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#and like one of my professors at NYU is like decent friends with scott and has had most of his plays produced by him
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ah yes I totally forgot that Broadway/theatre Twitter is literally the worst and almost always knows absolutely nothing about how anything works in the industry
#this is about... multiple things#there's been a lot going on recently maybe i'll make a post about my thoughts on everything later#kinda related but ive known about the whole scott rudin thing for like 4 years now#like i've had friends who've worked for him and whatnot#and everyone knows he is a complete monster#like literally everyone#so i forget sometimes that people not really in it dont know that#like scott rudin being the absolute worst was always just common knowledge#i never worked for him but i remember at one of my internships my boss being like if you ever work for scott you will 100% get fired#but dont worry about it because everyone knows how he is and it wont reflect badly on you#and like one of my professors at NYU is like decent friends with scott and has had most of his plays produced by him#not naming names on that but i'd hear about scott through him too and just the wild difference between how rudin treats his stars#vs how he treats his staff#like did my teacher know? did he know how scott was to his staff? surely he must have known#but scott put him on broadway so he would never have ever been in a position to speak up about it if he did know#anyways i dont think hugh jackman is dropping out of music man because of this because without jackman there is no music man#and rudin's grip on broadway is so ridiculously powerful#like part of me thinks hugh jackman probably doesn't care because he's hugh jackman#but if he does care#if he does care he's probably thinking about how many people will be out of work if he drops out/the show is canceled#especially right now when every single broadway worker who isn't an A List star desperately needs the money#OH BOY this got long#anyways this post was mostly about jagged little pill but ive been thinking a lot about scott rudin lately
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hear your heartbeat
happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.
12.5k - on Ao3
—————
“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”
“Don’t joke about that, dude.”
Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.
Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.
On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.
He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?
There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.
Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.
“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”
“Uh huh.”
Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.
When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).
What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.
(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)
At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?
So, yeah, Scott called it luck.
Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.
Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).
He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.
They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.
He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.
(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)
Speaking of Derek, though…
“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”
Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.
She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.
“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”
Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.
He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?
Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.
And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?
“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”
The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”
��Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.
“Stiles, I—“
“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“
“Laura—”
“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.
Derek had a big bisexual awakening?
And a boyfriend, apparently?
How had Stiles missed that??
“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”
Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.
Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—
“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”
Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.
He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.
He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.
Please.
Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.
“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.
Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.
“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.
He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.
“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”
And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.
“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.
Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.
“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”
…stories?
He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.
“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“
“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.
“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”
Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”
Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.
It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”
“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”
“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”
“He’s younger than I am!”
“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.
The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.
No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.
“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”
“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.
“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.
“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”
He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.
“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.
(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)
“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”
Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.
Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.
He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.
Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.
…because Derek was going to reject him.
Derek was going to reject him, right?
Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.
“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”
Fuck.
“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.
“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“
Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.
“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”
Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.
“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”
—————
“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”
“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”
Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.
Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.
Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.
“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.
“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”
Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.
… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.
Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.
Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.
(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)
“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”
Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.
“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”
Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.
It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.
“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”
“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”
Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?
“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”
Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.
“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”
Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.
Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.
So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.
“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”
Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”
“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”
Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.
He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.
“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”
“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”
Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”
“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”
Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.
“Derek, I know.”
After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.
“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.
Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.
“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.
—————
Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.
“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”
Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”
Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...
“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”
“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”
“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”
If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.
“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“
“Hey!”
”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”
“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”
Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.
“... you got Scott a ticket too?”
“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.
It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.
Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.
Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.
Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.
(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)
His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.
“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”
“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”
Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.
No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?
“Dude, we’re friends, right?”
“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”
Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.
“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”
Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.
“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”
“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.
“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”
Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.
“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”
For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.
“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”
Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.
“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”
No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.
“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.
By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.
Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.
But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.
—————
“I think you should kiss me.”
Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.
“I—you—what?”
“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”
Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.
Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.
It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).
“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.
“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”
Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.
“Stiles.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“O-Okay.”
For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.
Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.
“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—
Fake. It was all fake.
Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.
“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”
“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.
Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.
Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”
Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”
“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.
“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.
“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”
He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.
The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—
“Derek!”
—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.
Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.
He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.
“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.
Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.
“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”
That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”
He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.
“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”
”Mark—“
“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”
Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.
The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.
He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?
“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“
“Is that my grandbaby?!”
Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.
“Derek!”
“Hi, Nana.”
Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.
Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.
“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”
“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”
“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”
“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”
Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.
“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“
“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”
Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.
“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”
“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.
Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.
(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)
“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”
Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.
Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.
“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.
Fuck, he was cute.
Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.
Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.
“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.
“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”
The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”
Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.
“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.
“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.
“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”
“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”
Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”
They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.
“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.
He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.
“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”
He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.
Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.
He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.
Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.
“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”
Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.
“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.
“You are definitely something special.”
“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.
Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.
Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.
“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“
Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.
Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.
“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”
The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.
Fun times.
“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”
Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.
Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.
Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.
The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.
“Stiles? Everything alright?”
He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.
“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”
Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.
“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.
Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”
Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.
“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.
“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”
Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”
Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”
Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.
‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’
The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”
Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.
“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”
“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“
“Just let him be good for you, too.”
She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.
He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.
Somehow, that was the problem here.
—————
“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”
Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.
Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.
“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“
“Stiles. Breathe.”
Right. Breathing. He could do that.
…. maybe.
The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.
Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.
Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.
(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”
“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”
“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)
As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.
He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.
So yeah. Great time.
Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.
der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.
sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)
der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.
And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.
“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.
He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”
Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.
“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.
“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.
“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”
Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.
Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—
“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”
—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.
Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.
“Oh.”
He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.
“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.
“Wait, Stiles—“
“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.
Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.
“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”
Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—
...why was Derek blushing?
“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”
But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.
Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.
“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”
“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”
Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.
“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”
Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.
“Derek?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Oh, thank God—"
—————
Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.
This was exactly where he belonged.
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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years
Text
Can’t Go Back Part 7
A/N: I had some issues with inspiration for this chapter, so it is more of a filler chapter. I hope you still like it. The next chapters will be better, I promise. It’s a shorter one. Like and reblog. As always, much love. 
I was in the kitchen typing feverously on my laptop when Monty got home from practice. “Hey Addy. What are you working on?”
“College essay.” I replied, not looking up at him.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine. I have to write like three more though after this one. And my top three schools want creative writing samples.”
Monty whistled. “You know it’s only the end of October, right?”
“I know but early decisions are due by like the middle of November for Ole Miss and NYU. My safety schools are due by mid-December.”
“You could also apply for regular admission too. Save yourself the stress rash.”
“Says the boy who has athletic scholarships coming out his ass. You don’t need to make a decision until regular admissions open, at the earliest.”
“With your grades, I see no reason you wouldn’t get an academic scholarship babe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do though. Have a little hope.”
“I’ll try. For now though, I’m going to spend as much of my free time as I can, writing essays and hounding my teachers for recommendation letters.”
“Okay then. Have you eaten yet?”
“Depends what you consider eating.”
“Food. Not dry cereal, real food.”
“Oh, then no.”
“Addison.”
I looked up at him, “Montgomery.”
“It’s almost seven.”
“Really?” I looked at the clock on my laptop and saw the time for the first time since I got home. “Oh, look at that.”
“Yeah. What do you want to eat?”
“Doesn’t matter, what did you want? I stopped at Walplex on the way home for a few things.”
He opened the fridge and examined the contents. “Was the chicken for something specific?”
“The fresh or roasted?”
“Roasted.”
“No, it was fresh when I got to the store and it was on sale, so I shredded it when we got home. What did you have in mind?”
“Chicken pot pie?”
“Even though it has vegetables?”
“There’s enough stuff in it to cover up the vegetable taste.”
“Sure. Whatever chicken we don’t use tonight can go in the freezer. Can you proofread this after dinner?”
“Of course.” He said as he grabbed one of the ziplocs of chicken. I saved my work and got up to help him. Together, we made dinner, with only the occasional snack or errant vegetable being tossed at each other. The puff pastry I had spent the entire weekend making, worked well. That went in the freezer along with the chicken at the end of the night.
The following morning went a little smoother than usual. Monty was a little less of a pain to get out of bed, so I didn’t need to call Charlie or make outrageous requests to get him up. I brought my laptop to school so I could work on my applications during my free period. “You need to give yourself a break Addy.”
“Can’t take a break. This determines my future. It determines our future, depending where I get in.”
“I suppose you’re right.” I smiled at him as we left the house, knowing the issue would be at rest for now.
We met Scott and Charlie to grab coffee from Monet’s before school. As we were waiting for our orders, Justin and Clay came in. “Oh joy. Here we go again.” Monty muttered to Charlie. They ordered and walked over to us.
“Hey Addy.”
“Hey Justin. Clay.”
“Hey.” Clay replied, awkwardly nodding to Monty and his friends.
“Something is different about you.” Justin said.
“I think it’s called, ‘I didn’t go to sleep until three thirty in the morning and had an energy drink before breakfast.’” Monty said.
“Ew.” Clay muttered, under his breath. We still heard him though.
“Not that it’s gross, but we weren’t up. I’ve been told that’s not allowed by my surgeon. She was up writing until three thirty, when I rolled over and the light woke me up.”
“Oh.” Clay blushed, embarrassed.
“College applications.” I explained.
“It’s October Addy.” Clay pointed out.
“That’s what I told her last night. Would she listen?”
“No. Of course, she wouldn’t.” Clay chuckled. I stood to the side, watching their interaction, my eyes shifting between Scott and Charlie, and Justin. They’re seeing this too, right?
“She brought her laptop with her so she can work on them more.”
“Of course, she did.”
“Okay. I have my coffee we can go now.”
“Sure.”
“Hey Addison, lunch today?” Clay asked after us.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” I said Monty put his arm around my shoulder and we left the café.
Since we were running early again, I spent the morning with Monty’s friends. “How’s your knee today?” Mark asked.
“It’s fine. Same as yesterday.”
