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schrijverr · 1 month

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Stiles as a Roommate

Classic outsiders POV of Stiles in college, where his roommate, Mike, and their other friends try to figure out who all these people are that keep calling Stiles.

On AO3.

Ships: Sterek

Warnings: they think Stiles is wrapped up in some bad shit (which valid tbh)

~~~~

Mike’s roommate is profoundly disturbing and highly hilarious to have around. On the first day he comes crashing into the room, tripping over himself like an old school physical comedy, before assuring Mike that he’s fine and it doesn’t even come close to being beaten to a pulp by a grandfather.

It’s quite the introduction and for a while Mike was worries that his roommate is going to suck. Stiles isn’t the typical college student, you see.

He has amassed an entire herb garden in the windowsill, skips out on most parties, keeps a metal baseball bat by his bed and calls home every single day. On top of that, he doesn’t know how to shut up and his rants devolve into the strangest bullshit about the most random topics that make Mike wonder why the hell criminology major had looked into them.

So, Mike thought he is stuck with a weird paranoid kid, who doesn’t know how to have fun. He worries about Stiles getting mad about him getting back in late or judgmental about not studying as much. However, his worries had soon been put to rest.

Because Stiles is fun and Stiles is easy. He can become anyone’s friend in minutes and is up later than healthy most of the time, doing weird bullshit on his laptop that he calls research, though Mike never knows what for.

He might not be a party-goer himself, but he absolutely doesn’t care about what Mike does, just jeering at him to use protection when he goes out and waking him up with a smug smirk and coffee when Mike wants to disappear into his mattress with a hangover, kicking his ass to classes.

Stiles is probably what is keeping him from failing right now and Mike will go to great lengths to keep him as his friend, because, yeah, they’re friends now.

It’s impossible not to befriend Stiles, he grows on you like a very persistent mold.

His friendship with Stiles starts six weeks into rooming together. Classes are in full swing alongside parties and Mike has just started to get worried about his roommate being a stick in the mud, when he comes home at 4:00 AM piss drunk.

Naturally he tries (and fails) to quietly enter the room, trying not the be the dickbag that wakes people up every night to find the lights still on. He blinks a few times at Stiles, who is sitting on his bed with a laptop and smartly says: “Huh.”

“God, you’re so fucking drunk it’s not even funny, dude. I can smell it from here and I don’t even have a freaky nose,” Stiles comments, before he gets up from the bed.

Mike sways slightly in the doorway, mentally trying to decide if he can do a stumble and drop to his bed or if he’ll sleep on the floor when Stiles is suddenly in front of him. He startles and nearly falls over, saved from faceplanting by Stiles, who is usually the one meeting the floor.

“Oh, hey, there, hey, buddy,” Stiles says, righting him. He slips an arm around Mike and masterfully stumble-drags him to the bed, depositing him on it. He points at Mike, who is still reeling from the movement and sternly says: “Don’t move,” as if Mike had any big plans.

Moments later he returns with a glass of water and gets Mike upright, telling him to sip and not allowing him to stop until the glass is empty.

Mike isn’t sure what happens next, but the next morning he wakes up with a groan to find two painkillers, a glass of water and a glass of orange juice on his bedside table along with a note reading: go to your classes! And you’re not a very eloquent drunk

In that moment, it feels like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him, swiftly forgetting all his parents have done under the pounding headache. He takes his painkillers, drinks his drinks and actually manages to drag himself to his lecture, deciding that Stiles might not be so bad.

When he comes back from his class, Stiles is there, typing away on his laptop again. He greets Mike when he enters and Mike returns it: “Hey, dude. Thanks for the painkillers and stuff.”

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Stiles smiles back. “It’s just instinct at this point, I’ve had to drag worse people off to bed.”

It’s a bit of an odd reply, but something Mike can work with. “You friends with many party-goers?”

A strange look flits over Stiles’ face, but it goes as fast as it comes and Stiles says: “Something like that. I was the one with a car, who wasn’t a prick about it getting dirty on the inside when in crisis. I have passed up on many party experiences except the clean up. All my friends are idiots.”

Mike chuckles at that and plops down on his own bed, as he comments: “Do you have a big friend group back home?” See, he can have conversations, mom.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles tells him with a grin. “We’re like a family. A very weird family.” A brief pause. “But how about you?”

“Nah,” Mike shrugs. “I’m making up for it now.”

“Yeah, I can see,” Stiles grins. “Alcohol is a poison, my man. Besides, I’m not sure you’re remembering the friends you made.”

The bluntness is something Mike has encountered before and turned him away, but it doesn’t sound mean. He remembers that he is going to try with Stiles, so instead of ending the conversation there, he shrugs: “Probably, but it’s fun while it lasts.”

“Come on, man, that’s not fun,” Stiles says. “I have some friends from introduction. We get fries on Thursdays and study on Sunday. You can come sometime, it’s fun.”

Okay, so the bluntness was genuine concern and Mike honestly could use some actual friends. He likes parties, they’re fun, but the loneliness is starting to get to him. So he replies: “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles does a genuine fist pump and Mike snorts. Yeah, alright, maybe Stiles isn’t so bad at all.

“Why were you awake so late anyway?” Mike asks, suddenly remembering that Stiles was just sitting there when he stumbled in.

“Oh, Jackson called me,” Stiles says. “He’s in studying in at Cambridge, because his parents are pretentious fuckers. He needed to check in about… something and I was still awake. I had to look something up, I was just emailing him the details when you came in.”

“All the way in England?” Mike whistles, a bit impressed.

“Tsk, don’t let hear him that. Dick has a big enough ego as it is,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were his friend?” Mike says, a bit confused, because Stiles had literally picked up the phone at 4:00 AM for this guy, couldn’t be that much bad blood, could there?

“Surprisingly enough. He had a restraining order against me in high school for a while,” Stiles informs him casually, before realizing how that sounds and quickly amending: “Obviously, he revoked it, because it was completely unnecessary and a big misunderstanding. We’re cool now, promise.”

And that’s Mike’s cue to drop the conversation, giving Stiles a tight nod, before turning to his own work. He’s giving the other a chance, not inviting crazy. Though he does allow himself to be invited for fries on Thursday with Stiles’ friends.

There is Maya a shy, but enthusiastic biology major; Aalif, a kind but serious looking pre-law student; Nikki, a hilariously insane art major; and Kai a bit of a dorky English major. How Stiles had found this ragtag group Mike doesn’t know

“Mike,” he introduces himself. “I do history. I’m Stiles’ roommate,” before he’s pulled into a discussion about whether or not fries can be classified as a salad. (Potato salad exists, Mike, and it’s a side dish).

It’s honestly a lot more fun than expected and it’s nice to see that Stiles does know how to have fun, he just has fun arguing about nothing with someone studying to argue professionally instead of getting wasted.

While Mike doesn’t think he’ll keep away from parties entirely, he might cut back to make place for this. The genuine connection is way nicer than not remembering who you talked to, or if you even did.

They’re about to start opening the famous is cereal-soup debate when Stiles’ phone starts to ring. He nearly hits his head on the table as he dives to get it out of his bag, calling out a quick: “Sorry, guys, gotta take this real quick.”

But since he is stuck in a booth, all he can do is turn away from them as he greets: “Isaac, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

It’s not the most standard greeting and Mike raises his brow at the others, who all shrug. Apparently this has happened before. Mike watches as Stiles gets a reply, fascinated by how Stiles seems to melt, worries leaving him as he grins fondly, before practically cooing: “You missing me already? I am flattered, pup.”

He grins some more at what Isaac is saying, before raising a brow, voice turning into a tease: “I feel used here. Like a cheap replacement. You knew Scott was going to be busy with Allison, I even warned you. Not my fault no one in this p- family ever listens to me.”

Another reply to which Stiles says: “Yes, you heard correctly, I’m with friends, you can make those at college. I encourage you to try.”

An eyeroll at Isaac’s answer, then a sigh: “Yes, Isaac, having your own friends will get their attention again. But try also for yourself, meeting new people is fun. Maybe you even meet someone you like.”

“Bye, Isaac,” Stiles says pointedly, it sounds faintly like Isaac is protesting his departure, but he hangs up on him.

“Sorry about that, you know how they can get,” Stiles grins, trying to play it off, while Mike tries to ignore how much it sounds like the conversation he had with his mom last week, before deciding to join the others in not commenting.

And after that it their friendship takes off until they’re at the ‘waking him up with a smug smirk and coffee when Mike wants to disappear into his mattress with a hangover, kicking his ass to classes’- stage.

Turns out that if you’re closer to Stiles, he’s even weirder. He goes home pretty often, now that he has settled in alright, nearly every other weekend, at least once a month, though he complains about his dad forcing him to stay at college to get the full experience, air quotes obvious in his voice.

Mike doesn’t say anything, since he kind of agrees with Stiles’ dad. It’s a bit unhealthy how much Stiles’ calls home. Or at least, Mike thinks he does, though it always sounds like it’s someone else on the phone, because Stiles will tell the same story a bunch of times or tell the person that another person told him to tell them etc, like they couldn't call themselves.

The conversations are also just weird. Stiles cuts himself off sometimes, sending Mike looks, or he’ll fuss over whoever is on the other side of the line like he’s their therapist, or their fucking mother. Not to mention the fact that he always – always – picks up.

Mike has tried to call Stiles a few times, a lot of the time his roommate won’t pick up, or call back apologetically, yet he’ll leave a lecture if someone from home calls.

It’s just odd.

So, brave soldier as he is (as well as the head investigator of their little friend group, who are all more curious about Stiles than Mike expected when he first met them), he asks: “Hey, man, who are you always calling?”

Stiles look up from where has just hung up with a: “You be careful okay? I love you,” looking a bit confused, before smiling and shrugging: “That depends, honestly. It’s a bit much.”

That sounds like a deflection, but Mike is curious and got better at talking to people and standing up for himself. So, he goes: “I have time. I’m smart. I think I can take it.”

“Alright,” Stiles shoots him another uncertain look, before starting, “Well, my dad and Derek are holding down the fort, so I call them just to see how life is going. Boyd and Erica are there too, so I call them too, but Boyd doesn’t talk much, so I mostly call with Erica. She is my Catwoman, you know, we chat, she spills about Boyd. He has his own carpentry shop, it’s been going well. I’m glad for him, you know. And Erica is taking a gap year, but to be honest, I think she likes being a park ranger too much to ever go back to school.”

Mike nods along to Stiles’ rambles. His dad is explainable and the fact that he added Derek in there must mean they’re a unit in his mind, maybe a brother? Or even his father’s boyfriend. Erica is someone he’s close with and knows well, called her his Catwoman, so maybe girlfriend? But he connected her to Boyd, who sounds like a far friend of sorts, so maybe not.

“Of course there is Jackson in England,” Stiles continues on happily. “I told you about him. He is a bit of a dick, but we’ve forgiven him. Well, Lydia did and we all trusted her and it worked out okay.”

And yeah, Mike remembers Jackson with the apparent restraining order and wonders who Lydia is. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Lydia,” Stiles sighs, making Mike think he loves her, which he naturally immediately disproves by going, “I used to be in love with her, but turns out, no. She’s being an absolute genius doing mathematics at CalTech. She terrifies me in the best ways.”

That’s not concerning at all.

“And then you have Scott, my best friend,” Stiles rambles on and Mike knows that the other probably won’t even notice if he leaves. He gets like that. “Now my man Scott is at Colorado State

to become a vet alongside Allison and Isaac.”

Those two names are also familiar and Mike feels awkward staying silent, so he says: “They’re all become vets?”

“No, just Scott, but they’re all at Colorado State, because Scott will probably perish without Allison and Isaac hates being lonely and didn’t get into Stanford with me,” Stiles says, like that’s the most obvious reason to pick a school.

Mike is distracted by Stiles hitting his arm enthusiastically: “Allison is also doing history, man, I hadn’t even thought of that! I don’t know how it would be relevant either, but you know, fun fact! I love fun facts, like did you know that human teeth are the only part of the body that can’t heal themselves, because enamel is dead tissue. That was fun to find out.”

He senses that there is a story there, but Stiles is already moving on: “And Isaac, my beautiful boy, is doing social studies, which I think will really help him. He’s come so far and he’s really happy with his courses.”

Isaac was the one that called during that first Thursday fries run Mike was a part of. He recalls the nicknames and the fact that Isaac was missing Stiles, not to mention how fond Stiles sounded and the fact that Isaac wanted to go to college with him. Maybe Isaac was the boyfriend?

“Anyways,” Stiles ends his rant. “I told you it’s a bit much, but I like knowing they’re okay and getting by and if I only call one, the others will get jealous. There’s only so much Stiles to go around and everyone wants a piece,” he grins.

Mike thinks Stiles has a weird relationship with his friends from back home, but also that he doesn’t want to create any friction with his roommate and best friend on campus, so he just nods and smiles a bit.

“But how about you?” Stiles returns the question. “You never call home, at least, not that I’ve witnessed.”

Since Stiles decided to share, something he rarely does, Mike knows he should return the favor, so he shrugs. “Not really much to call.”

“Is no one there?” Stiles asks, all concern.

“My mom and dad are, but you know,” Mike shrugs. “Dad just cares about my grades and mom is always prying, like she thinks I can’t manage by myself or something. It’s fucking annoying. I’m an adult now, she doesn’t need to hover.”

Stiles frowns at his reply, then bites his lip as if he isn’t sure he should say something, before he breaks and blurts: “But isn’t that nice? To have someone who worries?”

“What?” Mike hadn’t thought Stiles would pick his mom’s side, though maybe he should have seen it coming.

“I mean, I don’t know your situation of course, but I get it,” Stiles shrugs, backing off a bit. “You’ve always been her baby, who she saw every single day and knew when you had a bad day, when you got a good grade, etc, now she has nothing and you don’t tell her, so her mind makes up all the horrible things that could have happened to you between calls, resulting in what is practically an interrogation until she is satisfied that you’re truly as okay as you claim you are… Wow, that was one hell of s sentence,” Stiles ends his keen observation with a joke to lighten it up a bit, since he got way too into that.

Mike attempts to wade through the sea of words just slung to his head, before he realizes Stiles kind of has a point. He breathes: “How do you even know that?”

Stiles scratches his nose and shrugs: “I might be a bit of the mom-friend.” And Mike is reminded of the fact that Stiles is really weird with his friends and that he probably knows that because he does the exact same thing his mother does.

Next Sunday, he reports all this to the study group, which Stiles has had to skip out on, because someone called at midnight, which obviously meant Stiles immediately packed is bags and left, something that is more common than Mike would like.

“That’s a lot of friends,” Maya comments once he is done. “But it’s sweet he cares so much about them.”

“He cares mom-levels about them,” Mike points out. “I’m telling you, he got so intense while defending my mom, like it was personal.”

“So, he’s a bit intense about is friends,” Nikki shrugs. “One girl in my class is making a shrine to her boyfriend as a final project. We’re not at that level yet, so I think we’re good.”

“He took off in the middle of the night on a three hour drive, because someone called,” Mike replies.

“I don’t think it’s really any of our concern,” Aalif interrupts, before it can get out of hand.

“But what if they’re like a creepy cult or something?” Nikki asks.

Aalif levels her a look as he says: “I don’t think Stiles would get drawn into a cult.”

“You don’t know that,” she raises a brow. “It happens, even to smart people like Stiles.”

“He has a metal baseball bat by his bed,” Mike offers, not sure why he is backing Nikki in this debate.

“He does?” Maya asks, a bit concerned.

They all now look at Mike and he suddenly realizes that they’ve never been into their room, which is why he has become Stiles source number 1. He shrugs: “Yeah, he took it with him when he left for home tonight. It’s all damaged and shit, though I think some carvings are intentional. They look a bit like runes.”

Nikki raises a brow as she looks at Aalif and says: “But you don’t think Stiles could have joined a cult.”

“I don’t think a cult would have allowed him to leave for college, not to mention do criminology,” Maya offers. “I think he’s following a seminar about cults right now actually.”

“Okay, but even without a cult, still suspicious and weird,” Nikki huffs. “And it’s still a possibility, right, Mike?”

Mike startles a bit unsure how he got on the pro-cult side and not sure he isn’t agreeing. “I mean, he does have all these herbs and some weird books, but those could be from the library.”

And now they’re giving him more looks. Great. He puts his hands up defensively: “It’s not like I know, alright. Stiles never exactly cooks, maybe he just likes the smell of the herbs. And the books could be an aesthetic thing, though he keeps him under his bed in a box if they’re his.”

“What sort of books?” Kai asks after a beat.

“They’re leather bound. Old,” Mike shrugs. “I haven’t seen him with them much. He shoves them out of sight when I get in and the only times he hasn’t was when he thought I was asleep or very drunk.”

“Creepy,” Maya shivers.

“Come on, this is Stiles,” Aalif says. “He is not in some creepy cult. Do you all even hear yourselves? Seriously. Now, the midterms are coming up and I would like to get some passing grades.”

That gets a few boos and boring’s thrown at him, but Aalif doesn’t falter and they do all giggle a bit at the ridiculousness of Stiles in a cult. Before they can truly get anything done, Nikke snorts: “Maybe he tripped into it,” sending them all into giggles again.

It isn’t a joke anymore when Stiles reappears again on their Thursday fry run his face more bruise than skin and his hands both wrapped in bandages.

“Stiles!” Kai exclaims, already out of his seat. “What happened to you?”

“Hey there, guys,” Stiles attempts a grin, wincing at the action. “I’m good, I’m good.” He eases himself into their booth, wrapped fingers taking some fries and popping them into his mouth as the rest watches him with careful eyes. Of course he notices as he chews slowly, whispering to himself: “Knew Derek was right about the liquid diet. Fucker.”

“What happened?” Aalif asks when Stiles seems like he is going to ignore the whole situation that is his face and hands. “Stiles, if someone did this to do, you have to go to the police, file a report. You can sue.”

“Of course you’d say that, lawyer-man,” Stiles grins again, falling flat once more when his already split lip, re-splits and starts to bleed. “Ah, fuck,” he hisses, grabbing a napkin to press against it as he makes a disgruntled face.

“Stiles,” Nikki snaps.

“What?” he replies as if it’s not incredibly obvious.

Mike surprises himself by jumping in: “What the hell happened to you, man?”

It dawns on Stiles that they’re not letting it go and he sags a bit in his seat. Then says: “Nothing, I promise. It was just an accident, really.”

That’s just a thousand red flags there and Maya takes the lead for them, putting a hand on Stiles shoulder and saying in a soft voice: “We’re not going to judge you, promise. But right now, not knowing is so much worse.”

“Derek told me not to come,” Stiles sighs after a moment. “I knew it was stupid, but I wanted to come. I mean, he only had Boyd and Erica with him, because all the others were too far away. That wasn’t enough.”

“What were they doing?” Nikki asks, unable to keep her mouth shut and be patient.

