst position.

Strike team would be on-site and should be looking for the package.

The Intel states the old building was destroyed from the blast but ever since the grimm begun inhabiting they had started rebuilding it for its own end.

The package is located on the third floor second room to the left. That room if what the data shows used to belong to occupant one Jaune Arc.

Previous data collected shows that the staff could act as a power source so extrema caution is advised upon removing the relic.

It is not know how many or what kind of grimm exactly could be here but precaution is needed.

"Captain may I speak?" Asked a soldier to which the Captain nodded.

"What do we do if...he were to show up" Asked the soldier to which the rest of the group just looked at him.

"Listen gents imma say this once and only once do NOT let him get within arms reach of you" He told them grimly.

"If he so much as gets within hands reach of you do whatever you can to separate yourself from him...if you don't your dead" he said to which earned some gulps from the soldiers.

"The reports said that monster can literally use our own aura against us...i-is that true?" Said the soldier asked to which the captain just stared at him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"All the more reason to keep a distance aye?" Before walking past him towards the hangar door.

"Squad this is it...this is where we fight to secure hope!" Which elicited a cheer from the group.

A buzzer sounded and all of a sudden the doors open as air rushed in.

The captain looked to Winter whomst nodded as he gave her a salute before jumping out of the Bullhead the rest of his squad following suit.

Winter looked behind her as she saw Penny looking at the photo once more before giving it a kiss five times and tucking it away.

"You ready Penny?" She asked as she held out her hand to which Penny gave a bright smile.

"I am one hundred percent combat ready!"

She grabbed Winters hand.

"Genreal you are clear for drop!"

Penny and Winter nodded to each other and looked out to the sea of clouds before them before them.

"See you on the battlefield" Penny said and Winter nodded before finally the two took a great leap forward.

#jaune arc #ruby rose #winter schnee #weiss schnee #rwby salem #rwby tyrian #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #penny polendina

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Four times he told them you were a friend and once he said you were his girlfriend

So this is sort of kind of what was requested, but I just did the same thing with Quinn Hughes and this idea came to me, so I hope you like this! Anyway it’s 2 am and I haven’t read through this so if there are typos ignore them (or point them out then maybe I’ll actually fix them).

This is the LONGEST thing I’ve written as one solid piece (it’s around 6.6k words, which I’ve never done before so that’s fun).

But keep supporting BLM, keep supporting organizations like GLSEN, just be a good person. Ok cool, you’re all great people, don’t worry.

______________

“Ok, hot guys at ten o’clock,” Ashley starts shaking your arm, sending your drink spilling all over your hand.

“Watch it!” you say, trying to steady the drink before you waste six dollars of beer, “Which ones, there’s like eight guys over there.” She can’t stop staring at the group of guys, all of them wearing very similar outfits of plain, tight-fitting t-shirts that show off their obviously fit bodies and a pair of jeans, ranging from light wash to black. A man’s wardrobe was a mystery.

“I want to go talk to them,” she says.

“Then go talk to them,”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Ash, why would I go talk to a group of boys when I’m here with Nick?”

“Because he’s not your boyfriend, you’re just fucking him and he is a hundred percent talking to other girls right now, so what’s the harm of flirting with another guy?” You exhale, knowing that she was right. As soon as you got to the bar, Nick left you to get drinks and you found him thirty minutes later without a drink for you and talking to a pretty redhead about who knows what. “You know I’m right. And that one has been checking you out anyway. Worst case you get a free drink or two and never see the boy again.”

You make eye contact with the curly-haired boy Ashley mentioned. He was pretty beautiful, and you had to admit that you melted a little when he smiled at you “Fine, let’s go,” you say, rolling your eyes as she squealed and dragged you over to the guys.

“Is it a common habit of yours to just stare at a girl before she succumbs and comes over to you or do you ever make the first move?” you say, standing in front of the curly-haired boy.

“Normally I would go up to them but I guess you beat me to it. And it looks like your friend already has her hold on Noah, so I guess both of you are pretty ambitious,” he says, nodding over to Ashley, who is already dragging Noah to the bar with her probably so they can get drunk together.

“Yeah, that seems right. Plus he’s hot, so I’d probably do the same,” you shrug as the boy moves over and motions for you to sit down. “So if that’s Noah, who are you?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you if you just called my friend hot and not me,” he jokes, leaning in a little closer, but Hanny is a pretty beautiful man so I’m not too offended. I’m Matthew.”

You can’t help but laugh at him; the amount of confidence he had in calling his friend beautiful was refreshing, Nick would be weird about it and start trying to make jokes that were never funny. You tell him your name and just start talking with him. There was something there between the two of you, but you were technically with Nick. But like Ashley said, what was the harm of flirting a little bit?

“So why are you here tonight?” Matthew asks you, getting up and leading you to the bar.

“One of my friends landed his dream job so we came to celebrate,” you tell him, motioning over to the group of boys standing at the other end of the bar.

“Which friend, I’ll buy him a drink,” he offers.

“The one next to that guy with the redhead draped over him.”

“Do you know him? They’re talking to each other.”

“Yeah, the girl is holding my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he asks, nearly spitting out his beer. You didn’t seem like the type of girl who would try to cheat on her boyfriend, especially with him standing right there, and he really didn’t want to be involved in any sort of weird sexcapades with a girl he just met.

“Sort of, kind of, not really. We’re hooking up and we like each other, I think, but clearly we can hook up with other people. Or at least, he can hook up with other people,” you say, feeling weirdly sad all of a sudden. Of course, you liked Nick, how could you not? He was sweet, smart, funny, he was there for you when you needed him, but damn as soon as a girl looked at him the right way it was like you weren’t there until you called for him. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You just seem like someone I can tell things to.”

“I’ve gotten that before. Then my dad says that I have a face that you can’t help but want to punch, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you swung that way, too,” he says, laughing, the curls on his head bouncing along with him, “But can I give you some advice?”

“Sure, why not?” you say, making eye contact with Nick, him flashing a cute smile and waving at you.

“If you both liked each other and you want to be together, which at least, you want to be, then you need to say something sooner rather than later to him. You’re pretty cool, and you deserve someone that makes you happy. Right now it seems like it’s him,” he says, nodding over to where to Nick was, the redhead sending daggers in your direction.

Before you know it, Nick’s arms are finding their way around your waist, him kissing your cheek before nestling his chin on your shoulder. “Hey, who’s this?” he asks.

“A new friend,” Matthew says, smiling at you.

Your phone buzzed with a text saying that he was ready to leave, even though you still needed another five minutes before you could even think about getting your shoes on. You dial him quickly, praying he doesn’t take long to pick up the phone as you throw it on speaker and run around your room trying to find the jewelry you wanted to wear. “You’re coming up here and helping me finish getting ready unless you want to wait another twenty minutes minimum. The doors open just come to my room,” you spit out at him before he even has the chance to finish saying ‘hello.’

You hear him mumbling something on the other end as he slams the door to his apartment to make his way to yours. By coincidence, he lived four floors above you, allowing for easy access when both of you had free time to just sit and watch a movie, or for nights like these when you were struggling to finish getting ready for the night.

“I’m here!” you hear Matthew call from the living room, walking to your room. “I cannot have the guys chirping me for being late tonight, especially when I got the time wrong last time and showed up an hour in,” he says, walking into your room. “You’re a mess.”

Your hair and makeup were done, but your dress was still unzipped due to your lack of flexibility to zip it, your necklace that you were going to wear was somewhere in the room but you had no idea where it would be, and you still had no clue what shoes you were going to wear. “Which is why you’re here so I can be less of a mess. Come here and zip me up, then pick out shoes for me to wear. Please? Please, please, please?” you beg.

He shakes his head and can’t help but laugh at how frazzled you can get when you’re on a time crunch. “You’re lucky I like you enough to even bring you to this event,” he says, doing as you ask. You could feel yourself tensing up as he slowly brought the zipper up, his hand at the bottom holding the zipper straight. You turn around to him, goosebumps all over you as you get a good look at him in his suit. Damn was he handsome. “Are you sure that Nick is alright with me taking you to this thing?”

“As long as I don’t hook up with anyone, he really doesn’t care. It’s not like any of you guys are a threat to our relationship, anyway,” you say as you try to find this necklace.

Matthew couldn’t help but feel a little upset over that comment. He loved that you were happy while dating Nick, and he genuinely seemed like a great guy for you, but part of him wondered what it would be like if you were together. “Well, a lot of them are already taken anyway, so unless there are a lot of strange single men roaming around the Flames Casino Night, I think you’re safe.” He picks up a pair of shoes for you to wear, praying that they actually go with your outfit and don’t kill your feet, something you had complained to him about during multiple nights out. Apparently, asking why you had shoes that hurt your feet was a dumb thing to do.

“Perfect!” you say, taking the shoes from him, trying to get them on without having to sit down. “And I found the necklace, so once this is on and I find where I put my bag, we’re good to go.”

“What could you possibly be bringing with you that you need a bag?” he groans, knowing that you were going to make them late.

“Keys, money, ID, lipstick for reapplying, tissues,” you start to list off as he rolls his eyes. “Ok, fine. But I don’t have pockets to hold things, so I need a bag.”

“I can hold the keys, money, and ID if you say you don’t need the other things and we can just go.”

“But what about my phone, I don’t want to hold it all night.”

He takes the stuff you hand him, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the door. “I have big enough pockets, don’t worry. These aren’t like female pockets where you could basically hold a penny and worry about it falling out.”

“That is not my fault and you had to know that was going to start a feminist rant from me as soon as you said it,” you start as you get into the Uber that was somehow already waiting for you outside. He laughs as you start going off about the sexist issues in women’s fashion, something he has heard more than enough times. At this point, he could probably recite the rant back to you word for word.

He listened to you better than Nick did; sure Nick listened, but when you talked to Matthew it was like he hung onto every word, trying to remember every detail down to how your eyebrow cocked as you said each sentence. Nick normally was just mentally undressing you until he could actually undress you. Not that you weren’t happy with Nick, but you couldn’t really help but wonder if you should be with Matthew or if he really was just your best friend.

Your rant lasted the entire ride to the event, Matthew doing everything in his power not to laugh at how passionate you were about stuff like this. He knew that you wanted to spend your life making a difference, and it helped that you were able to dive into an issue and find a reason to fix it.

“Ok, so you don’t have to play any of the games, the drinks I think are free for the most part but as we know I can be wrong an have been wrong before, and if you want your money, not to sound like a weirdly protective boyfriend, just come and find me.” Matthew tells you as you get out of the car. You loved coming to these events, and Matthew’s inability to hold onto a girl for longer than a few weeks, and his overall lack of female friends meant that you got to come to all of the events as his date.

“If it’s not free I’ll just find the nearest hot man and flirt with him until he buys something for me, kind of like the night we met,” you joke, taking in the sights and sounds of the event around you. Everyone in the Flames organization was there and then some, so maybe that was a possibility.

“Actually, Nick bought you drinks once he noticed you talking to me, I never actually bought you anything,” he points out, a little bite in his tone.

“Ok, snippy,” you shoot back, “Have fun, I’ll be at the bar.” You leave his side just as Noah went over to him, working your way through the crowd to the bar.

“There’s no way you already said something to piss her off, man. You just got here,” Noah says, dragging Matthew by the arm over to one of the tables.

“She brought up the night we met.”

“I still can’t believe that you convinced her to go for that guy instead of just asking her out yourself. What’s his name, Mick?”

“It’s Nick. How many people do you know named Mick?”

“Not the point.”

“Ok, fine. I didn’t ask her out because I saw how she looked at him. And she called him her boyfriend.”

“Which he wasn’t. And you could have been. She looks at him the way she looks at me, and as far as I know, I’m not her boyfriend. But I’ve seen how you look at each other. She sees you differently.” Noah pats him on the back, leaving him at the Blackjack table to fend for himself. He looks up to you, a guy with his back towards him leaning against the bar talking to you. You make eye contact and roll your eyes at him, biting your lip signaling that this guy was a total dud.

“Is that your girlfriend?” the stranger next to Matthew asks him, following his gaze to you. “She’s hot.”

“Nope, just a friend.”

III

“Who is this that’s getting married today?” you ask Matthew from the bathroom of the hotel room you were sharing with him, Brady and Taryn.

“A family friends daughter, I think her name is Isabella?” Brady answers instead, throwing an apple in the air and trying to catch it, only for Matthew to jump and snatch it before he can.

“Boys!” you yell as they start to wrestle each other for it. “Come on, if either of you leave this hotel room with a black eye we all know that your parents are going to assume it’s Matthew’s fault and then none of us can go to the reception.”

“Sorry,” they both mumble, Matthew handing back the apple to Brady.

“I like her. Please keep her around. I need more feminine energy when I’m around you two,” Taryn says from behind you, both of you fixing your hair in the mirror.

“Why did you get to bring a date and I couldn’t?” Brady asks his brother, you and Taryn rolling your eyes.

“Because the girls you know wouldn’t be able to pay their way and Y/N has an actual job with an actual income so I wouldn’t have to foot her bill.”

“I thought you did get a plus one and you just had no one to bring?” you yell to them, Taryn trying not to burst out laughing.

“You’re not even Matthew’s girlfriend!” Brady protests, Matthew’s face getting red.

Brady knew that he liked you; the first time the family met you, he had picked up on it right away. Taryn had a feeling something was going on, but she wasn’t about to poke fun at Matthew for it like Brady would.

“I’m a girl who’s a friend which is more than what you have apparently,” you fire back, causing Brady’s face to turn red in return.

“Are you two almost done?: Matthew whines, checking his watch. He was the one in charge of getting the four of you to the wedding, and if you were late, he was definitely getting yelled at for it.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, we need to hurry up. The wedding starts in an hour and it’s a five minute walk down the street and from the sounds of it, your parents haven’t even left either, so you can wait the few seconds it’s going to take us to finish getting ready,” you say, coming out of the bathroom to get your shoes on. As soon as Matthew saw you, he felt himself stop breathing. Any time you were dressed up he got that way. He felt that way when he saw you for every charity event, yet he never told you, he felt that way when you met that night at the bar. Damn, he hated the friend zone.

“Yeah,” Taryn says, following you out and plopping down on the bed beside you to get her shoes on. “What?” Taryn says when her brothers shoot her weird looks, “She said everything, why can’t I just agree with her?”

The four of you make your way down to the lobby of the hotel to start on your way to the wedding venue. It was at a different hotel than the one you were staying at, down the street as you walked through the center of Chicago. You all look great walking down the street as Brady let the way with Taryn by his side. You and Matthew were a few paces behind, your feet already hurting from the shoe that you knew you were going to take off as soon as you got to the reception.

A guy catcalls you, something you just ignore as Matthew yells, “That’s my girlfriend,” at the guy as he pulling you in by the waist, glaring at the guy as you walk by.

All you can do is roll your eyes at both of them. Matthew still wasn’t used to girls being hit on in the streets by guys, so whenever you were out with him, any girl who was hit on in an unwanted manner suddenly was his girlfriend until the man was out of sight.

“Thanks,” you say, Taryn and Brady waiting for you outside the door of the hotel as Matthew drops his arm from your waist, praying that neither of them saw you keep it there longer than he needed to.

“She has a boyfriend, remember,” Brady whispers to his brother as he lets you and Taryn in before them.

“Don’t you think I know that? I would do that for anyone,” Matthew hisses back.

“Do you look as comfortable with them as you did with her?”

“Shut up, Brady.”

“Yeah, shut up, Brady,” Taryn says, causing you to burst out laughing. Taryn was probably your favorite of the three Tkachuks, but you could never tell Matthew that.

“You don’t even know what we were talking about?” Brady says, confused.

“I don’t have to know to tell you to shut up.”

“If any of you kill each other, it’s not my fault,” you say, grabbing Matthew and going to find seats.

Brady and Taryn follow each other, his parents finding you not long after. They still didn’t know you very well other than as Matthew’s ‘best friend that isn’t a hockey player.’ You sit with them through the wedding, your leg shaking for no reason other than the fact that you’ve always had a hard time staying still. Matthew lays his hand on your thigh to try to calm you down, which worked a little, only for you to start shaking the other leg.

“Can you stop?” Matthew whispers to you, a smile on his face and his hand still on your thigh. You can feel his dad looking at the scene unfolding, his eyebrow raised like he does whenever Matthew does something that catches his eye.

