#but such is life anyway catch me projecting onto these two once a fucking gain

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 147

psychically induced chronic illness squad

#day 147 #year 4 #aradia megido #sollux captor #homestuck #arasol #solluxs migraine thing is right in his introduction #but we only get like. one line from aradia in her singular conversation with rose in a5 #where she mentions an 'elusive feeling of sickness' following her for her entire life #which i think you could read as like. anxiety/sense of impending doom due to upsetting psychic whispering 24/7 #but when i was a kid and i felt anxious it ALWAYS manifested as a feeling of Oh I Am Going To Barf About This #to the point that i spent like a full year getting a whole barrage of medical tests trying to figure out what was wrong with my guts #turned out it was simply undiagnosed mental illness because nobody really considered that a 6 year old could have one of those #but such is life anyway catch me projecting onto these two once a fucking gain

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter IV | Raul Mendes

                                                 *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the fourth chapter, you can find the first one here. This one's a bit shorter but I still hope you like it anyway. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading! 

                                              previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter 

*Word Count: 2.9K+.

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, mentions of weapons (barely any), slight angst (if you squint). 

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings. 

*Posted: July 22nd, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was fucked. 

He learned that ages ago, but every passing day, it just seemed to get more and more fucked. 

Y/N was the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on, he knew that the day he met her all those years ago, while she was still a kid like him. And as the time went on, she proved him wrong every single day, every time he looked at her, in his eyes, Y/N surpassed her own beauty and taking her own title as the pretties one. Raul knew he was a goner the first time he made her laugh, truly laugh, throwing her head back as she almost lost her breath, he knew he would have to do it all over again for the rest of his life just to hear the most beautiful melody ever created. 

And maybe he was a fool, and obvious one for not even holding back whenever she was hurt or needed him. He would give Y/N anything in the world and he could be pretty reckless about it. Sure, Raul was capable of keeping it to himself all these years, even from his spy family and her, but Peter was slowly catching onto it and he knew it. There was a reason why Peter wasn’t a field agent and his not so subtle approaches only proved that right. But he honestly didn’t care, as long as he got to have her as his best friend and best girl, he didn’t give a fuck about what the rest of the world thought. He only cared about Y/N. 

So watching her progress on the ring (hell, having his ass kicked by her was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him), watching Y/N taking part of such an important role as to plan the mission that would take down one of the biggest criminals on the world left him so proud. He couldn’t even describe it. Watching her sleep peacefully among his bedding, the glimmer of pure and utter happiness whenever she watched one of the marvel movies or ate her favorite cake made butterflies go wild in his stomach. 

And as Aaliyah would say, he was probably a simp for her. As sappy as that sounded, it was probably true. 

“Still with me, champ?” Y/N’s voice ringed on his coms.

Raul had to hold back a smile as Jack smirked at him on their watching point across the street “Always, doll, see anything?”

“Not really” she muttered annoyedly “think the package is late” 

“Oh, sorry the bad guy didn’t show up on the perfect time according to your planner”

“Fuck you, darling, before I forget”

Raul huffed a chuckle as he changed channels on the surveillance system she hacked the night prior. 

He was with Jack sitting on his apartment watching Y/N from the perfect window. The initial plan was pretty simple, Y/N would be dressed in casual common clothes, going through her computer on Genoff’s favorite coffee shop, to possibly catch him after coming back, so he could be used to some of their faces on his absence justifying new people around. Her undercover role was as a graphic designer that pretty much had a home office, which would justify her always being around that area. Tommy was the local barista trainee, summer job to pay for his scholarship, and this way he could hear some stuff and also be ready to jump and protect whoever was undercover there that day.

Celine was working on the front desk on Geonoff’s cover up business building, she was replacing the other girl that just left due to maternity leave, so it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. James got the work as an executive driver on a company that often was hired to transport Geonoff himself and his people, and Raul would also be on home office as a free lancer photographer, he’d be in an untitled relationship with Y/N which would be a good cover for them always being out and about together.

They would all be living in the same neighborhood, Peter and Celine would be living in the same apartment complex, which was just next doors to the one Jack, Y/N and Raul were placed. This way it would still be safe and pretty low profile enough to not draw curious eyes. And since the mission didn’t exactly have a precise deadline, they didn’t have a precise date to actually leave, so their flat was poorly furnished and decorated, filled with the ultimate basic things they could need in a month period. And of course, heavily armed in every corner and drawer anyone could think about.

“He just left his car two blocks away, think he might be just a bit behind your schedule, Y/N” Jack called from his place behind the screens she had set up the night before “Tommy, grab the cash register as soon as you can”

“Yes sir” Tom mumbled under his breath.

Raul inched a bit closer to the window on a spot no one could see him from bellow, watching as Geonoff himself entered the shop with two other man right behind him. Probably security team. He had to hold back his breath once he noticed the way the man had his eyes fixated right on Y/N’s table, before quietly muttering something to the other with him.

“Hm, excuse me miss?” a deep slightly hoarse voice caught her attention from the fake project displayed on her computer screen, Y/N looked up to find Geonoff right next to her booth.