“How long did the doctor say you would be on crutches?”
“A few weeks. Then I can start walking and doing physical therapy. The goal is being back to training and sports by sometime between February and April.”
“That really sucks. Got any more stories for us this morning Addison?”
“Hmmm… let me think.” I adjusted my bag while I thought. My ring caught the light glimmering brightly and I smiled. I think I’m going to like this wearing my ring in public thing.
“Does he actually help you grocery shop or does he just put random stuff in the cart?” Garrison asked.
“He helps, usually. Sometimes it’s more of a ‘can we get this’ kind of help, but he helps yes. That reminds me, we need to go grocery shopping on Saturday.”
“Okay. Why?”
“My mom’s birthday dinner Sunday night? It’s on the calendar in the kitchen. Also, do you enjoy having food in the house?”
“Right, right. Do you think she would be mad if I got her another world’s best professor mug? And yes. Food is nice.”
“Mad? No. Annoyed? Probably.”
“What do you suggest I get her then?”
“A candle? Women like candles.” Aaron suggested. Monty gave him a jokingly unamused look and then looked at me.
“Trust me, I know. I made the mistake of saying she could use the joint chequing account at Bath and Body Works. The house smelled like watermelon for weeks. And almost fell over when I saw how much it cost.”
“It was watermelon lemonade or rosewater and ivy. We both agreed that one smelled bad. You left out the part where you smelled like every other candle in the store and didn’t like the ones I picked. She likes tea?”
“To go with her various world’s best professor mugs. I like the way you think.”
“You like a lot of things about me.” I rolled my eyes, leaning against his side gently.
“You guys are cute. It’s gross.” Bryce commented.
“Thanks Bryce.” I smiled brightly, really laying on the cheeriness in my tone. He merely raised his brow. The first bell rang, cutting our story time short. “I’ll see you after school babe. I love you.” I stood on my tip toes and kissed Monty, perhaps more deeply than was decent at school or around his friends. His eyes were wide but had a vaguely hungry look to them.
“I love you too.” With that, I scurried off to US government and politics.
At lunch, I walked into the cafeteria and people stared at me, not that I expected anything less. It was still rather off-putting though. Clay and Justin waved me over to their table. Alex scooted over so I could sit next to him. “How was class?” he asked, unsure of where to start our conversation. It’s not like I’m suddenly a different person Alex. I’m the same as I was before everyone knew about Monty.
“It was okay. US government was boring, but it usually is. I got a literary review back in English literature. I did better on it than I expected.”
“Addy, you usually do better than you expect.” Justin complained from across the table.
“Yes, because if I set my expectations low, then I’m not crushed when I don’t do as well. But how was class for you Alex?”
“Boring. History was boring and Coach Rick hates me so there’s that. Biology was a nightmare. We were talking about our frog dissection coming up and these two cheerleaders practically screamed when we watched the video on it.”
“Well that sounds entertaining.”
“How are your applications coming Addy?” Clay asked.
“They’re coming. It’s just kind of annoying. I need creative writing samples to send along with my essays, so I was up late writing. Nothing was flowing the way I wanted it to.”
“I know the feeling.” He muttered. Justin laughed while Alex and I just shared a look. Clearly, we were missing something. Zach came over to our table and sat down.
“Hey guys.” He greeted, pulling out his lunch.
“Hey.” I replied. I was still slightly ticked off about his comments yesterday.
“Not sitting with Monty today Addy?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Do you want some of my crackers?”
“Uh… sure?” This is odd. He passed me the container and I took some, placing them on top of my own container. There was an awkward silence, none of us really knowing how to proceed. I braced myself when Zach opened his mouth to speak.
“So, can you tell us how meeting his parents went?”
“Sure?” I asked, confused that that was what he wanted to hear about. “It was strange. His dad doesn’t like anyone really, so it wasn’t surprising when he didn’t like me, but I wasn’t exactly expecting him to immediately not like me. Lucy liked me right away, but I’m still not sure if it’s because it was so rare for him to bring a girl home, or if she actually liked me.”
“What happened?”
“His dad, ever the charmer and wonderful husband and father, sat on his ass and stared at Monty and I while his mom made dinner. Like, I don’t think he stopped looking at us. It was so uncomfortable and definitely didn’t help my nerves. At dinner-Lucy insisted, Monty tried to keep it to coffee or something short-they asked me a lot of questions. His dad liked me even less when I said I want to be a writer.”
“They didn’t try to argue with you or anything?”
“Nope. Thankfully they didn’t. Because I might have cried if they did, I was so nervous.”
“Is his dad really as bad as everyone thinks?” Clay asked.
“Honestly Clay?”
“Yeah.”
“I think he might be worse.” My friends sat with that assessment of character for a while before we moved onto lighter topics, average high school stuff. Shortly before lunch ended, Justin suggested an… interesting idea.
“Why don’t you invite us over for dinner this weekend? They can get to know Monty better and maybe whatever weird thing happened this morning can be avoided again.” I blinked at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. He nodded at me, encouragingly.