“Physically, no. You should know that by now,” you whisper back, Brady shushing you so he can pretend to listen to what was going on.

You sit through the rest of the wedding, not noticing that Matthew’s hand is still on your thigh. He knew he had it there, though. His entire family say it there. Matthew couldn’t focus on what was being said in front of him as Isabella got married to whoever the hell Oliver was in her life. You had a boyfriend. Nick was still in the picture. You two had just celebrated your two year anniversary a little while ago, which means that you and Matthew had met a little over two years ago, too. He was well aware of when it was, but to you, it seemed like it didn’t matter. The last two years made it feel like you had known him forever, so who cared?

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” whoever was giving the wedding said, everyone around you cheering as you stood up and Matthew finally took his hand off your thigh to clap along with everyone else.

“Is it bad that the only thing that I really want from this wedding is the open bar?” Matthew leans over to you, praying that his parents don’t hear him because they’ll scold him for it.

“No, because that is exactly where I will be for the night,” you say as everyone starts heading to the room where the reception is.

“So, wait, you haven’t talked about you and Nick in a while. How are things going with that? He’s alright with you coming as my date to this, right?” Matthew says, leaning against the bar.

“Uh, he thinks that I’m visiting Ashley in Winnipeg,” you say, hating that you admit that you were lying to your boyfriend about where you were this weekend.

“Why would he think that?” All of Matthew knew this was a bad thing: lately, Nick seemed to be getting upset with you about how much time you had been spending with him in your apartments rather than going out with Nick to a bar every single weekend.

“Because he would get pretty mad at me if I told him that I was with you in another country for a wedding.”

“You didn’t have to come with me if you didn’t want to. You know that I don’t want you to feel like you have to come with me to stuff, especially if it’s going to cause problems with you and Nick,” he says, not making eye contact with you.

“He’s not allowed to tell me that I can’t be friends with you. If he has an issue with it, then he needs to say something about it,” you say as the bartender comes over to you and takes your drink order.

“But then why did you lie?”

“I didn’t want to come to the wedding just going through a breakup, because he would a hundred percent dump me if I told him I was with you right now.”

“Y/N/N. If he’s like that then why don’t you just dump him? I mean, you’re amazing. But a guy shouldn’t have to control who you spend time with in order to see that,” he says, his hand finding your arm.

“Aw, I love you, Matty,” you tell him, putting your hand on his. The bartender comes back with your drink, you taking it and turning towards the rest of the wedding, “I’m going to go get food. I’ll see you at the table?”

Matthew nods, watching you walk away. The bartender, doing the same thing says, “You’re a lucky man,”

“Sorry?”

“To have someone like her as a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no. She’s just my friend.”

Ice cream? Check. No romance movies in sight? Check. A big bottle of wine that you were planning on drinking without a glass? Check. Snuggled in your favorite hoodie that you may or may not have stolen from Matthew? Check.

You turn on Dead Poets Society, the only movie you can think of that doesn’t have more than ten minutes of romance so that you don’t start crying over the fact that you just dumped Nick a little over a week ago, even though it had been coming for a long time. You came back from the wedding with Matthew to find that Nick had been following your location on Snapchat and saw that you were in the States and not in Winnipeg. You got into a huge fight, ending it by screaming, “I would rather be with Matthew than with you, so we’re done,” and you storming out of his place and driving back to yours sobbing. The only person you had told so far was Matthew, and you were still, for some reason upset about it. Probably because you wasted more than two years of your life on the wrong person when you could have been with the one your friends told you to be with the entire time.

Robin Williams is having his students recite lines of poetry and then kick the ball as hard as they can when a picture of you and Matthew being slightly drunk idiots at the wedding pops up on your phone.

“What?” you answer, angry that your sad-fest was being interrupted by him.

“You’re too pretty to be sitting at home alone and single on a Saturday night. I’m coming over in twenty minutes with a pizza and the two of us are going out,” he says on the other end, hanging up before you can say otherwise. You did say you would rather spend your time with Matthew instead of Nick, so why not start now?

But that didn’t mean you were going to be moving from the couch until he came, it was early enough that you didn’t need to start getting ready until after you ate.

On cue, Matthew starts banging on your door, yelling for you to let him in. “You can’t wear my sweatshirt out tonight,” he says, walking past you and plopping down on the couch.

“I’m getting dressed after we eat, calm down,” you say, taking a piece of pizza and shoving it in your mouth.

“Hey, I know you’re upset, which is why we’re going out tonight to get your mind off him Plus, one, he was a jackass, two, he was controlling, and three, it’s my fault anyway,” Matthew says, his eyes not leaving the pizza.

“How is it your fault?”

He looks at you, his curls moving slightly as he turned his head faster than you were expecting, “You were fighting because you were lying about spending time with me, and I’m the one who encouraged you to be with him in the first place. And I have been kicking myself for that every day since,” the last part he mutters under his breathe, you not even catching that he said it.

“I should have broke it off with him when he started getting mad about who I was spending time with. He was never mad about me spending time with Ashley, he just didn’t want me spending time with you. He was jealous of you.”

“Me? Why?” His heart was racing. Guys maybe dumb on the outside, but they know when another guy is into their girl, even if they don’t act on it.

“He always thought that you liked me, or something,” you say, laughing as you bight into the pizza. Maybe a part of you always liked him, too. You finish the piece, taking another one to bring to your room so you can start getting ready. “I’ll be back in like twenty minutes? Do I need to put on makeup, do you think?”

“How much do you care and how long will it take?”

“Not enough and too long.”

“Then no.”

“Sweet,” you say, going to your room with the pizza hanging out of your mouth. You get ready in what was probably record time, throwing on a crop top and jeans, your hair in a ponytail and just putting on mascara instead of doing a full face of makeup. “I need another piece before we go get drunk,” you tell him, throwing your bag down and taking another piece.

“I was planning on finishing this entire thing and then leaving, so hurry up, there are two more pieces.”

“One for you, one for me?” you suggest, reaching for the piece. You were already feeling better, seeing that he put away the ice cream for you, leaving the bottle of wine out in case you wanted to drink it, even though he had already been drinking from the bottle while you were getting ready. None of you cared, you just knew that it meant he would be buying you a drink tonight.

You both down the pizza, bringing the box with you on the way down to the Uber, excited to go out and just forget about Nick. “Where are we going?” you ask Matthew. He ordered the Uber, only telling you that it was somewhere you had been before.

“It’s only fitting that we go back to the last bar you went to as a single woman now that you are, again, a single woman,” Matthew says, getting you out of the car in front of the bar you met at. You can’t help at how excited he was to be there, you actually hadn’t been to that bar since that night you met Matthew. The two of you beeline to the bar, Matthew ordering you a drink.

“So, this is going on your tab since you drank my wine, right?” you say, him rolling his eyes at you.

“That bottle was so big, there was no way could have noticed that!” he let’s out.

“Don’t mess with a girl and her wine.”

He rolls his eyes again, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your head. “You’re gonna make some guy really lucky,” he laughs, as you smile and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here’s for you,” the bartender says, coming back with two drinks and handing the first one to Matthew, “and here’s for your girlfriend?”

“Nah, just a friend,” he says, smiling at you as you playfully shove him. ‘Friends for now,’ he thinks to himself.

+one

Thank god he gave you his debut card or else this would not be an order you could afford on your own. Plus, it was his family that was flying in; when he met your family, you paid for the baked goods. His family was just bigger and more anxious so come see him since he was spending the summer here in Calgary with you instead of at home with them like he normally does.

“Hi, sweetie,” one of the older ladies who works at the bakery says when she sees you waiting, “Your usual for you and Matthew?”

Part of you hated that you had a usual order there, but the other part of you simply didn’t care that you frequented a local business enough that they know you. “Not today, actually. Matthew called in an order earlier in the week for pick up? It should be under his name.”

She goes into the back where they keep the orders, “Tkachuk?” she calls out, as you reach to take the order.

As your hand reaches to get the box, someone else goes for it, too. “Oh, sorry!” you say before seeing who it is. “Mr. Tkachuk, how are you?”

“Hi, Y/N, how are you doing? And come on, I’ve told you to call me Keith,” Matthew’s dad insists.

“I’m good, uh, Keith, I’m actually picking up this stuff for you guys tonight,” you say, gesturing to the large boxes of pastries Matthew had apparently ordered. You had no idea what he got, but all you know is if he didn’t have the lemon meringue mini pie that you loved, you were throwing hands. The other thing you knew was that Matthew’s parents and siblings were in Calgary to meet his new girlfriend. They knew he had been dating her for a while, that she lived with him, and that they already knew her. They didn’t know you were her.

“And here I am ordering stuff Chantal insisted we bring for you guys tonight. I know what Matthew loves, but what about his girlfriend, do you know her? What does she like?” he asks, squinting at the hand-written over head menu.

“Uh, yeah, I know her pretty well. She loves the lemon meringue mini pies. It’s kind of a coin toss as to whether or not Matthew remembers to order them for her.”

“That boy,” Keith says, shaking his head, “Guess he’s not going to be with this girl for that long if he can’t even think enough to get something she loves.”

You feel yourself not breathing at what he just said. Shit. Does he mean that Matthew doesn’t care enough about you to remember something as simple as a dessert that you like or that you would get fed up with it and end up breaking up with him. “Um, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you say, trying to stop your voice from shaking. You’ve met his family plenty of times; but them not knowing you were officially dating was keeping you on the edge.

“Are you walking over to Matthew’s place or did you drive?” Keith says, not taking his eyes off of the case full of desserts.

“I walked, but I still have some other stuff to pick up while Matthew gets dinner finished,” you tell him, trying to inch your way towards the door without seeming overly rude.

“Alright then, we’ll see you at Matthew’s,” Keith says, still not looking up. Thank god, because the amount you were probably sweating would have been a little suspicious.

On your way out, you call Matthew. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” he says on the other end, the sound of pans clattering in the background. “Ah, fuck.”

“What did you drop?” you say, knowing him well enough.

“One of the pans, what else did it sound like?” he says.

“Was there food in it?” you ask. Nothing but silence from his end for a solid five seconds before you start, “What do I need to pick up on my way home now?”

“More sweet potatoes,” he says in a small voice, “Oh, and more Brussel sprouts.”

“You dropped both?” you say, going into the grocery store, arms already dull of the pastries. You really didn’t think this through with the walking and how much you were going to have to carry.

“No, I just already ate most of the sprouts and my mom said she was looking forward to them.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. A tough guy on the ice, but dear lord was he a child when it came to so much else. “Your dad didn’t mention anything about that when I saw him.”

“When did you see him?” he asks, another thing hitting the floor in the background, “Fuck! Can you get more cinnamon, too?”

“Ok, babe, you need to close things after you’re done with them so if they fall on the floor they don’t spill everywhere. And I just ran into him at the bakery, they should be on their way soon,” you tell him, picking out the vegetables he wanted.

“Good, my mom can help me clean then,” he lets out. “But what did my dad say, he normally puts his foot in his mouth without trying to.”

“Well, he asked me what your girlfriend would want for dessert and then said that if you can’t remember to get her what she likes then the relationship would be ending sooner rather than later.”

“Hey, that was one time I forgot to get you a lemon meringue pie and that was because I went when you were literally on the way to the airport for that conference,” he defends himself, making you laugh again. You probably looked like a maniac since you had your AirPods in with your hair covering your ears, but this was probably a normal scene in today’s society anyway. “But, hey, you’ve moved in already. I’m in this for the long haul, buttercup.”

You can’t help but smile when he says that as you try to check out by balancing the desserts in one hand while trying to find your wallet with the other. “Buttercup? There’s a whole world of pet names and NHL tough guy Matthew Tkachuk chooses ‘buttercup?’”

“Fine, then your nickname is...” he hesitates, “Garlic Powder.”

On your way back home, you stop out of shock from what he just said, “You really just opened the cabinet above the stove and called me the first thing you saw, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he says, again in a small voice. In the background, you can hear someone trying to get in to come up to us, hopefully, his family. “The rest of the Tkachuks are here, how far away are you?”

“I’m a block away, so I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He hangs up, leaving you to walk back the rest of the way with just your thoughts. He’s in this for the long haul, but a father knows his son. On the other hand, it’s not like he pulls stuff like that all the time; that really was just one time and he’s made up for it in more ways than one.

You get to your building, mentally cursing the fact that you didn’t ask him to have someone wait to help you bring the stuff up. Trying to balance everything was going to end worse than Matthew in the kitchen, but he insisted on cooking for his family as you finally told them you were dating.

“Hi!” you say, struggling to open the door as Brady rushes to you and starts taking the boxes from you. “Thanks, Brady.”

“We thought you would be the girlfriend,” he admits, following you into the kitchen where Matthew is with his mom, still cleaning up the cinnamon from the floor.

“Don’t worry, you already know her.”

“Oh, really?” Brady questions. Matthew had been keeping his girlfriend a secret for a while, but he had his suspicions as to who it was for a while regardless.

“Dinner’s ready!” Chantal calls, her and Matthew bringing the food from the kitchen over to the table.

“I guess we’re having the sweet potatoes another time?” you ask Matthew, a little annoyed that you had to make the extra trip.

“They brought some with them and they’re in the oven now? As soon as they came in my mom goes, ‘You always knock something over, so we figured we’d bring vegetables with us.’ Taryn couldn’t keep a straight face,” Matthew says, visibly upset by this.

You roll your eyes and bring him in for a hug, his entire family out of sight as he kisses you on the top of your head. “They just know you well.” You steal a quick kiss, him following you over to the table where his family is already helping themselves to the food he had made.

“So, where is this girlfriend of yours?” Keith asks, eying both of you. It’s very possible they already knew you were dating; there were six places set and they probably figured out that you were staying for dinner.

“Well, Y/N is my girlfriend, now.” Matthew says, bringing you in for a side hug.

“I thought you were dating at the wedding?” Keith asks, “You had your hand on her leg the entire time, and it was pretty obvious something was going on.”

“Uh, no, that was a year ago, we’ve been together for about eight months now?” you say, looking at him. He shrugged it off, wanting to pretend that he had no idea. But he knew it was eight months, two weeks and a day since he asked you to be his girlfriend.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #noah hanifin #brady tkachuk #both of them are mentioned so leave me alone #who actually reads my tags anyway?

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 3 years

Text

I Loved Him... Once - CH 1

Title: I Loved Him... Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Spencer:

“What we have done for ourselves alone, dies with us. What we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” - Albert Pike

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fourteen days, fourteen days, fourteen glorious days!”

Spencer barely looked up from the book he was reading, sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair as Derek Morgan sashayed across the bullpen and perched himself on the corner smiling down at him.

He opted to ignore the over the top, ray of sunshine, mood Derek was in, and flipped the page of his book. Derek was not giving in, he was not going to be ignored when he was in such a good mood, so he swiftly swooped his hand and stole Spencer's book, eliciting a whine of protest as he sat forward and reached for it. Though he didn't make any more effort than that, he knew very well there was no way he would be able to get the book back from Derek through force.

“Come on, Morgan, give it back.”

Derek laughed, his eyes shining with mirth as he kept playing keep away with Spencer, “You really want it back that bad?”

“Yes, actually, it was just starting to get good!” He made another jolt forward to reach for the book but it was in vain. Spencer’s brain might be fast, but Derek Morgan's reflexes were always faster.

“Really, kid, you're reading…” He turned the book over and eyed the title with a raised brow, “‘The Art of War’. You planning on taking someone down, Reid?” Spencer just eyed him as he closed the book and tucked it under his crossed arms, knowing full well that the genius would remember not only the page number he had been on before Derek closed the book, but the exact word he had read last. “Now, like I said before, we have fourteen, I repeat, fourteen glorious days of vacation starting right now. And you're telling me that your only plans are to sit here at your desk, at work, and continue reading ‘The Art of War’ instead of going out and doing something, anything, other than that?”

“It never hurts to educate yourself, Morgan, and yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you,” he replied, a little short, then tried once more to swipe unsuccessfully for his book, “now give me back my book.”

“Good god, man, live a little, you're killing me.” Derek stood and moved the book even further out of Spencer's reach, so he just huffed and sat back in his chair again. “You don't have any plans? No dates? No trips to exotic lands to meet fine exotic ladies?”