Luckily, Stiles isn’t silenced by it. “Derek lives on the preserve, it’s in the middle of the forest and something was killing the animals. It was a mountain lion, we have a lot of animal attacks. They wanted to take it out before it moved into the town.”

Mike remembers Stiles telling him Erica was a park ranger, but Boyd was a carpenter and he knew nothing about Derek, which is weird on its own. Stiles loved bragging about his friends, or would casually comment about them or pick up the phone with their name on his lips, but Mike had before now heard the name Derek only once.

“Of course I tripped over a few branches in the dark,” Stiles laughs self-deprecatingly. “I should have known better. I’m a klutz, you know. Though I did get a hit in, before I went down in a not so glorious blaze of branches and a curse.”

“You hit a mountain lion?” Kai whisper yells.

“Yeah, with my bat,” Stiles shrugs, like it’s a normal thing.

“Dude, are you insane?” Mike asks.

“Oh, okay, I see what’s happening here,” Stiles backs up, like they didn’t make sense before now. “I didn’t want to admit I fell, because it’s embarrassing as fuck. And like, I know I’m clumsy, but after all the running away from shit trying to kill me, one would think I’d have gotten better at it, but noooo. I am surrounded by people who can do crazy shit, while I hit my head on a fucking branch, because why not.”

“Stiles!” Nikke cuts him off. “Running away from things trying to kill you? What the hell.”

“I was getting there,” Stiles says, though it’s obvious to all of them that he was getting further and further away from the point. “When I was in high school there were all these murders in town. My friend was targeted at one point, I got caught up in it. Nothing makes a friendship like getting locked into a school and running from a crazed murderer or holding someone up in a pool for two hours. It was a whole thing. Plus my father is the sheriff.”

“What the fuck,” Nikki voices the shared sentiment after a moment to process.

“Wait, here I have proof,” Stiles taps away on his phone, before showing a news article with the tagline reading: Five teens trapped in high school with murderer still on the loose

After letting them read it, he puts his phone in his pocket and proudly says: “We’re having a project about crimes in our hometown right now and I have an advantage over the rest.”

“That’s- That’s not-” Maya stutters. “…Stiles…”

“What?” he says confused, as if what he just bragged about isn’t heartbreaking. God, no wonder he’s a bit fucked from it all. Mike would want to know if all his friends are okay if he nearly saw them all killed alongside him.

“Are you, like, okay?” Mike asks.

“Probably not, like in general,” Stiles tells him honestly, “but I am really fine. As fine as I get anyway. Derek says I have to work on that, but he’s not the boss of me and I actually am doing better. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Maya smiles kindly. “We just want to know you’re okay. Thanks for trusting us with that. Did you get those wounds checked out?”

“I did,” he returns her smile. “Got a clean bill of health and everything. Dad wouldn’t let me drive back before that.”

“Good,” Aalif says.

They’re all quiet for a moment, before the thing that has been niggling on his mind comes out. He asks: “Who is this Derek person anyway?”

Stiles regards them all for a moment, before saying: “I don’t think we reached that level of friendship yet. Sorry. Like, you’re all my friends and stuff and I like bragging about my other friends to you, but I don’t know.”

“What?” Mike exclaims as Nikki points out: “You just told us you nearly got murdered, but telling us about a friend is a step too far?”

“You know, that is actually a good point,” Stiles says. “I must still be a bit lightheaded from everything, I normally don’t tell people that.”

“Should we take you to a hospital? Kai asks worriedly.

“No, no, I’m kidding, I think,” Stiles jokes, before quickly adding, “I am truly kidding, please don’t take me to a hospital. God, no one appreciates my humor.”

“Stiles,” Aalif sighs tiredly when Stiles deftly gets them on a different topic than Derek.

“Derek is my husband,” Stiles finally tells them, shutting them all up as they stare at them with their jaws on the floor. That explains Stiles trips home and lack of partying or otherwise getting laid, he had a whole fucking husband waiting for him at home.

None of them could know that Stiles’ reluctance to talk about Derek and his relation is that as a prominent alpha, broadcasting that they were ‘mated’ (and yes, Derek, that term is still weird to a human) isn’t really smart. Especially after everything that had already come to Beacon Hills.

“Y- Your husband?!?” Kai squeaks.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you all,” Stiles groans. “You can’t imagine the rumor mill at home when it happened, like seriously, people were acting like I was signing my life away to the devil or something.”

“Why?” Maya asks and Mike has to agree. Marriage so early isn’t exactly uncommon, it just took them by surprise this time. What would make this different.

“I-” Stiles looks genuinely sheepish, “I might have gotten him arrested for a murder he didn’t commit and stuff. But that was like, what? Two, three years ago.”

Immediately their table exploded, voices overlapping, because – again – what the fuck.

“He didn’t do it!” Stiles exclaims, shutting them all up. “He was framed. Set up. Look, I know he wasn’t the killer. Derek saved my life, like a bazillion times at this point. I love him.”

Despite the bruises, the look on his face is quite clear with love oozing off of it. Like full on, ‘Disney princess, soulmate, found the one’-love. It’s a bit disgusting in Mike’s terribly single opinion.

“Well, then I want to see him,” Nikki demands. “You can’t tell us you got swept off your feet by a mysterious would be murderer and not expect us to want to see him.”

Stiles shoots them all a suspicious look, which is pretty rude all things considering, but Mike lets it slide in favor of satiating his curiosity. Then Stiles pulls out his phone, showing them a sequence of pictures that said more than words could.

It’s obviously their wedding day. They’re both in full suits, standing in a forest with the sunset hitting them, putting them in a glow of light. Derek is apparently a handsome, muscled man, who screams not bad boy as much as serial killer.

The first picture is pretty standard. They’re looking at each other, Derek’s bad boy vibe killed by the fact that he is smiling softly at Stiles, who is smiling back. Derek’s smile is toothachingly fond in a way that Mike feels in his chest.

In the second picture, the murder vibes are back in full force, with Derek glaring at Stiles, who looks like he’s saying something, his face smug like it’s an inside joke, his hands up to gesture like he always does.

Then, in the last picture, Stiles has Derek’s cheeks between his hand, face contorted in something Mike would call a coo, if Derek didn’t look like the kind of guy who would allow anything resembling a coo being directed at him. Though, Mike might have to rethink that assumption, because while Derek is raising one murderous eyebrow, the smile has returned again.

“I am his favourite annoyance,” Stiles announces proudly. “It’s wonderful how much bugging someone can do.”

And all of them would have guessed Derek was the one, who had pursued Stiles, but here Stiles is, telling them all about how he is a master at befriending people and Derek honestly needed someone to tell him how horrible he was at decorating or socializing, before fixing it for him.

Beside him, Nikki mutters: “Dear god, he has an ‘I can fix him’-mentality. We’re doomed.”

“I heard that!” Stiles exclaims indignantly, though he doesn’t deny it per se. But when Nikki’s soda arrives, it explodes in her face and Mike would almost suspect Stiles had something to do with it if he had to go off the smug look.

They drop the topic of Stiles injuries and apparent husband, for the evening, which Stiles seems grateful for at least, before catching him up on campus gossip. Still, they keep their eye on him and it’s hard to forget with his face all fucked up.

When they leave, Maya leans in and whispers to Mike: “Keep an eye on him for us, okay?”

He nods quickly, before hurrying after Stiles, who is yelling at him to hurry or he’ll drive back without him.

Mike also keeps his word, so when Stiles’ phone starts to ring, he pretends to be engrossed in his book, while secretly keeping an ear on Stiles’ conversation. He usually doesn’t listen in, unless something is so weird it breaks through his mental barriers, but he feels like this can be an exception.

“Hey there, big guy,” Stiles greets, voice much gentler than Mike ever remembered it being.

“Yeah, worrywolf, I’m fine,” Stiles tells whoever is on the other side. “Dad wouldn’t have let me drive otherwise and neither would you for that matter. You checked me yourself before letting me go, quite thoroughly I might add.”

And that last part is definitely an innuendo, dear god, Mike did not want to know that. However, it is confirmation that it’s Derek on the line, so he listens even harder.

“I know I overdid it, but no one got hurt except a few bruises on me,” Stiles argues. “And I get hurt even when I’m not in danger, you know how doors and the air are my biggest enemies. Come on, Derek. If it was bad, I would have told you. We promised remember? You made it part of our vows, because you are a complete softie.”

Okay, Mike isn’t going to lie, that’s actually pretty cute and he slightly hates that he’s becoming team Derek when all he knows is that he was (falsely) arrested for murder and married to Stiles, who comes running home when called on.

“I promise not to run into danger again,” Stiles tells Derek. “Well, I promise not to run needlessly into danger again and honestly one could argue that this time wasn’t needlessly, because you are my damsel in distress as much as you want to cast me in that roll.” A beat. “Yes, I will never let you forget the pool, we discussed this.”

“Yes, Derek, I always take care of my wounds,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ll even send you picture updates and call you every day. How does that sound?”

Oh god, Derek is actually a concerned boyfriend – excuse me, husband – who needs updates and called the day Stiles left because he was worried. Mike is never going to be able to tell the others that without it turning into a riot.

“Great, because I am going to bed,” Stiles says. “Midterms are coming up and while spending time with you is a hundred times better, I actually need to pass these if I ever want to get a degree. So, goodbye, I love you.”

A bit of silence, then a very love-filled chuckle: “Of course I’m going to think of you. I always sleep better with you, you know that. Now bye. Love you, again and always.”

Fucking hell, Mike is going to die of a toothache, caused by his happily married roommate, which is honestly where his life is at right now.

Though, Mike can honestly live with a weird roommate. It’s a source of entertainment and he now can rest knowing Stiles has someone watching out for him, preventing him from going off the deep end, which was an honest concern.

Stiles is weird, but with what Mike knows, he’s allowed to be a bit strange and he honestly doesn’t want to know more than he does.

A/N:

Disclaimer: I am not shitting on parties, if you like them, go nuts. I just don’t drink and hate social interaction, so I wouldn't know how to write a good party scene even if I wanted to, lmao.

Idk how well it came through, but Stiles is magic and burned his hands while overdoing it in the fight he got injured in. He also totally exploded Nikki’s drink as petty revenge, his herbs are also related to magic.

#rr writing #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #sterek #derek x stiles #teen wolf stiles #derek hale #OCs #college student stiles stillinski

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hoodedmenace · 2 years

Text

@mxttmurdock

If Matt Murdock is awaiting retribution, it takes a little over two weeks for it to happen.

For starters, Jason is still pretty pissed. The generality of the situation doesn’t make him mad, it’s the specifics. He’s slept with other capes before. Very briefly. Mostly one. One and a half. Anyway, that’s not the point. And the fact that he kind of gets where Matt is coming from isn’t the point either. The point is that he had every opportunity to say something and instead he chose a couple of rounds of the most incredible sex Jason has had in his entire, short little life, which makes it worse.

Because—how dare he! How dare he ruin that too!

In hindsight, it makes sense—Jason can only make guesses to Matt’s full list of abilities, if he can sense things without needing to see, well... his use of his hands and his mouth pretty much proved that.

Which brings Jason to the second point: he can’t stop thinking about him. And not even in the pleasant, nice kind of way that simply leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but in the sweaty, dream-obliterating, can’t function in the morning without jacking off kind of way. It’s the worst. It’s fully the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, second to the time the Joker beat the shit out of him and blew him up. But that’s neither here nor there. He avoids Dick in the morning like the plague, to the point where Dick nearly holds him hostage about it. They have a good laugh after Jason vents all of his violent frustrations out, because if Dick isn’t panicking about the situation, Jason isn’t going to either.

The problem is that he can’t do anything about it for a while. There’s midterms. And he’s a good student, he really is, and Criminology isn’t easy but it makes his brain work in all the right ways, so that makes for a good distraction. But then midterms are over and there’s this whole fucking heist with the Riddler and the Gotham subway, and a terrifying night of attempting to save multiple cars of trapped passengers while gaining speed over each failed answer. Jason is pretty sure that one makes the national news. He’s also pretty sure that Batman, for once, didn’t pull his punches when he finally found Riddler, to which he’s grateful for, but he doubts time in Arkham is going to fix anything. He’ll be in there for a while though, so there’s an upside.

In the middle of all of that, there’s a Wayne Foundation event in Tribeca, forcing the two eldest adopted Waynes to mingle with Bruce’s fresh ward. There’s an interview that gets recorded, a very pretty woman in a deep burgundy dress holding a microphone to his and Dick’s faces asking them about life as Gotham’s second-most eligible bachelors. Jason and Dick laugh like they’re being polite but really hate being asked this question, laugh like they’re so used to lying about it that it almost sounds like the truth, and then make some jokes about technically living in Blüdhaven and scuttle away scot-free.

So by the time Jason gets around to hacking into Columbia’s records, two weeks have definitely passed, but it gives him the opportunity to act and not really think about it. He finds Matt’s schedule easily. Cleans up as many of his little fingerprints as he can, though he’s sure nothing is truly that private on the Batcomputer, packs a small duffel, and guns it over the river to Manhattan. The thing is that if he waits too long, he’s going to lose his nerve, but if he does it now, he’ll have just enough time to catch Matt right before his last class for the day and... well—hope that the rest of it goes smoothly. His class schedule isn’t the only one he pulled.

He rolls up to Columbia like he goes there, except he’s sporting thick, heavy sunglasses he stole from Bruce that he’s sure cost more than some of the parking fees around the city, and a sweatshirt emblazoned with Gotham University across the front. It gets him some looks, but he makes a few jokes about it with a guy he runs into coming from the library, and asks for directions to the building he needs, cutting his wandering time in half. It’s a pretty campus, but he’s not here to linger. The halls are empty and his heavy boots squeak on the shiny flooring, but he finds the room he needs and parks his ass right the fuck down across from it, pulling a worn paperback from his bag to complete the look and fuck through the extra half hour he saved himself.

#mxttmurdock #(flamebird verse)

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msookyspooky · 2 years

Text

Terrible Trilogy

Part 3

wordcount: 4,643

You couldn't help it. You had to call him. You had to call someone after that weird phone call you got from Stu. Even if you couldn't talk about it specifically.

He answered with a long sigh after the fifth ring. "...YN. If you're calling about what Dewey said-"

"Oh good, Dewey told you already...Randy, hear me out-"

"NO. No, no, no-"

You talked over him. "Randy, it was Cotton Weary and he was stabbed and he-....Would you stop that?"

"No, no, no! YN, we are DONE with this! Cotton was a giant fuckface that pissed people off. Maybe he owed people money? Maybe he cheated or he cut someone off in traffic? It has nothing to do with us!"

You knew he was rolling his eyes at you on the other line as you drew out. "Oooohhh...May I remind you who was RIGHT 3 years ago?"

"Noooooo. It was two guys that resembled them and our freaked out brains thought it was those two idiots. Not blaming you; I was even shocked! I mean, my brain really did think that Tim guy was Stu Macher. Crazy right?"

You pushed your tongue inside your cheek. "Mm hmm. Yeah...Okay, but I was still right about us being involved." You sidestepped.

"So, you were right 3 years ago? That doesn't mean anything."

"Okay but what if it does? You can't avoid it forever."

"Why not? You used your settlement to buy a big property on a hillside and I moved back to my folks place just so I'm not alone. Like I had a choice waking up from a coma."

He took a deep breath. "The point is; we both were freakin traumatized by what happened to us not once but TWICE. You faced down five crazies and how you barely got a concussion is beyond me... I almost died! We are not involved. We can't be involved if we mind our business and stay as far away from where Cotton was as possible. It was not related to us but if you go snooping it will be!...So give it a rest. Please YN, just let us mind our business."

You sighed heavily and leaned back while rubbing your eyes. "Yeah...Alright, maybe you're right."

"YN, just stay safe. Remember:-"

You listed off the rules. "No going off by myself, no drugs or booze, no backing up near closed spaces, no saying I'll be right back...I know. I didn't have those horror marathons with you for nothing."

You both said goodbye and hung up. You wanted to agree with Randy and Stu. It was so much easier to just say it had nothing to do with you. That Cotton was just a freak incident and Stu was playing a prank on you… But you had a weird feeling.

'Until you get more info, there's nothing you can do but hang tight. So stop letting your paranoid brain think it's Windsor or Woodsboro all over again! What would be the odds? A million to one?' You thought as you leaned back with your head on a pillow on your couch.

You stopped studying criminology. You went to see if you could figure out two killers and the more you figured them out the worse it made you feel; it ultimately solved nothing. It was easy to hyperfixate on them dead, but alive and still murderers? It made it less appealing and more just a fact. They were who they were and you weren't going to change them.

Sometimes you wish you would have continued. Criminology in itself fascinated you but college felt ruined for you now. Maybe one day, but not right now.

You sued Stab and Gale Weathers. You gained a decent amount of money from how rich Gale was, the amount the box offices brought in from Stab and how much your character was smeared. You bought a downpayment on a house and had enough money for a few years but you knew it would run out and that mortgage would start kicking your ass. Eventually, you'd have to bite the anxiety bullet and find some way to live. But thankfully that wasn't right now.

You inhaled deeply and nestled into the couch.

Some time passed before Cherri got up from the couch, barking and growling at the door. You raised up from the couch and cautiously stood up. You had your gun in its holster in its lockbox on your table. You quickly unlocked it as Cherri continued growling. Opening to see it was gone.

You plastered yourself to the back of the couch, fear on your face. '....What the hell?' You thought, chest heaving at the implication someone else had it. You couldn't have misplaced it!

Cherri continued as you cautiously crept to the door. You looked through to see nothing.

Suddenly, a scream ripped from you as someone hit your window beside the front door. You screamed again, hands on the side of your head as you saw the mask and the gun in their gloved hand. They aimed at you through the window-

- You shrieked, jerking up from the couch as your alarm system went off. Realizing it was an awful nightmare just like the dozens of others you had… You must have dozed off. You shakily got up from the couch, still in a twilight as Cherri sat up alert at the alarm. You heard banging on your front door.

"YN! Let me in!"

"...Stu?" You quickly deactivated the alarm and unlocked the door before he barreled in. Blood on his hands and shaken up.

You quickly slammed the door shut and locked it. Not knowing what to think, even looking at him in fear as if it might be a trick.

"My phone died. I had to leave the hotel. I came back from your call and she was dead with her blood all over the freakin floor...And I didn't do it!" He breathlessly informed you.

You were half asleep and still trying to comprehend what he was saying. "Who?-"

"My manager, YN! I couldn't stay there or call the cops. I just got in the car and came back here." He gave you an accusing look. "YN...If you're getting into murder, couldn't you pick someone else?! I'm flattered you want me to stay that bad but that was my ticket, man! And you had her neck sliced!"

You shook your head. "What the absolute FUCK are you talking about?!"

He rummaged in his pocket and shoved it towards you. "Here. Who else would know but you and Billy!?..." His face morphed into an offended glare. "Oh my God...You're both in on it, aren't you?"

You read what he gave you...It was a note. "I know what you did, Stu Macher." Your eyes widened as you read it.

"Stu...I swear to you, I don't know what this is!"