“It would probably have to be Saturday. It’s my mom’s birthday Sunday and we are having her over for dinner. And I need to discuss it with Monty first.”
“That’s okay, right guys?” He prompted, looking around the table. My friends nodded, though seemed reluctant.
“I’ll talk to him tonight and let you know tomorrow?”
“Great.” He agreed, as the bell rang.
Oh, what have I gotten myself into now? Hopefully Monty is open to spending an evening with my friends.
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geminimoonbeamx · 6 years
Text
Sugar Rush: Part One
A/N: So I’ve kind of been dying to write any kind of Sub!Sebastian story for ages. Just because I’m obsessed with reading Stucky stories(porn) and more often then not he’s a bottom and I live for that shit. So I thought I’d try my hand at writing some real kinky shit. Also if you guys haven’t read Suga Mama by Emotchalla, please fucking do. Her story along with the massive amount of Sugar baby Stucky fics are why this idea has seeded itself into my brain and wont go away.
Also- I don’t have time to be writing another 25 chapter story lol. So this fic is going to be paced kind of fast, and at some points be one shots that are barley connected. Kind of just a way to get out my fantasies- no novels here.
Word Count: 4k+
Warnings: As with all of my stories there’s a permanent warning of cursing. I have a mouth like a sailor and express myself through the word fuck.
Summary: Bucky is a College student in his early twenties who seems to be drowning in the struggle of adulthood. When he meets Y/N, a well off Magazine CEO and gets the proposition of a lifetime, he takes on a title he never even could have imagined. Sugar Baby.
Bucky Barnes was no stranger to hard work. To the struggles of life.
He, along with his little sister Rebecca, had been in and out of the system up until he was nine; group homes and foster care were things that he was familiarized with at a young age. But so were heroine needles and that look that junkies get in there eye when the were high- he’d take sleeping in a clean bed in orphanage over listening to his mother tweak in the next room any day. He’d been adopted by George and Winifred Barnes two months shy of his tenth birthday, and they were the best people he’d ever met. Kind, and loving. He truly believes that they were heaven sent(if you tasted Winnie Barnes’ country fried steak, you’d think the same) but it’s not as though his life was suddenly a cake walk. He grew up the eldest of five- four younger sisters.
Yeah, if that sounds a little hellish, that’s because it was. He loved those little brats with all his heart, but damn, had they forced him into the “mature older brother” role.
He’d done well in High School- both athletically and academically. Played Varsity baseball and stayed on the honor roll all four years. Was it hard? Balancing the two along with his flourishing social life(because everyone love Bucky, that’s just how it went)? Yeah, maybe. But he did it.
…The hardest, most unexpected endeavor that he’d ever have to face came when he was eighteen- the car accident. The one that had left him mangled and broken. So fucked up- no one ever knew if he’d be able to recover-
But guess what? He had.
He liked to think his best personality trait was resilience. Throw anything at him. Any-fucking-thing. And he’d endure it, and bounce back.
But being a college student, living in New York City? Now this was some rough shit. If he wasn’t working at one of his two jobs, the ones that barley covered his rent, phone bill and tuition payments- he was in school. Studying his ass off, desperately attempting to get his degree. He barley had money for food most of the time. Thank fuck that he and his roomates had a “grocery jar” that they all contributed too- or else he surely would have starved. His diet consisted mostly of frozen foods and PBJ’s
He was living that early twenties struggle. The one that he knew everyone had to go through- to build character and all that. But fuck, was it killing him.
He was running on fumes, which wasn’t out of the norm, but still was starting to take it’s toll as he shook a bag of Cheddar Ruffles into his mouth. Breakfast of champions. He was listening to his roomates as he clambered around the kitchen, only having five or so minutes to spare before he had to go catch the subway and get to school.
It was a discussion they’d been stressing over heavily as of late.
Steve had moved out a month prior, finally taking the next step with his long time boyfriend, Sam- and Bucky was happy for him.
“Finally, punk” He’d grinned and slapped the back of his friends head. would he miss him? Yeah, he would. Bucky had a lot of friends- but Steve was his best friend. His first friend. But times changed, and they were getting older and Steve still lived in Brooklyn, so there really wasn’t nothing to spill tears over.
Except for the fact that now, they had to figure out how to cover that missing gap of rent.
There was still him, Scott and Clint- and now he had his own room(which he’d won fair and square in an arm wrestle, thank you very fuckin’ much) but making the nearly two thousand dollar rent payment every month was going to be harder. And it had them all on edge.
“I’ll pick up some more shifts at the café” Bucky deducts, chugging down the rest of his coffee.
“And how are you gonna’ do that? And go to school? What are you gonna’ do? Astral Project?” Clint gave him a dead pan look and Bucky shrugged. He’d do what he had to.
“How fucking cool would that be though? If you could really, you know, like astral project…why are you guys looking at me like that?” Scott ended his sentence defensively as both Bucky and Clint stared at him pointedly. Bucky with a hint of amusement, and Clint with his arms folded across his chest.