“When have you ever known me to ever have plans? Or dates for that matter. It's not like girls are exactly lining up to date the lanky, boy genius.”

“Oh you're much more than that, pretty boy, you know that.” Morgan perched himself on the side of his desk again.

“Not to mention the fact that seeing this in a bathing suit on a beach full of, more than likely, gorgeous people, is not something that is on anyone's bucket list, I'm positive of that. I'm so white I'd probably end up blinding half the beach with my legs alone.”

Derek was laughing, near tears at this point, “Oh, come on kid, it can't be that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” Spencer was slightly laughing at this point too, “I went to a pool party once in university and I was asked to put my shirt back on because the light was reflecting off my skin and ‘hurting people's eyes’... Derek, it was ten at night. My skin was reflecting the pool lights so severely it was hurting people.”

Derek barked out a laugh so hard he nearly fell off the table and Spencer couldn't help but join him. “So you just need a little bit of sun, cancel out some of the white. Why not come with me to Barbados? Little sand, little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun.” He shot a quick wink at Spencer who just scoffed and looked away. “Give me two days with you on the beach and I guarantee I could get you a couple shades darker, at least.”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded, smirking, “as well as skin cancer.”

“I promise I won't let you get skin cancer, but that being said, once we get you all sunkissed and confident, I can't promise I'll be able to keep all those fine ladies off of you.”

“You're not making this sound any better. Skin cancer, STD’s, and multitudes of random women hanging off of me, no thank you.”

“Well, if you don't want to be swarmed by the fine exotic women,” he paused, smirking down at a waiting Spencer, “I'm sure I can help you land some handsome exotic men, then. I'm not here to judge. More women for me.”

Spencer reached to the side and grabbed the small pile of papers that were sitting there, and swiftly smacked Derek on the arm with them, “Get off my desk.”

“That doesn't sound like a denial,” he ducked as he was swatted at again, “come with me and I promise you'll have a good time.”

“Go!”

Derek chuckled once more, before ducking under his own desk to grab his bag, then turned back to toss the book back to Spencer who barely caught it, “My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow night, think about it!”

“I don't need to, I'm not going!”

“Think about it!”

“What's the point anyways!?” He called as Derek was almost out of ear shot, but he continued anyways, “When has vacation ever worked out for us? I'd buy a ticket and pay for a room, and realistically we'll probably end up right back here in two days, four tops!”

Derek was gone by this point, not having heard most of what he had said, more than likely already knowing that this was probably their reality, but not wanting to have to accept it. Though his complaints didn't fall on deaf ears.

“Oh, now you've gone and jinxed it. Just know that if our vacation gets cancelled due to a case, I am definitely coming after you first, Reid.”

He gazed up at Emily over the edge of his book, having indeed remembered the exact word he had left off on when it was stolen from him, and gave her a playful smirk. “I am only stating statistics. If you factor in every vacation we have had since we started here at the BAU, the odds that we will have a full, uninterrupted ‘fourteen glorious days’ as Morgan put it, are less than ten percent. Eight point five-six-three-two percent to be exact.”

“God I hate you sometimes,” though she laughed as she said it, “so you really don't have any plans?”

“I never said I didn't have any plans,” he sighed and closed his book on his desk, resigned to not getting any reading done until everyone was gone, “just because I don't have plans involving a hot beach or women, doesn't mean I don't have plans.”

“Oh!” She perked up and moved closer, intrigued. “So what kinds of fun are you up to then?”

“Oh, loads!” He shifted in his chair, moving to lean towards her with his elbows on his desk. “I'm signed up for a lecture series that starts tomorrow, but the one I'm most excited for is a lecture called ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid. It's a Nobel lecture all about possible engineering applications for, and the inner workings of, organic and conductive polymers. It sounds completely fascinating! I was also thinking of taking a trip to Colonial Williamsburg. I mean, how amazing would it be to walk the same streets as Thomas Jefferson, or eat in the same place as George Washington! I was also thinking of visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. They have over twenty- two thousand works on display that are largely focused on modern and contemporary art, especially with a focus on European art after the nineteen hundreds. They are also having a workshop there next week focusing on-”

“Woah, woah, take a breath,” she laughed a bit, then asked with a hint of concern, “aren't you doing anything that doesn't involve… learning? Like, no info intake, no lecture series, no workshops, just relaxing? Letting your brain just take a break?”

Spencer pouted his bottom lip in thought then looked back up to Emily, “No? Why would I want to waste two weeks doing nothing when I could spend them increasing my knowledge?”

“Wouldn't you want to sit back and…” She stared confusedly at an equally confused Spencer, then just shook her head with another laugh, “Nevermind, look who I’m talking to. Of course you would think that spending two weeks learning would be an ideal vacation. To each their own I guess, right.”

He just nodded, picking his book up again as she moved away from his desk.

“Well, have fun with your jam packed knowledge filled two weeks, see you in fourteen days.”

“Or in two to four days. Don't forget the eight point five-six-three-two percent chance that I will see you before-”

“Blah, blah, blah!” She covered her ears as she walked away from him, “Can't hear you, already on vacation!”

“Very mature,” though he was smiling, “have fun with your mother.”

She threw a quick wave at him then disappeared. When she was finally gone, he sat back in his chair with a content sigh. Now that Emily was gone, it was just himself, Rossi, and Hotch who were left in the office, and he knew there was a very low chance that either of them would interrupt him to inquire about his vacation plans. He was finally able to finish his book in peace before catching the last train home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Knock, knock.”

Aaron looked up from where he had been bent over the front of his desk, the pile of papers he had been sorting through covering every inch of it, and towards the door. “David, come in.”

The man did, eyeing the mess, but merely stood in the middle of the room and tucked his hands into the pockets of his very expensive suit. “Always one of the last to leave, huh?”

“Has everyone gone?” Aaron asked without looking up this time.

“Everyone except the usual suspect.”

“Reid.” Aaron sighed. ‘Not last to leave,’ he thought. Spencer always seemed to still be there, even in the late late hours of the night. After a case, before vacation, even sometimes during vacation. Aaron always felt bad for the man, worried that he was lonely, though nowadays he could relate.

“I overheard him talking with Emily and Derek before they left. His most exciting plans seem to have something to do with a Nobel lecture series,” Rossi moved closer, taking up the chair in front of Aaron’s desk, “that kid needs to learn how to slow down and relax, I'm worried he might burn out someday if he doesn't. He should go out, have some fun from time to time.”

“Well I'm not much better,” Aaron turned, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, now facing David, “my plans for the next two weeks pretty much consist of staying home, catching up on more paperwork, and if I can swing it with Haley, taking Jack for a few days. If I play my cards right, the park will be the most exciting adventure of my vacation. I'm not exactly going out to paint the town red either.”

“Yeah, you two are wild,” he drawled with a smirk, “you know, maybe a date would do the kid well. Loosen him up a bit.”

Aaron eyed him warily with a tilt of his head, seeing right through his attempted ruse, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps, while you both have the time off, you and Spencer could plan something together.” Aaron closed his eyes with a sigh and shifted, opened his mouth to say something in protest, but David beat him to it, hands up to stop him. “I'm just saying, you're the only two people on the team that aren't out of town for the next two weeks. I’ll be in Italy visiting family, JJ is taking her family camping, Prentis is visiting her mom, Garcia is, quote, ‘on a shopping tour of all the best malls in the northern hemisphere’, and Morgan is hitting the beach in Barbados. That leaves you and Reid. So all I'm saying is that maybe you can stop fantasizing about the kid and actually do something about your infatuation.”

Aaron just gaped at his friend, shocked, speechless for the first time in as long as he can remember. “I… how…” Was the only thing he was able to manage to stutter out.

David just smiled up at him mischievously and stated, “I'm a profiler, Aaron, and a damn good one. I've seen the way you look at Spencer, the way you stick close to him, and it's very obvious you care about him. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, yet ironically the only one to not have figured it out yet is the only actual certified genius.”

Aaron still didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone about how he felt about Spencer. It was hardly appropriate for him to attempt to pursue the man considering he was his superior, not to mention older than him. Something that had plagued him since the very day he met the cute, quirky doctor on his first day with the BAU.

“I can tell you're over-thinking, Aaron.” Rossi speaking brought him out of his small internal panic and he looked down at him. “What is it? That you're his boss? Strauss?”

He shifted, crossing his arms impossibly closer to his chest. No point in denying it now. “A bit of both, I guess. Not to mention the age difference between us.”

“First off, I wouldn't worry about Strauss. If anything were to happen between you and Spencer, as long as you navigate the correct channels and immediately disclose your relationship, sign the proper papers, then there is nothing Strauss can do against either of you or your jobs. As for you being his superior, I wouldn't even give that a second thought. No one on our team would think anything of it, no one would ever even entertain the thought that you took advantage, and neither would Spencer.” David then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “And the age gap, who cares. Love, is love, is love. Take it while you've got it and don't ever let it go. Age is but a number and love knows no bounds.”

“Very profound of you, David.” He couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip.

“What can I say, I am the embodiment of love.”

“Right, and is that why you've been married three times and are on wife number four?”

They both laughed, hearty and full, and for the first time since they started talking, Aaron found himself feeling a lot lighter. It was nice to finally have someone who knew his secret feelings for the young genius, and be able to actually have someone to talk to and confide in about it.

Rossi's phone ringing broke the moment though, and he reached into his pocket, just looking at the screen and not answering. “Well, my ride to the airport is here. I will see you in two weeks, do not call me.”

Aaron let loose one last light chuckle, moving along with Dave to see him out. With a smile and a pat on the back as they reached the door he said, “I'll try not to, enjoy your time in Italy.”

“Oh I intend to,” he opened the door, then turned back at the last minute, “but do me a favor will ya. Don't call me, but do call Spencer.”

Aaron just smiled, gave Dave a small push out the door, and answered, “Good bye, David.”

Once he was out the door and down the stairs, Aaron closed the door and took a step to the side to watch him cross the bullpen. He gave a quick goodbye to Spencer as he passed, and then he was gone. Then his eyes wandered over to the last person left besides himself, still sitting alone at his desk, leaned back reading his book. He sighed, watching Spencer for a moment longer before thinking to himself, maybe David was right. Why should he worry about all that other nonsense? Besides, he would never know if Spencer felt the same unless he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaron finally finished organizing the paperwork explosion on his desk, filing away what was finished and adding the rest to his bag, then was finally able to head out.

It had been a good two hours since Rossi had left his office, leaving Aaron with all kinds of things to think about, and the man that those thoughts were all about was still sitting in the same spot he had been in since vacation officially began. Though now, Spencer was already halfway through his second book.

As he passed him, the younger man not even so much as lifting his eyes from his book, he said a quiet, “Have a good vacation, Reid.”

“You too, Hotch,” he answered back, and Aaron just about kept walking, but stopped himself at the last minute and turned back.

They were currently alone, no one else around but him and Spencer, so now was just as good a time as any. “Reid…”

At the questioning tone to his name, Spencer looked up at Hotch who was now standing right in front of him, “Yeah?”

“I… I was…'' Spencer was still looking up at him with concerned eyes, a furrowed brow, and if Aaron was being honest, a super cute frown. Now, what Aaron wanted to say was ‘Spencer, I know that you and I are the only two who will be remaining in town for the duration of our vacation time, and I was wondering perhaps, if you would like to take advantage of the fact and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’ But what he actually managed to come out with instead, was a sad and defeated, “I… I just wanted to wish you well. I hope you have a good fourteen days, and I heard you will be attending a lecture series, I hope it's informative.”

“Right…” Hotch couldn't be certain, but he was sure that Spencer almost looked… disappointed? “An-anything else?”

“... No, I don't believe so.” And before he could stumble his way through any more embarrassing sentences he quickly said, “Good night,” and left before Spencer could even return the sentiment. Leaving him staring, still confused and a little down, after a fast walking Aaron, not having the courage to even look back as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek woke for the first time well rested and relaxed. No case to solve, no unsub on his mind, no high speed chase down unfamiliar roads, and no showdown with a psychopath in some dark abandoned warehouse. It was just him, the sun, the sand, and two weeks of relaxing and sleeping late, eating more than he probably should and shoving as much fun into two weeks as was completely possible.

Now, those were Derek's original plans. The plans he made before he left Quantico, Virginia for the beaches in Barbados. For the all night parties, the beautiful ladies, and the all inclusive never ending free drinks. And yet, here he found himself, within arm's reach of all those things, and not doing a single one of them.

Instead, Derek walked down the beach and found an empty lounge chair tucked under a very colourful umbrella. A sprite and lime with ice in hand, he stood and looked out at the calming ebb and flow of the ocean, letting the soft crashing of the waves take over and clear his mind completely. It was nice, the best he'd felt in a long, long time.

A volleyball skid to a halt at his feet, covering his toes in warm sand, caught his attention and he turned to face the small group of women off to his side. He kicked the ball back over to them, each one of them very obviously interested in getting to know Derek, even if it were just for one night. But to his own surprise, he found himself flashing a smile and a wave in decline of their invitation to come play, and instead took up his seat in the covered lounge chair.

He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, took a sip of his drink, then reached down to the small bag he had tucked under the chair, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He settled back in the chair, not able to help the smile that spread across his face as he read the title of the book in his hands, 'The Art of War', and settled back to read it with a quietly muttered, "Damn you, Spencer Reid."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there is chapter 1, chapter 2 to come soon! I’m super excited about this guys XD

And if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please let me know <3

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

Text

Take It Back (Chapter 26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Take It Back Full Masterpage |

Boys workin' on empty Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Paris, France

She was a sight to behold - a silver tweed dress that fell just above the knees, accompanied by black six-inch heels with red soles; Louboutins.

Her long hair cascaded down her exposed back as she threw her head back in a gorgeous sounding laugh that had all the men around ogling her.

She held a tight grip on the vanilla flavored champagne, the other hand holding onto the clutch that carried her spare euros and a MAC matte red lipstick.

A particular brunette man had his hand on her lower back as she reached over to put her glass down, his wide smile mimicking hers.

Where his black suit hugged his male-model physique, her tan legs ran for days passed the edges of her dress and into her shoes- toned and appearing worked out to perfection.

At least that’s what the envious woman around her thought. Especially little blonde Kelly Sanders who eyed her from across the banquet floor, in a Valentino and all.

Little did they - Kelly especially - know that she was genetically lucky. Not having to go a day to the gym, she’d been blessed with curves in the right spots, a decent speed metabolism, and imperfections that were constantly overlooked, but to Ashlyn were bluntly obvious.

Not that she wanted people to see her imperfections or for them to vocally state their awareness about it - she had enough of that to deal with from her nagging self because of her extremely low self-confidence - but, sometimes, she wondered if the love the people around her showed her was really genuine.

She knew Tony’s wasn’t.

The only genuine thing in her life right now was Bucky, and she was ruining it because she thought she had been doing them a favor. Anything that once had a potential to be good in her life had been jeopardized by her, and she had spent the last five years trying to make up for it.

She’d do anything for her husband.

When you had turned to her in the train that one day many years ago, and brought up Kelly and her boyfriend and how they had gotten engaged after only five months of dating, any doubt she had about moving too quickly with Bucky had left her mind.

There was no doubt in her mind that what she had with him was rare and true love.

When she had seen his perfect blue eyes for the first time and the way he had reached out to flick a snowflake off of her hair, she had been caught in a trance.

It was like something out of a movie and her heart had fluttered when he gave her that iconic smile.

The smile that would soon belong to the man she’d end up marrying.

She knew who he was when she met him, but she had lied and pretended like she didn’t know. She was afraid of coming clean after so many months, afraid that it would make it look like she did it out of using him, when the truth was that she didn’t want him to think that his reputation was why she wanted to be with him in the first place.

They had swapped numbers after their first encounter, and she fell in love with him after two weeks, and she was certain he felt the same way.

Even you saw it; that un-denying chemistry.

Bucky was sweet, he was kind, and he was everything she had been waiting for since her parents had died.

After their death, she had felt more alone than ever.

She had already faced bipolar and other emotional issues before their death, you (her little sister), seeming to be the only light in her life anymore.

She knew there was times where she felt like she did things that didn’t make sense, or say things that didn’t make any sense either.