“Oh hi”

“Why is he talking to her? He wasn’t supposed to just approach her!” Raul practically growled to Jack as the other just shrugged in response “fuck” 

“Dude, calm down, Tom is literally just across the bar and she’s a fucking spy, chill, she knows how to handle this” Jack said shoving Raul’s shoulder playfully, to which he just rolled his eyes huffing in annoyance.

“I know, I know that” 

Jack arched his eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips “Is this your way of admitting you love her?” 

“Shut up and pay attention to their conversation, you idiot” Raul said pushing his friend off of his sit. 

“I'm sorry, I just had to ask, I haven’t such a pretty girl like you around in a while, are you new in town, darling?” Geonoff asked leaning his hip against the sit across from Y/N.

“Oh no, not new in town” she responded with a giggle, trying to ease the nerves and slight nausea from talking to him and his half attempt of flirting “I moved to this neighborhood last month though, used to leave on the other side of the town” 

“Oh, was it for work? How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s nice, I thought it was going to be quieter but it doesn’t really bother me” she said with a soft smile on her features “I moved here because I work from home, so I needed to get out of my last place cause my roommate was not exactly quiet, and my boyfriend said there was an available apartment on his floor, so it just seemed like a great opportunity” 

Raul’s heart raced a bit more on his chest when she referred to him as ‘boyfriend’, which was completely stupid. Y/N was his best friend and this was only for a cover. But sometimes his feelings got the best of him.

“Boyfriend? Is he here?”

“Oh no, I think he’s at work now, he’s a photographer”

“It makes sense, he has the prettiest muse at home” he added with a wink, which made Y/N’s stomach twirl in her tummy, this man is absolutely gross and she just wants to find a way out of this conversation “is he joining you today or should I keep you company?” 

“Tell him I’m on my way, sweetheart, don’t want this man any closer to you” Raul said through coms, Jack already grabbing his backpack with the material they had separated to be Raul’s cover as he threw a denim jacket and a pair of glasses.

Y/N gave Geonoff a gentle smile as she shrugged before adding “he told me he’d be coming here, something about the cupcakes being the best he’s ever had”

“Oh shut up, this is the worst excuse to get me to buy you cupcake ever” Raul muttered through coms as he jogged across the street and Y/N had to cough to hid a little giggle that threatened to escape at her best friend’s comment.

“Yeah, they’re really good, I think you’d like the chocolate one” 

“Okay, thank you for the tip” she said, quickly noticing the mop of curls clumsy coming into the shop, a big grin blossoming on her lips as she waved at the heaving figure of her best friend “oh, there he is!”

Raul’s eyes found hers and he could only smile, forgetting only momentarily that one of the most wanted man in the country was just beside her, he shook his head to gain a bit more focus as he shortened the distance between them with every step “hi baby” 

Y/N got up from her sit and was quick to throw her arms around his neck, as he did the same with her waist, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “Hi, honey this is… Oh my, just realized I never caught your name, I’m sorry, that was so rude”

“Geonoff, darling” he said with a smug smile on his lips, probably waiting some sort of reaction and proud of it.

And to Raul’s amusement, Y/N didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t give a single reaction, only offering a polite smile “Oh, nice name, I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend, Raul”

“Beautiful name, suits such a gorgeous girl like you” he said, eyes on Raul waiting for some sort of response.

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like it but I’ve always found it beautiful” he said softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys alone now, nice meeting the two of you” Geonoff said as his guards approached him with a paper bag “and Y/N, let me know if you need anything, I’m always around”

“Thank you” she said before pulling Raul to sit by her side on the booth as Geonoff walked out of the little shop “how was your day, honey?”

“Good, angel, got a couple of photos I think you’d like to see whenever we get home” he said throwing his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“You two are gross to watch” Jack grumbled through the coms making them both laugh.

Y/N turned her head to face him “you wanna go home to show me or you want to grab a cup of coffee first?”

“I think I want a bit of coffee, but we can order it to go, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever you want” Y/N said before sliding off the booth and pulling him with her, before stuffing her computer on her little backpack, which Raul promptly took from her.

“Come on, baby, can’t wait to lay down a bit” he ushered her to the register, where Tom waited patiently for them “hello there, I’d like an espresso please” 

“Sure, anything else?” Tommy asked as he clicked on the little screen.

“Do you want anything, baby?”

“A red velvet cupcake to go, please”

Tom nodded looking a little nervous before speaking up “the other man with the security guards left this note and cupcake for you, ma’am” he then grabbed the little pastry and a fancy business card alongside it.

“Oh, I- are you sure it was for me?” she asked in disbelief as Raul tightened his arm around her.

Tom only nodded in response “positive, do you still want the red velvet one?”

“I- yes, please” Y/N let out before almost chocking on air, gently grabbing the card that contained the business information from his company (that she already had) and a little handwritten phrase next to a phone number, the note read ‘if you’re ever looking for a real man, let me know’. 

“Someone’s got a crush on you” Raul teased trying to mask the anger bubbling up on his throat, but he knew she saw right through his facade. After all, Y/N knew him better than anyone else.