Scott was most definitely the child of the group. The one that you found passed out in the bushes at parties…which was why when they’d found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant a few years ago- they’d all, to be frankly honest, had been fucking terrified for him. He was actually a pretty decent father though. His daughter spent one weekend a month with them, and Bucky thought she was just about the cutest thing ever.
“Can you take this seriously for a second, man” Clint stressed and Bucky just sighed and grabbed his back pack. He really couldn’t handle anymore stress at the moment and he was kind of happy he had to be at his 9 o'clock lecture. At least he could escape this conversation.
“It’ll be fine, okay guys? We’ll figure it out. Don’t stress it so bad” He soothes as he walks past them, giving them each a pat on the shoulder.
“We’re going to have to become strippers! You do realize that, right?” Clint calls to him as he’s half way out of the door and he chuckles.
“Well I do have the ass for it” is Bucky’s parting statement.
The trek across the city, to NYU was as it always was. He spent it on the subway, his head phones blaring in his ears as he went over his homework and got a little more studying in, even though his eyes kept crossing from exhaustion.
He really was considering Clint’s suggestion- stripping didn’t sound so bad right now. If not for his scarred up arm, he probably would have done it ages ago. Because Bucky wasn’t a judgmental prick, and he considered strippers and sex workers as just that- workers. People trying to get by. He didn’t really care how people got their money.
He rushed across campus and managed to make it to his Poly Sci class not only on time, but early. He knew it’d earn him some brownie points with Professor Xavier. He was unpacking his laptop- which was horribly outdated, and his text books when you walked in. He’d been looking up at someone passing by his desk when he’d first laid eyes on you. It wasn’t the way you looked, although he cant deny, you looked damn good. With your sleek black pant suit that clings to your curves(and you’re nothing but curves) and bag hanging on your arm. Your makeup done impeccably and your hair shiny- you looked expensive. Well manicured. You looked like money.
No; it was more the way you carried yourself. The confidence in your strut. The way that you held your chin high, and not in a douche arrogant way…but more in an elegant self assured way. He cant help but watch you, the way that you smile brightly and give Professor X a warm hand shake, squeezing his with both of yours. When you’re introduced to the class as the guest speaker the professor had invited, Bucky grins.
“This is Y/N Y/L/N, a former pupil of mine. Former writer for the New York Post and current Editor and Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D Magazine”
Ahh, so you didn’t just look like money. You were made of it.
S.H.I.E.L.D was a global Magazine- a household name. One that covered most everything; entertainment. Fashion. Politics. He found himself flipping through one almost every day at work.
Listening to your speech was almost hypnotic. You were humble, and yet commanded the room. He learned that at the ripe age of 32, you were the magazines youngest ever Editor and that you’d worked tooth and nail to get there. You talked about the importance of public relations, and knowing what was going on in the world- no matter what subject one might go into. Covered the best ways to get into any business-
“Persistence!” You’d encouraged with a smile “I mean excuse my French, but annoy the shit out of them! Make yourselves memorable. Don’t be afraid to break away from the norm, because the most special parts of you- the ones that will get you places- are buried under your insecurities”
It was honestly one of the most interesting, engaging classes Bucky had ever sat in. You gave real tips, talked about real life in a way that was so blunt; it was refreshing. At the end, right before you were set to end your discussion, you took questions.
You were answering a girl who sat next to his question about you’re travels while writing when you catch him staring at you.
It’s a hot gaze. A heavy one. His gunpowder eyes seem to…look deep into you. Set you alight from the inside out. When you meet the gaze, boldly meeting his eyes its like…
Fuck.
It’s like nothing Bucky has ever experienced. He wants to crawl out of his skin, wants to crawl to you. Wants to taste what that gaze promises. It feels like it lasts an eternity, but really its only a few fleeting moments, before you break the stare. He feels like something inside of him breaks too, as you look away. As he packs his things back up into his book bag. As the bell chimes singling the end of the period and he leaves the classroom room.
He knows he’ll probably never see you again and that thought alone upsets him way more then it should. He hadn’t even said a word to you. Why was he such a fucking idiot? He should have asked a question- or something. As he goes on with the rest of the day, he finds himself unable to keep you out of his mind. You keep popping up. You’re pearly smile. You’re E/C eyes, and those lush lashes that framed them. He’s drifting into the thought of you as he works; making coffee for teachers and students alike.
He works at one of the many campus cafes’ part time, and today he’s behind the coffee bar. He doesn’t mind it, he actually likes barista-ing. The business of it makes time go by faster. Because everyone needs their caffeine fix, there’s never really a slow moment. He’s always busy. Which is why he doesn’t notice you when you walk in. Doesn’t even realize you’re there until you’re right in front of him, next in line.
He almost chokes on his fucking tongue.
“Um- Hey. Hi” Smooth, Bucky- he hisses at himself in his mind.
Your lips widen, grinning in recognition and his stomach flip flops.