"Oh yeah?" He marched up to you and jerked the paper back. "Then why did you call me!?"

"I didn't!"

He eyed you, putting the paper in his pocket. He was clearly shaken up from it and stressed out. "Well, if you pranked me and this was bad timing; you can just admit it...But if you're secretly working with Billy-"

"Stu! I haven't seen Billy since Windsor!"

He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Then who?! Because no one knows but you and him!"

He sucked in a breath as he gripped his hair and started pacing.

You swallowed and took a deep breath. "Let's just calm down for a second...Did the hotel staff see you?"

He thought for a moment. His eyes weren't looking at you as he furiously shook his head. "No...I was just there to meet my manager at the room number she texted me. It was one of those hotels with outdoor rooms you just walk up the balcony to get to. I didn't go to the lobby."

"Camera's?"

"...I don't know."

"Fingerprints on the door?"

"No, it was already open...Oh fuck, what if I touched something and didn't realize it? OH GOD...I had to get my suitcase and had to move her body out of the way to get to it...SHIT-" He hunched over and cursed before running his hands over his face. The dried blood stayed on the tops of his fingers.

You nodded and tried getting his attention. "Okay, okay! So, just lay low. If you used your arm, it might not be that bad...Maybe they'll toss out any fingerprints they do find on account of you supposedly being deceased?...I don't know."

"Whaddya mean you don't know?! Weren't you going into criminology?!"

"I quit schooling, remember? Besides, it isn't forensics, it's just criminal behavior."

You threw up his hands with a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, that'll really help!"

"Stu, calm down. You can park your car in my garage and no one will know. Wipe off any blood. Just act like you weren't there. What was at the crime scene?"

"I don't freaking know, man! Her blood was in a pool on the floor and it looked like a fight happened. Furniture was broken and thrown around. I just had to get lost….I just found the note on the ground next to...A picture."

"Of?"

He licked his lips and looked at you. "...Sidney."

You released a shaky breath before coming to your senses. "Shit!" You stamped your foot and hissed under your breath. "You left it?"

"DUH! Sorry but I wasn't touching more stuff!"

"Yeah, well now that means Stu or Tim will be a suspect if they find your fingerprints anywhere WITH a picture of Sidney Prescott."

His whole face fell. "WELL SHIT I CAN'T GO BACK!"

You held up your hand. "No, you're right! Leave it." You felt a mild panic attack happening. "I fucking knew it...I KNEW IT! We are involved-"

"Yeah, we can pop champagne about it later. Right now, I think we got a fucking problem!" Stu yelled.

You quickly got to your purse. "Go get your car and use this remote for the garage. Then come get cleaned up in my bathroom and stay in my room for a minute. I gotta call the alarm company and see if they already sent a squad car my way."

You threw him the remote as he rushed to do what you said and you called.

—————————————————————

You closed the door, apologizing to the officer. He offered to take a look around and you let him. He left once he was satisfied with your lie that it was a wild animal that triggered it.

You breathed heavily. Nothing was making sense. By how Dewey made it sound; Cotton and his girlfriend were killed earlier this evening and it was brought to his attention tonight through his association to Woodsboro and police work. If Cotton's killer and this one weren't related; it sure was a coincidence. Stu's hotel from what he told you was only a half an hour drive from your place and roughly a three to four hour drive from Weary's condo in Los Angeles. Two killings within a few hours from each other related by two people from Woodsboro and a picture of Sidney?....It was related and no one could tell you otherwise.

Your mind thought about what Stu said. 'I didn't call him...Did I? What if my mental health is getting that bad?...'

Stu knew your voice...Maybe someone imitated it; but who? Or the worst possibility...He was lying.

"Hey...They gone?"

You turned to see him in a different shirt and cargo shorts as he leaned against the wall to look at you.

"Yeah, they left. " You rubbed your nose bridge as he looked at you. "Stu…" You mumbled. "I don't know what's happening. If I called you it was by accident-"

"Nope. You said my name and everything."

You shrugged. "Or I don't remember."

"Like...You blacked out?"

"I don't know. I haven't done it yet but PTSD is weird."

He stared at you a moment and shook his head. "No...You were pretty with it. You basically told me you had an emergency, like, something urgent you needed me to hear and I needed to meet you outside near a set of woods-"

You looked at him in realization. "Stu...Did you see my car?"

"The crappy honda? No... All that money from the lawsuit and you got a Honda CR-V."

"I already had that crappy CR-V before this." You put your hands out. "Okay, Stu!...I have no other vehicles; You saw that in my garage. If it was me; you would have seen my car."

"Okay but what if you lured me out and let Billy do the work?....But-"

You waited as he mulled over something. "Yeah?"

"Her throat was slit. If Billy was leaving me a warning, I feel like he would have gotten more...Gorey. Like, gutted her or eyes stabbed out or something... I would if I really wanted to let him know I was gonna kill him and was sending some fucked up message his way."

"I don't know if it's Billy but I can promise you I wasn't involved. " You saw the skepticism in his eyes. "You need a place to crash for a few days?"

"Yep. My hotel plans are gone."

You nodded, ``Welp, the guest room is open as usual."

He eyed you a moment. "How do I know you don't want me to go to sleep to catch me off guard?"

You huffed and raised a brow. "Uh, you're the murderer here! How do I know YOU aren't bullshitting me right now?"

He gawked at you. "What?"

"Maybe you murdered your manager and wrote the note to throw me off guard and now you're going to kill me because I rejected you."

He gave you an unamused scowl. "Please, you think I care that much about a girl rejecting me? You're cute but as if. That's all I'm saying; as if."

You scoffed at that. "Okay, whatever…" You held up a finger in warning. "But if you try anything funny, Cherri bites on command-"

He gave a cocky smirk and a challenging look your way. "Cherri wouldn't bite me even if I did. She loves me." He acted like he was going to stab you with an imaginary knife while sticking his tongue out as a mocking joke.

Cherri eyed him doing the motion towards you, her upper lip quivering. You used it as a learning lesson to Stu. Pretending to be in pain as you released a cry and pointed at him. Stu jumped as the dog he had been loving on rushed him, baring her teeth.

"CHERRI. HEEL!"

Stu was practically on the counter as she backed off but watched him. He looked genuinely scared with wide eyes and his mouth drawn back as he was backpedaling up the counter. You couldn't help the smirk on your lips.

"You think she's JUST here for emotional support? Golden Retrievers aren't just lovable; she is very loyal and smart. She let's me know things my alarm system might not and If she thinks I'm in danger, she will bite you. Plus my old reliable hunk of junk is pretty accurate with aim." You walked over and got your gun's lockbox from the living room, walking through the hall back to the kitchen to hold it by its handle.

Stu eyed your dog as he eased off the counter and Cherri wagged her tail as you petted her. "Good girl. You are a very good protector. " She must have agreed as she looked up at you with big brown eyes and accepted her well deserved praise.

Stu looked at her offended. "Cherri! I thought we were friends!"

"Yeah well, sometimes friends try to kill each other huh?" You quipped. Looking over your shoulder as you made your way to your bedroom with your Queen sized bed. Loaded gun in your lockbox in hand with your dog following you. You eyed him before closing your door. "Make yourself at home as usual, I guess...But I'm not the same girl I was 3 years ago. I will shoot you in the head if you try anything Stu Macher and bury you in my backyard."

He raised his brows at you and blinked in surprise before you slammed your door shut and locked it. Cherri jumped on your queen sized bed and made herself comfortable. You sighed heavily and rested your forehead against the door. You hated suspecting him after all this time and after the last few years of trying to become comfortable around him again...But with Cotton Dead and now supposedly Stu's manager; you couldn't risk it.

The fact he claimed Sidney's picture was there made you even more upset.

—————————————————————

"STU!...STU GET YOUR ASS UP!"

It was early in the morning. You barely slept before the sun was coming up and you just got up and stayed up. You were a little on edge but if Stu didn't try to kill you during the night then you had a decent chance of risking he wasn't going to.

At least...You thought. Until you read your mail like you did at every start of your day.

When you found it, it took everything you had not to crumble it up. You were scared but you were more pissed off that he thought he could pull this shit again. You were trying so hard to forgive him or at least trust him after Windsor just for him to do this bullshit! And so close to the Woodsboro anniversary too!

You barged in the guest room door and ripped off his blankets. He groaned and had a knife already in hand, half asleep. That was okay because you had your gun on your hip in its belt holster. Ready to go.

You felt your anger fizzle out for just a moment at the sight of him. He was shirtless, and for the first time, you saw the scars all over his body. He was more defined and broader in his shoulders than what he was at 18 the last time you saw him shirtless at a pool. Still lean but he definitely wasn't a teen anymore. His cargo shorts were hanging dangerously low on his hips that your eyes couldn't help wandering to…

"YN, whhhaattt?!" He croaked, voice heavy with sleep as his eyes squinted up at you. Your anger returned as you shoved the note at him. Trying to keep your hand from trembling with adrenaline.

"Do you think you're that smart or do you think I'm that stupid? I can't believe I let you in my life after everything you did; Fed you, let you stay, tried to forgive you just for you to pull this bullshit!"

He gave you a confused scowl. "What are you?-..."He trailed off as he saw the note. He instantly snatched it.

You scoffed at him as he read it. "I can't believe you! Are you that much of a piece of shit you're going through my mail?! From Dewey of all people?! Can you be any more of a low down scumbag?!"

He ignored you as he looked at the note, fully awake now and eyes widening. He shook his head. "In your mail?"

"Yeah, genius. You opened a letter from Dewey and slipped it in and sealed it back up!" You threw up your hands and walked to the window. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this; you're the one that did it. I just want to know why before I kick you out." You held yourself. Your chest ached at the betrayal. You were pissed off at him for pulling this again but you were more pissed off at yourself for trusting this would ever work.

He stood up from bed, shaking his head. "YN...I didn't write this!"

You gave a humorless smirk with a huff. "Right, right...It just magically appeared in my mailbox the night you stayed here. How funny it matches the other letters handwriting from the hotel that YOU claim you found."

He shook it at you. "Yeah and did you miss the part that's not my handwriting? You sat next to me in homeroom at Woodsboro; you know my writing! Look-" He quickly went out of the room. You watched him, not sure what to do.

He marched back in and slammed a piece of notebook paper down on the dresser with a pen in hand. He wrote exactly what your note said.

"You're not innocent, YN. You helped them kill. You helped them hide. You, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are going to pay."

You covered your mouth as you were forced to confront the words on the page once again. The fact it was planted and resealed in a letter Dewey sent you with pictures of Tatum you wanted him to send made you sick to your stomach.

Stu showed you his handwriting compared to the note. The note was entirely too neat and heavy handed to be Stu; writing in what looked like blood...It brought you back.

"See? Besides, how could I put it in your mailbox if your security system was still up on the doors? I don't know the code to deactivate it."

"You could have done it last night before you barged into my yard."

He frowned at you with a head tilt. "YN...It's not my handwriting. This is dated for today. I couldn't have gotten past your dumbass alarms… But how do I know this isn't your doing?"

You closed your eyes and released a shaky sigh. You looked back at him and outstretched your hand for the pen. He hesitated before giving it to you and you showed him it wasn't your writing either.

You put down the pen and gave him a serious stare. "Stu...Why would I become a murderer or help someone to kill you? Seriously. After 3 years, why would I do that?"

"Same goes to you. Why would I kill you after 3 years? I had so many opportunities; you think I'd wait till now? And when I have a chance at being in a movie; you think I'm jeopardizing that?"

You both stared at each other and your shoulders sagged. He pulled his shorts up as he put his knife on a night table. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Can I see the envelope it came in?"

You hesitated. He looked over at you before you sighed and nodded. You got it from the table and handed it to him. You didn't look him in the eye as he read the address. He glanced up at you as he opened it to see a few pictures of you and Tatum and a short note from Dewey.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see him studying the picture. You wondered if he felt anything at all. Did he just remember her as a good lay or did he genuinely have some fond memories of her? You doubted he even saw many pictures of her since Woodsboro. Why would he? He didn't regret killing her so why would he remind himself of someone he didn't even have human empathy for?

He sat them down and you saw his brows furrow. It was a unreadable look before he looked at the envelope.

"Does Dewey know?"

"God no. Don't even suggest Dewey could do this...He would hate me for the rest of his life if he knew about me talking to you behind his back…"

"Sounds like leverage if he did find out."

"The letter wasn't completely sealed and popped off too easily. I'd say they opened it from my mailbox or the carrier sometime late last night or early this morning and resealed it. "

Stu made a noise and showed you a small red smudge in the corner. "Ah ha. Looks like you're right; I can't see that getting past the postal service...I don't see any fingerprints though...Gloves." He threw the envelope on the bed. "Another fucking copycat! Man, can't these posers get a life?!"

You gave a shaky sigh, swallowing hard.

"Stu...This isn't my first letter. I got one the day I met you at that shed at Windsor."

His face scrunched as he listened to you.

"It was when I went back. I got a letter saying that they knew what I did. They said that me and you and Billy weren't safe and they were coming for all of us."

"WHAT?" Stu jumped up from the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Because at first, I thought it was hate mail or Gale!...I let the police analyze it because they were convinced Tim and James were just copying you OR it was just a hateful fan of Gale's character interpretation of me. It was blood from an unknown victim...They kept it; thinking it was from 'Tim' or 'James' threatening me." You air quoted the names. "You didn't really show up in my life again until months later after we talked at Windsor. I guess I just forgot until now...It's not like it's THEE most traumatic thing I've ever dealt with...Or maybe I just didn't trust that you weren't the one that sent it so why would I let you know?" You huffed to yourself. "I can't even send in this new letter to the police and say it was Tim or James because it will lead them back to you!"

Stu ran a hand over his hair. "So, you're telling me you got one identical to this 3 years ago?"

"Yes. Handwriting, blood and all."

The air was silent for a moment. You glanced over to Stu who got up, uncharacteristic rage on his face.

He looked at you and pointed with a snap of his finger. "I'll kill him...I will freaking kill him!"

You raised your brows. "Huh?"

"Billy! Who else?! He must be peeved me and you made up and he's trying to off us like the petty jerkoff he is." He ranted as he threw on a shirt.

You held up a hand. "Woah there!- If that's the case...Why would he wait 3 years? Not only that but why would he use his name too? It's not like we can go to the police so why would he hide and pretend he's a victim too?"

"Don't know but we need to find out."

"You know where he is?"

He hesitated. "Uh...Not exactly but I have a few places we could look."

"We?"

"Yes, 'we'! You seriously wanna stay here knowing the killer knows where you live?"

"God no but...I was just gonna go to my parents place or something. You want me to come along?"

He raised a brow at you with a slight smirk. "Duh. Besides, I am not letting you out of my sight...Just in case it's a trick on your part-"

You gave him an annoyed look as he finished.

"- And your safety, of course."

You blinked. Unsure what to make of it.

"So? Whaddya say, Sweetcheeks? Road trip?"

You shrugged with your mouth open. "I-I guess..I mean...I guess I don't have a choice. I'm sure as hell not just waiting around till the killer pops out." You still couldn't help eyeing him.

He clapped you on the shoulder as he walked by. "That's the spirit, babe! Murder road trip it is!"

You turned around. "Hey! I agreed to a road trip only!...Stu!-" You followed him into the kitchen, already not sure about whatever this decision was.

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #my stories #she her yn #ghostface #fanfic #terrible trilogy #randy meeks

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hoe4hotchner · 2 years

Note

TIMELINE- hotch is over dramatic, sassy asf, and a cocky son of a bitch when he’s with his s/o TELL. ME. DIFFERENT. <3

He has absolutely no self restraint whatsoever when he's with his SO.

And especially if other people are trying to "hurt" you. He'll puff himself up and step in front of you to deal with these rude people.

Even though you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

Uhh, and when you're out together, he likes brushing his mouth against your eye while he whispers dirty thoughts to you.

He loves the effect and prides himself on how easy it is to turn you into putty in his hands.

I also feel like that outside of the bedroom and sexual dynamics, he would return your level of sass right back to you.

If you sass him, he'll sass you.

That's how it works.

Oh, and sometimes when he's bored he'll imitate your reactions to stuff.

There's a giant bug on the counter: He'll scream out to scare you.

You're going out: "Omg, I have nothing to wear" in the same tone that you use.

He loves taking the piss out of everything when it's just the two of you and he doesn't have to act serious and in charge.

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ackerfics · 3 years

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hi, rory! <3 what majors would the sc veterans take if they were in the modern world?

hi, anon !! thank you so much for this ask, this is heaven in disguise from all my schoolwork. tbh, the whole time i was working for a lab report, my mind will go back to this ask bc i wanted to have the association as accurate as possible hhhajshw

i asked one of my friends for help and thank God for them bc my single brain cell really said 'it's time for you to rest' after staring at one backlog. without further ado, here are the veterans' majors if they're studying in university:

first off, hange zoe, because if you ask me this question in real life, they would be the only one i can answer. every damn time i would think of them in a college setting, being a biology major is really hange's forte. at this point, this is what everyone would associate them with.

hange is all about experimenting and doing brilliant breakthroughs in any field of science but knowing that they have this unparalleled fascination with the unusual and unexpected life-forms (ahem titans ahem), the biology lab would be the surest place where you could find hange. i feel like biology is too broad so i will add that microbiology or bacteriology are just some of the specializations they will be taking in their time in college.

imagine, being lab partners with hange and immediately knowing that you will have one of the highest grades in the class because they're that well-versed in a specific lab report. and if you're partners with them for the rest of the academic year, you might as well have a shot at an immaculate grade. i'm not saying that you should depend on them too much though hHHHH, hange is still a member of the majority of the student body who relies heavily on caffeine to keep them invigorated. who isn't at this point?

so far, some of the biology majors that i encountered (well, more like chatted behind a screen — online classes suck), they have this energy that could drain my social battery too quickly and hange fits that description. (note that this doesn't apply to any college bc i observed this in mine soooo 🤭) they're the type to always go on a tangent on a certain science article or coerce you into joining this org thing. i can imagine levi just looking at hange like they're the one sucking his brain cells out whenever they speak about a documentary in bbc they watched the night before.

and if you're stuck on anything biology-related, hange will be the best person to ask help from. they're the first ray of sunlight you get while waking up. they're that approachable.

okay, so erwin smith.

don't come at me but he just radiates this ceo vibes and with that, one of his probably majors is business administration. i know this is so stereotypical of me but let's face it, erwin is a smooth talker through and through and if he doesn't take up marketing, business is one way to spend his college years. knowing his personality in attack on titan of establishing deals easily with a determined resolve, he fits the broadest description of being a business administration major. (again, don't come at me because my consultant for this statement is google and nobody comes after google sometimes hhhhh)

just for the benefit of myself, i will add what google says about this major, "[they] learn the mechanics of business through classes in fundamentals, such as finance, accounting and marketing ... students find ways to solve problems using data and they develop communication and managerial skills." and i thank you.