“Well, I feel bad for him, because I’m already taken, yeah?” she giggled at herself, lightly poking his chest to try and loosen his nerves a bit.

“Yeah, since I have you, know that I’m never letting you go” Raul pressed a kiss to her head huffing a small chuckle.

“Here it is, sir” Tom cut Raul out before handing him the paper bag, and he placed the money on Tom’s hand.

Raul offered a smile as he lead Y/N back to their place “Thank you, take care, kid” 

As they were crossing the street, Y/N dropped the cupcake from Geonoff on the sidewalk, making it look like an accident as she cried out an ‘oh no, I can’t believe I dropped it!’ before tossing it on the bin. On the elevator to their apartment, Raul still seemed tense and too quiet for his normal self, but Y/N decided to drop it, maybe give him some time to deal with today.

Just as they opened the door, Jack was quick to pull them inside, grabbing the card from Y/N’s hand and tossing it into a special bag and running downstairs, probably to deliver it to a team so they could take it to the lab to run some tests. Celine was stretched on the couch, a knowing look in her eyes as she signaled for them to join her. Raul went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water in complete silence as Y/N sank down on the soft cushions with Celine.

“What’s wrong with him?” she muttered quietly, since there were no walls separating the rooms on this flat, only the bedroom and bathroom and Raul was standing pretty close.

Y/N sighed with a shrug “No clue, maybe just didn’t expect the interaction to go like that, I don’t know”

“By the way, you did great, he even got interested in you” 

“Ew, no need to remind me, seriously that man is just gross, there’s something about him that’s just creepy, and I’m not even bringing up his criminal record” Y/N added grabbing a bottle water that Raul tossed at her after she nodded at him.

Celine nodded in understanding “Don't blame you, I think I would’ve punched him five seconds into talking”

“You wouldn’t last a single second with him talking” Jack said as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N and Celine laughed as Raul joined them on the couch, sitting on the armrest right behind Y/N as she leaned her weight on him. He threw an arm around her. 

“I think we should order a pizza and have some beer, yeah? This was a successful day, Tom’s gonna be here any minute now and Raul didn’t die out of jealousy in 24h, only reasons to celebrate!”

“Don’t start celebrating now, Jack, he might combust at any second now” Celine said with a laugh and Y/N giggled shaking her head, looking up at him only to see his serious expression and a light pink tinting his cheeks.

“So, pizza and beer it is?” Jack asked pulling his phone.

“I think it’s a great idea” Tom said as he climbed through the back window.

“Okay, Jack, order the pizzas and grab us the beer” Y/N decided and Jack stared at her in shock.

“Why me?!”

“So you can do something useful for once instead of gossiping” Raul said playfully and Y/N smiled at that as Jack feigned hurt with a dramatic gasp. 

“Well, there’s that and the fact that this genius idea belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Y/N asked 

Jack stared at her and nodded “Well yeah but-“

“Then make it happen, darling” Y/N only threw a wink at him and he shook his head, but grabbing his phone to start ordering. 

“Hey Tom, can I see the piece you brought back?” Celine asked without moving from her place on the couch. 

Y/N took the opportunity to properly face Raul since the others were seemingly busy, so she cupped his face gently bringing his attention down at her “are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am, doll” he said turning his face to place a kiss at the palm of her hand before looking back at her. 

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem fine five minutes ago”

“I just didn’t think he’d take such an interest on you so soon, I mean, you’re insanely gorgeous so it was obvious he was going to notice you, I guess I was just unconsciously hoping he wouldn’t” Raul sighed leaning his head against her hand and she let it slide on his face until she was able to curl her fingers on his hair “it’s stupid, I’m sorry, I was just being stupid yeah? Let’s focus on something else and relax”

“Are you sure?” she asked tugging on his hair a bit as he closed his eyes, nodding his head softly and she sighed “okay”

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #sm #shawn mendes writing #the mendes triplets #mendes triplets #raul mendes #raul mendes writing #raul mendes au #the mendes triplets au #mendes triplets AU #shawn mendes au #au #alternative universe #writing #heart by heart #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n

[steamedlem0ns]

Adventures in Goth Sitting: Chapter 1

Bucky X Original Chubby Female Character, Nickname: Morticia

Word Count: ~1400

Warnings: cursing, soul sucking, general buffoonery, Bucky being a sweet shit, discussion of cannabis use (future chapters to include angst, love, canon compliant gore, occult activity, sex, dom/sub relationships, breeding (no pregnancy involved), and more.)

Rating: PG-13 (each additional chapter will be XRated )

Part two:

Author’s Note: Hi! Thanks for stopping by and I really hope you enjoy the first chapter of this fic. I’ve got some big things planned and I just really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it.

Rule 1: Your Goth requires darkness or shade, at all times. Bright, hot spaces are to be avoided without explicit permission.

You could cook an egg on the sidewalk. I was half tempted to at this point. My entire body was sticky and covered in a layer of sweat thicker than I’d ever been covered in before. My dress stuck to my body uncomfortably and I knew I was going to have chaffing on my calves from these boots.