“Hello again” You greet him, trying to reel in your own shock. What kind of fucking serendipity was this? After the entire day of giving your guest speech to class after class- you couldn’t get the stormy eyes out of your head. And now here he was. About to make your coffee. “Fancy meeting you here-” your eyes peel for his name tag.
“Bucky” He inturupts with a nervous little smile.
“Bucky? Hmm” You roll his name over in your mouth. Tasting it. He watches his name slip from between your lips and he can feel a twitch in his black work slacks.
“I like it” you decide and he chuckles and thanks you, telling you he was pretty fond of it himself.
“Well, what can I get you?”
“A large, iced skinny white chocolate mocha with extra whip, please- And what’s good to snack on here?” your eyes scan the large, clear display box full of goodies an Bucky’s more then happy to help you. Anything- to keep talking to you. You end up on a ham and cheddar bagel- he says he can testify to their delicacy. He ate two every day-
“You’re in pretty good shape for treating bagels like their own food group” You teased, but only party. He was gorgeously built- not “body builder bulky” but tall and broad shouldered, his biceps prominent under the long sleeves he wore. You wanted to bite them.
“I work at a gym part time” He chuckles back as he runs your platinum card “Gotta at least try to look the part”
He obviously misses your ogling as you give a relaxed hum in response, taking your purchases and shooting him one last heart stopping smile and goodbye as you retreat. Everything inside of him screams in fear, and its so confusing. Because he had just met you, had maybe said a dozen words to you, and yet he’s terrified of you walking out of the door and him never seeing you again. It’s that same alarm going off on his head as earlier after class. He’s relieved when you choose, instead of leaving, to take a table in the back corner of the café.
“Okay, who the fuck is that? And why did she make you react like a twelve year old boy?” Darcy, one of his co-workers, asks. Her thin, dark brow raised and her pouty lips pulled into a shit eating grin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”- he almost face palms at that. At how childish and unbelievable he sounds.
“Um H-H-Hey. Hi. Hello” She snarks, teasing on the way that he had greeted you and he bumps his shoulder to hers lightly, telling her to fuck off under his breath as he goes onto another costumer. Happy for the distraction.
You sit in that little café for far too long. Sipping on your iced coffee until it’s nothing but ice. Nibbling on the ham and cheese bagel- he was right it’s delicious. You pull out your tablet and get some work done- making sure that everything’s going smoothly. Checking in with your assistant. You sit there for almost an hour before you’re forced to leave and you cant help but feel a little huffy. Why hadn’t he come up to you? You can feel that intense stare of his on you. You don’t have the time to wait for him- and yet the idea of never seeing his handsome face is not something you’re willing to face. So you reach into your bag, and pull out one of your business cards and a pen.
Bucky cant seen to take his eyes off you for more then a few minutes at a time- its like you’re magnetic. The way your hair falls around your face, the way you cross your thick thighs. He adverts his eyes every time he feels like he’s about to get caught though. Darcy’s right. He’s being a twelve year old boy.
When you walk over to him, your red bottomed heels clicking, his head snaps up.
“Thanks for the bagel. It was delicious” You grin as you slide a bill and a card across the counter to him. His eyebrows pull together.
“What’s this?”
“A tip” You shrug…“It was really nice to meet you, Bucky” You purr, looking at him pointedly before you’re walking out of the door. He’s glued to the sight of your wide ass in those tailored pants for a moment- before he’s looking down at the paper in his hands.
His eyes widen, to an almost comical degree as he takes in the cash. You’d left him a two hundred dollar tip! Two fucking hundred dollar pills, crisp and neat sit under your business card. Which has your name and number printed on it in elegant scroll. He flips it over and is surprised to see there’s more.
-I know how hard tuition can get and working two jobs cant be easy.
I’d love to help, handsome. Give me a call sometime- xoxo, Y/N-
He cant believe what he’s looking at, he cant seem to draw air into his lungs to clear his head as he stares at your loopy, cursive hand writing. We’re you insinuating what he thought you were?
“Oh my god, you lucky bitch” Darcy’s voice comes from over his shoulder as she also stares down at what he’d been left “If you don’t call her, give me her number so I can!”
The first person Bucky actually does call, once he’s home and in the sanctuary of his room is Steve. Because Steve is his best friend, and Steve will know what to do with this information.
Of course, the asshole laughs at him for the first five minutes of the conversation. Until Bucky is huffing and threatening to hang up.
“I’m sorry, Buck. It just reminds me of when Mrs. Levinstien used to only pay you to mow her lawn. That dirty old lady had the hots for you so bad” Steve chuckles in defensive and Bucky grimaces at the memory.
“She’s not like that, though, Steve. She’s- she’s fucking beautiful, and successful and sexy. You should have seen her man” Bucky trails a hand through his hair as he thinks back at his interactions with you, and the mark your presence had left on him.
“Then what’s the problem?” That’s Sam who replies and Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course Steve would have him on speaker phone. Him and same we’re like connected by the tip of their dicks, so he was used to it.