She would most often than not, realize it too late, but she knew.

She did it because of herself. She felt worthless and she felt like she deserved every consequence that was handed her way. She didn’t know why- maybe it was whatever unbalanced chemicals that were being produced in her brain that made her feel a certain way about herself.

Since a child, she never really found her true herself or who she was.

She was never certain about her identity, to begin with.

She didn’t help her mother cook in the kitchen like you did, and she never fit into any clique at school. She’d ditch going out on Friday nights to instead help you with your homework or your hair and makeup so you could go out and meet your friends.

Her senior year she had ditched the cafeteria and resorted to eating her lunch in the bathroom stall, the loneliness and the fear of being alone forever engulfing her.

The echoes of the footsteps in the bathroom from her classmates as she chewed her peanut butter and jelly sandwich - swallowed down by a gulp of chocolate milk - were her lullabies.

Not too long after, she was diagnosed with bipolar and depression by age nineteen, making sure she was keeping it from everyone around her.

The last thing she wanted was to be treated the way she viewed herself.

The reason people were distant wasn’t because she was bullied or because people thought she was weird, she just didn’t know who exactly she was.

She didn’t know who she was until Bucky Barnes showed it to her.

He saved her in many more ways than she could ever say, and she goddamn loved him for it. He was her saving grace, and his presence reminded her just how much she needed to take care after you.

After your parent’s death she had become distant again, her depression was worst and she took it out on you, by no fault of her own.

When Bucky came into the picture, and he had upped her spirits in surprising ways that made her unbelievably happy, it was like a fog was cleared from her eyes and she was reminded that she had to take care of you.

It happened all because of him.

Ashlyn loved him with all her heart, but it came with a price.

Because of him, she discovered herself, and what she liked was material things and doing things for her husband, that in the long run, would benefit him [them].

Everything that she had transformed herself to become, which was now making her happier than ever, she had done it because of and for him.

And now that she’d been doing better mentally, after taking many drugs and lots of therapy, she found herself falling into the arms of another man.

When Mr. Barnes had taken her aside after their first interview, he had looked at her a certain way that made her tummy turn in uncertainty.

She had trembled slightly in apprehension as she saw a familiar form in his hand.

Resting his leg on his desk, his eyes darkened but remained on her.

It wasn’t to deny, Mr. Barnes had been a beautiful man (a silver fox in all ways), but he had made her feel uneasy with the way he stared at her ass when she had greeted her son earlier in the lobby.

The interview had gone well until she saw in his right hand a piece of paper that would either make or break it all.

“You didn’t have to keep this from us. Not me, especially my son, as I’m assuming he doesn’t know. Is there a reason why you chose to not mention this?”

He took Ashlyn’s silence as his answer and makes a sound of understanding.

“Why,” he taps the papers against his legs and walks around to sit in his big chair behind his desk, “did you keep your medical records a secret?”

Ashlyn swallowed nervously, her mouth opening but no sound coming out.

“Did you think this would stop me from hiring you?” Mr. Barnes wasn’t yelling, but his voice was strong. When she doesn’t say anything, he leans over his desk, drops the paper down, and with crossed hands continues, “look, you’re a sweet girl. And I see a lot of potential in you. You have good qualities, you stick up for what you want regardless of if it’s right or wrong-“

She couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry, you got that from a fifteen-minute interview?” Ashlyn chuckles nervously.

Mr. Barnes smiles.

“Trust me, I have good instinct. Anyway, am I wrong?” When Ashlyn doesn’t respond, Mr. Barnes smirks, eyes drifting once more to her gorgeous legs, “bipolar, depression, anxiety, personality disorder, a manic episode-“ Ashlyn flinches with each word thrown at her, she feels it eating away at her bones and most importantly - her dignity. He notices and his eyes soften, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Many famous businessmen, celebrities, big figure names—suffer from the same illnesses. It doesn’t make you any less human or capable.”

A breath of relief escapes her lungs.

Ashlyn nodded.

He smirked.

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

She had followed him out to the large window and stood there next to her for a few minutes before continuing.

“You see this?” Ashlyn followed his gaze out into the city, the hundreds of people walking below in the streets, the famous buildings hanging high in the skies like goddamn trophies, “Barnes Enterprises owns about seventy five percent of everything you’re seeing. From the Hudson to the bay-“ He turned slowly to Ashlyn and examined her face, “I see the way your eyes shine when you look at it.”

Ashlyn swallows as her eyes drift down, “It’s all really nice. Everything he’s done for me so far, it’s almost like he knows exactly what I need. It’s like he’s cured me.” She trembled slightly under his heavy gaze and as his finger played with a strand of her that was on her shoulder.

“And what is it that you need?”

Ashlyn thought about it- really thought about it. The answer was simple, and it wasn’t one that she had ever expected to be the answer to all her issues. After Bucky had given her the apartment, the job, and now looking at the city, she knew exactly what it was that she wanted.

“Everything.”

Barnes’ bit his bottom lip and nodded, looking once more out the window.

“Perfect. Look I think you’ll be perfect for this job more than you think. If anything I’m going to want your help, but it’s something that can only stay between us. It will make you happy and it will help you.” “Of course, anything.”

Mr. Barnes sighed.

“Look, Bucky’s a great kid, as I’m sure you know. But he’s got some weaknesses. He thinks too much with his heart. I’m going to want you to work under my eye, and there are certain tasks you might have to do that at first won’t make sense to you, but in the long run you will see it pay off. That is, if I choose you to stay.”

His words at first had surprised her. Bucky’s own father wanted Ashlyn to keep a secret from him. She loved Bucky and she loved the things he was doing for her.

“It will help me?” Her voice shook with uncertainty.

“Yes.”

It was on their trip to Paris that it had happened.

It was a simple assistant job, follow Mr. Barnes around like a fucking chihuahua taking his calls, making sure everything was in order, keeping appointments, etc.

She made sure that all his emails were read and she read lines with him on what he had to say to Tony at their meeting the following night.

Everything was all set until it was time for her to go to her own hotel room when Mr. Barnes stopped her.

She spun around with a small frown and asked if there was something she had missed. He simply shook his head and beckoned her with his finger to walk over to him.

She hesitated for a moment until those familiar eyes took her in, shivering at how it sent a weird warmth down her body that she didn’t expect.

Somewhere along the way, she’d ended up between his legs. His hands had been on her waist and her own hands in his silver luxurious hair.

He had started with simple kisses around her belly button around the heavy rummaging of his corse hands on her denim were the only sound.

In the back of her head, she had that burning guilt of the reminder of her boyfriend and she pushed him away softly, almost painfully.

“Mr. Barnes, this is wrong.”

“Remember that test I was telling you about? This is it, Ashlyn. If you can do this, you can do anything. And you can have anything you want.”

She wanted to be cured, she wanted to be okay again like when she was a child. She hated her illness, and the only thing that seemed to make her better was what Mr. Barnes was offering her.

He was right. Wasn’t he?

She felt a heavy knot in her throat.

“You can’t tell Bucky.”

“No. Never. That would ruin everything.”

She took in his words and after a few more seconds succumbed to his ‘test’.

She’d gone down on him and she had felt disgusted with herself. When he was finished, she wanted to run out of that room and call Bucky, tell him she loved him.

She was turned away and had wiped her mouth one more time on the back of her hand when that husky voice from behind her started again.

“Have you ever owned a five thousand dollar purse before?”

She had thought that was a weird question, especially after just giving a man a blowjob.

“No.”

“It’d look good on you. I’ll take you tomorrow to get one.”

Her brows furrowed.

“I don’t have five thousand dollars.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

The second he said it everything in her head finally clicked.

Anything she wanted really could be hers.

The first few work ‘trips’ and ‘meetings’ after that night killed her. Her love for Bucky was still so strong and the guilt ate her alive.

But Mr. Barnes promised her that what she was doing would be for him, too. It was good for the both of you, he had said. And Ashlyn believed him.

She had to convince Stark and Pymm for a percentage of their company's proceeds and it was up to her. She hated that she was spending more time away from her boyfriend and she noticed how much it was tearing them apart.

But it was strange because part of her was no longer depressed. She finally felt beautiful and happy, like she was meantfor something.

She felt wanted.

Her happiness soon became bigger than the pain she felt for cheating on Bucky. He still loved her anyway.

He wouldn’t leave her.

Her escapades with Hank had been brief and almost felt pointless.

For the most part, he’d just lay there beneath her like the old man he was and let her ride him until his body jerked.

She’d go back to Barnes’ shower and scrub her skin until it was raw, almost certain that with the way their sex was going it wasn’t going to turn into a good result.

They weren’t going to get the percentage Barnes Enterprises was hoping for.

To say she was surprised when Mr. Barnes told her they’d gotten forty percent of the gross pay, after their disappointing fuck fest, was an understatement.

Maybe she was better than she thought.

Maybe Bucky was right, she really was perfect.

Then she met Tony.

She thought that what she had with Bucky was true love until Tony.

Unfortunately, it was unrequited.

She had been shattered at the thought of what she had allowed her heart to feel and what she had ruined. When Bucky had run out that night to God knows where, she had finally had a taste of her own medicine. And it was fucking bitter.

She needed Bucky in her life. He was her guardian angel.

But she also needed to do it for her health. She couldn’t risk the chance of Bucky finding out about what she had done and and leaving her with nothing.

She was afraid of what would happen to her sanity.

So her and Mr. Barnes came up with a plan. It would not only help salvage the company but it would keep Ashlyn at peace. After all, he’d convinced her that she was mentally stronger at keeping a better financial outcome for the company than Bucky ever would.

His thought process was too logical, hers was more practical.

The moment she promised herself that she would no longer cheat was exactly four years ago, about a year into their marriage.

Her change of heart was mainly because there was no longer a reason for it, she had the money she needed, THEY had it all.

She tried so hard to love him again and to make him love her again.

And one day, it almost seemed like they did.

It almost seemed too good to be true. And now, they had a baby on the way.

This was their second chance.

She thought for many nights of asking Bucky about the one night he ran out on her many years ago. She thought about asking where it was he had ran to, but she knew she couldn’t handle it.

She was thankful he never brought it up again.

For a while, everything seemed great.

Until you showed up again, the so-called light of her life.

It was like Bucky’s switch flipped and it had been how it used to be five years ago.

And that’s how she ended up at Steve’s front door.

It didn’t take more than three persistent knocks for the door to swing open.

She was met with Steve’s distraught expression which quickly turned into shock.

“Ashlyn.”

Ashlyn was momentarily stunned as she looked back at the face that she hadn’t seen in years.

“Steve.”

Steve swallowed hard as his eyes darted down her body, his grip on the door tightening.

“What are you doing here?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

Multiple possibilities swam through Steve’s head and a strange fear that he couldn’t place crept up his spine.

He tilted his head.

“I can’t talk right now—“

“Like hell, you can’t, Rogers.”

Ashlyn had moved up until her our hand was on his door, trying to pry it open. He stared up at her, eyes still bloodshot.

“What do you want?” He whispered painfully.

Her eyes were just as pained, “I need to talk to you, please.”

He looked at her for a second longer, contemplating if he would be able to handle another wave of drama after what he had just experienced in his now ex-girlfriend’s hotel room, before finally letting Ashlyn in.

“Please tell me what you were doing with Bucky.”

She says after he has the door closed. She notes the way the muscles in his back tense at her words, the heavy puff of air that escapes his lungs as his fingers flex against the wood of the door.

“Please, Steve. What don’t I know?”

“I-“ his breath catches in his throat as he plays back the image of his best friend and his girl next to a used condom, “You should call him.”

“He’d hiding something isn’t he?” Steve took in a deep breath as he ran a hand down his face, “Please, Ash—“

“Is it business-related, or does it have to do with something else?” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, “You don’t know what I’ve been through, how hard I have tried to salvage our marriage. And just when I thought I had him back, he’s hiding something and I know it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbles as he turns around to make his way to the living room, walking right past Ashlyn with a stern face.

“If you’re sorry you would tell me what you know, you would tell me the real reason you left, you would explain to me-“

“Will you stop?”

His sudden shout shocks both of them. Ashlyn’s breathing hard as she sees the fresh tears sprung his eyes.

“I know it’s hard. It’s fucking hard, I know. But I’m not in the mood right now to be anyone’s psychologist or couples mediator. You want to know everything, why don’t you try communicating with your husband? Why don’t you ask him your damn self, Ashlyn?” He watches as she started to cave into herself, eyes looking away from him in shame.

“I’m afraid.”

It comes out quietly. Steve’s sighs in disappointment - disappointment with himself for the way he snapped at you.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to ask something you secretly don’t want the answer to, and damnit, I feel horrible that I can’t be the one to speak to you about it. It has to be him.”

A few tears run down her face as they both stand there in silence.

Steve’s eyebrows dart up as he sees Ashlyn reach for the buttons of her wool coat, unbuttoning it slowly.

It isn’t until she has it draped over her right arm and she faces him completely -eyes darting towards her belly- that he realizes what she was showing him.

His eyes dart immediately to her stomach. If it wasn’t for her move or for where her gaze was, he wouldn’t have even noticed the small little bump.

He swallows thickly as many emotions course through his body.

“Are you…?” It comes out softly.

She nods.

He was angry at his best friend for doing what he did to his wife - his pregnant wife-, he was confused because did you know about this, and he felt pain for Ashlyn. For the betrayal, she would feel when she found out what Bucky did to her.

He felt pity.

Steve walked over to his couched and motioned for Ashlyn to follow him.

“Please.”

She became timid under his gaze as she brushed a few tears off her face.

“Tell me everything.”

Ashlyn took a deep breath and started from the beginning, but leaving out the inappropriate details that involved Mr. Barnes, Tony, and Hank.

“—I knew we were going through a rough patch, and it was mostly my fault because I was so busy with work, but he shouldn’t have given up on me so easily. I still tried so hard to fight for us, but something was distracting him. I don’t know what, I mean at one point I thought maybe he was even cheating on me- kissing some other girl on the side- but never actually fornicating. He’s too good.”

Steve’s gaze trailed down the side of the couch, his heart grew heavy.

“Right?”

Steve reached over and took Ashlyn’s hand in his, “I’m sorry you’ve both been going through all this. You don’t deserve it. But I can’t tell you what I know.” “Why?” “Because it’s not my place. But you need to talk to him as soon as possible,” Steve ran his hand through his hair, “I can’t stand that son of a bitch right now, but at the end of the day, I can’t get it out of my head that he’s still that same little boy I grew up with. I want to hate him so much, but I still have some kind of respect that I just can’t shake.”

“What happened between both of you, if it doesn’t relate to me? You seem shaken up.”

Steve was caught off guard by her questions.

“Look, I think you should go—“

Steve stood up quickly before the tears could make its way up his throat.

“Steve-“

“Please take care of yourself, Ashlyn.”

“It’s so hard not being able to touch you,” you whimper when you get a chance to pull away from his mouth, “But we can’t. Not until we tell her.”

His fingers continued to trail down your chin and you got lost in his touch again.

“James.”

You whimpered softly. You were hypnotized by his presence as he leaned in to kiss you.

You kissed him back deeply, moaning the second his tongue flicked against yours.

You ran your left hand up through his hair and your leg wrapped around his waist. He groaned as he ground up against you.

“Just once more.” He whimpered into the soft skin of your neck.

“We can’t keep doing this—“ your hands drifted down to the buckle of his belt, “we can’t.”

You continued to open up his fly.

He was panting while he looked down at what you were doing.

“Then stop,” he met your eyes in an intense stare that left you shaking, “I dare you.”

Your only response was to raise yourself higher onto your elbows, grabbing him in a harsh kiss.

“One more time.” You breathed out.

He kissed you again and again.

You shuddered as you felt the tips of his fingers on the waist of your jeans and underwear.

Your kisses began to get heated and you had to physically pull yourself away from him.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” “We’re good people, but look at what we’re doing to the people around us. I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this knowing that they are still hurting.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” “We need to speak to Steve. We need to explain everything. And then Ashlyn needs to know.” You watched as he visibly swallowed hard. You reached for his left hand and played with the ring there, “I can’t keep having sex with you when you’re still married to her.”

“You’re right. No, I agree.”

You’re both sitting next to each other and Bucky reaches over to grab his leather coat when a vibrating sound startles the both of you. Your eyes furrow together as an unknown caller comes up on the screen.