“You better have a good goddamn reason for bringing me out here, Barnes.” I snapped.

Bucky was ahead of me cutting through a line of ivy to clear a path. I saw his back curl in a chuckle.

We’d had this discussion. When Natasha left for missions, I was his to watch. Couldn’t be trusted on my own apparently. You suck the literal soul out of a skeeze for touching you inappropriately once out on the streets and suddenly you need a court mandated babysitter. Bullshit.

I’d much rather be in my cozy nest in my room, Watching Simpsons and smoking several bowls. Maybe I’d pop some popcorn and order Thai for dinner. Treat myself to a nice relaxing afternoon. But, no. I’m stuck out in the middle of bum fuck Egypt for no apparent reason with the closest thing in existence (to my knowledge) to an incubus. The man was six foot five inches of pure sex and just radiated big dick energy.

Currently though, fuck him. Not in the good way.

“The stop is just up here, Morticia. You bring your bathing suit like I told you to?” Condescension dripped off his voice like honey. I motioned to the pack on my back with an eye roll, thankfully hidden by my sunglasses and hat.

I followed him up the hill and through the thicket of fully green trees. The terrain began to level out and we approached what looked like a cliff.

“Absolutely, fucking not Barnes. Did you really bring me out here to jump to my death? Ready to get rid of me, already?”

I knew he wasn’t my biggest fan, in fact, that was the reason Natasha picked him as back up. She thought there’d be less of a chance of me using my “wiles” to get my way. I gently reminded her, I learned from the best.

Bucky stopped and smiled, propping his hands on his hips. I could see a thin layer of sweat on his brow and felt instantly jealous of that damn serum running through him.

“I brought you out here to let go. You’re too wound up. You either hole yourself up alone or seclude yourself in Nats room. She’s tired of it. Frankly, I’m tired of listening to her bitch. So, doll, you’re go behind that tree and change - gentleman’s honor, I won’t peek - and then, we’re gonna jump off this cliff, together.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled off my sunglasses. If men have one thing, they have the audacity.

“I’m not cliff jumping with you, you goat fucker.”

Oof. Too much. Bucky’s face twisted in this sick half smirk half scowl and he advanced on me. I stumbled backwards, catching a boot on a rock and fell back on my ass. My tailbone stung and I looked up, bleary eyed to see a very angry James Barnes staring at me. He kicked the rock out the way and laughed.

“Am I making you fall for me already, sweetheart?” He mocked. Bucky knelt and grabbed the front of my dress, yanking me up and leveling my eyes with his.

“Go get fucking changed. I won’t tell you again.” He let me go and I landed with a sharp thud. I watched stunned as he just walked away to the ledge again and stripped off his shirt. There was NO way he’d catch me staring. Not after that. The consistent ache between my legs told me that if I wasn’t careful, something bad was going to happen. I picked myself up and adjusted my now, stretched dress. There was a large, old tree nearby and I decided to use that as cover. Believing that Bucky would keep his eyes to himself felt so far away at this point. But, the shiver that thought sent up my spine made me immediately put that fantasy to rest. I changed quickly, pulling my boobs in the cups of the black bikini and sending a prayer to the gods they’d stay there. I tied up my top and bottoms and adjusted the back. The skimpy garment was a great choice at the time of purchase. I would have never thought I’d End up here.

A moment later I mustered the courage to leave my hiding spot. I stuffed my clothes into the bag and slipped on my flip flops.

“Put your bag by the Boulder on your right.”

Bucky called. He never looked over. I did as he said and walked to him. My Heart pounded against my ribs almost painfully. Bucky finally turned his gaze toward me. With a huff and s jaw tick he held out his flesh hand to me.

“You good, Buck?” I asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.” He certainly wasn’t. But, I took his hand and we walked to the edge. I could see for miles. Endless green and blue sky, wonder and beauty for miles. Untainted majesty in the middle of New York.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years. Never found the right partner. So.” Bucky looked at you, “wanna jump with me, doll?”

I nodded way too many times. I gripped his hand tighter and he moved us to the edge.

“Okay, we’re going to back up seven steps and then when I say go, run. Don’t let go.”

We went flying, Through the air, like two of the strangest birds. No wings, no way to keep themselves up.

We crashed. Pummeling through the cold water together. I felt Buckys hand slip from my own as we went under. I was consumed. The impact jostled my senses and I struggled to gain stability under the water. As I thrashed, trying to force myself up I felt a hand grab my arm.

Bucky pulled me to the surface and we swam to shore. We both heaved and fought for our breaths for a few moments before raucous laughter broke out.

“You said you wouldn’t try to kill me.” I chided. He cackled. I tried desperately to catch my breath.

“Good?” Bucky asked. His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, ugh. Just, need to breathe.”

We sat like that for what felt like forever. Watching the sky and resting our lungs, we warmed beneath the sun. After a few moments, I pulled myself up and sat cross legged.