“The problem with him pimping himself out?” Steve’s voice came out incredulous over the receiver.
“I mean, he already seems to like this girl. So he get to be with her and be paid for it? That doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me” Sam argues and they’re just making Bucky’s tired head ache.
“All I’m saying is that working those two jobs obviously aint cutting for you man. Call her. What’s the worst that could happen? You get to see a girl who you obviously have the hots for again? If you’re not into it, just leave. Its that simple” And when Sam say’s it like that, it really does click into place. It really does seem that simple. Even with Steve insisting that she could be a serial killer.
Bucky takes the night to sleep on it. He dreams of your lips, dreams of fucking that pretty mouth that seemed to spew nothing but charm of intelligence. Dreams of you sucking and sucking until he’s screaming. He hasn’t come so hard in his pants since he ACTUALLY was twelve. He wakes up to stickiness in his boxers and his cock pulsating and he knows he has to call you.
Why he’s so nervous? He doesn’t know…he keeps making excuses. Maybe you’d changed your mind over night? Maybe you we’re too busy to take his call…he finally musters up the balls after he’s getting off of his job at the gym a few days later, the sun setting on the city. It only rings twice before you pick up and he’s greeted with your bell chim like voice.
“Hello, this is Y/N speaking”
“Hey” His voice is too deep, gravely, but he cant help it. He’s nervous “This is Bucky- from school. I mean from the university- that you lectured at the other day-”
Why? Why does all cognitive thought leave him when he attempts to talk to you?
“Bucky, huh? I was starting to think you we’re going to call me” You tease him, but he can hear the smile in your voice.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been really busy” He lies- he’d just been a chicken shit.
“Mmhm” You don’t sound amused by that “We’re all busy people, and time is of the essence. I knew I should have gotten your number”
He chuckles at your directness “Now you have it”
“So I do. What should I do with it, hmm?”
“I don’t know… You tell me” He feels a little idiotic saying it, but he’s truly curious to what happens next.
“Why don’t you let me take you to dinner?” You’re nearly purring again and Bucky has to bite his lip to keep himself at bay. You were so straight forward, so unlike any of the girls he’d ever come into contact with in the past.
“Really?” He’s never let any one take him out to dinner. He was always the one to ask, to lead. But he had all of twenty dollars in his bank account(that two hundred you’d given him had gone to his part of the utility bill) and honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stretch it til’ his next paycheck. Even if he wanted to be the one to take you out, to wine and dine you, he couldn’t.
“Mmhmm, really. Are you free Friday- at eight?”
“Um yeah, that could work” He was supposed to be working at the café that night, but he’d have someone cover him.
“Alright. Do you like Cajun food, there’s a new restaurant that opened in SOHO that I’ve been meaning to check out”
He liked any food that didn’t come out of his freezer, and so he agrees eagerly. You tell him to send you his address so that you can send for him, and he only faintly tries to protest, you reassure him that it would really be no problem.
“‘Kay then, it’s a date. I’ll see you then”
“I can’t wait” He’s overly eager, he can hear it in his own tone but the giggle you let out is warm and seeps into his bones instead of embarrassing him.
“Me neither. Have a good rest of your day, Bucky” and then you click end and he stands in the middle of the busy side walk, his phone still pressed against his ear. He feels hot all, the butterflies ricocheting in his stomach. He swallows it, pushes it down, feeling ridiculous and “unmanly” for the affect you have on him as he pushes on down the street.
Yeah, Bucky’s struggled.
But things seem like they may just be looking up.
@buchonians @papi-chulo-bucky @geekyweed @4theluvofall @peacefulwriter88 @missrobyn81 @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @papi-chulo-seb @shayla-markele @thatawkwardtinyperson @docharleythegeekqueen 
Okay ya’ll let me warn you now this one is going to be KINKY as a motherfucker. Prepare yourselves. And let me know if you’d like to be tagged for this little series!
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jobsearchtips02 · 4 years
Text
Walmart’s new membership program may be Amazon Prime’s next big competing
Walmart revealed that it will be rolling out a brand-new membership program to competing Amazon Prime.
Reuters.
Scott Galloway is a successful author and teacher of marketing at NYU Stern.
The following is his recent post, republished with approval. It initially worked on his blog site, “ No Mercy/ No Malice.”
Galloway says that Twitter’s statement of a new subscription-based platform, Gryphon, is a great relocation for the social networks platform, as it will permit users to connect free from bots and the common Twitter “toxicity.”
He also criticizes the behavior of VC’s on new social media Clubhouse, where some loudly claimed that New York Times journalist Taylor Lorenz was biased in her tech protection.
Galloway evaluated Lorenz’s 25 most recent articles, and found that most of them portrayed innovation and tech creators in a positive light.
Visit Service Expert’s homepage for more stories
Couple of companies counterpunch like Walmart. “Development” has a brand-new, first-of-its-kind feel. But most stakeholder worth is a function of firms benchmarking, copying, or taking other firms’ terrific ideas: enhancing them, putting more wood/capital behind the arrow, or putting it on more comprehensive platforms.