“Hello?” “Why hello to you, too.” “Nat?”

Yours and Bucky’s eyes meet briefly.

“The one and only.”

Nat sits in a coffee shop, and she twirls the edge of her mug with a pointer finger. Across from her is Wanda, her face in her hands.

“How have you been? You cut me off and not even an “I miss you” either?”

You let out a long sigh, guilt consuming you.

“Look, Nat. Its been a hard five years,” your eyes flicker up to Bucky again and he gives you a sad look, “I’m sorry, I do miss you. I missed all of you.”

“Listen, tell Bucky I need to steal you for tonight. He wouldn’t mind now would he?” Nat smirked while Wanda groaned into her hand.

You’re shocked, and you’re quite positive Bucky heard her judging by his equally stunned face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You add in a fake/nervous laugh for extra measure.

“Who do you think sent Barnes after you in the first place?” You don’t answer still shocked, “Tonight, come out to dinner with me and my friend. We have a plan. I’ll text you details.”

She hangs up on you and you're left fazed and confused as you look down at your phone.

“What was that?” Bucky asks concerned.

“Nat wants to meet up with me tonight. She says she has some sort of plan.” “Plan for what?” “I have no idea.”

Bucky nods. He’s just got his shows slipped on when he walks over to you, planting a deep kiss on your swollen lips.

You part them slightly, letting your hand go to the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper into you.

When you both pull away he smiles at you,

“Everything will be fine. You go meet Nat, as I’m sure she misses you just as much as you miss her. I think I’m gonna go to talk to Steve.” “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. Bro to bro.”

Steve knew that by the second time that evening if one more person were to knock crazily on his front door, he would burn his apartment down along with his body.

He was so exhausted he didn’t even care to look through the peephole before ripping it open.

What he was face to face with was the last thing he was expecting.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t hesitate before shutting it closed again in Bucky’s face.

“Come on, man.” Bucky sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He raised his hand and knocked once more, “Please.”

Steve remained silent, back leaned up against his door.

“I know all of this is a mess, but I want to explain myself. It’ll make sense if you just let me talk,” Steve’s eyes closed tight together, “Steve, please.” Bucky leaned his hand down to the doorknob and jiggled it, “Come on. You’re my best friend.”

Steve let his back drag down the door, bringing his knees to his chest.

Bucky took a deep breath, “Fine. I’ll talk and you can listen.”

@wxntersoldxer16 @void-imaginations @heykarsyn @avashroom @sarcastic-and-cool @lunaticbarnes @benhardygalileo @wildmavs @runaway-escape @stevieboyharrington @kimvmarvel @chipilerendi @hardygal69

____

Boys when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky barnes Fanfiction #Bucky barnes x You #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x Reader series #Marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Marvel smut

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

Text

Bonus story that I regret already

A friend requested a HLVRAI/Freeman’s Mind/HL crossover. Specifically, them getting drinks, in a pub.

I really hate to spill that I’ve seen all of HLVRAI and Freeman’s Mind, but I figure the cat’s out of the bag. It’s three pages. It’s crack. There will be no continuation. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tw for ableist language, suggested animal abuse, and suggested slavery. So...that’s how you know Freeman Freeman’s Mind shows up.

God, does anybody remember FM? Am I the only person who remembers FM? Am I having a stroke? Imagine if Freeman’s Mind came out in 2020. There’d be call-out posts.

Enjoy...I think? Rest under the cut.

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

“When you think about it, dog breeding just doesn’t make any sense.”

Thank god. Gordon exhaled in relief. The guy sitting across from him in the dim, crowded pub had finally moved on from his extensive...very extensive...opinions on the IRS. Gordon had desperately tried redirecting the conversation to something more normal, like theoretical physics, or his opinion on multi-dimensional crossovers, but instead the guy just seemed very desperate that everybody know that taxation was theft.

“Right!” Gordon said enthusiastically, just trying to get word in edgewise. He knew he liked to talk, but this guy was ridiculous. “Pugs can’t give birth by themselves. It’s inhumane.”

“Oh, forget about that shit.” The guy waved a hand, burping slightly as he slammed back more of his beer. “What I’m saying is that it’s ridiculous not to train dogs to attack your enemies.”

“I don’t actually have that many -”

But the guy was already ranting, completely talking over Gordon. Pleadingly, Gordon looked at the other guy they were sitting with for help, but he just sat there drinking his beer with eyes distantly fixed on the tacky retro diner signs hung on the wall. Traitor.

“When you think about the entire thing’s stupid. The breed standards are just ridiculous, first off. Breeding dogs so they can’t bite, can’t bark, can’t hunt their own food? It’s stupid. What else is the point of a dog! Anybody around here remember why we breed dogs in the first place? It’s so they can help protect us, protect the pack. Dogs used to pull their own. And now they’re just shitty little lap dogs that rich old ladies use to wealth signal. It’s fucking stupid. Dogs are just freeloaders. And I don’t have any freeloaders in my house.”

“Wow,” Gordon muttered rebelliously, “did you read about that on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit?”

“So that’s why I’m proposing my new idea for dogs. A better dog. Dog 2, the sequel to dogs, if you will,” the guy continued, completely steamrolling him. “These dogs are huge, first of all. But not too huge, since you don’t want them to be a drain on your resources. I’d say definitely the size of a St. Bernard, maybe a little bit bigger. I don’t give a shit if it’s friendly to children or whatever. I don’t give a shit about children. If they can’t survive my dog attacking them, they were never going to make it to adulthood anyway. Survival of the fittest. Anyway, my dog’s going to be big. Short hair, because we live in a hot climate and I don’t want a dog that’s shedding everywhere. It’s not exactly going to be a polar rescue dog here, I need a dog that can survive the Arizona desert. But this dog has to be two things, and these two things are completely vital. Without these two things, it might as well be a Pomeranian.” The man held up two fingers. “One: the dog must be completely loyal to me. Intelligent, but not too intelligent that it doesn’t accept me as the alpha. I’m the alpha to the dog, as I’m also the alpha to the human race. Its loyalty must be complete. Like, I say jump, the dog says how high. That’s how intelligent it is too.” He pushed down the finger, keeping one up. “Second, the dog must be a cold blooded attack machine. I ain’t owning no pussy dog here. This dog is vicious. It can kill anything, and it will do it with pleasure. This dog feels no regret, pain, anguish, PTSD, hesitance, and it never fucking misses. Its teeth are huge and it’s an unrestrained attack machine. With this dog at my side, ain’t nobody’s fucking with me. Walking down the street with this dog next to me, nobody’s looking at me sideways. The chicks dig me. Everybody thinks I’m great. That’s why this is the ideal dog, above all other dogs.”

“Wow,” Gordon said desperately, really hoping that this was the end of the fucking dog conversation, “that’s great. My friend, uh, Tommy, he has a great Golden. Says it’s a perfect dog. That’s really possible actually, it survived like six turrets -”

“Idiot. That’s not what I fucking mean.” The guy scoffed at Gordon. “This perfect dog doesn’t exist. No dog is that immaculate. And if you try breeding for all those traits, you end up with some shitty inbred dog. No way. You gotta get more creative. Just wanting the perfect dog is for chumps who don’t understand genetics, evolution, dog breeding, dog training, warfare both physical and psychology, psychology itself, sociology, philosophy, or xenobiology. No. What I’m saying now is that in order to get the perfect dog, you have to breed aliens. I’m thinking headcrabs.”

Gordon distantly felt his jaw dropping. “Head - headcrabs?”

“Or those fucked up things with garbage disposal mouths,” the guy said thoughtfully. “Whatever they’re called. I don’t respect any of those shitty aliens enough to give them names. If you want me to remember your name, you have to earn it. My brain’s filled with much more important things, like theoretical physics and being better than you.”

“Garbage disposal - do you mean peeper puppies?!”

“Yeah, whatever. What I’m saying is that I’ve really cornered the market on xenobiology. I’m the world fuckin’ expert in dealing with aliens.” He looked thoughtful for a second as he chugged his beer again, which was a first. “Well. Dimensional expert. Point is, I can say with eighty seven percent confidence that, given enough time and unlimited access to a shock collar, I can train one of those shitty alien species crawling all over Black Mesa to obey my every command and slay my enemies. I could probably even turn it against its kinsmen. Get the aliens to wipe out the aliens, and humanity comes out on top. Then I turn my alien slaves against humanity, and Gordon Freeman is at top. So what do you think? Good idea or good idea?”

Gordon stared at him, slightly horrified, slightly incredulous, somehow amused. God, he had spent too much time around Benrey. This guy would love Benrey. He could never introduce them. “Terrible idea. I can’t believe we’re the same person.”

“You’re a loser. What about you, huh?” Freeman gestured with his cup at the third Gordon Freeman, who still seemed thoroughly checked out of the conversation. “What do you think? Want to invest some money into my plan? You’ll get a three hundred return on your investment, and dominion of the country of your choice.”

Gordon Freeman stared at Freeman blankly. He seemed really checked out.

Freeman looked back at Gordon. “Is this guy retarded or something? That or he’s high off his ass, but I know how I get when I’m high and I’m never that out of it.”

“I’m not sure you aren’t on coke right now,” Gordon groused, sipping his own margarita. Which Freeman had called a ‘girl drink’. Asshole. “Why don’t you just -”

“Hey, Doc!”

Suddenly, with no more advanced warning than the overly friendly cry, Benrey - sorry, Barney - popped up at their table. Freeman groaned, ignoring him completely for favor of his drink, and Gordon waved weakly at him. He seemed - well, nice. Much nicer than Benrey. Not that it was hard.

“You guys having fun or what?” Barney said, leaning against the table and winking at Freeman, who made a face. “We’re having a really good time at the Barney table, let me tell you. Maybe we can do Trivia Pursuit? That’ll be fun!”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually making friends with Benrey,” Gordon said, sighing. “Dude’s insufferable.”

“Blunt as ever, Doc,” Barney laughed. “Benrey’s not that bad! Just kind of a freak, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, impossibly depressed. “I know.”

“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask the Doc if he had my keys. Hold on a hot second.” Barney turned to the aforementioned zoned out Gordon Freeman, and abruptly started waving his hands around. Wait - was that sign language? When he glanced at Freeman, he seemed interested too.

Even more amazingly, Gordon Freeman responded, rolling his eyes and tilting his fist before digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys, pressing them into Barney’s hands. Barney winked, signed out what Gordon recognized as a thank you, and fucked off back to the Barney table. If Gordon craned his head, he could see Freeman’s Barney (whose name Freeman didn’t even seem to know) trying to drink his beer as he was thoroughly terrorized by Benrey. Gordon couldn’t fight the crush of fondness that bloomed in his chest. Benrey was fun to watch when he was terrorizing someone else - but you could say that about all of his friends, really.

Then the implications of that exchange hit Gordon over the head. He turned to Gordon Freeman, who seemed to have gone back to checking out of the conversation. “Wait, are you freaking deaf?”

Gordon blinked at him sleepily. Gordon cursed, rummaging around on the table until he found a napkin, and Freeman passed him a pen as he wrote down in large, blocky letters ‘ARE YOU DEAF???’ and slid it to Gordon Freeman.

Gordon Freeman stared at it. He looked up at the two of them and - oh, god, he was definitely smirking. Like the cat that caught the fucking canary. He tilted his fist in what even Gordon recognized as a yes.

“You fucking asshole!” Gordon exploded. “You left me to suffer with this guy alone? How could you? That’s not team behavior!”

“You got pranked, bro!” Benrey called, from across the room. “Bro, you got mad pranked! El oh el, bro!”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“Hey, what do you mean?” Freeman asked, offended. “My ideas are genius. This is a unique business opportunity, here. You’ll never get another chance to make three hundred percent back on your investment again -”

“Epic fail, bro!” Benry called.

Gordon groaned and started chugging his margarita. He would need to be a lot drunker if he was going to get through this stupid extradimensional mistake.

#jesus okay time to tag all of this #my writing #hlvrai #hl #half life #freeman's mind #hl fanfic #gordon freeman #benry #barney calhoun #sorry queen isn't in this one #told myself I'd never write benrey and that's still true

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ask-beacons-finest · 4 years

Text

Ruby, sitting on the top of the Mantle walls, overlooking the vast arctic desert: Told you I was still the fastest.

Harriet, plopping down beside her, panting a little: Yeah, sure...whatever, kid.

Ruby, laughing a little: Still too proud to admit it, huh?

Harriet, a smile cracking on her face: Always will be.

Ruby, nodding: Heh, of course. Of course.

Harriet, after minutes of silence: So, what's the reason you're all back?

Ruby, her eyes dropping to her feet dangling over the edge of the wall, putting a hand to her stomach: I told them all I'm ready to expand our family a little bit more.

Harriet, looking over, a bit surprised: You?

Ruby, nodding: Yeah. Me.

Harriet, after a few more minutes of silence: You nervous?

Ruby, unable to contain a sharp laugh, shaking her head: Like you wouldn't believe.

Harriet, giving a friendly punch to Ruby's shoulder: Well, hell, if anyone can do it, it's you, kid.

Ruby, a small smile on her face, rubbing her arm a little: Yeah, thanks. I hope you're right.

Ruby, after yet more silence: What about you? Have you ever...I dunno, found someone? Thought about settling down?

Harriet, scoffs, but turns her head a bit away from Ruby: No I-...well, I don't know. Maybe. I thought I did, but. I don't know.

Ruby, raising an eyebrow: Really? You? Harriet Bree? Afraid of something?

Harriet, spinning her head round to face Ruby, defensively: The hell makes you think I'm afraid!?

Ruby, with a smug expression of victory: That.

Harriet, realizing her outburst proved Ruby's point, groans and collapses backwards, staring into the sky: Yeah. I guess I am. I had what was the start of a relationship a bit ago, but I guess the commitment scared me. So I did what I do best, run.

Ruby, chuckling, picking up a loose bolt from her side and flicks it off the wall, watching it fall towards the icy ground below: Reminds me of Blake.

Harriet, her face scrunching up: Eugh. Don't say I remind you and of any of you kids.

Ruby, leaning back to join Harriet in staring at the sky: We haven't been kids for a long, long time. Beacon falling changed that.

Harriet, frowning: Right. Sorry.

Ruby: S'alright.

Harriet, after a while: So, how did you handle it?

Ruby: Beacon falling?

Harriet: Wha-? No, no no no. Getting into a relationship. Getting married. All that. I'm sure if I can get advice from someone with three spouses I can manage to get at the very least one spouse.

Ruby, scowling in disgust: Two. Two spouses. Yang's still my sister you know.

Harriet, awkwardly clearing her throat: R-Right. I was just...fucking with you...totally didn't forget.

Ruby, laughing a little: Yeah yeah. Sure. And I...don't really know to be honest, if you told me, when we first ever met, that I'd be in a loving marriage with my teammates...and, Gods, especially that we have five-errr-six, kids. With more on the way. I'd probably have fought you sooner.

Harriet, nodding: Well, then I'd have kicked your ass, since you hadn't trained under us yet. But continue.

Ruby, giving a friendly slap to Harriet's arm: But yeah. I'd be dumbfounded. I thought maybe if anyone I'd end up with Jaune.

Harriet, laughing: Really???

Ruby, completely serious, nodding with a smile: Yeah. We even dated for a little bit, just a bit. But it didn't work for either of us and we moved on. I still love him to death obviously, but now we're both with better matches.

Harriet, her laughter subsiding, a more melancholy look on her face: Ah...yeah, I guess he's with a better match too...

Ruby, glancing over: Huh? Who? Jaune?

Harriet, shaking her head: No. Nobody. It's fine.

Ruby, looking at Harriet for a moment, before turning her head back towards the sky: Right, of course. It's never too late to find someone you know. You're a good person Harriet, just keep that in mind. Your better match will come, I'm sure of it, might just take some effort on your part.

Harriet, nodding, a sad smile on her face: Thanks, Ruby.

Ruby, with a smile on her own face: No problem.

Harriet, sternly: But imply that I don't put one-hundred and ten percent effort in everything I do again and I'll throw you over this wall, you hear me, kid?

Ruby, laughing: Of course, of course.