“Why’d you agree to do this?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Why did you agree to be my “escort” when Natasha isn’t around?” I asked him again. After months I still hadn’t figured that out. Usually, he stayed as far away from me as possible, even when he was supposed to be with me. I would walk into a room and he would leave. It’s not like he ever went far, I could always feel his eyes burning into me - but, he never made the effort to even stay around me.

“I know what it’s like to lose control. I’ve been unfair to you, honestly. I know you think I hate you, doll, but I don’t. I’ve been in therapy for a bit…” I turned to look at Bucky as he continued, “working on myself. Figured out that I was projecting my own fears onto you. Some shit my therapist said anyway. You can’t be expected to take shit from people for all your life and never fight back. I didn’t see some soul eating witch and I don’t. I see a woman who is tired of being treated like dirt and she fought back. She just happens to be able to eat souls.”

The tears formed quick, They burnt hot like betrayal in my eyes. I was so wrong about him. God, I was wrong.

I reached my hand over and covered his metal one with my own flesh fingers.

“Thanks, Mr. Roboto.”

Amendment to Rule Number One: when gothsitting in the heat, consider water. Results will vary.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #marvel #marvel fic #bucky Barnes x chubby original female character #bucky x Morticia #aigs

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Steve//Boys Like You

Okay, so this doesn’t exactly follow the Steve/Nancy plot of season 2 (or at least I don’t think it does) but, I really like it so I don’t care. Anyway! Enjoy! And yes, I am now becoming a Stranger Things stan account. Sweet Pea who? I only know Steve Harrington. (based off this song)

“And then she said it was all bullshit. Like our entire relationship and everything.” Steve is sat on your couch at 2am, sobbing into your chest. He turned up twenty minutes ago, tears flowing freely down his cheeks and a look of defeat on his face. 

You’d of course let him in, glad that your parents were out of town for the week. Ever since you’d known Steve Harrington, you’d followed him around like a lost puppy. Wherever he was, you were right by his side. Well, more behind him slightly, kinda in the background. There enough for him to notice you, but never enough, and usually when he needed you. 

You knew that you could get better friends, you were pretty, funny and smart. But there was just something about the brown-eyed boy with the brilliant hair that pulled you in and kept you hooked. So much so that by the time it was your senior year, you were madly in love with him, watching him pursue a girl that just didn’t seem that interested in him. 

However you were there to pick up the pieces, like you always were. And tonight seemed to be one of those nights. He’d been to Tina’s Halloween party, something that you weren’t invited to, by Tina or Steve for that matter. But you had other things to do anyway. You’d just been about to fall asleep when he knocked on the door, and now your trying your best to comfort him, even though the girl he was madly in love with, had just broken his heart and left him for another boy. 

“It’s okay Stevie.” You soothe, the nickname that you’d used for him since you could remember, rolled off your tongue like second nature and he smiled at the comfort. “She’s just drunk. She probably won’t even remember it in the morning.” 

“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.” He sighs and you look at him sympathetically, running your fingers through his hair. There was only a few people that had the privilege of touching his hair, and you were one of the lucky ones. 

“Better. There’s always a tomorrow to talk things through and make things right.” 

“How did I get so damn lucky to have you as a friend?” He asks, wonder lacing his voice and you blush profusely. 

“Luck, I guess.” You shrug and he shakes his head, laughing softly. 

“Nah, it’s more than that. You’re the best thing in my life.” He says, and grabs your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. He drops it before you even have the chance to comprehend what was happening and you can’t help but feel disappointment rise.

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to your girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. 

“Nope. Because I’m saying it to you. Y/n Y/l/n. You are the best thing in my life.” He repeats himself, but there’s something in his voice thats holding him back. You know he’s lying. You know it’s always going to be Nancy Wheeler, but for just one night you can pretend that he actually meant that. You know what you look like to him, you know what you are to him. You’re his childhood best friend that has followed him blindly and not minded being put in the background, just as long as she gets to hang around with him. 

“Sure I am.” You roll your eyes again. “You keep telling yourself that Harrington, I’m going to bed. You coming?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugs and stands up, holding his hand out towards you. You gladly take it and he pulls you up, rather aggressively. So much so that you fall slightly into his chest and he grabs your arms to steady you. You tilt your head up to look at him and he’s already smiling back at you. That signature Steve Harrington smile that has made every single girl in Hawkins High fall in love with him. 

“Steve?” You ask, breaking the silence. He hums in response, still staring down at you, a soft expression in his eyes that makes you melt. “How are you feeling?” 

“Much better after seeing you.” He replies and you giggle softly. The two of you stare at each other for a few moments longer, and you swear he’s leaning into you. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours, igniting a flame deep inside you. Steve Harrington is kissing you! Holy shit. You kiss back, just as cautiously, but his hands fall to your hips, pulling you closer to him and your arms wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. However he pushes you away from him, staring at you wide eyed and breathless. You’re looking back at him, also breathless and blushing, but your heart feels like its just been put through a lawn mower. 

“I’m so sorry.” He stammers and runs his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine.” You reassure him, taking a few steps towards him but he stumbles backwards and there’s another sharp pain shooting through your chest. The way he’s looking at you is as if you’ve just told him that there’s mythical creatures roaming Hawkins. He’s looking at you as if you’re a stranger. 