he's also probably the most well-spoken and most professional when conversing with others among his friends (and i'm not saying this to drag the other characters but this is what i pick up on) and that is exactly the qualities his major specializes. it is expected for them to strike deals and be a people person and who better character for the job than our very own erwin smith 🤩

now i mentioned 'one of the probable majors' and yes, aside from business administration, philosophy just exudes erwin smith. ngl, when i imagined erwin in a college setting, this major will always come first. his mind is just so sexy to me??? and i hope you guys think the same, too, because i don't want to be the only one who thinks that 👀 kidding aside, erwin is one of the smartest people in attack on titan and every time he speaks in one episode, my brain will instantly go mush, and that's what i feel when i hear philosophy majors talk.

philosophy majors (according to any other youtuber who does lookbooks for various majors hhhhhh) challenge what is unanswerable and analyze questions with no right answer. i feel like erwin, like hange, will talk all night to explain a theory. just imagine a date with him and you just listen to him rant about a topic that they should be making a report on. just listen to this man, okay?? it's adorable when he lets his guard down to include you in his little bubble of philosophies. he would also mention random things that he learned in classes, sometimes finding joy in knowing the philosophies of other people, or even deciphering levi's dream of an apocalyptic world. (it pisses levi off but he just leave him be.)

if you want a man who can do both of these majors, erwin smith is the answer 😉

sigh, mike zacharias.

this man holds so many talents and will forever amaze me.

i assume all of us here watched the movie perfume. and no, i'm not saying that mike is going to be a murderer but just like the main character of that film, making perfumes will be his forte with that sense of smell of his. and here, i conclude that mike will definitely take up chemical engineering.

he gives me the vibes that if it covers the one thing he does best, he will love his major. (mr. zacharias, can you please spare me that quality because i really need that now 😩) being in the labs while experimenting mundane things that can be found in the environment to create different scents is also a likely situation you can find him in, again, very much like hange. he's the type of student who really puts so much effort in staying afloat the honors list, even to the point of topping midterms in his major, for the sake of his dream. there will never be a moment where you will catch him complain about his major and professors.

he's that type of friend in college who agrees to any rant you say but in reality, he's got his life easy 😭

i headcanon mike owning a perfume shop after college just like how levi always dreamed of having a tea shop.

okay, imagine this little scenario if you're dating mike where he creates this unique perfumes as random gifts for you. they're not the typical perfumes that can seep through the room and can make you gag for no reason, they're subtle scents that will stay for the duration of the day. because again, he's got a sensitive nose, so making perfumes according to what his sense of smell dictates will always result in a revolutionary experiment. if you're randomly blurting out that you want a fusion of flowers and fruits as your perfume, say no more, he's your man.

now, the veteran who i find the hardest to associate a major with — levi ackerman.

after much deliberation and a break from plant physiology, i see him taking up law or criminology.

(i asked some of this from my mom because she attended law school :>>>)

levi is so organized and detailed in the things that he do and he fits in either of these majors since they require tedious memorizations and analysis of laws and crime scenes while being assertive enough to defend someone. he's the typical person who blurts out the true situation of a crime scene when watching film adaptations. yeah, he's that person, the one who sucks the enthusiasm out of you while watching a movie because he just had to correct some of the scenes. nevertheless, he means well though, he just wanted you to understand the reality unlike how films portray gruesome murders. movie nights always end up with levi ranting about half-assed mystery clichés.

levi's binder of readings are always too bright for everyone's good. his notes are full of highlighters and scribbles that it can blind someone. for one, he's always up all night studying his readings and cases for a practice court so by choosing neon highlighters, it's a way for him to wake up. there isn't one book in his possession that he doesn't highlight like it's a fricking coloring book. hange once jokingly said that his binder now acts like his bible and for once, he agrees because he was never seen without one. hange had a field day since levi never agrees with them.

when doing practice courts though, his go-to resting bitch face always come in handy when carrying out his role as one of the lawyers. he's just so sexy with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he tries to justify his supposed client. the way he questions the accused definitely isn't hot because he's like one of the panelists in your thesis defense, the one who just comes up with questions that have you melting on the spot. he's dangerous i tell you. it also doesn't help if you accidentally hurt one of his friends or just landed randomly in his blacklist for being annoying as hell. relax though, he doesn't mean harm other than the fact that he's ready to throw some hands from all the pent-up rage he gathered in his body.

of course, i couldn't forget how he dresses up like a typical dark academia fanatic so look out for eye-candy.

if you want someone who can recite articles from the constitution, this man is perfect for you 😌

i had so much fun doing this !! again, i'm not generalizing every major i've talked about in these little headcanons, this is all for fun and based on the people i encountered in college. if you want more of this, don't hesitate to ask !! 😚

#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan headcanons #hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #mike zacharias #mike zacharias x reader #erwin smith #college au #erwin smith x reader

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bangtansbun · 4 years

Text

Peaches || Jeongguk

pairing: Jeongguk x f.reader

genre: fluff, smut

summary: you’re in your third year of college, a criminology major and music minor, and you’re still harboring (maybe even nurturing) a crush that you’ve had on a classmate since your first year. You’d seen him around campus, even had gen. eds. with him, but this semester he’s in your chorus class. He’s sat next to you in the tenor section and he just won’t stop calling you “peaches”

word count: 5,239

warnings: slow burn, massive pining crush, perverse thoughts, thigh riding, slight mentions of marking, dirty talk, praise, nipple stimulation, fingering, protected sex, cursing, vague description of squirting, details of JK’s pretty cock, this is kinda soft because he’s a sweet boy

a/n: kadjlaksdjlkj parts of this are literally based off of my high school crush

You’ve finished your first class of the day, Criminal Psychology, and you’re headed to your chorus class now. It’s across campus so you’re moving fast, but also trying to enjoy the walk since it’s flurrying outside and you’re excited for the snowy weather.

You’re hoping you have some good classmates this year, the boys in your Chorus 1 class last year were a nightmare and always pissed off your instructor. You’re okay with a little bit of fun in the class, but not to the point where you’re whipping around in your chair to tell the ignorant boy to “shut the hell up” in front of everyone.

You walk into the room and find your usual seat in the soprano 2 section (even though you knew you many not have that exact seat once your instructor decides where you would blend best). A few of your chorus friends from last year make their way into class too, and you make sure to say hi to all of them.

Then, he walks in.

You’d seen this cutie around campus since last year and had one- no, maybe two gen. ed. classes with him. He had down the goofy, boy-ish charm that had you absolutely swooning and now your heart is starting to thrum in your chest.

He moves to sit in the tenor section which is conveniently placed next to yours. You’re hoping to GOD that you don’t end up sitting directly next to him because there’s no way he won’t notice that your body is already vibrating at a high frequency.

After everyone is accounted for in the class, your instructor begins to ask everyone to go around and introduce them self – your name, major, and preferred section. It moves through the circle and you learn that the cute boy’s name is Jeongguk and he has a smile that’s both sexy and adorable. How does that even work?

It comes around to you and you dutifully answer: y/n, criminology major, and soprano 2. Before the next person can go, Jeongguk looks right at you and says “hey, peaches” with a smirk. His eyes crinkling at the corners, and you realize he’s referring to the peach colored Northface jacket you’re wearing.

Unfortunately, this causes a blush to cover your cheeks, about the same color as your jacket. All eyes on you. You duck your head and give a curt smile, signaling for the next person to go.

Everything else goes smoothly from that point on, that is, until seat placements are made. Of course, as fate would have it, your instructor places you on the edge of your section, right next to Jeongguk. Your voice apparently blends well with his.

You all take your seats and you make sure to hold your breath when he takes his next to you. Immediately, you notice his cologne. Probably Axe Body Spray, but he still smells good nonetheless, and you’re forcefully having to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes into the back of your head. WHAT is wrong with me??

He flashes his charming grin at you as he places his hands on his thighs, rubbing them up and down.

Oh god those thighs-

Stop, stop being such a perv

“’Sup peaches?” You want to be annoyed that he already has a nickname for you, but you can’t help but feel tingly all over when the word graces across his lips. You shake your head slightly, realizing your staring a bit. “Hi, Jeongguk,” you say while avoiding eye-contact now because you don’t know if you’ll be able to break your eyes away from him again. “Ahh, just call me Gguk,” he says this as he ruffles your hair a bit.

Your eyes go wide at the touch, “Oh- I- okay,” is all you can muster, and he chuckles at you. Running his hand through his dark brown hair, “this is gonna be a fun semester, y/n.”

That’s it. You’re dead meat. You won’t make it the whole semester.

Your thoughts the entire rest of the day were filled with his melodic laugh, his enticing voice, his muscular thighs, and the cute dimples that occasionally made an appearance when he blessed you with his bunny-like smile.

You felt like you were back in high school. Who has a crush this intense anymore? It had your hormones racing, images of his large hands on your hips and his pink lips on your neck as you ride his thig- JESUS CHRIST, I think I need church.

You roll over in your twin bed, groaning, and bring your covers up over your head in an attempt to snuff out the fire that was trying to burn its way through you. You needed to go to sleep and focus on the important major classes you would have for the rest of the week (and certainly not about the one other chorus class you would have with a certain flirtatious boy).

The week flew by without a hitch, but then again, it was only syllabus week so you couldn’t really expect it to be too bad anyway. Except, you had one more class with the boy who had you flustered and fumbling over your words after one conversation.

This time you would have a plan. You’d busy yourself by talking to your friends from last semester, some other soprano 2′s that sat in your section, until it comes time to pull out your sheet music. That should work, right?

Well, that’s what you thought anyway. And it had been going to plan, until he tapped you on your shoulder to get your attention. I mean you couldn’t outright ignore him, could you? So, to your dismay, you turn around to take in his light wash jeans and blue turtleneck sweater.

He looked so boyfriend it physically hurt.

He was sitting down in his chair and pointing with his thumb to the big windows behind you, where you could see the snow covered ground and more flakes falling. “Wanna go play with me in the snow?” He had to be kidding right? You couldn’t skip class, but also, why would he want you to go play with him? Out in the snow, that is.

His question had you blinking and stuttering, all while he had a cheeky smile on his face, like he knew what he was doing to you. He just chuckled to himself and turned back in his seat, grabbing his sheet music, and clearly not expecting an answer. What were you supposed to say to that anyway? Holy fuck this boy was wild.

“Gguk is so flirting with you,” you heard from your right side. “Wh-what?” your eyes looking back at your friend. “Oh come on, y/n, you aren’t that dense, are you? Why else would a boy give you a nickname and purposely make you turn into an idiot in his presence?” Oh my god. “Is it that obvious?” You smacked your palm into your forehead. She simply nodded at you, patted your shoulder and wished you luck.

You tried your best to focus on your setlist for the remainder of class, but it was so hard to ignore the handsome boy next to you. His voice was better than anyone else’s you had ever heard before, and he kept running his fingers through his hair. You wanted so badly to be able to run your own hands through his soft brown hair.

Despite his distracting charm, you were able to keep your eyes to yourself (or in the direction of your friends, at least) until class was over. It wasn’t until you were slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making your way toward the hall that he grabbed your elbow. “Peaches, wait,” he sounded out of breath for some reason. You turn around with bambi eyes, not sure what he could possibly want from you.

“Where are you going?” he asks as he falls into an easy stride next to you. “Uh, I have a short break for lunch before my next class.” He nods and continues to walk next to you. “What’re you doing?” you ask him pointedly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m walking you to lunch.” You blinked at him, confusion painting your face. “Wh- why?” you’ve stopped walking now. “You’re cute,” he chuckles, putting his hands into his pockets and starting to walk in the direction of the dining hall.

You start to walk with him again, “we’re friends, aren’t we? I didn’t think it’d be a problem for me to walk you to the dining hall on my way to class.” Your cheeks start to burn, you feel bad that that you had given him that impression. You were just so confused as to why he was taking such an interest in you. “N-no it’s okay,” but by the time you give this answer, you’re already there and he’s turning slightly to head toward his class. “I’ll see you next week, peaches,” he shouts to you, giving you a wink, and his milliwatt smile.

The first half of your semester went by faster than you thought it would, and you had actually managed to stop feeling like a moron around Gguk (most of the time). You and him had gotten into a rhythm, you guys talked to each other in class - sometimes he’d flirt and make you laugh, he’d walk you to the dining hall, and occasionally you would meet up to hang out with him outside of class.

However, that didn’t mean you didn’t still have a raging crush on him that made your mind feel hazy and send heat through your whole body. This much was evident when he decided to skip his class one day and join your for lunch.

You both had opted for grilled chicken and french fries because your dining hall sucks and that was the safest option. The two of you fell into easy conversation with the occasional comfortable silence. He talked about his classes and how in his free time he’s been working on a mixtape. “I mean I figured you liked music considering you’re in chorus with me, but I didn’t know you were that into it!” He gives you a dimpled bunny smile and nods his head a bit, “yeah, maybe you could come over and listen to my stuff sometime.”

There’s a slight blush to his cheeks that you’ve not seen before. If you had to guess, you’re probably the first girl he’s ever offered to share his own music with. So, you take the opportunity to be bold while his coquettish demeanor is wavering.

“Oh, so would that be, like, our second date then?” You take a sip of your water, sneaking a glance over the cup to see the doe-eyed expression he’s giving you now. His mouth bobbed a bit like a fish’s before he managed to get words out, “did I miss our first date?” You giggle at how taken aback he seems to be. “Well, you went through all this effort to skip class and eat lunch with me,” you say with a lilt in your voice. “Oh please, peaches. You call this effort? I’d do way more than just this.”

Now it’s your turn to blush. Your boldness gone the second he calls you by the affectionate name. “Is this your way of trying to get me to take you out?” He asks this question with his tongue poking into his cheek, eyebrows cocked. “N-no!! I was just messing with you!” He grabs your plate, along with his, as you both get up to exit the dining hall. “To late now, I’ll text you when I’ve got it all planned out.” He winks at you as he puts the dishes on the conveyor belt and exits the building with a wave. Fuck.

New Message From Gguk:

[3:04pm] be ready tonight around 7:30

To Gguk:

[3:07pm] tonight?? where are you taking me?

From Gguk:

[3:09pm] don’t worry about it. just wear something casual

To Gguk:

[3:10pm] ugh you’re infuriating, but okay.

[3:12pm] you’re not gonna murder me in some back alley are you?

[3:13pm] omg you are aren’t you??

From Gguk:

[3:14pm] y/n.. our campus is huge with many secluded areas. if I wanted to murder you I would have done it by now

To Gguk:

[3:15pm] and yet somehow that answer isn’t reassuring at all. I’ll be ready by 7:30

Okay, so this was a bit short notice considering he only told you roughly 4 hours ahead of time, but he said to wear something casual so that should be plenty of time, right?

You decide to focus back onto your homework for the next hour or so. You’re able to do that for about 30 minutes but then you start thinking. I haven’t shaved my legs in over a week. He said casual but I should still look casually cute. What am I supposed to do with my hair now that the humidity is back?? Panic. Panic is setting in.

You slam shut your textbook and notes, and start to make your way to your dorm room. Once you’re there you begin to rummage through your closet and dresser drawers. The flinging of clothes and 45 minutes later, you finally settle on a pair of black ripped jeans, a flowy, strappy white top, and some white converse.

2 hours and 30 minutes left.

You didn’t think it would, but it did in fact take you that entire two and a half hours to finish getting ready, but you were pleased with the way you looked. This was more effort than you usually put in considering no one ever looks nice when they have 8:00am classes.

You also didn’t think you’d be phased by seeing Jeongguk dressed ready for a date because he always looked good, but the second you laid eyes on him, in his light wash ripped denim, black tee, leather jacket, and matching bucket hat, you knew you were a goner.

“You know it’s not polite to stare with a gaping mouth right?” he asks as he uses his index finger to gently push your chin up, closing your mouth for you. “I- I’m sorry. You look great, Gguk,” you say as you look down at your feet. You’re avoiding eye contact now since he caught you ogling him. “You look great too, y/n. I like your converse, a nice touch!” he says in that smooth and charming way he has about him. With that, he grabs your hand and leads you to his car to drive you off to god-knows-where.

Much to your surprise, he takes you to the local town fair. You’d never really participated in these types of things before because you had this ideal (probably from watching The Notebook one too many times) that fairs were romantic and meant for couples only.

However, you both had an incredible night, despite your reservations. He bought you cotton candy to share, you rode the ferris wheel together (sans hanging off the edge of it), scared each other in the fun house, and he even won you a stuffed teddy. It occurred to you that you hadn’t had this much fun in a while, and certainly not with a boy since you started college. He made you laugh, held your hand, and paid attention to you. It all felt a bit like a dream, what with all the pretty colors and twinkling lights around you.

You felt kind of sad that the date was ending as he drove you both back to campus. This date had allowed your crush to bloom into actual feelings and you were starting to worry about the days following. Would everything just go back to the way it was? Would he pretend like the date hadn’t happened? Did he even like you like that?

Luckily for you, you weren’t able to ruminate for too long on those negative thoughts because the car had come to a halt and you were suddenly back on campus. “You’ve been kind of quiet since we left the fair. What’re you thinking in there?” he pokes at your head for emphasis. “Oh, nothing! I had a really great time tonight,” you’re hoping you sound convincing enough so he doesn’t pry his way into your private thoughts. “Well, the night doesn’t have to end yet. We can hang out in my room for a bit if you want? My roommate is never here on the weekends, so the awkwardness of him being there is eliminated.”

Stunned. Yup, that would be an accurate word for what you felt in that moment.

“You’re gaping again, peaches. Am I going to have to be the one to teach you some manners?” He tsks at you and shakes his head, but there’s a smirk on his face. There’s also a darkness to his eyes. One that sends heat right to your core, and has you nodding your head to him in an instant. Your head feels cloudy as you walk to his dorm room, hand-in-hand, as if you’re caught under his spell again.

Once you’re there, the spell seems to drop and your nervousness is back. The room is dark, except for the soft glow of a lamp on his desk that he’s turned on. “I know you said we’d do this on our second date, but I figured we could merge the two,” he says handing you a set of headphones. Broken from your worried state, you realize he’s about to show you his music. The folder is labeled “JJK1″ and his angelic voice starts to flow into your ears, overwhelming your senses.

He’s singing in a lower register, the words feel emotional and meaningful. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. You look up at him and he’s not making eye contact with you, “this is amazing, Gguk.” You both listen for another minute or two before he hits pause and finally looks back at you. “Seriously, your music is so good.” You set the headphones back on their display and he does the same. “You really think so?” You nod, and there’s a shift in the air.

You’re both staring into each other’s eyes, then his own flicker down to your lips briefly. You’re starting to feel squirmy under his gaze, and you move to look away. To say something dumb about how his room is tidier than you thought it would be, but he’s quicker than you, grabbing your jaw to turn your head back and plant his soft, pink lips onto yours.