Ruby, yawning and sitting upright after about an hour, stretching and cracking her back: Ahhh. Ow. Laying on uncomfortable metal isn't as easy as it used to be. Can't believe I used to he able to sleep anywhere.

Harriet, also sitting up, also cracking: Ah! Damn...yeah, you're right. We should find a more old-person-friendly spot.

Ruby, standing up, putting a hand out to help Harriet up: I'll meet you next week at the retirement home then?

Harriet, taking Ruby's hand and pulls herself to her feet while laughing: Like hell.

Ruby, checking her scroll: Ah shit...I guess "Running a race with an old friend without telling anyone, and thus abandoning them with the kids and your luggage," was a bad idea. I'm definitely sleeping outside tonight...

Harriet, checking her own scroll: Oof...yeah. Looks like I'm in for it too.

Ruby, nodding her head in the direction of the city: First one to the Atlas transports wins?

Harriet, shaking her head: Nah, I'd rather we get chewed out in separate locations. Might be enough anger to open a hole in the fabric of the universe if it happens at the same place.

Ruby, whining: Uggggh, you're really not helping my confidence here...but hey.

Ruby, holding up a hand, which Harriet grabs onto: Good to see you.

Harriet, nodding, a smile on her face: Good to see you too, ki-...Ruby. Now get out out of here, there might be hope for you yet.

Harriet, standing atop the Mantle wall as a flurry of rose petals blast around her, Ruby's laughter disappearing along with a red blur: ...

Harriet, turning to face the icy landscape outside the city, tapping her scroll a few times before bringing it to her ear: ...hey, hey. Yeah it's Harriet. Hey I was just wondering if maybe uhh...like...you wanted to grab a drink? Tonight?

#rwby #ruby rose #pollination #harriet bree

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hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis · 4 years

Text

Caught In Between 21. Torn Heart

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 10.05.20

Word count: 3.6k

Based off: 03x21 “Before Sunset”

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After a night of not much sleep, I quickly got up to help Caroline clean up after the dance. I make my way into the cafeteria where Rebekah is, with Caroline not too far behind me.

“Where’s Matt?” Caroline asks.

“He bailed. Got called into work at the last minute,” Rebekah responds while putting trash in a bin.

“Are you kidding me? So it’s just us three?” Caroline asks.

“Yes, and you two are late. Clean-up committee started at 8:00,” Rebekah responds annoyed.

“It’s like 8:02,” I say looking at my phone.

“Exactly. I managed to turn up on time and I didn’t even get to attend the dance that I organized,” Rebekah says before dumping the trash in a bigger bin.

“I’m sorry about your mom. I mean, I know you, like, hated her and everything, but still. I’m sorry,” Caroline says.

“Sorry about your teacher. He seemed like a nice guy,” Rebekah says.

“Yeh, he was,” I respond.

“I’m going to get started on the gym,” Rebekah says before walking out. Not a moment later Caroline and I hear a slam against some lockers in the hallway as Rebekah screams. The two of us didn’t hesitate to rush out to the hall. We see a very much “alive” Alaric ready to stab Rebekah with a white oak stake. Caroline and I shove Alaric off of her and against the lockers.

Rebekah quickly shoves the stake into Alaric’s chest. But he just pulls it right out of his chest. The three of us speed away before we could watch what happens next. I run to the side of the school where the stoners hang out. The next thing I know my neck is snapped.

I wake up and find myself in Alaric’s classroom, in a chair with pencils in my hands, pinning them to the desk. Alaric doesn’t hesitate one moment once I woke up to put a vervain and wolfsbane soaked cloth around my mouth. He then makes a call, to whom I’m sure is someone he’d think would save me.

“Whoever this is, it’s not funny,” I hear Elena’s voice over the phone.

“Who else would it be?” Alaric questions back.

“Ric?” She questions back.

“Listen closely. I’m at the school. I have Athena. And if you want to keep her alive, I need you to get into your car and come down here right away. If you tell anyone where you are going, I will kill her,” Alaric threatens before hanging up.

A few minutes later Elena arrives in Alaric’s classroom, “Athena! Let her go, Alaric,” She demands.

“Free her yourself,” Alaric gestures to me.

Elena slowly makes her way to me and stays as far as she could from Alaric. She starts to pull the pencil out of my right hand before Alaric quickly shoves it back in. Leading me to let out an excruciating scream.

“You said that you would let her go!” Elena yells at Alaric.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Elena? Stop trusting vampires!” Alaric yells at Elena.

~ Elena’s House ~

Klaus is stalking the outside of Elena’s house as Stefan, Damon, Bonnie, and Jeremy were stuck inside. He walks over to a neighboring house and contemplates his next move. Once he figures it out he makes his way back to Elena’s house. Throwing a soccer ball through the front door, blowing it open. The next thing he threw was a fence post at Damon, who ducked below it.

“Missed me!” Damon yells at Klaus. Damon breaks off the fence post and throws it back at Klaus, but he dodged it as well. Klaus then separates his last post and throws it at Damon.

“Missed me again!” Damon yells again. As the craziness ensues Stefan receives a call from Alaric. Klaus comes back with a newspaper on fire and a gas tank on his other hand.

“Put it out,” Stefan says making his way to the door.

“Come outside and make me,” Klaus says before Stefan steps out of the doorway.

“Elena’s not here. Alaric has her and Athena. He’s going to kill them both unless you turn yourself over to him,” Stefan states. After a few moments of thought, Klaus tosses the newspaper and gas tank.

“Now I know you’re not asking me to walk into a certain death,” Klaus says.

“I really wish we could,” Stefan chuckles. “But unfortunately, if Alaric kills you, there’s a one and four chance that we die, too,” Stefan states.

“I’ll take those odds,” Damon says strutting out of the house carrying a fence post.

“And a hundred percent chance that Tyler and Athena die,” Stefan states looking to his brother.

“I’m good with that, too,” Damon says clearly having no regard for Athena anymore.

“Why don’t we just figure out a way to put Alaric down, hmm?” Stefan suggests.

“Ok. How about Damon sneaks in and distracts Alaric while Stefan grabs Elena and carries her to safety,” Klaus suggests.

“Oh, that’s a great idea. What’s to stop me from being killed instantly?” Damons asks.

“Nothing,” Klaus responds nonchalantly.

“Athena’s in there. Don’t you have a thing for her, or did she just reject your supposed undying love for her too many times?” Damon asks annoyed.

“This isn’t really, uh, helping too much,” Stefan says trying to calm them down.

“I might have an idea,” Bonnie says coming up to the doorway. “My mom used a desiccation spell on Mikael that immobilized him for over 15 years. If I can get it, I might be able to use it on Alaric,” Bonnie suggests.

“If and might. Your words inspire such confidence,” Klaus says.

“I’ll get it. But even with the spell, we’ll need a lot of vampire muscle to take him down. Including yours,” Bonnie says staring at Klaus.

“Just so we’re clear. The sun sets in about 8 hours. We don’t succeed before then, Elena will be dead, I’ll be gone, and the rest of you will be left to fend for yourselves,” Klaus threatens.

“And what about Athena. You’d just leave her here to die? I thought you loved her so much you’d do anything. At least that’s how she explained it,” Damon asks.

“I know she’s smart and strong enough to get out of there by herself,” Klaus says confidently.

~Athena’s POV ~

“No, don’t, please don’t,” I plead as Alaric refreshes the cloth with more vervain and wolfsbane.

“Alaric stop!” Elena demands getting up from her desk beside me.

“Sit down,” Alaric snaps back and pushes Elena back into the seat. “This keeps the vervain and wolfsbane in her system. It’s like inhaling razor blades with every breath,” Alaric explains as he ties the cloth around my face once more. It burns worse than anything I had ever felt in my life. I couldn’t help but let out a screech as I felt the solution enter my body.

“Why are you doing this?” Elena questions Alaric.

“To make it easier on you when you put her out of her misery,” Alaric says coldly.

“What? No!” Elena protests back.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Elena? For me to teach you how to kill a vampire? Well, here’s a vampire, better yet a hybrid, Elena,” Alaric says pointing the stake to me then back to Elena. “Kill her,”

“This isn’t what I want,” Elena responds.

“Of course it is. All those hours you spent training, getting stronger...you could be a hunter, Elena. But you’ve never actually staked a vampire through the heart,” Alaric says holding the stake out to Elena.

“Why are you doing this?” Elena asks once more.

“Because you need me. Because you’re an 18-year-old girl without parents or guidance or any sense of right and wrong anymore,” Alaric states.

“Look at you. How is this right?” Elena asks gesturing at me.

��She’s a murderer. She is an abomination. Something that should never have existed. See, Elena your parents led the council. It was their life’s mission to keep this town safe. They weren’t dead six months before you undid it all,” Alaric says.

“You don’t know anything about them,” Elena responds.

“Why, am I wrong? Do you actually think...that they’d be proud of you?” Alaric asks before bending down to see eye to eye with her. “If you don’t side with the humans...you’re just as bad as them. Now kill her. Or I’ll do it for you and I’ll make it hurt,” Alaric demands once more and quickly drags Elena in front of me. He forces the stake into her hand.

Elena gets ready to stake me but instead turns towards Alaric and shoves the stake at him, but he stops her. “I thought I taught you better than that,” Alaric states.

“You did,” Elena says before smashing the glass of vervain and wolfsbane into his face. Elena works quickly to pull the pencils out of my hand and untie the cloth. “Get help!” Elena says as she helps me get up.

I run out of the classroom and quickly speed away into the hall. I turn around hoping that Elena was close behind. I was then grabbed by someone, covering my mouth and pulling me back.

“Shhhh...It’s ok. It’s ok,” I hear a familiar voice whisper into my ear. “It’s me. It’s ok. You’re safe,” Klaus says moving his hand away from my mouth. He looks over from where I came from, “We’ll save Elena. You go straight home, you stay inside, do you understand?” He asks. “Do you understand me?” He questions once more turning me to face him.

I nod my head, “Thank you,” I whisper back as I notice the worried look on his face. Klaus kisses my forehead before he rushes away.

I quickly make my way out of the school and instead of the Salvatore house but my own. Knowing that Alaric doesn’t know where it is, or at least I think so. I hadn’t been back since the day I arrived in Mystic Falls but this time it’s a redesigned and fully furnished home. I forgot all the nice things I got for my house, but it also didn’t feel right to be here. Maybe that’s why I didn’t come back, why I’ve been staying at the Salvatores.

Luckily before I could sink even further into my thoughts I get a call from Bonnie, “What’s up?” I asked picking up the phone.

“Klaus has Elena. He’s gonna kill her. We’re gonna use the plan that we had for Alaric on Klaus. But we need you as a distraction. Can you do it?” Bonnie explains.

“I’ll do what I can to protect the people I care about. Where do I need to be?” I ask.

“He should be at his mansion. Stefan and Damon will meet you there,” Bonnie responds.

“Alright, I’ll get there as fast as I can,” I respond before hanging up.

I meet Stefan and Damon outside of the mansion. Damon hands me a small bottle of blood, “What’s this for?” I ask confused.

“It’s Bonnie’s blood. Binds us to her so she can do her witchy stuff. She wanted me to give you some in case. You need to make a physical connection to Klaus, a major artery, or something. So she can bring him down,” Damon explains.

“And what is this witchy stuff she plans to do? She didn’t tell me much except to be the distraction,” I respond.

“She plans to desiccate him. Like her mother did to Mikael,” Stefan explains.

“We’ll be the ones to take him down, but Bonnie wanted to have you as a backup,” Damon says gesturing to his brother.

“Alright, well I should get in there before anything worse happens,” I say to the brothers and head off.

I make my way into Klaus’ mansion and follow the voices of him and Tyler, “Good-bye Tyler,” I hear Klaus say as I get closer.

“Klaus, don’t!” I say from behind him. I watch as I notice Tyler ready to fight but I shake my head no, hoping he understood I had this under control.

“Athena,” Klaus says letting Tyler go. “I thought I told you to stay home,” Klaus turns towards me.

“I--I did. But as I waited at home, I came to a realization. I don’t want to be here anymore. I--I want to travel the world...with you,” I move closer to Klaus. “I want to get away from all of this,” I gesture to the situation were in. “I want it to just be us again,” I say only a few inches away from his face, pressing my hand on his chest.

“I want to be with you forever,” I press my lips against his before he could respond. I feel him pull me into his grasp. For a moment it felt like it was only us in the room, but I remembered what I had to do. It was hard to muster the strength to fight the sire bond, but before either of us pulled away I plunged my fingers into his chest.

Klaus pulled away screaming as Damon, Stefan and, Tyler came to hold him back. I feel as his heart starts to slow down. As we continue to hold Klaus back and I feel his heartbeat slow, he looks up at me with a somber look in his face as he realizes he can’t win. I return the look and mouth “I’m sorry,” to him as I feel a tear fall down my face.

Soon enough the desiccation engulfs him. Tyler helps Klaus’ body down to the ground as I stare at him, hoping I did what was right. Not just for my friends, but for myself.

“We should get her home before the sun sets. You too Athena,” Stefan says.

I head to the car and get in with the Salvatore brothers and Elena. They drive us to Elena’s house. I get out with them and walk towards Elena’s house. “Heh, you three are really going to walk me all the way to the door, aren’t you?” Elena questions.

“You lost a lot of blood today,” Stefan states.

“Yeah, I know, but I told you, I’m fine. I just--I have a little headache,” Elena explains.

“Yeah, but the sun’s about to go down. And Ric’s going to be able to terrorize the streets any minute,” Damon explains.

“Yeah, but he can’t hurt me. It’s you three we should be worrying about,” Elena states.

“He won’t be able to find us,” Stefan says as we make it to Elena’s door.

“I’ll call you when we get back. Athena, you should probably stay here with Elena, might be best,” Stefan says.

“I’ll be fine on my own. If anything I can go to my house, Alaric doesn’t know where it is,” I explain. “But I’ll stay here for a little, if that’s alright with you Elena,” I say knowing it’ll probably make them feel better.

“Fine, just be safe,” Stefan responds.

“I’m gonna umm… head upstairs and clean up,” I say looking at my hand covered in Klaus’ blood.

As I head into the house, I hear some rustling in the kitchen. As I walk in I find the whole gang setting up a small feast. Not too soon after Elena walks in just as confused as I am.

“What are you guys doing here?” She asks.

“Welcome to our victory party!” Caroline yells.

“What victory?” I ask.

“We failed. Alaric’s still out there,” Elena points out.

“We know. But we’ve been trying to get rid of Klaus forever and Caroline convinced us to enjoy it-- for a night,” Bonnie explains.

“Got to be honest--I’m a little pissed none of you let me take down original brother number two,” Matt says all pippy.

“Yeah, he would have taken you right down to the hospital, bro,” Tyler responds.

“Please, I’m more stealth than that. I’m like a ninja,” Matt says.

After hearing that, I just felt a rush of emotions roll over me. I quickly head upstairs, feeling overwhelmed, “What’s up with her?” I hear Jeremy say as I head upstairs.

“I’ll go talk to her. Just be a bit more delicate with how you say things,” Elena says. “She was the one to take him down,” Elena whispers, even though I still heard it.

I make my way into her bathroom to clean my hand up, I take a deep breath as I feel a tear fall down my face. I keep reassuring myself that I did the right thing, that I had to do it to keep everyone safe.

“Hey. You alright?” I hear Elena’s soft voice behind me.

“Uhh...yeah. I just wanted to clean my hand,” I say not turning around, trying to keep my voice from wavering.

“Something’s bothering you. I can tell,” Elena says from the doorway.

“No, I’m fine,” I deflect.

“I know you’ve been through a lot in your life and I’m sure this was hard for you. And your strength and will is something I really admire. You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Elena says. “You know it’s ok to be vulnerable sometimes,” Elena says after a few moments of silence.

“It’s just--I can’t keep fighting myself like this. By doing what I did, I felt like I almost lost a part of myself. I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” I say keeping my back turned to her.

“I know and I’m sure we’ll find a way,” Elena responds.

“I already know there’s a way,” I respond turning to Elena. “Tyler broke his sire bond. I’m sure he can help break mine,” I say.

“And you think that’ll work?” Elena asks.

“I don’t know but I want to find out if what I fe--feel for him is the sire bond...or me,” I say.