“I’m gonna go home.” He shakes his head and you reach for his hand but he pulls away. “This was such a huge mistake. I’m so sorry. “ 

“Steve.” You call after him, but he’s already out the door and down your drive. He can move fast when he really doesn’t want to be around someone. 

Tears fall freely down your face as you climb into bed. The covers are over your head, something you used to do as a child when you were upset. Usually if someone had said something mean to you, or if Steve had stolen one of your toys and refused to give it back (until his mother told him too). Now you’re just one of his toys, there when he needs something to keep him entertained and easily put back when ‘better’ is found. He’s always walked around like he could charm the birds from the trees, and he can. He charms you every time, tonight has proven it. 

And you fall for it. Every single stereotype. The Jock. The most popular boy in school. The boy that has a hidden softer side. Girl in love with her best friend. Oh wait, that was you. 

-------

The next day at school, Steve has been avoiding you like the plague. However, you manage to catch him at the gym. He’s playing basketball, however it looks like he’s been put on the bench for a while so you take the chance while you can. 

Sitting beside him on the bleachers. He doesn’t notice you at first, but once he does, you can see the disappointment settle in his eyes when he sees its you and not Nancy so you take a deep breath. 

“How are you feeling Stevie?” You ask and nudge him softly. The nickname leaves a bad taste in your mouth today. It doesn’t sound right. 

“Alright.” He shrugs and stares straight ahead at the game. 

“Why you been put on then bench?” 

“Hargrove.” He mutters. 

“Ah...do you wanna talk about last night?”

“No!” He replies loudly and you flinch. 

“Steve, we can’t ignore it forever. You’ve been avoiding me all day and I can’t deal with it. Just talk to me Stevie.” You force the nickname out this time and try to run your fingers through his hair, even though its kinda gross with sweat, but he pulls away. For a simple gesture, it stings like hell and you have to fight the urge to cry. 

“You just can’t help it Steve!” You shout gaining the attention of the basketball players. The game has stopped and the team are staring at the two of you. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks, running a hand over his face. 

“Are you being serious right now? You know, yesterday! At my house. Where we ki-” 

“Shhhh.” He shushed you, moving towards you quickly and glancing around the gym. Is he being serious right now? 

“Its how you were taught to love, and it’s shitty, but I still take it. You expect to keep a hoard of girls to follow you around. I always feel so lucky to hear your lines, just like the others do. But you pick us up when you and your girlfriend have a fight, and then drop us the next day when she’s sober and being nice to you again. You’re playing pretend Steve! When are you going to see that. There’s a name for boys like you-” 

“Oh yeah? And what is it!” He interrupts you and you raise an eyebrow. Before you have the chance to answer, Nancy’s voice rings through the hall and you sigh loudly.

“Steve?” She asks, a look of annoyance and confusion etched onto her face. He pulls away from you quickly and practically jogs to catch up with Nancy. They both walk out, leaving you standing alone. Again. 

“Fucking great.” You mutter before turning and walking the other way. 

In hindsight, some people would say that this was your own fault. Robin had warned you to not go there, when she caught you staring at him. The two of you had been paired up for some project when she was put in one of your advanced classes. And even though at the time you just rolled your eyes and laughed it off, your now thinking that the younger girl was onto something. 

Apparently you seem to love a nightmare, or at least you did. Actually who are you kidding, you still love him. You just can’t help it. Its gonna take more than this for you to get over him. 

-----

It’s been three days and you and Steve have avoided each other as if your life depended on it. Well, it was mainly Steve doing the avoiding but what can you do? 

You’re stood at your locker, Carol and Tommy talking about something that happened at another party you weren’t invited to, when they’re interrupted by Steve. He greets them and they make small talk for a few minutes before they start to bicker. You’ve busied yourself with your locker at this point, not wanting to be involved in any of their conversations. But when Nancy taps your shoulder you have no choice but to turn around and face them. 

“So, I heard about you and Steve.” She starts and your mouth goes dry. “About the argument you had the night of the party.” Of course. “And I want you to know that even though he would never admit it, he’s sorry. Aren’t you Stevie?” She smiles up at him and your vision blurs with tears. 

“Er, yeah.” He rubs the back oh his neck nervously. 

“Okay.” You nod your head. 

“Anyway.” He continues. “Me and Nance are back together.” He wraps an arm around her waist before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. A soft smile appears on her lips as she looks at him. The two of them start making out, meaning Tommy and Carol are shoving their tongues down each others throats before you can even say another word. Leaving you to lean against your locker awkwardly, and look anywhere but either in front of you or to your left. 

“Isn’t that great.” Nancy smiles brightly as she pulls away.  

“...yeah.” You force a smile. She seems to believe it, and the two of them start to talk to Carol and Tommy. 

And once again, you’re pushed into the background. 

part 2 part 3 part 4

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things steve #steve stranger things #boys like you

[minhyunluvr]

look | empiricism

"Plus ultra!" Present Mic yelled from the presentation stage. You mumbled the catchphrase under your breath, promptly standing up and stretching. Before the two people in between you and the aisle could stand and block your way out, you crammed yourself in between their legs and the seat in front of them to leave.