There’s tingles all over your body the second his lips are moving with yours. He’s careful with you as he brings a hand up to cup your neck. It feels like he’s scared to break you, but at the same time you can feel a sense of urgency lingering behind his tongue. You suppose this whole semester has built up the anticipation of this very moment. You don’t want him to be careful though, you’ve been waiting for this moment the second he walked into your chorus class.

Lips never leaving yours, he slowly walks you over to his bed. He sits on the edge of it and pulls you into his lap. With the tilt of his head he’s deepening the kiss. His tongue skating across your lips, asking for entrance, to which you gladly give him. His expert tongue maps the inside of your mouth as you’re moaning into his own.

Taking that as a good sign, he runs his large hands over your hips, landing with a firm grip on your ass. He squeezes your flesh, effectively causing some friction between you and his thighs. That has you moaning again. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you’d thought of being in this position. The chance to ride his thick, muscular thighs to heaven and back. You were growing wet just at the thought of it.

“Is this okay?” he asks even though he can probably tell that what he’s doing is very okay. You nod eagerly and make a sound close to mhm to indicate that you don’t want this to stop. The second you give him the okay to continue, his lips are back on yours and he uses his hands to rock you back and forth on his thigh. Even through your jeans, the friction feels electrifying. It appears he feels the same way considering his growing length in his own jeans, creating an obvious tent.

You break from kissing to let out a series of whimpers and groans from the heat that is building up inside of you. You head lolling back to allow Gguk the opportunity to lick a stripe up your neck to your jaw. Nipping and sucking at you every now and then. Everything feels too good. It’s all so surreal considering you’ve been pining for him for so long.

“You look so pretty riding my thigh like that,” he says in between planting kisses along your collarbone. “I’ve caught you checking me out before, I bet you’ve wanted this since the first time I sat next to you.” Now he’s lifting your shirt over your head, exposing your light gray mesh bralette to him.

Your hips never ceasing their movement, he brings his mouth down to your mesh covered nipple and laves his tongue over it. He notices your sharp intake of breath and a barely there fuck coming from you. “I love how sensitive you are to everything,” he sucks the nipple into his mouth for a moment before he makes his way over to the other one. This time he moves the bralette to the side so you can feel the full effect of his tongue. He rotates between swirling and gently flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

It’s now very clear to you that the heat inside of you will be coming to a head soon if he continues. He’s very much able to pick up on your impending climax, so he takes the nipple into his mouth and begins to suck, all the while holding you down harder on his thigh as he rocks you back and forth. “Shit, I- I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” you say breathlessly. “Now why would I want to do that, peaches?” his mouth now moving back to suck on the other nipple. He breaks away with a wet *pop* and brings a hand down to smack your ass. “Come on, I know you can come like this. Come all over my thigh like the good little girl I know you are.”

Your hair is starting to stick to you a little, sweaty from the exertion used to keep up the hard pace. The string inside of you is ready to snap any second. “Please, please, Gguk,” you whine to him, hoping he understands what you need. With both hands firmly in place on your ass, he sets a deadly pace and a flex of his muscle to cause the friction to burn straight to your slick core. You’re moaning his full name now as you feel yourself come undone around his thigh. Pulsing against him, your head slack on his shoulder, and your hips slowing down to ride out your orgasm. “Such pretty sounds when you come for me. I want to hear it again,” he says as he leaves sweet kisses on your lips.

He moves you from his lap to his bed, helping you out of your skinny jeans because your legs are aching now and you can’t find the energy to do it yourself. He takes in your form and the matching light gray mesh thong you’re wearing. “Were you hoping for this, baby? It’s okay if you were, I was hoping for it too.” You don’t know how you got to this place, but you were thanking whatever god it was that blessed you with this much luck.

Within moments, he’s undressed himself and you hear a wrapper crinkling over by his desk where he’s standing. He climbs back onto the bed and hovers over top of you. “You still doing okay?” he’s more considerate than you would have imagined a guy with his good looks would be, but you’re grateful for it. You smile at him and tilt your head up to kiss his lips and then his cheek. “God, look at you,” he says as he sits back on his heels, admiring the girl in front of him.

He bends down to press kisses into your inner thigh, bringing two fingers to hook into the waist band of your thong and tug it down. He can see a string of your wetness stretch between you and your thong before it breaks when he brings his fingers to your slit. A drawn out moan leaves your mouth, his fingers feel so good now that they’re finally where you need them. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”

He presses two fingers into you and they slide in with ease considering you’ve already finished once before. He uses his other hand to rub soft circles into your clit. Your breathing is becoming heavier now and you desperately want to feel his thick length inside of you. You can see his cock twitch at the sounds you make. It’s veiny and so so pink at the tip, no doubt leaking with precum. You’d be willing to bet anything that you’ll feel so full with him inside of you.

As if to read your mind, he pushes a third finger inside. “You ready, baby? I don’t know how much longer I can wait to feel you around my cock.” His words have you keening and moving your hips in time with his fingers. His other hand now moves from your clit to his length, rubbing up and down before he teasingly slaps it against your core a few times, causing you to bite harshly into your lip.

But then he’s pushing it in and you swear you see stars. He moves your legs so your thighs are against your chest now. “Ohhhhh my god,” you whine out to him as he bottoms out inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so tight, y/n.” He stills for a moment to allow you to adjust, but then he begins to move languidly. Thrusting ever so gently against that sensitive spot inside of you due to the position.

He leans down all the way to plant kisses along your chest, up your collarbone, and onto your neck. Lazy licks causing your heart to beat rapidly and moans escape your lips. His thrusts become rougher with each passing second, still never missing that signature spot inside of you, and it’s mind numbing.

He brings a hand down to your clit to rub figure eights into the bundle of nerves. “Please, d- don’t stop,” he grunts at the neediness he can hear in your voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’ll make sure you feel good,” He punctuates this with a particularly hard thrust into you and you let out a loud moan, curses following behind.

You’re so wet now and all you can think about is how good it feels to have him inside of you. You never want to let go of the feeling of his strong hands on you, sweat occasionally dripping from his hair, and his cock pounding into you. His first time fucking you and he already seems to know exactly what you like. Knowing not to rub your clit too much because it’s extra sensitive, that grabbing your ass will have your walls clenching around him, and kissing your neck leads to you mewling his name. All of this, in turn, causing him to feel rock hard, ready to burst his load any second.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Taking me so well and ready to come for me again,” he says this as he slows his pace down a bit. He wants you to feel every inch of him, savor the feeling, because soon enough he’s going to have both of you falling apart. He lets one of your thighs down and grabs onto the other, using it as an anchor. “God, you feel so good around me. Come again for me, baby. I wanna see your face this time while you cream my cock for everything it’s worth.

With his thumb on your clit and his words stuck in your head, you’re all of about two seconds away from losing yourself on him. He picks up his pace again, slamming into you over and over and over again until you can’t take it anymore. Juices gush out of you as you practically scream, complete and total ecstasy taking over your body. “That’s it, such a good girl coming for me again,” he says as he helps you ride through your second orgasm of the night.

“Jesus, y/n, you got.. so.. wet,” his thrusts growing sloppy now. His bottom lip is sucked between his teeth and his brown eyes are filled with need. He quickly pulls out, rips the condom off, and pumps himself just briefly before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. A slur of curses and your name leaving his mouth. Rope after rope of the white liquid coating you, his own personal masterpiece laid out in front of him.

When he’s finally finished, he falls back onto his heels, head lolling as he tries to steady his breathing. You think he looks so good fucked out. You could look at him like this for the rest of your life. Then again, you could look at him in any state for the rest of your life. This was a three year long crush (turned into feelings) in the making, after all.

“You look so perfect like this,” he says as he takes in your state. Sweat glistening on your skin, lips swollen and red, and his cum painted on your stomach. “Hold on, I’ll get something for you,” he says before he gets up to go discard the condom and grab a towel. He helps clean you both up and hands you a sweatshirt of his. “It’s pretty late now, you can spend the night if you want and wear that so you’re more comfortable. I’ll turn on a show or something for us.” He changes the sheets on his bed while you change and throw your hair up into a messy bun, ready for bed now.

You both settle into the now clean bed and he turns on New Girl. You curl up next to him, head resting on his taut chest and a leg slung over his. “So I know we just had our first and second date, but does this count as our third?” he says in a joking tone, and even though you can’t see him, you can tell he’s smiling. “I dunno, does that mean we’ll have a fourth?” He chuckles at you and kisses the top of your head, “anything you want, peaches.”

You had worried at the beginning of the semester that Gguk would flirt and taunt you endlessly and with no real reward, but you were wonderfully wrong. You were also pretty sure that this was just the beginning and that thought has butterflies swimming inside of you. This charming boy had you wrapped around his finger, and unbeknownst to you, you had him wrapped around yours.

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

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an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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amjcpvr · 3 years

Text

Green Apple, Sadly.

“Green Apple for sure!” He calls out.

Guessing Skittle flavors is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my fucking life.

“Wrong!” I cackle and he continues to name the rest of the flavors, one after the other until he only has one choice left.

“Damn it, it was orange!” He cries and I laugh at him.

He scrunches his eyebrows at me, immediately bringing his competitiveness out. I smile, because this is definitely the Changbin I know.

He yells at me to close my eyes and I laugh before obeying and putting my palm out.

“If you get this right, I will say it’s wrong anyway,” he jokes, I hear the class go silent and he laughs nervously as he faces the professor.

“Haha, just kidding, guys, it was a joke,” I can’t help but to laugh because I can just see him fidgeting in his seat after suddenly being the center of attention.

“Grape!” I easily say as I swivel the small candy in my mouth. He groans and marks down another tally mark for the amount I got correct.

“Ten for ten!” I brag to him and he just rolls his eyes with a small smile.

I am about to place another skittle in his hand when he opens his mouth with his eyes closed.

“I think my sweaty palms are taking away the flavor, put it in my mouth!” He exclaims as he eagerly opens his mouth even wider.

My eyes widen and I tense up for a moment.

I have never felt this way before. My stomach begins feeling queasy and the back of my neck begins sweating like crazy.

I gulp and smile nervously.

I toss it into his mouth, carefully planning every angle so I don’t have to touch his lips.

“Strawberry?” He asks unsurely and looks at me with hopeful eyes.

I shake my head no with a big grin and he stomps his feet childishly.

He begins whining and I feel my chest squeeze. What was this feeling?

————————

“Hey! I’ve been meaning to introduce you two!” Changbin runs up to me and I smile the best I can because I already know what’s coming.

“This is her, babe,” He continues and the beautiful girl standing next to him smiles brightly. She’s everything he told me about.

I feel my lips shake and I clear my throat and try to compose myself.

I guess it’s my fault for working at a movie theatre.

“Nice to meet you! He literally never stops talking about you! Boy is whipped!” I try joking and it seems they both buy it.

They burst out into laughs and share a sweet kiss.

I hear someone clear their throat and their attention goes to my coworker now, Jisung. Who is also Changbin’s friend.

“Bro, order or get out of the line,” Jisung sternly says but Changbin takes no offense and instead laughs before ordering and I am finally free from that torture.

Why me?

————————

“Go team!” Someone sarcastically comments as they spot the baseball team walk by with their letterman’s jacket on. The school had organized a send off for their upcoming competition.

I keep my eyes wide as I search for the only guy I care for on the team. I start to get worried because he does not show up at all and almost the whole team has passed already.

Finally, I see him in the back walking with his girlfriend and Jisung. My smile shrinks visibly but I cannot take my eyes off of the sight anyway. He looks amazing in that jacket and he walks confidently, taking in his sudden moment of fame.

We meet eyes and he smiles widely. I want to look away but I can’t. It’s like he has bewitched me.

He raises a hand and waves it wildly. I send him a small smile and two thumbs up before mouthing out a ‘good luck’ and he responds with a loud ‘thanks’.

Something about that interaction is unmatchable to anything else. How was he able to spot me in such a huge crowd? Why did he reply to me when he was with his girlfriend?

He shouldn’t give me false hope.

————————

“They say you find your soulmate before you even turn 21,” he randomly comments as we sit beside each other studying.

“They say you should shut up and study,” I groan back. I am currently stressed with all these numbers and signs and this stupid calculator that has one too many functions.

“Do you think you’ve found yours?” He asks as he doodles around his notes, completely ignoring my words.

“I think you should study,” I repeat. I really do need to study because I’m failing class, but of course there is another reason for why I want him to be quiet, as well.

He seems to be bringing this type of thing up a lot nowadays and I am not comfortable with it at all.

“I think I’ve found mine,” he cryptically says but even the little ant walking on the table knows who he is talking about. The sparkle in his eyes gives it away easily.

“I’m going to my dorm, bye,” I comment and leave.

I should’ve never let the feelings get to me.

————————

“I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back,” I growl as I stare at him and even though I am mad pissed, I am also strongly hurt.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” he easily accepts defeat and that just makes me even more mad.

“What were you talking to Seungmin about?” I ask as I increase our distance each time he wants to decrease it.

“It’s n-nothing,” he stutters. That means whatever they were talking about would make me very disappointed or even more pissed.

“Tell. Me.” I demand and he sighs.

He lowers his head as if he is ashamed of himself and takes a deep breath.

“He told me it looked like you were coming onto me and, honestly, I felt it too,” he whispers out. The answer is barely audible and I have to lean in to hear him clearly, but when I hear what he says I become a statue.

It is true. It is a hundred percent true and I have no right to call him out for it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Changbin?” I have no right, but I do it anyway.

“I know! I’m sorry, I really am. I was stupid to even think about it,” he hurriedly says before I can burst on him.

“Is that why you’ve been asking me all these stupid questions? Our first impressions, soulmates, ideal type of boyfriend?” I roar as this time I walk towards him and he backs up.

“I can’t believe you think of me like that,” I laugh cynically and shake my head.

“I’m just an easy girl who loves breaking relationships up, huh? You happened to be my next victim so you were trying to catch me before I began to ruin your relationship. Thanks a lot,” I continue and glare straight at him.

His back hits the wall and I realize that he is not trying to defend himself and he’s just taking the hits.

“Don’t ever talk behind my back again,” I say and then I am out of there as if I was never there.

I realize that I need to maintain my distance from now on.

For everyone’s sake.

————————

“Does it hurt?” Jisung asks me out of nowhere.

I look at him weirdly and question what he means with my eyes.

“When he talks about his girlfriend in front of you?” He clarifies and I nod to acknowledge that I understood now.

“Yes, but it wakes me up. We’re so close to each other that sometimes I forget he’s taken. It makes me remember I have no chance with him and to stay in my lane,” I reply with a shrug as if my heart isn’t breaking into a million pieces just by thinking about it.

When he talks about her his eyes light up and he can go on for hours about her. He’s so proud of her and so whipped for her. She is everything to him. I stand zero chance. Always did, always will.

“That sucks,” he comments and ruffles his hair.

I chuckle. Oh yes indeed.

————————

“Dude, why have you been so distant?” He asks. We are currently in our criminology lecture and the professor is going on and on about how his wife is cheating on him.

“Honestly?” I ask him. I didn’t want to tell him the truth but that’s all I could tell him. No more lies.

I’m going to look like a fool, completely going against everything I had yelled at him for only a couple weeks earlier. But around him, I am always the fool anyway.

He nods as if that was an obvious factor to include.

“I…” I hesitate and look away from his stare.

He always looks at me straight in the eyes and I hate that about him. He never gives me an opportunity to defend myself. He knows I am weak to his beautiful dark eyes.

“I started catching feelings and I couldn’t handle it. It would just bring problems to everyone, so I decided to put some space between us,” I say looking straight back at him. He wants the truth? Well here it is.

He sits there shocked for what seems like forever before he finally clears his throat and looks away.

I gulp because even though I seemed sure of my decision and insisted on telling the truth, I was very insecure from that reaction.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class and when it finally ends we leave without saying goodbye to each other.

This is for the best.

————————

“Congratulations, you guys made it! Good luck in your next semester, or in life, whichever is next for you all!” The professor ends class and I smile.

Finally, we can have time off, something I’ve longed for since Changbin and I had parted ways.

After the day I confessed, we stopped, everything.

No more sitting by each other, no more catching up, it was like we were never even friends.

I still see him sometimes, but always from afar.

I look over to him. He’s sitting beside Jisung, finishing up something on his laptop before closing it and standing.

I stay seated and pull my phone out pretending to be busy.

“I’ll, I’ll catch up to you later,” he tells Jisung and I gulp as I feel Jisung turn to me.

Jisung simply agrees and exits the lecture hall.

Finally, I stand and begin walking across my row to exit the room.

I see him out of the corner of my eye, getting closer, so I increase my speed.

Things were finally going to be okay again, why did he want to ruin it?

“Hey! I’m sorry!” He yells right as the door closes. I run out before he even has a chance of speaking to me.

I see Jisung standing by the door and he only hands me a tissue before walking away.

I hurriedly run in the opposite direction before Changbin could find me again.

Now, it was truly over.

Finally.

Sadly.

#stray kids #changbin #seo changbin #spear b #jisung han #skz han #skz changbin #j.one #3racha #stray kids angst #skz angst

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opheliawritesxo · 4 years

Text

Jefferson & Leroy Street

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Inclusive!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is an idiot, Y/N Stark is an idiot; Steve Rogers just wants them to kiss and make-up. So he plays matchmaker. How hard can it be to get two idiots in love? Apparently not as easy as he thinks.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: strong language, mentions of a horrible ex, angst with a happy ending

A/N: if anyone sees this fic on AO3 don’t worry about it, it is my own work I just thought I'd change it to a reader insert.

It’d been a long day; University had been busier than normal in the lead up to exams. They just kept telling their self - one more year - when in reality they still had to find a graduate job. What can one actually do with a degree in Criminology?

Unlocking the door to the flat they shared with their two best friends, they groaned at the mess. For two super soldiers, they sure knew how to create a mess. Steve Rogers, the famous Captain America, was currently away on a mission but Bucky was still here having not been needed for this particular mission.

“You had one job dickwad! One job!” They shouted as they looked at the state of the piled-up dishes. They had a bloody rota for a reason, god they missed the days of dishwashers and living at home with their parents.

There was silence, frowning they searched every room before finally calling to F.R.I.D.A.Y and asking where the hell was Bucky?

“I’m afraid he stepped out over an hour ago Mx Stark, I can find his location if you wish?” The Irish lilt echoed throughout the empty flat. They groaned; they didn’t want to bother him in case he’d been called on a mission.

“Nah s’alright, but thanks anyway F.R.I.D.A.Y.” A weak smile crossed their face, they might as well clean the flat whilst they waited for Bucky to arrive home.

Bucky never arrived home that night. They waited up as long as they could after giving the flat a thorough clean but when they woke in the morning it was clear he hadn’t come home. Their keys were still in the door. Groaning as they rubbed the back of their neck having fallen asleep on the couch, they checked their phone.

No messages.

That instantly put them in a pissy mood, they were a worrier; always had been, always will be.