“We’ll figure this out I know it. But for tonight. See this little victory as a night you don’t need to fight with yourself, ok?” Elena says.

“I’ll try,” I give her a slight smile.

We head back down into the kitchen and Caroline hands us some shots. “Here, you two need this,” Caroline says. Elena and I look at her confused.

“I heard. And you know that sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose right?” Caroline asks Elena.

“I know,” Elena responds.

“And you,” Caroline turns towards me. “I’m sure you’re hurting right now. Whether it’s the sire bond or not. You probably need this more than anyone right now,” Caroline says rubbing her hand on my arm.

“Hey. Give me your hand,” Tyler says walking up to us. He pours some salt on our hands.

“Thank you for standing up to Klaus like that. Both of you,” Elena shifts her gaze between Tyler and me.

“Let’s just say it’s been a long time coming,” Tyler says as I nod in agreement.

“Way too long,” Caroline says pulling Tyler into a side hug. “All right, Let’s drink,” She says to the rest of the group.

“I do not condone this by the way,” Elena says turning to her little brother.

“You survived Klaus. All right, make an exception. You can go back to being responsible tomorrow,” Jeremy rebuttals.

“Ok,” Elena says.

“Hang on. Do you guys hear that?” Tyler asks as we all look around confused and worried. “That is the sound of a Klaus-free life,” Tyler finally says as we all laugh. Yet my own was a bit forced.

“To a Klaus-free life,” I say a raise my shot. Clearly getting some surprise expressions from a few people. “And to all of you, my family,” I add.

“Cheers!” The group says as we clink glasses and take our shots.

We spend a couple more hours hanging out and celebrating a quiet night. “Hey Tyler, can I talk to you a bit?” I ask coming up to him.

“Uh yeah,” He says as I lead him away from the group into the hall.

“So you broke your sire bond with Klaus right?” I ask as he nods in response. “Do you think you can help me break mine?” I ask.

“Yeh. Anything to get a hybrid away from his control,” Tyler responds.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Are you alright?” Tyler asks clearly picking up on my mood.

“Yeh. I just--I want to make sure whatever I feel is because of the sire bond. I’m done fighting myself,” I respond.

“We’ll get through this, together. I’ll help any way I can,” He says.

“Thanks,” I respond before we both head back into the kitchen.

After a couple more minutes of hanging out everyone starts to head home. “You’re more than welcome to stay the night here,” Elena says to me.

“Oh, It’s ok. I’d hate to intrude for the night,” I repsond.

“It’s fine. I’m sure youd rather be here than alone in your house or the Salvatore’s,” Elena says.

“They’ll be home in a bit. I’ll be fine,” I respond.

“Come on, Athena just take the offer. We haven’t had a girls night in a while,” Elena begs.

“Fine,” I say and give a slight smile. We head up to her room as she helps prepare a place to sleep.

“I’m gonna go check on Jeremy. I’ll be back in a bit. Get some rest,” Elena says.

“Thanks,” I respond as she leaves the room.

I lay my head down and close my eyes. I try for a few minutes to sleep, but I can’t. Not after tonight. I get up and leave the room to get some water. As I leave Elena’s room I look to my left to find Elena laying on the floor with her nose bleeding into the spilled paint.

I rush over to her, shaking her hoping she’d wake up, “Jeremy!” I yell realizing it’s not working.

“What happened?” He asks coming into the room.

“I--I don’t know. I just came out of her room and found her like this,” I explain.

“Alright, let’s just get her to the hospital,” Jeremy says picking up his sister.

A/N: Will Klaus forgive Athena for what she did? I hope you all enjoyed this part! Thanks for reading.

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries series #the originals #The Originals Series #the originals x reader #the originals fanfiction #the originals imagine #caroline forbes #rebekah mikaelson #alaric saltzman #elena gilbert #niklaus mikaelson #tyler lockwood #damon salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #TVDCIB

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poisxnyouth · 4 years

Text

bad influence dave part 4 (d.d)

A/N: hey whores!! surprise. it’s done early. enjoy. talk to me as you read and let me know what you think, as always!!! love you so much babies. -hailey

WC: 6.25k

“Then I guess I am,” you say confidently, kissing him delicately and moving back to rest in his neck. You feel his heart beating, speeding up with your every slight movement before David responds, tutting and affectionately rubbing at your hair:

“No, sweetheart. Not yet,” he promises, unapologetic but hating the fact he has to tell you no on this one, “You don't know everything I do yet. Once you know, then we can have this conversation again.”

“You probably shouldn't be dating a drug dealer anyway,” David says matter of factly, shrugging, “You’re too good for me, babygirl. It’s the truth. Don’t get mad at me for it.”

“I get to decide that, not you,” you reply, eyebrows scrunching together, “That’s up to me, and I want you. Tell me everything so I can just say yes and be with you.”

David stares blankly at you, clearing his throat and sighing, “There's five guns under this bed, four in my chest of drawers, two in my bathroom, and two in my car. They’re all over the house and they’re all loaded. I don't deal only weed; that’s just what you’ve seen me deal. I didn't want to scare you away. Me, Dima, and Ilya have all had guns pointed at us, or been the person pointing it at someone else. It’s just how this shit goes.”

“What do you-” you clear your throat, too, trying to process his words, “What do you deal?”

“It’s not all at the same time. I really don't have that much on me at a time, either, but-”

“David. Answer the question.”

“The most at a time that I would have of each drug is six ounces of coke, two ounces of ecstasy, about four hundred Xannies, a pound of weed – you know that, fourteen sheets of LSD, a pound of shrooms, and, like, small amounts of ketamine or DMT,” David sighs, eyes flickering across your face, “Please don't look at me differently for it. Honestly, sweetheart, it’s not that much. It’s not like Scarface kingpin shit.”

“I’m sorry, but – How much money do you even make?” You're half surprised and half not; half confused and half not; half horny and half not.

“I could quit my job if I wanted to,” he says, fingers in your hair, “But then it looks suspicious on paper. Obviously, I make all of my money under the table in cash. You have to understand, baby – Look at me.”

David turns your head by your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “If you’re my girl, and I get caught – you’re an assumed accomplice. They’d go after you too. I’m not a huge dealer, but I’m not small either; I’m mid-sized and I make good profits, but with the amounts that I said I have? Any of that will get me at least twenty years, easy.”

“Why is that hot?” you ask dumbly, clearing your throat as David sits up, tugging you to face him in his lap.

“Think with your brain and not your pussy, sweet girl,” he says, the most serious you’ve seen him, “I could give you anything you want – I have fifteen thousand in cash in one of my drawers, not even counting what I have saved. We could go somewhere. But you need to know what the fuck you’re in for before you commit to me. I know it’s baggage.”

“Um,” you stutter, still overwhelmed at his admissions, “Do you think you could be caught?”

“I cover my tracks well,” David ensures, “But that's not ever one hundred percent. One person could get caught and all of a sudden, they have a list of names of everyone else. People snitch for less time.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“If I stop before I get too big,” he pauses, pushing your hair out of your face, “No. I don’t think so. I have another six months before I should cut the shit for a while.”

“But you like the money,” you say simply, realizing what he’s saying, “How much money do you have right now?”

“With savings? Fuck, three hundred thousand? I move two ounces of coke a week and make an easy two grand, maybe five G’s if I play my cards right, and then the weed and other shit. I’ve been doing this since I was nineteen while still working, so I’ve been making pretty good.”

You cough, choking in disbelief, “Holy shit. That’s…better than pretty good. Do you...do you do them?”

“The drugs? Not really,” he shrugs, eyes on yours, “I mean, you know that I smoke. I’ve done them, sure, but I don’t do them...They’re party drugs, for the most part. I don't sell to end users, by the way. Only with weed.”

“I don't even know what that means-”

“It means that I only deal to other smaller dealers that buy from me in bulk,” he explains, kissing your forehead, “Except for weed – those are end users because they buy from me and go home and smoke it.”

David sighs, looking at you, “I’m not going to let you blindly walk into a commitment like this. This isn't just, ‘Please don’t break my heart!’...You know that, right? This is, ‘I am sharing this with you, and you could go down with me.’ And if we do become something more than whatever we are, we cannot step on your family’s toes. If they find out anything, we’re fucking done, babygirl. You know they would turn us in.”

“Why me?”

He sighs again, taking both of your hands into his, “Do we ever pick who we want to be with?”

“That being said,” David continues, “This is entirely your choice. It's not as simple as, ‘I want you, you want me, so let's be together.’ Yes, I want you to be my girl, and yes, I want to blow all of my money on you – every last dime – but you have to know that this is your decision to make. I won't make this one for you. You need to know what you're getting yourself into, honey.”

You kiss him deeply as a response and you feel him deflate into it as he exhales, hands moving to your waist as he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. David breathes heavily, eyes closed, “I’m not letting you answer today just so you can make a stupid, hasty decision.”

“It’s a yes.”

“Stop,” he shakes his head, pulling away, “No. Stop it. You don't mean that. Use your fucking brain, baby.”

“I want you, David-”

“You might want me but I am not worth risking getting a few first degree felonies on your record and serving time,” his tone is harsher now as his hands grip your waist, fingertips digging in, “Fucking think about it, Y/N, I’m serious. You went to a good college you’re probably still paying for, you have a good job, you’re smart, you’re on your way to doing what you’ve always wanted to...”

“Do not,” David continues, repeating himself, “Do not risk all of that good shit you’ve worked so hard on for me.”

“It sounds like you don't want me to say yes,” you comment, confused.

He sighs and brings both hands to the tops of your arms at your shoulders, rubbing affectionately, “Of course I want you to say yes, baby. I just want you to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Fucking stop it,” David says harshly, “I’m not taking an answer until tomorrow.”

“David, it’s going to be the same fucking answer whether I give it to you right now or tomorrow when I come see you after church,” you’re frustrated with him, now, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him, “It’s a yes.”

“Then I just won’t believe it until tomorrow,” he replies, too obstinate and hard-headed to take an immediate answer as he tugs you closer to him, asking, “Why? I don’t want you to go down with me.”

“You said it, David,” breathing him in and repeating his phrase back to him, “Do we ever pick who we want to be with?”

“Look at me,” you tell him, pulling away and taking his face into your hands, “I will do anything you need me to. Just say the word.”

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “Absolutely not. Fuck no. You’re going to be involved with this as little as possible.”

“Then what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty. Let me take you on those stupid dates where we ask each other questions and act like we don't know the answer to every single one, do drug runs with me, let me take you places, let me buy you shit, and be fucking quiet. You have to be discreet and you cannot be doing my dirty work for me. I won’t let you.” You're still sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his torso and arms draped around his shoulders as he explains the vitality of you keeping your mouth shut.

“This is so much bigger than just us,” he sighs, “You can't freak out when a gun is pulled on me and you can't freak out when I pull a gun on someone, babygirl. It happens, and sometimes you have to remind them which side of the barrel they should be on.”

“...What if they pull a gun on me?”

David clears his throat, not meeting your eyes, “About that...you’re going to have to carry and know how to use it, too. It’s not hard. I’ll teach you. They usually don't fuck with, you know, peoples’ girls, but it has happened before.”

“But...that’s the worst case, baby,” he attempts to reassure, “Because I’ll have at least one pulled on him, so…If I’m there, and there’s no reason I wouldn't be, I’ll be protecting you. It’s still a good idea for you to carry, though.”

You sigh, glancing around the room as David anxiously stares a hole through you, listening to you as you speak, “Okay. So…”

You clear your throat and chew at your lips, plan already devising in your head, “Here's what we have to do. Use the church as your cover. Meet my parents, make them love you, go to church with me – whatever, I can help you. It’s less suspicious. You don't have to actually believe.”

“I’m not asking that of you, baby-”

“Listen to me, David,” you say harshly, eyes now on his as you grab his chin to force him to look at you, “You can make more this way. We can do this. Buy new clothes to blend in. Go along with whatever they say. Wear a cross. Spend time with my family and they’ll stick up for you. I promise.”

“What about Michael and Abs? They know.”

“Fuck Michael and Abby. They won't say shit,” you shrug, swearing, “I know they won't. I can handle that. Get along with my brothers and they’ll be up your ass forever. You don't actually have to be devoted; you just have to act like you are so people don't suspect you. They’re never going to think that a clergyman’s daughter and her cute, Godly boyfriend that everyone approves of deals drugs on the side. I’m a good girl. I’m your cover.”

“Hide the cigarettes and weed and their smell, get some Sunday best clothes and a cross, and buck up, David. We can do this. I’ll help you.” David says nothing, your offer weighing heavy on his chest as you reach for his hands and press a kiss to his cheek.

You continue, “You like telling me what to do and I like it, too, but I’m telling you what to do with this. It’s better than doing everything on the DL and hoping no one catches on. You know it is.”

“Okay,” he nods, repeating himself and wiping at his face, “Okay. Fine. You’re right. It’s solid. God, Dima and Ilya are going to kill me.”

David kisses you, murmuring, “You’re too fucking good for me. I don't deserve you. Deadass.”

You reach around to the nape of your neck and unclasp the chain, holding it up to his neck before he stops your hands.

“No,” he resists, shaking his head, “Put it back on. I have one. My mom made me take it with me when I moved out.”

David gently pushes you off of him and stands, making his way to his chest of drawers and digging through one of them haphazardly. You watch him as you clasp your necklace back together by yourself; he locates it, buried at the bottom of his sock drawer. It's large enough for him to easily slip it over his head, planting his palms against the edge of the chest and leaning over it. He feels the weight of the chain move forward with him, and David looks down at it, sighing softly.

“Fuck,” he curses, turning back around to face you, “I never thought I’d be wearing this again.”

You stand and move over to him, palm covering the cross and affectionately rubbing it into his chest, “You don't have to believe, David. You just have to act like you do.”

“I know,” he promises, waving your hand off, “I know. I just haven't been to church since Slovakia.”

“Jesus,” David rubs at his face, slightly overwhelmed, “Fuck. Do I meet your family before or after going to Mass tomorrow?”

“Oh, shit,” you say, “Um...which one would you prefer?”

“You pick, Miss Priss,” David picks up an unopened pack of cigs and tears the plastic open, slipping the sleeve off and opening the top. He tears at the excess foil and gets out a Camel, placing it between his lips and reaching for his Zippo, eyes on yours. “Either way, I have to meet them in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Um,” you ponder as he lights it and takes a drag. You sigh heavily and reach for your phone, “Fuck, let me ask about tonight.”

David shakes his head and makes a noise of disapproval, exhaling smoke from his lungs, “No. Don’t ask. Say that we're coming. Say I insist — and stop cursing, baby. Bad habit.”

“God, David,” you complain, going through the clothes in his drawers, “Everything you own smells like fucking weed and cigarettes. You need new clothes. Clothes that smell, like...not pot.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do, sweetheart? We need to go shopping.” David replies, hands going in the air, “I didn't really count on dating a Catholic girl and having to clean myself up. Stop fucking cursing.”

“Oh, so we’re dating now?” you ask, ignoring his demand and smelling a black polo of his, “This smells fine.”

“Yes, we’re dating, fucker,” he rolls his eyes, removing his shirt off his back and moving to pull the polo on over his head, “That’s what being my girl means.”

“I never said I’m your girl,” you roll your eyes, moving to the drawer with his pants, “I said I wanted to be.”

“Stop with the attitude,” David bickers, reaching around you for a dab pen on the surface of his chest of drawers, “You’re my girl. Period. End of. You’ve signed up for this shit with me, so you’re my girl.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing the dab pen as he adjusts the power and hits it, eyes on yours, “You cannot be high when you meet my family.”

“I won’t be,” he promises, exhaling and tossing it back on to his dresser, “Even if I was – is that a crime? If they meet me high, and I’m high every time I’m around them, they’ll think I’m just acting normal. Like, I’m high in my driver’s license picture so that if I get pulled over, they think I just look like an idiot.”

“No, David-”

“Since when do you feel like you can talk back to me?” David quips, leaning against the dresser as you continue to go through his clothes, smelling them, “What did I do to make you think that’s okay?”

You scoff, ignoring him and returning to your work, before he leans down and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Open,” he orders, fingers going down the length of your throat until you gag. The newly present cross dangles from around his neck as he removes his fingers and spits down your tongue, “Swallow and stop talking back. I’m still in charge here.”