Walmart is preparation to launch Walmart , their action to Amazon Prime. This makes all sorts of sense. Every CEO needs to persuade financiers they ought to purchase shares, as there is a good/great chance the equity will double in the brief to medium term. So, logically, the CEO is saying they can double profits. Even if Walmart recognized running utilize, they may require to include $400 billion or more to their leading line. Doug McMillon needs to add the US oil industry to his earnings line. That’s not likely. So, what to do?
Scott Galloway.
Courtesy of Scott Galloway.
Simple, the most accretive action taken by any $10 billion or larger company is to move from a transactional design to recurring profits.
In addition, the markets are a reflection of ourselves, and human beings dislike uncertainty.
Scott Galloway.
If Walmart becomes a $5 billion division, growing (much) faster than the core company, Walmart might recast their service and register a greater multiple. This puts a doubling of the marketplace capitalization within reach on 4-6%yearly income growth (workable). In the last 5 years, Apple has grown their incomes 15%but more than doubled their market cap. How? A number of elements including a booming market, monopoly abuse, and renewed development of the most successful product in history, the iPhone.
However, many of all, many of all … I like the method you move( could not withstand). The gangster factor in a trillion dollars in investor development has actually been Apple increasing their recurring profits from single digits to 23% of incomes. Walmart has the same opportunity to recast their numerous with a rundle they constantly boost and refine. #counterpunch
Twitter and subscription
Aside From Facebook and Google (Genghis & Khan), a decent proxy of a media firm’s prospects is the portion of profits from subscription. Twitter stated in a job publishing that it was developing a subscription platform under the code word “Gryphon.” The stock surged on the news.
Scott Galloway.
Twitter’s ad-dependent earnings model not just fuels outrage and abuse, but is mainly accountable for the firm’s anemic growth.
B tch
Scott Galloway.
It would be challenging to find a greater concentration of b —– s (fortunate jerks toggling in between attacks and victim complex) than the VC neighborhood on Douchehouse( i.e., Clubhouse), the social platform that brings voice to the overheard– venture capitalists. Their loudest complaint: unjust media predisposition against tech.
The focus of their ire recently was a young NYT journalist, Taylor Lorenz Their claims of bias just don’t hold water. Historically, the media has actually idolized tech creators– the idolatry of innovators we often discuss. But it does feel that the tide is beginning to turn. Are Americans starting to pay more attention to mistakes in information privacy, phony news, platform design, variety, and business culture?
If yes, it’s overdue. Our innovation economy has actually changed to the monopoly economy and now the exploitation economy. Many/most of the companies that have grown investor worth by billions in a brief time have actually arbitraged the inability of our federal government, and our impulses, to equal technology. On the other side of the billions of shareholder value recorded by significantly few from social networks, trading, or ride-hailing apps are countless depressed teens, election disturbance, and a reduction of the dignity of work (no health insurance, sub-minimum wage payment).
We took a look at the 25 newest short articles in the New york city Times tech section and found that 68%of them presented technology (short articles on products, applications of those items, or their creators) in a favorable or neutral light. Just 32%of those articles took a negative/critical technique. We discovered Taylor Lorenz’s 25 newest NYT short articles to be mostly favorable and to cast technology and its users as endlessly inventive. Only six, or 24%of these pieces, provided innovation or tech founders in an unfavorable light.
A little sample size, however a sign that despite the externalities and comorbidities of innovation, the only bias appears to favor tech and VCs.
Buddy
My best friend from college is with us in Colorado. He lives in LA, so we do not see him much. We took my boys for dessert, and he asked my youngest, “How is your hot chocolate?” My nine-year-old, as nine-year-olds do, responded to without any filter: “I do not understand, I have actually just consumed the marshmallows up until now.”
Having my buddy hang out with my young boys, at this age, when they roll their eyes in public when I joke, however then ask if they can drop off to sleep with me … is nice. Genuine success, what you highlight to others whose viewpoint you value, is not a life where people enjoy you, but a life where you like others.
Being with Lee is so satisfying. He’s one of 2 individuals worldwide who make me laugh frantically, and he inspires reflection. When we were in college, his ruggedly good-looking father would go to and kiss Lee on the lips It was stunning in the beginning however took purchase. I chose 20 years later on I would kiss my boys, as long as they let me. Lee discovered it today: “They kiss you!” The only time it feels as if this all (sort of) makes good sense is when my boys get my hand or kiss me, as if it’s muscle memory.
Lee asks again, “What do you want to finish with the rest of your life?” I pause, and it strikes me: “I do not understand, I’ve just eaten the marshmallows so far.”
And after that we laugh.
FIND OUT MORE: Popular NYU professor Scott Galloway has a new course on company strategy anyone can register to take– I eliminated MBA-like insights for way less money than going to company school
This is a viewpoint column. The ideas expressed are those of the author( s).
Check out the initial article on Prof G Copyright2020
Follow Prof G on Twitter
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