They knew it was going to happen, getting distracted beyond belief at Uni. Trudging back to the flat they could smell the aromatic aroma of Italian cooking. Clumsily opening the door, their face fell a little when they noticed Steve’s shield by the door.

“Are you.. are you seriously standing here cooking in your bloody uniform?” They snorted; well at least that was a sight to brighten their day.

“I was hungry!” He whined.

“Thought you were Bucky.” They muttered, grabbing the blonde’s shield and moving it to the cupboard. It was more so they wouldn’t trip over it as they had done a hundred times before.

“Well it’s his Ma’s recipe so I can see the confusion.” He smiled giving them a kiss on the cheek as they moved within reaching distance. “How was class?”

“Oh, you know.. the usual.” Plonking themselves down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “Say.. you wouldn’t happen to have heard from Bucky have you?”

“Yeah, he’s at some dame’s place.. he never told you?” He frowned; they hated that frown.

“Oh yeah, shit I forgot. Of course!” They spoke quickly, they were already pissed at Bucky; it wouldn’t do for him to be ganged up by both them and Steve. “How was the mission?” Quickly and effortlessly changing the subject. Giving Steve the chance to rant about everything and anything he could reveal about the mission. While he spoke, they sent a text to Bucky.

Sent at 4:56PM

You could have told me you were going to get laid. Next time do the dishes before you go and get your dick wet. That is all.

After eating the wonderful food that Steve had prepared, how they could still fit through the door with both of them being amazing cooks they’ll never know; they headed through to their room to do some studying.

They woke up at 3am to her bedroom door being thrown open.

“Jesus Christ!” They squealed, practically falling out of bed as they watched Bucky saunter in.

“What the fuck is this?” Holding out his phone, they squinted at his phone screen being the only light source in the room. Flicking on a light they glared at him.

“It’s three in the fucking morning James, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing sauntering in here like you own the place!” They shouted; they didn’t care if they woke Steve up at this point.

“I do actually own the place..” They groaned

“It’s an expression you idiot! Can we talk about this in the morning? I don’t know why you’re pissed at me! You’re the one that didn’t tell me you were heading out and also left the flat in a god-awful state!”

“Oh, get over yourself! Why are you always so fucking clingy Y/N? It’s ridiculous!” That broke their heart, they knew they were clingy; they always had been, but Bucky had always liked it. —or so they thought.

“I was just worried about you.. I didn’t know where you were.” They muttered, feeling terribly small with the towering figure above them.

“You don’t need to know where I am every second of everyday Christ. Stop being jealous just because you haven’t been laid in months. How is Nathan anyway? Still fucking your ex best friend?” Well that was a low blow, it was clear no one anticipated the slap when it came.

“Fuck. You.” They growled, grabbing their jeans; pulling them on angrily as they moved to grab their coat.

“Y/N, darlin’ it’s late. Come on we’ll got through to my-“ Steve was interrupted by the front door slamming. “The fuck Buck?” He said turning to his best friend.

“Don’t Steve.. just don’t.” The former asset muttered as he moved through to his room, slamming the bedroom door shut.

“Fucking hell..” Steve muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, please track them and let me know the minute something isn’t right okay?”

When they arrived back at the flat four hours later, Steve was already opening the door to her before they could even get their hand on the handle.

“Bloody intelligent busy body in the ceiling.” They muttered to herself as they trudged in. Toeing off their shoes, they headed to their bedroom but were stopped by the ever-righteous grandpa.

“We need to talk about last night.” Steve’s voice was soft, but it held a commanding edge to it, they couldn’t be fucked with that in that moment.

“No, we don’t, Barnes made everything crystal clear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have class in an hour and a half.” They grunted, hands on his chest to push him out of the way.

“Y/N.. he was- “

“If drunk is about to come out of your mouth I’m whacking you with your own shield. He can’t get drunk; well all know that so why don’t you stop coming up with excuses for his behaviour and just ‘get over yourself’ like I’m doing huh?” Expression blank, but the tears that were starting to well in their eyes were clear for anyone close enough to see.

“You went to Nathan’s.. Y/N, that’s not.. we talked about this. You were doing so well.” He whispered, holding onto their upper arms to keep them in place.

“I waited Steve, I did what you said, and I waited for him to come around. Every-time I tried to make the first move it didn’t work. Bucky doesn’t want me; I’ve accepted that now.. maybe it’s time you do too. Matchmaker isn’t really your biggest strength.” A weak smile on their face as they finally pushed their way out of his grasp.

Heading down the corridor she saw Bucky’s door slowly close, he’d obviously been listening in. Typical. Rolling their eyes, they headed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.

It had been a week since the incident. Both Bucky and Y/N hadn’t left the flat which was more concerning on Y/N’s behalf due to the fact they’d missed a whole week of University. The final straw was when Tony cornered Steve after a briefing asking why he’d gotten an email from the University saying his child hadn’t been attending classes.

He hated being cornered by a protective Tony, especially since they were tentatively trying to build a relationship together. Totally hush hush at the moment; only the two of them aware. Stomping into Y/N’s room he frowned when he saw them staring into space.

“Enough. Get dressed and get the fuck out of here for a couple of hours. Please I’m literally begging you. You’re both driving me up the wall.” It took a couple of seconds for Y/N to grasp that Steve was in the room speaking to them.

“And where exactly do you want me to go?” They mumbled into their duvet.

“Anywhere that isn’t Nathan’s or somewhere dangerous.” Going into their wardrobe he started throwing clothes at them. “If you’re not ready in ten I will barge right back in here you hear?”

“Jesus Steve.. I’m going, Christ.” She muttered, shooing him out the door so they could get ready. Maybe a night out would be nice, they could go for a couple of drinks.

When they finished getting ready, they side-stepped Steve before they collided with him. Sending a mock salute his way they grabbed their shoes and headed out the door. There were a few bars within walking distance, so they ended up at the first one on their path. Slipping inside they sat themselves down at the bar, ordering a whiskey neat.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in” Mouthing a ‘fuck’ into their drink they turned to see Nathan.

“What do you want?” They grumbled, arms crossing over their chest. He scoffed.

“I can’t believe I don’t even get a hello when I so kindly let you sleep on my couch last week. Didn’t even get a thank you.” Rolling their eyes at him.

“I’m pretty sure letting me crash on your couch is the least you could do after ruining three years of a relationship by shagging Caitlin.”

“I was expecting at least some thank you head, but you never were one to give, were you? Always take, take, take.” He purred; they could smell the booze off him as he made himself at home in their personal space.

“Fuck off Nathan, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“When were you ever in the mood, I’m sure I can get you there though. Always knew your-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a metal arm had him lifted halfway off the ground. They couldn’t help but snort at the fear in Nathan’s eyes.

“Want to finish that sentence?” Bucky growled. They couldn’t help but bite their lip, they’d always had a thing for pissed Bucky; as long as it wasn’t aimed at them but then again. A hand on their arm snapped them out of their daydream. “We’re going for a walk.” His hand slipping into theirs as he dragged them out the bar.

“Oh, we are, are we?” They muttered; the silence grew between them as they walked down the block. “Thanks.. for that back there. I- I didn’t sleep with him by the way. Just crashed on his couch.” They admitted. “I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were.” They pulled on his hand as they got to a bench, pulling him down to sit next to them.

“I am. I’m sorry about the text.. I was just so worried. You know what I’m like, the world’s worst over-thinker.” Bucky groaned, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“I’ve been a prick.” He grunted, looking at them with sad eyes. “Do you remember the night you caught Nathan?”

Frowning they tried to remember what happened. “You took me to that club? You said something like ‘it’s more or a distraction for me so I don’t rip the bastards throat out?’ Or something along those lines?” He chuckled softly; their heart stopped for a moment — god they’d missed that sound.

“Yeah that’s right, you then proceeded to get fucking drunk off your ass and you said you can’t remember anything else from that night?” They shook their head.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure that was it.”

“Well.. I’m gonna remind you of something right now just.. bear with me.” He mumbled, cupping their chin in his hand; he kissed them. Right there, on the corner of Jefferson and Leroy street. Their hands moved to clutch at his shirt, hazy memories filtering in. Loud music, colour, Bucky, heat, cool metal wrapped around them, Bucky, hands in silk strands, the taste of whiskey and something ultimately Bucky.

“Fuck I kissed you, in the middle of the dance floor..” They whispered as they pulled back, fingers moving to press lightly against their lips. They couldn’t believe she forgot.

“There’s an endless number of things that I wish I could forget darlin’, but I couldn’t forget that. Played in my mind for days. I realised quite quickly you didn’t remember it and you were still getting over him. Then you started to flirt with me and I just; I couldn’t take it.” Their heart was breaking.

“Buck.. I’m so sorry!” They croaked, taking both his hands in theirs; thumb stroking over the back of the smooth metal. “If I’d remembered I would’ve- “

“Thought I was gonna be your rebound or somethin’ and I couldn’t deal. Pretty sure you engrained yourself in my very soul from the day I met your cocky little ass.” His eyes were glued to the ground, but they weren’t having it. Grabbing his face in their hands.

“You never would’ve been a re-bound for my James. You understand me? I’ve loved you from the minute I met you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, I’m hopelessly, utterly-“ They hated being interrupted but they were pretty sure they could make an exception for Bucky’s lips on theirs. It was softer than they remembered, like they were something precious. That’s when the tears started to fall —no one had ever treated them like that before, like they were something to cherish.

“M’not good with feelings and emotions, life ain’t been too kind to me but I know that I love you and I want you. Every part of you. So m’gonna say it now. You’re mine, you’ll always be mine. Even if we can’t be together; you’ll always be engrained in-“ It was their turn to cut him off, kissing him hard; throwing their very soul into the kiss.

“I’m yours Buck, forever and always I’m yours.” They whispered. Chuckling softly, he brushed the tears from their face.

“That’s what I was hoping you were gonna say.” There on the corner of Jefferson and Leroy, two idiots finally got their happy ending. If Steve looked extra smug the next day; Tony would think it was because of him but in reality, it was because of the two thank you texts he’d received from the two idiots. His two favourite idiots.

#Bucky #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x inclusive reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x y/n #Bucky fic #inclusive reader

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travellvogue · 4 years

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Hey doll, could you do a thing with chilly and the Leicester lads, where they’re all at a Christmas party with their wives and girlfriends and you start to feel really insecure because your still at uni and studying a really nerdy course so some of the girls start talking the piss and you start to have a panic attack when madders finds you and goes to get chilly who calms you down and makes you feel all good again. Thanks xx ps. This is the best blog out there. I love you 💘

you felt so out of place, all of them with their plumped up lips and thick eyebrows, gucci every thing and heels with red soles, way out of your comfort zone as you start to doubt the prettylittlething dress you’d ordered in a panic last night, conversation not easy to relate to, all of them talking about this new cheese bored their planning on ordering in for christmas along side some posh wines that sounded foreign to you, smiling politely as you pretend to care about the dry topic, much rather wanting to discus Freud and the fascinating minds of psychopaths and murders, your criminology degree obviously something none of the girls in the room were interested in, whenever you tried to bring it up you were laughed at, subtle sniggers from the girls, swallowing the lump in your throat that had stopped you from saying any more, your place in the group was made obvious now

“what you doing on here lovely?” James walks into the kitchen to get drinks for everyone, leaning closer to see your tear stained cheeks, “hey come on, it’s okay, what’s up?” he speaks calmly, you’d become very good friends since you’d started dating Ben, “i’ll get Chilly” he whispers, taking no time in grabbing Ben who is there to comfort you straight away, knowing you too well so he doesn’t even have to ask what the issue is, he knew this wasn’t your crowd and he appreciated that, “i love you, we’ll head home soon” he whispers gently with a kiss to your head, “i don’t expect you to be besties with any of them, they have no substances anyway” he winks making you giggle a little, “plus... if you can’t have a three hour conversation with someone about the disappearance of Maddie McCann then what’s the point in being mates with them” he smirks, loving that he can actually have interesting conversations with you, rather then choosing to watch paint dry which he’d much rather do than talk to any of those girls

#ben chilwell blurb #ben chilwell #love you anon

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lavishbylaw-archived · 4 years

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[ @cybernetichearts said: ]

Nadine: College: ☁️ Mafia to corrupted: ❣️ / Holland: Main: ❌ 🛠 thinking of what would fit best but basically Holland getting Gen to rep her and things turns sour / Conan: Human & Android 💙 Human: Get that Stern animosity in there and make it complicated ⚔️

[ Connections Meme ]

// I haven’t been able to do much with Nadine, Holland, nor Conan where Gen is concerned, so here are a few things that I think would be fun to explore with those connections ♥

[ Nadine ]

I could see Nadine and Gen as school friends-- They probably have several classes, especially if Nadine’s human counterpart is studying anything to do with criminology. In college, Gen is very much a social butterfly. Friendly, and probably speaks with many people. And to Gen, Nadine would be no different, of course.

You know mafia and Gen’s corrupted verse is always fun in a good and bad way. And who doesn’t like a good enemies-to-lovers plot? I could see Gen thinking that she is “using” Nadine, but she actually does have deeper feelings for her. Doesn’t that sound just -- *chef kiss*?

[ Holland ]

Let me tell you that I love Holland’s character. She’s so cold, blunt, and unforgiving. It’s nice to see more assertive muses in the fandom, and not only the soft “uwu-ness” that is usually shown. So, I support the idea of Genevieve truthfully representing Holland, as she probably really looks up to her in some ways. But, when she actually realizes what’s happened, or what she’s truly protecting, Genevieve will be pissed. Say that this is a plot that involves Corvus ( @creation-is-chaos )?

But, would Gen be caught to deep in Holland’s web to get out of a guilty verdict herself? Rather that verdict be from a court, or from someone more personal? I actually can’t wait to explore this!

[ Conan ]

I think out of the three muses, Conan is one that has been silent. But, it fits his character, does it not? His aloof, nonchalant nature. I think the slow burn would fit perfectly. He doesn’t seems like he angers easy to be a enemy-to-lover. But, it does seem like it would take him a while to care about someone or something. And you know what? That’s good.

As far as the Stern household and family feuds are concern, we know that they always have some grand disagreements about something. Their relationships definitely wouldn’t be off the table for debate.

#cybernectichearts #🦋 ɑɳรwɛʀɛɗ →☆#🦋 ɑรk ɱɛɱɛ →☆#🦋 v. αмbiтiσиร wiтнiи мє. // мαiи →☆#🦋 ѵ. pѳwɛʀ iร ɑʆʆ tɦɑt ɱɑttɛʀร. // cѳʀʀuptɛɗ →☆#🦋 v. єиd σf тiмєร wiтн иєw bєgiииiиgร. // cσllєgє →☆#🦋 օօƈ: օʊȶ օʄ ƈօʊʀȶ →☆

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doctorspencereid · 5 years

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Because of Me Pt.1 ( Spencer Reid x Reader )

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When a mysterious unsub decides to challenge Spencer Reid, you are dragged into this mess in the worst way possible. This is part 1 of a two - part fic. PART 2

Word Count: 3.4k

Setting: Somewhere in the zone of Seasons 4 - 7

Warnings: abduction

To say say that Spencer’s lecture wasn’t going well would be an understatement. The crowd looked absent, bored. They looked back up at him as though he were an alien speaking in foreign tongues. This always baffled Spencer, he had difficulties connecting with people when it came to one on one encounters … lectures were slightly more complex than the average social encounter. He, himself, had always been fascinated by a wide array of topics and found them interesting. Particularly the subject of this lecture; the micro-details that accompanied profiling, the smaller pieces of the puzzle that truly made the picture what it was. Spencer Reid had chosen to accompany David Rossi to his latest book signing, and when Rossi had asked him to do a lecture while he got ready, Spencer had been more than willing to oblige. Now though, that he was on stage speaking to people who would rather watch true crime videos than listen to him speak, well it made it easy to remember that these people weren’t here to see him. They were sitting through the ‘boring’ part of the event before the star of the show came out greet his adoring fans. This didn’t upset Spencer per say, but it wasn’t a confidence boost by any means.

Rossi came out sooner than expected and he was alerted to that by the sudden roar of the crowd that drowned out the tail end of his sentence. Spencer stood there awkwardly silent, waiting for them to quiet down. Though it took roughly two minutes before that happened. Rossi came up to Spencer, patting the boy genius on the back with a hearty laugh and subtly motioning him off the stage. He wasn’t entirely socially aware all of the time, but he could take a hint ( most of the time). The BAU agent left the stage with relief, the eyes of the crowd gliding past him as though he weren’t so much as anything. His long legs carried him out of the room and into the hallway outside of the hotel’s conference room where the signing was being held. The lanky genius sighed and propped up against a pillar, willing to wait for Rossi to wrap up. Though he knew in the back of his head that it would be awhile before Rossi finished with his fans.

The sound of gentle footsteps drew Spencer’s attention. A girl with a timid smile emerged from the conference room, clutching Rossi’s book with both hands. She was maybe three years younger than himself, and yet she regarded him with an odd look. Though it wasn’t in the same world of odd in which the audience had given him. They had peered at him as though he were from a different universe, she looked at him as though she were wondering if she recognized him or not.

“ Dr. Reid? ” She asked, lifting both brows in question, “ I’m Y/N Y/L/N … I just wanted to tell you that I found your lecture very interesting and thought provoking. It’s honestly so incredible how much the smaller details matter in creating a profile. ” Y/N gushed, her eyes were glittering the way someone’s eyes only could when they were passionate about the topic. Spencer smiled wryly, appreciative that at least someone in that crowd heard him.

“ Well, I’m glad you think so, you might just be the only one.” Spencer thanked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He paused, noticing a figure behind her. He peered over Y/N’s head easily, looking past her to a man lingering by the door. Then, with a calm smile, he turned and walked back into the conference room. With a shake of his head, Spencer cleared his thoughts and shifted his eyes back to the girl in front of him. Spencer licked his dry lips and looked from the doorframe and back to her. “ Is, um, is profiling something that interests you?” he asked gently, his eyebrows knitting together.

Her eyes flashed and she nodded eagerly, her hands flipping the book over and over in her grasp. Nerves. He noted this, but didn’t think on it too much. “ Yeah, I’m about to graduate with a major in Criminology and a minor in Psychology,” Y/N explained, the true pride she took in her work evident. “ You could say I care a lot about the inner workings of the mind.”

Reid’s brows lifted minutely, well then she was someone who did take genuine interest in the topic.“ I’ve read a few of your articles, it’s incredible the way you break down your theories and experiences.”

Without any control of his own, the edges of his mouth lifted. She knew his work and didn’t think him to be some rambling weirdo. Well, maybe she did. But even if she did, at least she didn’t treat him like it. The nerves explained themselves, if she’d read into his work then she’d already formed her own perception of it and himself. It wasn’t often that Spencer encountered excitable people around his own age that had genuine interest in the same thing. “ Er, yeah. People have a tendency to overlook the smaller points. And when they finally do take notice, it’s almost too late.” he agreed, half smiling. Her face lit up and her smile fanned out brilliantly. Spencer’s mind was prodding at him to find out more about the scholar.