A breath slipped through your lips as you stared up at the mock city in front of you in awe. It was fascinating how someone could re-build such a life-like structure year after another, its only purpose being destruction. Chatter rose from the examinees, triggering thoughts of disapproval from you. 'Why can't they just stretch in silence instead of catching up with friends?' A bitter taste settled in your mouth as you felt a pang inside of your chest. Were you jealous? Amiability and opportunity were always things you had been deprived of as a child, leaving many doors unopened. The only companion you had known as a youth was your adoptive brother, Woojin. There was a three year age gap, and he had entered U.A. when he was fifteen, just as you were about to.

The large gates creaked open, symbolizing one last burst of opportunity. This was a huge part of the test, and you would probably need to pass to enter the school. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed the lump beginning to form in your throat before taking off into the structure, but god did you hate running. Flustered sounds came from the other potential students as they attempted to catch up to you. It was to no avail. Your speed didn't seem as impressive when you were alone, running in a large back yard. By the time anyone else had stepped foot in the city-scape, you had demolished the first five robots at the door, successfully racking up nine points.

Roughly nine minutes later, a loud creaking noise came from your left. Once you released the three-pointer suspended in the air, you turn over to see the infamous robot worth zero points, therefor none of your time was to be wasted on it. You had not kept track of the points acquired, but it was surely enough to pass based on your observations of the other students. Glancing back at the newly created rubble from the fragmented machine in front of you, you caught a glimpse of a girl entangled in debris. Directing your quirk at her, you envisioned another robot lifting up the zero-pointer. A bead of sweat rolled down your cheek as the artificial robot took physical form, pushing the other in your direction. Surprised noises came from the students on the other side, loud enough for you to hear in the back half of the exam area. The one created for the exam was lifted further into the air, lugged along by yours.

A figure shot up into the sky, rapidly gaining speed toward the zero pointer. Sighing, you continued pulling it in your direction in a more urgent manner. "People really do try to steal credit for others' work, just like in the books..."

Before the person could make contact with the machine, he began to fall. A fist had previously been poised in the position to punch the exam robot, but now his arms flapped helplessly in the wind as he nosed-dived toward the ground. A broken piece of a robot began to float beneath the large one that was now behind you, a girl with her hand outstretched sitting on top of it. His body looked weak. Utterly helpless, even. You almost felt pity, for a second. But you continued doing your job as a future hero and had your machine raise the robot higher in the air before dropping it, effectively crushing the piece of trash.

"And, stop!" The same booming voice from ten minutes before yelled through the microphone, drawing out the first word longer than necessary. The girl and boy were no where to be seen when you turned back to them. Letting out a loud, clipped sigh, you stood and dusted the dirt off of your knees. An old lady pushed her way through the crowd about one hundred feet in front of you, where the zero pointer originally was. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to what looked like the ground at your angle, but the boy who had attempted to punch the robot stood up from the space a few seconds later. Another whine left your lips as you began to walk in their direction. Your knees felt as though they were about to break, but walking was the only option, as you couldn't lift yourself off of the ground.

"Oh, it was you who made the second robot appear out of nowhere!" A boy with blue hair pointed in your direction, eagerly walking over to meet you by the old lady who identified as Recovery Girl. "I am Iida Tenya, I hope to make your acquaintance. I saw you run in when Present Mic told us that the time had started! Your speed is remarkable..." He let out a pant in jest.

"Thank you. That's a lot coming from someone with engines in his calves. I never thought it was that impressive until I saw how slow all of the other potential students were.... I suppose I overestimated the future generation of heroes." Your face was impassive at his open expression of shock. "I suggest you keep your face devoid of emotion when you encounter villains. You wouldn't want to give off too many of your feelings, correct?"

His eyes hardened at your words, seemingly taking in your advice. "It almost sounds as if you're a villain yourself... I will keep that in mind. Would you mind telling me your name?"

"Choi Yunseo, but I prefer being called '(Y/n)'. Japanese honorifics are unnecessary. I hope to see you in U.A."

"You as well, (Y/n)." Iida looked at you skeptically as you walked towards the exit of the city-scape. His thoughts drifted back and forth between you and his score, becoming more and more curious about you as the day continued.

"Hello, Young Choi! This is a projection!" All Might yelled on the wall, light shining out of a circular container. You winced at the surname he addressed you with, noting the fact that you would have to correct your instructors in person when you inevitably make it in. "You actually placed first in the entrance exam, both in the written and practical sections... And it seems that you've been home schooled? Well, you must have a very nice curriculum." The projection flashed to a board of scores, you in first with 70 villain points and 57 rescue points. Someone named "Bakugou Katsuki" was in second place. "You beat Young Bakugou by 50 whole points, Choi! Be ready for him to go off on the first day, though. I don't think you should tell him your name, for your own safety. Anyway, check the packet that carried the projectional device for more details. Good luck, Young Ch-"

You cut off the video before he could say your legal name once again. "Why was he admitted to a hero school if I'm going to be in danger for surpassing him in skill...?"