You go quiet, passive aggressively still unfolding and refolding pairs of jeans before finding a pair of skinny jeans, asking him, “Can you put these on, please?”

David shakes his head, “No. I need to throw those out. My dick looks huge in them and I have a fat ass, anyway – they just make it look bigger. Ilya might have something. Let me go look.”

He leaves, and you take his absence as an opportunity to snoop through his drawers. At the bottom of his hoodie drawer, underneath the many items of thick, rolled fabric – lies fifteen bands. You dig around some more and find the four guns he had mentioned scattered throughout the different drawers; all pistols. You don’t touch them, just stare momentarily, before you hear David’s voice.

“They’re Glock 17s,” he says simply, leaning over you and grabbing one casually.

“Four hundred bucks apiece. Hit the magazine release button and the mag slides out,” he presses the square button on the handle, sliding the magazine into his hand and dropping it haphazardly onto the top of his dresser. “Pull the slide back and make sure it stays put with the slide catch.”

He drops it, “It’s unloaded. Easy.”

“Glock 17s hold seventeen rounds,” David explains, “The magazine is fully loaded right now. Every gun I have is. When you load the bullets, though, wear gloves or something, so your fingerprints aren’t on the bullets. Now, to reload it:

“Put the magazine back in,” he grabs both the Glock and the magazine, sliding it back in and clearing his throat, “Keep your pointer finger off of the trigger and straight, flat on the frame. Pull the slide back…”

David pulls it back harshly and lets go, the slide lurching forward loudly, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard, “And now it’s loaded again. You don’t need to put it on safety.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because it’s already on safety, sugar. That’s how Glocks work. You see this little lever – hold on, let me unload it and shit again.” You watch him quickly light a cigarette and hit the magazine release, sliding it deftly into his free hand and placing it on his dresser, taking his cigarette back between his fingers. David slides the top of the gun back and passes you the cig, quietly telling you to hold it.

You take a drag and exhale as David hits a button and slides the entire top of the gun off, “I just disassembled it. It’s safe. So, you see this lever?” He points at it, a slightly shorter lever than the actual trigger, “The gun will only fire if both of these little triggers are pulled. There are three safeties on a Glock: one, trigger safety, which I just showed you. Two, firing pin safety, which is both of these guys,” he points at the matching joints in the middle of the two disassembled parts, “And three, the drop safety back here at the butt of the gun.”

“I’ll get you one and I can explain it better later,” he shrugs, quickly assembling it and loading it again, placing it gently back where it belongs and shutting the drawer, “Don’t touch it until I do, though.”

David swipes his cig back from you, laughing as you tell him, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Ugh, David, you’re smoking!” you roll your eyes, coming back to reality, “I’m gonna have to spray you down in cologne.”

“Whatever,” he takes a drag, “That pile is what I found in Ilya’s room.”

“Ilya has better style than you,” you comment, plucking a pair of chino khakis from the stack and passing them to him. “Put them on.”

You watch him stub out his cig and slip his shorts off, the outline of his soft dick painstakingly obvious in his underwear as he grabs the pair of pants. “Jesus fuck. Stare much?”

You blush involuntarily, David pulling them on, “Whatever. It’s staring straight at me. It’s mine now, anyway – I can stare if I want to.”

“Is it now?” he mocks, buttoning the pants and tugging the zipper up and looking in the mirror, “Bro, why is my ass so fucking big?”

“Stop bragging,” you say, “Also, I have to drop by my place so I can change.”

“Oh!” David exclaims, moving to his closet, “Um...I actually have one of your dresses. You left it here a few weeks ago when you spent the night. I kept meaning to tell you, but I’m an idiot and kept forgetting...It kind of felt good to have your shit mixed in with my shit, no cap.”

You stand next to him as he takes your missing dress off of a hanger and passes it to you. You take it from him and wrap your arms around his neck, elbows draped over his shoulders as you lean up to kiss him.

“David,” you say, meeting his eyes, tone light as to not press any unknown buttons, “We’ve been talking about fucking for two months – since the first time we met. Why haven't we yet? Do you not want to anymore?”

He sighs as you fix his necklace, placing the clasp at the back of his neck and tucking the chain underneath the collar of his polo. “I don't have an answer for you, sweetheart. Of course, I want to.”

David’s palms find your waist, “But would it be so bad if we waited a little bit?”

“What?” you ask, genuinely baffled, “You’re the one who even mentioned it first. You said you wanted to ruin me.”

“I didn't think-,” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat, “I don't wanna start fucking you and it ruin shit between us. Maybe we should just keep taking it slow...and do something just every once in a while?”

David grabs your chin and presses a quick kiss to your lips, exhaling disappointedly, directed entirely towards himself as his fingers run over your lips. You’re looking up at him with the doe eyes he finds so fucking difficult to resist, but he does, speaking, “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I know you want it, I know you want it to be me, and you know I want it – but we should wait. The sex is always better when you’re in love, anyway. Give it some time.”

His words are disheartening, but loving, and he continues, pushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead, “The day will come where you can't walk because of me and the day will come where I’m fucking you on a mattress made of money in Vegas. Change will come, babygirl. I’ll eat you out and shit whenever you want, but you have to be patient.”

You’re visibly disappointed, not wanting to meet his eyes as he holds your face, eyes scanning over your features, “Hey, now, you don't have to do all that. It’s okay. It’s not as big of a deal as you think.”

David tugs you into his chest, hugging you and holding you closely, rubbing your back comfortingly, “Baby – I’ve got you. You know this.”

You say nothing as you're wrapped up in his chest, eye to eye with his crucifix, and for a split second, you agree with him. You talk yourself into not being upset, allowing yourself to breathe deeply, taking in his signature scent – a colossal mixture of cigarettes, weed, spilled alcohol on him from work somehow ingrained into all of his clothes, and his cologne. It’s comforting, now, the more you get to know him.

David pulls away slightly, arms still tightly wrapped around you, “You okay, my love?”

Your ears perk up at the new, endearing name, and you nod against him, your dress still in your clutch as he releases his hold on you. He kisses you gently again, “It changes nothing. I was going to take it slow regardless.”

You nod, meeting his eyes and murmuring a quiet Okay, before you speak again, louder this time, “You might not be nice, and you might have, like, twenty guns in your possession...but you’re a good man.”

For the first time, even if it’s only a tiny amount, you see him flush a pale pink, quietly speaking before he attaches your mouths, “I’m glad you think that of me.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, “Just curious. You on birth control?”

You nod against him and you watch him roll his eyes back in response, “Fuck. I might take back everything I just said.”

You scoff, laughing slightly, “Why?”

“Because it would be so satisfying sitting in front of your dad or sitting in church,” David pauses, tugging you closer, “and you’ve got my cum running between your legs? What a fucking dream. And you’re as tight as you are? Ugh, that shit would feel like vacuum.”

You shove at his shoulder, giggling and moving away, “You’re disgusting.”

“I saw that look on your face,” he shrugs, “You think it’s hot too. Whore.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop smoking,” you tell David as he moves to light another cigarette in the car, “Hit your fucking vape or something. You can't smell like cigs right now.”

“Ugh, fucking Christ,” he gripes, putting the unlit cigarette back in the package as he drives the unfamiliar route to your parents’ place, “It’s not the same. Why are you cursing so much?”

David digs through his center console, stopped at a red light, fingers fumbling for a half-empty Stig before taking a hit, “What am I even allowed to do in front of them? How old are your brothers?”

“You know, hand on the waist, on my back, hand holding,” you shrug, “No kisses yet. No pet names yet. We’re just David and Y/N. They’re eighteen and nineteen. They both still live at home.”

“Jesus, I’m nervous,” he admits, fingers running through his hair, “Are we almost there? I’m sorry, but I want to get this over with.”

“Yeah, we are,” you nod easily, reaching for his free hand, “Turn left here. It’s okay. I’d be nervous too.”

David drives silently as you give him sporadic directions before you arrive; he clicks his seatbelt off before sighing deeply, quietly murmuring an Oh, fuck, baby.

“What?” you find yourself asking before you get out, bewildered, “What’s up?”

“Um,” he sucks his teeth, looking straight in front of his steering wheel, “How do I say this?...”

David anxiously taps the top of the wheel, turning to you, “I’ve been here before. A lot, actually. Please tell me I’m not your brothers’ dealer.”

You choke slightly, coughing, “What? Excuse me?”

You hear him swallow nervously as he sinks backwards into his seat, car still running, “Are your brothers...oh, fuck, whatarethosekids’names? Mark and Matthew! Are your brothers Mark and Matthew?”

“Those little shits-”

“Oh, fuck, that’s them?” David whines pitifully, leaning his head against the top of his steering wheel, “If it makes you feel any better, I really like them. They’re good kids. God damn it, though!”

He hits the steering wheel slightly, leaning back up and sighing, “God, I’m not ready for this. Let’s just go.” David quickly turns the key in the ignition and opens his door, hopping out and slipping his keys and Stig into his front pocket.

He’s not nervous about being a good boy; he knows how to act, all of the things to say and promise – but now, instead of one pair of eyes watching him act differently and unlike himself, he has three. David’s anxiety is now through the roof, something rare for him to experience.

You kiss him quickly and tell him it’ll be okay before you open the front door, quietly saying, “I’m going to introduce you really quickly, but can you fend for yourself for a few minutes? I’m going to chew the fuck out of my brothers.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” David ensures, hand on the small of your back, “Be nice to them. They’re good customers.”

You roll your eyes, moving to open it, before he tugs you back slightly, making you meet his eyes.

“Tell me you’ve got me,” he asks, “Sorry, I’m so fucking nervous, dude.”

“I’ve got you,” you nod, repeating assuringly and kissing his cheek, “I’ve got you, David. It’s okay.”

You open the door, him carefully following you in. Everyone is in the kitchen, it seems, so that’s where you head, saying hello as they all pitch in for dinner.

“Hey, guys,” you greet nervously as they all acknowledge your presence, “This is David. He’s my – um, boyfriend!”

You make eye contact with both of your brothers as their faces go white at his presence, David moving around you to shake your father's hand and hug your mother.

“Mom, David,” you introduce, anxious, “Daddy, David. Matt, David. Mark, David.”

“Nice to meet you, man,” they both feign loyally, shaking his hand as they flush a deep red.

“Can I talk to you guys?” you ask, eyes glued on them and faking a smile, “Alone?”

You pull them to the side, another room entirely, still dropping your voice, “You’re fucking buying drugs? What do you buy from him and how much?”

“Y/N, you’re dating him!” Matthew exclaims in a whisper, hands going up in the air, “How did you even meet him? Are you having sex?”

“Answer me,” you press, arms crossed as you hear your parents laugh loudly at something David said, “Literally, neither of that matters! It’s my business, not yours. And it’s my body – Ew. You sound like Dad.”

“It’s our business too!” Mark says, answering your question, “We only buy weed, Y/N. Like, an eighth of an ounce at a time for each of us. Not that much. Wait, does he sell other stuff?”

“Shut up. I’m not answering that. Fine,” you give in, eyes rolling, “That’s fine. He’s going to be around more, and he’s going to go to Mass with us, so keep your mouth shut. Mom and Dad can't know. You know that they’ll turn him in.”

“I mean, obviously,” Matt shrugs, “We want our weed, and he’s the best dealer who stays lowkey in town – Is he even Catholic?”

You sigh, hearing them laugh again, “No, but he likes me, and I like him – so, like, shut up about it. Weed and weed only, shitheads. Let’s go.”

Although David can carry his own weight in polite small talk, it’s difficult to hide his relief once you return to his side and his arm wraps around your waist. You’re impressed with his good boy act as he aids your mother in setting the table. He is still tense, no matter how hard he attempts to get lost in conversation and what he’s doing.

You all sit down at your places – your father and mother at each head – and wait patiently for him to say grace, but he pauses, speaking: “David, can you say grace for us?”

Oh, God, you think, waiting for the shitshow to begin, but David nods confidently and takes your hand and your mother's hand in his, clearing his throat.

You shut your eyes and pray for whatever’s about to occur, and he speaks, “Um...Father, We have gathered to share a meal in Your honor.”

David’s trying his hardest to flip through his Rolodex of memories that feel jurassic from Slovakia, quickly translating to English, “Thank You for putting us together as family, welcoming me into this lovely home, and thank You for this food. Bless it to our bodies, Lord. We thank You for all of the gifts You’ve given to those around this table. Help each member of our family use these gifts to your glory. Guide our mealtime conversations and steer our hearts to Your purpose for our lives. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”

He sighs deeply in relief as your father compliments him, and you’re right there with David, hand comfortingly squeezing at his knee under the table.

Good job, you say quietly, and David grunts, murmuring under his breath, You’re lucky I like you as much as I do. Your brothers clock it as they load their plates up, eyes on yours, before Matthew says, “So, David, what do you do?”

Your eyes zero in on him, kicking him slightly under the table, before David replies, nonchalant, “I bartend in the city. Morning shift. Nine to six on weekdays.”

“You don’t go to St. John’s,” your dad comments, changing the subject to his only interest, “Where do you go? How did you guys meet? Not drinking, I hope.”

His attempt at a joke falls flat, David’s brain working quickly to fabricate a lie, “I’m from Vernon Hills. I just moved here – I went to St. Vincent de Paul back home. We met through Michael and Abby.”

“Oh, okay,” your dad nods understandingly, “What’s your favorite verse? Recite it.”

“Daddy, why are you testing him?” you ask him, anxious that David doesn't have an answer for him, attempting to have his back, “Do you doubt him?”

“No, it’s okay, Y/N,” David ensures, nodding at you and clearing his throat, “He’s just asking. Philippians 4:8 and 9, sir. ‘Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or seen in me — put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.’ It’s how I want others to perceive me...I want to be someone other people can look up to.”

Who is this guy? you find yourself asking as you listen to him speak, quietly eating as David lies through his teeth about his faith for forty-five minutes straight. He’s a great liar, and you try to not think about how hot it is as he stands at the end of dinner, plate cleaned, and silverware crossed. He helps clear the table, and by the sweet end, your father likes him a great deal and makes his excitement about David joining their service known.

You bid your goodbyes, and you’re about to make your way through the front door, before your brothers say David’s name and follow you outside. David seems to flip the switch immediately, dapping them up and saying, “Wassup? Do you guys need something?”

“Will we be seeing you tomorrow?” Matthew asks, fingers running nervously through his hair as he looks between you and David.

“Yeah, why?”

“Can we both get an eighth? Tomorrow morning?”

“Dude,” David rolls his eyes, “I just lied to your parents for, like, an hour and a half, about me being Catholic, and you want me to deal to you at church?”

They both shrug, and he looks at you – shocked when you shrug, too – sighing and replying, “Fucking fine. Thirty-five bucks. Cash. Each. You know the deal. You’re going to Hell. Goodnight.”

Wordlessly and rudely, David gets in his car and you follow him, bidding goodnight to both of the boys. He groans once you climb in and puts the key in the ignition, turning it and sliding his seatbelt on.

“You did so good,” you say, reading the frustration on his face, “He loves you. Where did you know all that?”

He scoffs, pulling out of the driveway, “Whatever. I was raised Catholic, too, you know? I know what they like to hear. Fuck, I need a fat ass blunt after that shit.”

Once further down the road, David rolls the window down and moves to light a cigarette, groaning at the taste, “I missed you so much.”

He drives quietly, smoking one cigarette and then smoking another, indulging his addiction. He’s halfway through his second cig before he speaks, laughing slightly, “Daddy, huh?”

“Shut up,” you blush, “I know it’s weird.”

He shakes his head as he exhales the smoke, smile playing at his lips, “I don't think it’s weird, but you should be calling me that — not him. Just saying. Too sexy when you say it.”

You choke, “Excuse me? We’d have to have sex for me to call you that.”

“Nah,” he tuts, cig between his lips, “Not true. And you’ve got daddy issues like a bitch. I think I deserve that title.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, moving to steal a cigarette from him and lighting it.

“Say it,” he commands, eyes on the road and free hand coming to the inside of your thigh, “Let me hear it, sugar.”

You pause for a moment, holding your breath, “Daddy.”

“Oof,” he actually says, shifting in his seat, “Fuck, yes. My dick twitched.”

He grabs at his dick, “Ugh. I need to hear that more often.”

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