“ Yeah, right. Exactly, finally someone gets it. ” Y/N mumbled, peering down at her feet. She looked up again, seemingly more resigned now,“ I, um, I have class in about an hour, so maybe we could finish this talk over coffee?. . If you don’t mind, that is.” She didn’t look away, trying to gauge his reaction. Spencer found himself nodding, without thinking about it even.

“ I wouldn’t mind at all, actually.”

“ Great. How about two days from now then, around 2? There’s a nice little shop down the block and their espresso is to die for.”

“ I’ll see you then.”

If Spencer weren’t blessed with an eidetic memory then the whole exchange might’ve just flown past him numbly. Only the nerves that rattled in his brain brought it into clear focus, one where

he was all too aware of his gangly limbs and semi - awkward idiosyncrasies. Was this a sort of date? Maybe, Spencer didn’t do those often. It was as if he were on auto-pilot. Or, he had been until he’d made his way out to the parking lot and encountered a note waiting for him on the windshield. Rossi had been so encaptured in his own recounting of the signing that he hadn’t taken notice to the small slip of paper Spencer plucked up. It was a small, plain note which was unassuming aside from the precise handwriting sitting perfectly in it’s center.

Let’s see how smart you are.

The corner of the page had a number 6, simple and seemingly unrelated. The note looked up at him with a challenge plain in the tone, and it alarmed him. He wasn’t afraid, and part of him wanted to think it might’ve been a prank from one of the people in attendance to the lecture. Maybe they were trying to strike back at him for taking up some of their day. It would be an odd retaliation maneuver, but Spencer didn’t want to jump to conclusions straight off. Still, the note raised his guard and the grim reality of the nightmare they inhabited sank back into his bones. He tried to push it to the back of mind, and maybe it could melt away.

He remained quiet on the drive home, ignoring the crumpled note in his pocket. Spencer let Rossi dominate the conversation, not that it was hard. It seemed easier to let his mind wander than to ignore something so feverently. His thoughts shifted from his encounter with Y/N, to his failed lecture, and to the case they were working on back at the BAU. Beneath that though, his thoughts kept slipping back to the note. Spencer resolved to himself that he would think on it more once he was home, alone. This was a move, and a game had begun. He simply hoped he had enough knowledge to win.

He awoke tired the next morning, having stayed up light trying to figure out what he could based on the small sentence that had been carefully drafted. Moreover, he was trying to determine if it was something he should bother about further. He did his best to pull himself together, though his tired eyes combated against any attempts Spencer made. Then, as he was leaving a small piece of paper fluttered down from his door. He scanned the hall, trying to see if whoever had left it might still be lurking. When he decided that there was in fact no one there, he retrieved it and swallowed dryly. Whoever it was, they were encroaching into his space and that alone was more unsettling than any of the notes were. Spencer read the note slowly, rereading it over and over.

You’re going to lose, doctor.

There, in the bottom was the number 9. If the last note had been a challenge, this had been a threat. Or maybe, a taunt. A way to lure him in further into the game. Part of him was annoyed knowing that this wouldn’t make sense, not yet. It was like the horrifying understanding that you felt when you knew the only way understand an unsub’s pattern was to wait for them to dump another body. It was an unwanted but necessary component. He needed another note, another piece of the puzzle. It wasn’t an image, it was a leaf, and a pebble, it wasn’t a whole picture yet. At work, his attention was taken up by the tiny scrawls of paper. He filled out forms and files almost mindlessly. He hardly noticed the coffee JJ left on his desk, or when Morgan had dropped by to check on how he was holding up.

When he wasn’t sifting through case files, he was trying to build up a profile. It was harder when he was running on almost no information though. It was definitely someone on par intellectually, someone who was clever. He might be dealing with a narcissist, normal people don’t go challenging others to an intellectual pissing contest. The unsub didn’t stand out too much, seeing as he was able to get into the apartment complex with ease, he may have appeared normal to the average person. It did dawn on Spencer that were the team involved, things might have moved faster. But he didn’t want to involve them yet, as of yet the unsub hadn’t proved dangerous. This was a personal dilemma. As the day drew to a close, Morgan drew him aside with drawn together brows and curiosity gleaming in his dark eyes.

“ Hey, Reid, you alright? You’ve been off all day, don’t think we haven’t noticed. ” Derek questioned, crossing his arms against his chest. He seemed to watch Spencer with the concern of an older sibling. Spencer shrugged, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“ Everything’s fine, nothing I can’t handle. ” He murmured, shaking his head and standing up to collect his things. Morgan clearly had his doubts, with a raised brow he silently questioned the younger agent.

“ Are you sure, because-”

“ I’ve got it, alright? Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer cut him off, the guilt seeping in almost immediately. He swallowed and looked down, gathering his things and walking past Derek. He’d explain when this was over, but as of that moment he needed to focus and he didn’t have the time to be questioned and prodded. It was as he was leaving the building that a reminder drew him back from the crazy. Tomorrow he would be meeting Y/N again, this settled some of his nerves. She was enough to lift his spirits a bit, maybe he could even relay this to her and see if she could pick up on anything he might’ve missed. She had been there the day that this had all started.

The next day rolled in and Spencer had gotten a bit more sleep. So when he woke, he found himself trying a bit harder to look more like a person and less like a haphazard scientist. Still, he wasn’t pulling any showstoppers. Maybe a less wrinkled shirt, or a darker cardigan. Spencer needed to get through his work day first, that was the first obstacle. It went by quietly, he remained at his desk, working his way through a mountain of paperwork with little strain. Spencer noted that Morgan was eyeing him oddly, though he didn’t seem eager to approach Spencer any time soon. The doctor made a note to apologize later, but first he’d get through this.

Two rolled around faster than he’d anticipated, Spencer left work with a nervous sort of jitter and found himself driving down the street of the hotel. Down at the corner, a cafe drew in customers off the curb. He assumed that was the shop he was to meet Y/N at. All the notes were folded in his pocket. Spencer entered the store, greeted with the sharp scent of coffee beans, but he didn’t catch sight of Y/N. Roughly twenty minutes passed by without a notification before Spencer accepted that she wasn’t coming. Disappointment and the sting of embarrassment pulled at him, he shook his head and stood, headed for the door. Then, as he was scanning one last time, he realized something odd. In the corner, resting on a table, a single coffee had gone untouched since he’d first arrived. Which was odd, given that the place was so busy it was unlikely someone was going to leave their cup unattended. And the price point of the drinks meant someone simply wasn’t going to leave a cup discarded. Spencer approached the corner and lifted the drink. Sitting beneath it was another note, the words in the center rimmed with coffee stains.

You snooze, you lose. Find me and you can find her.

His heart rate quickened, at the bottom of the page the number 2 was scrawled. This was a reveal, the opponent unleashing his play and waiting to see the next move. This was a game with high stakes, where Spencer’s next move couldn’t be a risk, it had to be calculated excellence. He gripped the note and stormed out, fighting against traffic to get back to hq. He’d find her, he owed it to her for accidentally getting her involved.

Spencer rushed unto the bullpen, nearly colliding with Emily who had held a hand out to steady him. An expression of surprise and light concern drew together the lines of her face, she let out a breathy chuckle, “ Woah, Spencer. What’s the rush? Some exciting article about Albert Einstein and Quant-”

“ There is a woman missing, and I’m not sure how long she has, Emily.” Spencer rushed, pulling the notes from his pocket and lining them up in the order he’d received them. He pressed them into Emily’s hands, his mouth set into a firm line. Her own face had gone flat, melting into the serene mask of someone who knew personal tragedy. But in her eyes was the cold steel that signified her as an agent of the bureau.

“Who is she?”

Y/N’s face flashed through his head and he was struck with a pang of guilt. Spencer hadn’t managed to get attached yet, but he felt the remorse all the same. This was someone who ahd spoken to him with a fire and wonder about things she genuinely found fascinating. Her eyes had lit up with curiosity. She was a scholar and maybe even one day, she could have been an agent. But now she was a pawn in this crooked game. His next moves were vital. “ Y/N Y/L/N . Her name is Y/N. She’s about average female height with Y/E/C and Y/H/C. I’m assuming she was last seen at a cafe down by Jefferson Avenue, that’s where I found the last one.”

Emily looked at him from beneath her lashes, questions presenting themselves on her features. “ Reid, how long have you been getting these? He sounds almost comfortable writing to you ... like he knows you.”

“ Two days now,” He admitted, ignoring the surprise on her face, “ It didn’t seem worth mentioning before, but now it is. He wants to challenge me, and he wants to win.”

Emily shook her head, shuffling between the notes, every now and then looking back to Reid for some answer he couldn’t provide.“ Right, but if this is about you and him ... then why take her? She doesn’t fit into his fantasy, ”

He nodded, his fist resting under his chin. “ It could be one of two things, either she’s an acting surrogate fromone in his life, maybe a daughter. Her connection to me could signify that a young man in his life threatened his role in her life. Or, he could be trying to put pressure on me, to get me thinking irrationally enough to where I’ll make a mistake.”

“ If you’re right then maybe he lost someone in his life to someone like you, and this is his way of getting her back,” She suggested, starting back towards their desks, shaking her head as she walked, “ and simultaneously getting back at who took her from him.”

Spencer swallowed dryly, crossing his arms against his chest. “ We’re looking at a challenger.” He was so immersed in their exchange that he hadn’t noticed when Rossi and Morgan had circled around them, listening and peering at each other.

“ So, someone’s got it out for Reid? What did pretty boy do?” Morgan questioned, still not quite looking at Reid, he was staring at Prentiss and the notes clasped in her grip.

The youngest of the agents cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, “ He wants to beat me, maybe to reassure himself or establish dominance. But this is a game of wits to him, so he’s trying to outsmart me. Prove he’s better, somehow. ”

“ Which probably means he feels he’s lacking in some department, normally I’d assume impotence but this guy is driven by a need for intellectual superiority. Maybe a professor, or engineer.” Rossie injected himself into the discussion, watching Spencer closely, “ It’s likely you’re a stand - in for someone in his life who’s gotten the best of him. Maybe a young kid he mentored, someone who surpassed him somehow.”

Derek turned sharply suddenly, and the team followed the familiar hallway to Penelope Garcia’s lair. The door was thrown wide open and a yelp sounded sudden;y from inside.

“ Woah! You and I both know that I love when you get all bad - cop on me, but if you’re gonna barge in, at least use the special knock.” Garcia urged, swatting at Derek. He snorted and rested his hand on her desk, peering down at her.

“ Baby girl, I’m gonna need you to run some check on any Engineers, Professors, or other high - intelligence positions in the area; I’m thinking older men, 45 - 60 even, recently passed over for a promotion or laid off.”

Penelope nodded, her fingers dashing round the keyboard and within the minute she was whistling through her teeth, reading off the results she collected, “ We’ve got one hit, Dr. James Douglass was fired from his job at a lab two weeks ago when his trainee of two years took over the position. ” The image that popped onto the screens was startling, like a splash of cold water waking him up. He’d seen that man before, at the book signing. He’d been lingering by the door, watching the two of them. Then he’d slipped away without a trace.

Spencer shook his head, ready to pipe up for a location.Then, Garcia leaned over quickly and typed something incomprehensibly fast into the keys and the image of a young girl who looked so much like Y/N blinked up at them. “ That’s Dr. Evil’s daughter right there, and it looks like she’s all set to marry her father’s student about two months from now.”

His breath caught, so they were surrogates for the two people in his life who had moved past him. That kind of pain didn’t dissolve, it grew and bubbled into rage. He wouldn’t be kind, and the thought Y/N enduring that penetrated his thoughts.“ Can you get an address?”

“ 5590 Maple Street.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#spencer reid #spencer #reid #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fic #criminal minds blurb #Because of Me

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dancingwithdylan21 · 6 years

Text

Thirsty - College AU

Summary: The reader tries to convince Stiles to go out drinking and they both get more than they bargained for.

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Word Count: 1,739

“Come on, Stilessss.” You whine dramatically, latching on to his firm bicep as if that will influence your life long best friend.

“Y/N, I can’t!” He huffs snatching his arm back.

“Dude...what kind of college kid are you?!”

“The kind that’s failing metaphysics class.” He groans. “If I don’t get at least a B on the test tomorrow then I’m screwed."

"Meta what?” You say confused.

“Exactly!” Stiles throws his hands up in the air. “Some stupid philosophy bullshit.”

“What…why? You’re a criminology major.”

“I forgot which day we had to sign up for classes. By the time I remembered, there was nothing good left. So I got stuck with a shitty three hour class every Friday.”

“Oh, Stiles. I don’t know how you get through life.” You tease him, only getting a dirty glare in response.

“You know I can’t sit still for that long, Y/N.” Stiles complains, dragging his hand through his dishelved brown hair.

“There’s this annoying girl who wears a ton of dark eye makeup. She looks like a fucking raccoon! And she legit follows me around. I sit in a different spot each class and she always fucking sits near me!”

“Well, it’s hard to resist all this charm.” You gesture towards him and move to settle down onto a futon, you know Stiles isn’t done rambling. Once he gets frustrated about something - forget it. He needs to rant.

“Hooking up with her would be a risky move.” Stiles spits out. “There’s no fucking way any sane guy would touch her without at least two condoms on."

"This is why we’re best friends, Stiles. Because you’re such a people person.” You snicker loudly.

“Oh, shut it.” He barely mumbles.

Talk about opposites attract. You’re the upbeat, easy going chick who’s always smiling. Stiles’ the grumpy, impatient dude with a heart of gold. But for some reason the dynamic works, you both definitely balance each other out.

“I have to start getting ready. I’ll be at The Emerald if you change your mind, ok?”

“What the hell is The Emerald?” Stiles scrunches up his handsome face.

“I already told you about it, man.” You roll your eyes. “It’s a new club. Everything is emerald green and silver. It’s a cool looking place!”

“Sounds…interesting.” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever, buddy.” You laugh as you start walking out of his dorm room.

“Y/N, wait!” He jumps up in a panic. “How are you getting home because I know you’ll be too drunk to drive…”

“Lydia’s boyfriend is driving us. I’ll just find a ride with them or über if I have to.” You shrug in his direction.

“An uber?” Stiles feels almost offended. “No. If you need a ride, I’ll come get you.”

“No, Stiles! You need to study and rest up for tomorrow. Plus I’m going to my parents house and not coming back until Monday.”

“Um, were you gonna tell me that? Or just disappear for three days and see if I notice?” He snaps without thinking.

“You’re so needy, Stilinski.”

“Am not!”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding a vagina under those sweatpants?” You smirk while he plops back down at his desk.

“Oh honey, you couldn’t handle what’s under these sweatpants.”

“Really.” You deadpan taking a step closer.

“Really.” Stiles challenges leaning back in his computer chair with a smug smile.

“Oh well, I’ve gotta see this then. Drop em.”

“…What?”

“Show off your glorious cock, Stiles. Don’t be shy.” It makes your friend slightly blush and you can’t hold back a giggle.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense, Y/N. Stop distracting me with your dirty mind.” He pretends to be annoyed.

“Whatever you say, you big stud.” You crack up. Stiles rolls his eyes but he has a huge smile on his face. He crumbles up a piece of paper and throws it at you, hitting you right on the forehead.

“Score!” Stiles exclaims throwing up his arms.

“You’re twenty going on twelve, kiddo.” You shake your head at him.

“I’m freaking adorable.” Stiles sticks his tongue out at you. “What time should I pick you up?”

“Stiles..”

“No, Y/N. I’ve made up my mind.”

“But…”

“I know your parents live like 30 minutes away. It’s fine. My test isn’t until noon tomorrow. If your parents don’t mind, I can crash there and then leave early in the morning.”

Sigh. You know you’re not gonna win this.

“Fine. But if you fail the test, don’t you dare blame me! And my parents will be away this weekend so you can obviously stay over.”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.” Stiles grabs a can of Pepsi from his mini fridge.

“Make sure you eat something too.”

“Yes, mom.” He says with a crooked smile.

“Shit.” You mutter at the clock. “I need to get ready. Have fun studying.”

“Yeah, I will.” Stiles pouts while he watches you leave his dorm room.

You’ve only been gone for thirty minutes and Stiles already feels left out. He wills himself to focus but he keeps wondering if you’ve left yet. Hearing a light knock, his head snaps up to see you peeking in through the half open door.

“Hey you.” Not waiting for him to answer, you stroll on in and it makes Stiles’ heart practically stop.

You look amazing. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t hear you talking to him. His mind wanders as he pictures you dancing at the club. You’ll be looking sexy as hell under those green lights and Stiles is pissed that he’s gonna miss it.

“Hello?” You snap your fingers in front of him. He shakes his thoughts away and gives you a sheepish smile.

“Here. Eat this, you weirdo.” You hand over a medium pepperoni pizza from his favorite pizza joint that’s near the campus. Thank god they deliver.

“Woah, Y/N.” Stiles grins wide pulling you in for a tight hug. “You’re the fucking best!"

Your phone starts vibrating and you see a text from Jeff flash on the screen. He’s one of those on again, off again guys who literally drives you fucking mad. It’s like he thrives on playing games and messing with your head.

"Who’s that?” Stiles asks even though he has an idea based on your reaction.

“Jeff. He said he’ll be stopping by tonight to say hi.”

Stiles’ jaw immediately tightens and he definitely wants to go with you now. He hates Jeff. The bastard is no good for you and he is always breaking your heart. Then Stiles’ the lucky one who has to pick up the pieces.

“How about you skip the club? We can eat pizza and watch a movie.” Your best friend suggests with his brown eyes boring into you.

“You have your test, dude! What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Jeff’s just a piece of shit.” Stiles growls unable to control it. With a roll of your eyes, you ignore him and start reading a text from Lydia. You glance up and notice that he’s eyeing you with a weird look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stiles shrugs with an attitude as he continues watching you.

“What? Tell me!” You cast your eyes down. "Does my outfit look bad?“

”…Don’t you have a longer skirt that you can wear? And a top that isn’t so tight.“ Stiles wonders staring at you.

"Seriously?” You scoff as he continues looking you up and down with a puss on his face.

“I know it’s on the slutty side but whatever. Hopefully I’ll get hit on by a hot guy cause I’m horny.” You finally answer grabbing a piece of pizza.

“Uh…”

“And then you won’t have to waste your time picking me up.” You add completely oblivious that Stiles is internally freaking out. He mutters under his breathe but you’re unable to make it out.

“What’d you say?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He spits out at you, now shooting daggers at his laptop.

“Stop pmsing, Stilinski. It’s unbecoming.” You snort at him. Stiles spins around on his computer chair, studying you with his arms crossed.

“Stop being grumpy. I bought you pizza.” Instead of replying, your best friend races over to his closet and then begins searching for something on his iPhone.

“What’s happening here? Should I be concerned?” You ask sarcastically.

“I’m googling to see if the stupid emerald place has a dress code.” Stiles answers over his shoulder so he misses it when your mouth drops open.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski! Sit your ass back down and fucking study!” You demand with your hands on your hips.

“Oh, yeah. You’re real intimidating, Y/N.” He laughs. “Your hot pink top makes you extra scary.”

Before you get a chance to respond, Stiles rips off his shirt and starts changing in front of you. Damn it. You become distracted by his hotness but snap yourself out of it and stalk over to him and shove him in the chest.

“You were fine until I mentioned Jeff. I already told you I’m done with him for good. So relax, ok?” You try to get through to the stubborn man but he just starts whistling.

“I’m almost ready.”

“Stick with the original plan. You’re not going.” You state firmly watching him fix his messy hair.

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” Stiles lazily shrugs.

“Did you just quote The Notebook?!” You gasp. “Who the fuck are you?"

Stiles chuckles and walks back to his closet to get his boots,"I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He deadpans.

“That doesn’t even have anything to do with this.” You roll your eyes.

“Yes it does. It means if you’re going then I’m going.”

“No. It means…that he’ll do whatever she’s doing because it’s what she wants…or something.” You add now confused.

“You just proved that I’m right. Like always.” Stiles flashes a cocky smile.

“This isn’t what I want! I want you to go back to being Responsible Stiles. He was just here. Like friggin thirty minutes ago!”

“Responsible Stiles has left the building.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You can’t take your test hungover, dear.”

“I’ll only have a couple of beers since I’ll be driving. Besides someone needs to be the voice of reason when Jeffrey fucking shows up.”

“Whatever.” You groan knowing that he won’t change his mind.

“Let’s get this shit show on the road!” Stiles announces, slapping your ass on the way out of his dorm.

Masterlist

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jemej3m · 6 years

Text

in confidence i confide

i do understand this isn’t how therapy works :)

basic summary: neil needs help and andrew gets paid to help. it works out, somehow.

Neil was uncomfortable with how startingly different it all seemed. There were no sticky leather ottomans across from a black leather couch, or bookshelves covered in intimidating titles, or walls covered in certificates of achievements. The room was rather small, and Neil sat in a very soft velvet chair. A wooden coffee table sat in front of him. The man was on the other side of the room at the small kettle, making two mugs of something or rather: Neil smelled Earl Grey. He wasn’t fussed about that, so he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to drink it regardless.

The lighting of the room: That was different too. All offices of psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists and counsellors alike seemed to have a stark, bright white lighting. This room was lit by a lamp in the corner, and the cracks of daylight that seeped through the gaps in the curtain that covered the floor-to-ceiling window.

The psychologist must have seen him glance at the curtains. “I usually keep them shut, but some patients prefer them open. Depends on what they want from me, usually.”

Neil had nothing to say.

Andrew Minyard looked at him, one mug in each hand, huffed out a small sigh, and paced back towards the small, matching velvet couch perpendicular to Neil’s chair. He settled down the tea in front of Neil and sat himself against the armrest of the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in his hand. “Curtains shut, then.” He took a sip. “Feel free to open them whenever you like.”

Neil wanted this session to be over.

“In case you were wondering,” He put down his mug. “I’d prefer if you called me Andrew, rather than doctor, or Dr Minyard. We both already know you’re here for my medical qualifications: We don’t need the reminder every time you say my name.”

“What are your qualifications?”

“It speaks.” Andrew tilted his head to the side. Neil felt like copying, just to mock him—so he did. Andrew rose up a single eyebrow in amusement: Neil saw the twitch of the corner of his lips. “I have an undergraduate degree in criminology, and a post-grad in medicinal science. I continued on to study psychology and I have a PhD in criminal psychology. I’ve been in the field for five years.”

“Five.” Neil echoed. “How old are you?”

“29.” Andrew laced his fingers together. One year older than Neil. “I accelerated through many of the courses and stacked the necessary hours for certain qualifications on top of one another. I completed my PhD last year. Star pupil.”

Neil hummed.

“Do you feel, in light of my accomplishments, that you have to share yours?”

Neil looked up.

“Because I’d like to keep this space completely honest and open from the get-go: I already know who you are, and incidentally already know more than you want me to. Seems a little unfair to me.”

“Through Exy or through my father?” Neil’s plight was open to the entire public: Ten years ago he’d fought and won, and these scars were proof. Now he’d gone to the Olympics once—they’d lost to Germany, but they would be heading back this time next year. “Nevermind. Criminal psychologist.”

“It’d be hard not to know you from Exy,” Andrew corrected him. “But yes. Its your past that interests me more. I’m no policeman, or agent. I’m not here to drill and extract. This is your hour to talk about whatever you want, and to ask whatever questions you need.”

Neil picked up his Earl Grey, took a sip, and settled it back down again. No sugar, just how he liked it. He put his feet up on the edge of the coffee table and nestled into the velvet chair—it was very comfortable, but he couldn’t imagine anyone larger than him would find it so. How on earth did Kevin sit here for an hour every two weeks?

“I’m going to take a nap.”

Andrew said nothing, but Neil saw the tick of his jaw before he closed his eyes.

At first, Andrew didn’t move. Neil eventually heard him shift, and then stand, take his own mug off the table and treading lightly across the room. A creaking noise: Neil cracked open one eye to see the chalkboard on the opposite wall, next to the door, lifting up to reveal a book case. Andrew grabbed something off the bottom shelf—something tattered and worn—before closing the hidden bookshelf and turning around. Neil shut his eyes before Andrew could see him staring.

Andrew sat down again with his book, opened it, flicked through a few pages, before saying “You’re terrible at pretending to sleep.”

“I’m not trying to pretend.”

Andrew hummed.

Neil did not trust therapists—psychologists, psychiatrists, anyone of that or a similar brand. It was pure instinct. He could not sleep with Andrew in the room, but he could piss him off by wasting his time: He was Kevin’s psychologist—and Matt’s. Probably one of the most popular counselling professionals in the world of professional sport. If he shit-bagged Neil to Kevin about how much of a waste the session was, maybe Kevin wouldn’t hassle him again.

Andrew said nothing else. Neil opened his eyes at the beep of his watch, marking the turnover of an hour. He stood up, straightened his shirt and looked down at Andrew who was perusing a book on his couch. The psychologist didn’t spare him another glance, nor another word as he walked out.

The receptionist glared up at him—identical to Andrew. His name tag read A. Minyard, which wasn’t helpful at all. “So, first session with Andrew, huh?”

Neil nodded.

“Would you like to schedule the next one? Weekly or fortnightly is the recommendation, but—“

“Next one?”

He rose up a single eyebrow. “Oh, yes. Andrew insisted. It’d be wise to listen to his instruction.”

When the hell did Andrew instruct—

“Same time, next week.” Not-Andrew stabbed enter with his finger and stood up to give a business card. “The reception phone is always manned if there’s an emergency. We’ll link you through to him if it’s necessary. Bye.”

Neil nodded, stunned, turned himself around and marched out the door before he could kick up a fuss.

“What level of nutcase was he for you to text me mid-session?” Aaron lounged in the chair as Andrew rounded the front desk.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, now patient confidentiality is a concern of yours?” His twin arched an eyebrow. “You just want to get with him. That has to be illegal.”

“Aaron.”

Aaron rose up his hands in surrender, lips puckered like he tasted something sour and tucked himself under the desk, sitting up.

“You have a patient coming in five minutes. Go set up.”

Andrew sat down when Aaron slipped by him and put his feet up on the desk, staring at the screen.

Neil Josten was attractive. That was, however, not a concern of his. Regardless, he’d already known that. It was hard to sift through sports’ news without finding a Moreau, Josten, Reynolds, Knox, Boyd or even the legendary Day plastered somewhere, shirtless and glistening.

He and his twin had made a name for themselves as the one-stop-shop for professional sportsmen and women: Andrew fixed their heads, Aaron fixed their bodies, and Renee fixed their relationships. It was as good a team as any.

Neil Josten. Andrew scoffed.

Kevin shoved Neil out the door a week later. “Go.”

“Kevin—“

Kevin slammed the passenger door shut for Neil and sped off. Neil cursed after him until he turned the corner.

It was easy for Neil to get home, or to their court. He wasn’t incapable of catching public transport, despite it being something he’d more or less avoided since starting college and shaking his father off his back ten years ago.

He didn’t have to walk in there, either. But sleeping through the session hadn’t had the desired affect: Andrew had talked to Kevin, and Kevin had yelled at him for it, sure. But he wasn’t letting Neil go: He was pushing him until Neil used the time ‘wisely’.

Neil made another sour face in the direction that Kevin had driven off, and stalked inside. They were both there, and Neil remembered Not-Andrew who’d manned the desk after his appointment. They were joined by a young woman, too, with silver hair that was black at the roots and cut to her chin. The three of them looked up at him: The woman smiled, Andrew rose up his signature eyebrow and Not-Andrew glanced at Andrew.

“Follow me.”

Neil pulled the door shut behind him.

“Going to pull the same shit, today?” Andrew went to draw the curtains shut.

“Most likely.”

“Your money, your time.” Andrew hummed. “I’ll have to move you to a different spot if you’re going to remain stubborn, because people who need this time slot more urgently than you do are waiting for it.”

“So why get me in again.” Neil said flatly, dropping into the chair.

Andrew looked at him. “Me, get you in again? You’re the one who rescheduled, Neil.”

Neil tasted something sour, sunk into the chair and closed his eyes.

This lasted four sessions—six weeks, when Neil started going fortnightly instead.

And then it changed

Renee buzzed Andrew in. He was at home: She was manning the reception phone tonight. He picked up immediately. “Renee?”

“I’ve got Kevin Day on the phone. He sounds very stressed: Can you take it now?”

“Put him through.”

“—swear to God, Renee?”

“Kevin, it’s me.”

He sighed with relief. “Thank god. Andrew. Help.”

Andrew almost rolled his eyes. “I’m aware you require it. What’s happening?”

“Neil’s having a panic attack. We’re in public: I’ve barricaded the bathroom and we’re alone. He won’t talk to me.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to me?”

“I don’t think he will, but you’re trained to do this. I’m not. I’m putting you on speaker and standing outside the door. Neil, if you need anything, call out to me. Ok?”

Andrew didn’t hear Neil reply, but there was definitely someone breathing raggedly. The phone was placed on the tile floor, and he heard the door shut.

“Neil.”

Nothing.

“I want you to breathe for me. I’m going to count with you. Ok?”

Nothing.

Andrew counted. He wasn’t breathing evenly nor steadily, but the longer Andrew murmured numbers, the more it evened out.

“Look at your hands, Neil. Are they holding something? Are they in fists? Can you stretch them out for me?”

Neil murmured something.

“Can you repeat that for me, Neil.”

“What are you—“ He took in a shuddering breath. “—doing.”

“I’m going to wait this one out with you and make sure you’re ok. I am able to answer any questions revolving why this would have happened and to help you work through how it started, what contributed to it, and how you can resolve it, understood?”

Neil hummed.

“Back to breathing, alright?” No response, not even a hum. “Ok. Breathe with me, ready…”

Kevin texted him later.

Thank you. That was a really bad one. I couldn’t let the press see him like that, he was desperate to escape but so lost in his head that he couldn’t find one. What did he say when he calmed down?

He didn’t say anything. Andrew texted back. He said ‘enough’ and hung up.

You’ll earn his trust. Kevin replied. Just be patient.

Andrew already knew that. Dont tell me how to do my damn job.

Right. Sorry.

Neil missed their next session.

He rescheduled, though, much to Andrew’s relief. It rolled around slowly, like watching the clock and seeing the second hand slow down just to taunt you. But it czme, eventually, and he appeared in the doorway, ragged and sleepless and angry.

He doesn’t shut the door behind him this time.

“You could have saved your brothers’ scholarship if you’d explained the history of your abuse during his trial. But you didn’t.”

He did his research.

“Does slandering me make you feel better about being exposed as you were?”

Neil’s jaw tightened.

“For your information, Aaron wasn’t going to let me attempt that. We had enough evidence to keep him out of jail. None of that is your business.”

“Did you kill your mother?”

Andrew tapped on the armrest of his couch. “Car accidents are awful things. Did you kill yours?”

Neil stared at him. “No. My father did.”

“And your uncle killed your father, and the boss of a mafia gang in New York killed him. Are you next?”

Neil shook his head. “How do you know about Ichirou?”

“I am good friends with Kevin.”

“He never talked about you until he admitted to going to your sessions a few months ago.”

“He doesn’t talk about much but Exy, does he.”

Neil paused. “I suppose that’s true.”

Andrew stopped tapping on the armrest when he saw Neil was watching his movement. Neil’s gaze flitted up to his because of it. “Are you going to talk to me, now?”

“I’m not good at talking.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m very good an comprehending nonsense and piecing together puzzles. Where do you want to start?”

Neil paused, and then let out a singular, startlingly genuine laugh, stretching out on his chair. “Oh, doctor, it all started when I was young and impressionable…”

“Don’t you dare.” Andrew felt the tick of a muscle in his cheek. He was not going to smile. He was not going to smile. “What if we worked through the night where Kevin called me, hm?”

Neil sighed. Cast his gaze to the ceiling, then back to Andrew. Swallowed. Looked down at his hands.

“Fine.”

And they did.

The next time Neil called Andrew after-hours, it was weeks later and he was the one manning the reception phone: It was in the pocket of his slacks and he was on the couch at home. The three of them took turns keeping the reception phone on them: Each of them were qualified in first-aid, of which they’d required twice before. Aaron was the only one of the three who wasn’t apt at dealing with psychological emergencies, but was the best with physical ones. It was a good system.

Andrew rose the phone as soon as it started ringing. “Yes.”

“Oh, Andrew. It’s you.”

Neil had his session today. Why was he calling?

“Indeed.” Usually people couldn’t distinguish between him and Aaron over the phone. How had Neil been able to with just a yes.

“Oh. Hi.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not—“ Neil made a noise. “I realise now this is the after-hours phone. And this isn’t urgent. It’s stupid, too.”

“Nothing can be stupid if I haven’t been given the chance to judge whether it is or not, Neil. What is?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you. More. Are you always working?”

“Not always.”

“Is it weird if I get your actual phone number? Is that some kind of breach of policy?”

This was not happening. “You can have it.”

“Oh. Ok. Let me—“

“I’ll text you.”

“Oh. Right.”

Andrew hung up and leapt for his actual phone, where it was laying face-down on the coffee table.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The only thing that was stupid about Neil Josten was how much Andrew had let himself like him.

“Why are you so groggy.” Aaron remarked when Andrew walked into the reception. Renee had a coffee waiting for him.

At approximately the same time, Kevin hit Neil over the back of his head. They’d been up and at it since six—Neil was already dead on his feet, but he kept checking his phone. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Neil slid his phone back into his bag.

Andrew didn’t reply to Aaron’s very similar question.

“You never get much sleep.” Kevin grumbled to himself. Neil ignored him.

“Bad night.” Renee deduced. Andrew sipped his coffee.

No, Andrew thought, remembering who he’d been up talking to until four in the morning.

Not for the reason you’d think, Neil thought, following Kevin back to the treadmills.

Andrew had thought—had suspected, hoped, projected, was almost certain—that Josten was going to ask him out.

He hadn’t.

Andrew wasn’t sure what was going on. Maybe years ago, he would’ve given up and moved on without the bat of an eye, but this Andrew was invested in puzzles with missing pieces and things so shattered that the normal man wouldn’t dare try to work out how to glue it back together. Andrew was psychoanalysing Neil out of habit, and assessing every little movement and comment and facial expression out of habit.

It was driving him up the wall.

He met Neil for coffee after Neil’s early morning runs, and they grabbed Thai and Italian and Chinese together when Andrew got out of the clinic.

Neil was very good at guidelines, and understood what Andrew meant when he asked Neil to keep it separate from his therapy: Andrew had a job to do. It was still never a single hour that was all about Neil and his issues: From the beginning, Andrew had worked out that a truth was traded for a truth, and that they would get nowhere in Neil’s twisted, thorn-embedded landmine of a mental space if he didn’t let Neil into his own.

But outside his office, he could no longer detach himself like he often did.

It was what lead him to grabbing Neil by his fingers—the first bad decision—and rerouting to the roof-top access stairwell—the second bad decision—showing Neil he was apt at lock jimmying by getting it open without disturbing the alarm system—the third bad decision—and pulling Neil to the edge—the fourth bad decision.

“What do you feel, standing here?” He was curious. His heart was racing, every breath catching in his throat. A combination of the sheer drop beneath them and the fingers still hooked with the redhead next to him’s. Neil looked tired, but a well-worn kind of tired: No nightmare-induced shadows under his eyes or nervous clench to his jaw. They’d been up talking all night again.

“The wind.”

“A truth.” Andrew looked out. “I’m scared of heights.” The fifth bad decision—telling Neil that.

His blue eyes opened a little wider. “Why did you bring me out here, then?”

“It used to be the only way I could feel something.”

Neil was still looking at him in that peculiar way of his, feeling as though he was opening Andrew’s chest, one layer of skin at a time. But he’d made it well-past his skin, and had pulled back filaments of muscle, and yanked at his sternum and ribcage, worming around his lungs and dislodging his trachea. There was only one thing left in there.

“What do you feel now?”

“If I asked to kiss you—” Andrew started.

“Yes.” Neil’s fingers tightened around his.

“You didn’t hear me out.” Andrew frowned, looking at him.

He was so close. “I already knew what you were going to say.”

Andrew turned into it. That was the sixth bad decision—and probably the worst. But Andrew still refused to believe in regret and abided by his own policies (aptly ignoring the don’t-fuck-around-with-patients policy), and this was happening. This was happening.

“I hate you.” He muttered, right against Neil’s lips. Neil wasn’t moving backwards. It was as good of an excuse an any to do it again—The seventh bad decision.

It was that point that Andrew lost count of the number of bad decisions he’d made—because he let himself be lead inside and lost count of the kiss count as soon as they made it past Neil’s front door.

Neil’s reasoning for stopping the sessions was because he was ok: Andrew wasn’t having any of it. He wouldn’t see Renee since becoming friends with her, but he was unwilling to branch out.

“It’s the regularity and routine.” Andrew grabbed Neil by his chin and rose up an eyebrow. “Neil. We can still keep the sessions going.”

“I have access to your services as a psychologist whenever I like. You won’t let me pay anymore: There are people who need the time slot more than me.” Neil put his fingers around Andrew’s wrist. “And as much as I appreciate the offer, the risk of me ending up naked on your desk is far too high. Not that I’d complain, but—it’s a little unprofessional, don’t you think?”

Andrew shoved him back with a scoff. “I do have some element of self-control, Josten.”

Neil grinned.

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #au #not-so-mini fic #i like the idea of psychologist andrew #who knows how exy and palmetto fit into this #it's 10 years in the future no one gives a shit whoop #what city are they even in #no one knows #aftg #jem writes

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