"Please take your feet off of the desk, Bakugou! It is disrespectful to our elders and the fine craftsman who built the desks solely for our usage." The first thing you witnessed in your high school career was Iida reprimanding another student, presumably named "Bakugou" for resting his feet on a desk. 'As in... that Bakugou?'

"Shut it, fuckface. What middle school are you even from?" The blonde boy replied, albeit harshly.

"I am from Somei Priva- oh, hello, (Y/n)! I see you made it in!" Iida turned his attention to your annoyed figure in the doorway.

"Hi, Iida. But... Bakugou, is it? Are you not the kid who placed second... behind me?" A smirk fell onto your cheeks as you let the tease slip out. By the once sentence you had heard him utter, it was made apparent that he would be interesting to pick at.

"Wait, so you're Yunseo? God, I thought I would have to wait until attendance to bash your fucking face in..." With the last few words, he made a few flashes of orange energy appear next to his head, standing up.

"Oh, so you have an explosive quirk? Good to know... By the way, you shouldn't threaten people when you're in the hero course. Nor should you reveal your abilities when around a potential opponent, not that I fall into that category." The smirk slid off of your face as you restored your usual, cool demeanor. Turning away from Bakugou, you turned to walk to a seat. "Also, I prefer being called '(Y/n)'."

"Huh? Should I really be taking advice from a whore?" A few whispers started up in the quiet classroom.

"Is that because you find my body appealing? If so, the feeling isn't mutual, babe." With that, you continued walking to an open seat in the back of the classroom, which happened to be near a student with heterochromatic eyes. Your eyes narrowed as a vague feeling of recognition washed over you, but no further thoughts were spared on the matter.

Iida's face resembled a peach, at that point. A burst of laughter snorted out of his nose, effectively gaining Bakugou's attention. The latter boy's eyes had been following you as you moved to the back of the room, plotting revenge.

"Bro, you just obliterated him. No pun intended." Another male student chuckled from behind your seat. "I'm Kaminari Denki, by the way. And you are?"

"(Y/n)." Turning around to Kaminari, you took note of his features. His blond hair was slightly long, a black zig-zag which seemed to resemble a lightning bolt in his bangs. A small, button nose rested in the middle of his face, golden eyes above it. He was attractive, but not too eye-catching. Good combination.

"That's cool. May I have your number? You're kinda cute." He shot a wink down at you, hands resting on the back of your seat.

You pulled out a piece of paper from your backpack and quickly jotted down your cell phone number, handing it back to the boy. "I don't use my phone that much, so you might be ignored."

His face fell slightly at the last comment, but it quickly restored it's earlier vibrancy. "'Aight, but what's your quirk? If you don't mind me asking..."

"Did you not hear me talking to Bakugou about how he shouldn't unnecessarily reveal his quirk? I tend to follow my own advice." Your head fell to the side in annoyance.

"Did I just hear my name?!" The explosive blonde screeched from his seat up in the front of the classroom.

"Yes, you did." You spoke passively, not moving your attention from Kaminari. "Anyway, you will probably have to wait and see what my quirk is from when we do some sort of... training? I'm not entirely sure how this school works, yet."

"Deal, as long as you explain afterwards." He stuck his hand out for you to shake. Your nose scrunched slightly at the gesture, but you reached over nonetheless.

"Haha, that would ruin its abilities." With that, he walked away. Then, the room went quiet.

"It took eight seconds for you to quiet down." A shaggy-haired man groaned at the doorway as he crawled out of a sleeping bag. "I'm Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom teacher. I'm not going to waste time on learning your names, get dressed into your gym clothes and get outside to the grounds."

[m.list]

#bnha #boku my hero academia #mha #my hero academia #fanfiction #x reader #anime #manga #shouto todoroki #shouto todoroki x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader

[relaxedreptile]

It’s On Me

Pairing: Bang Chan X Reader

A/N: This was loosely based on a request. I’m sorry for the large gaps between posts, I’m trying to get used to my new classes and new schedules. My schedule will semi-permanently clear up after this weekend as an ongoing project will be finished up. Please be patient!

Happy Valentine’s Day.

For the first time in two years, your alarm clock fails to wake you up.

It actually woke your roommate up instead and they, bless their soul, shook your shoulder while you were lost in your imagination, dreaming about passing grades.

You were only five minutes late to start but that screwed up the entire floor’s shower schedule and some asshole from down the hall decided to steal the last stall, leaving you to watch as the mirrors fogged up due to the shower you were not taking yourself.

That knocked you another ten minutes behind schedule.

You threw on the first set of clothes you found on the floor that you deemed clean enough, grabbed your keys and ducked out the door.

You hated yourself for it, but knew you wouldn’t regret it as you walked into the coffee shop on campus.

No matter how late you were going to be (and how embarrassing it would be to stroll into class late, coffee in hand), you knew future-you would appreciate some caffeine.

You tapped your foot in line, trying to decide what to order. You settled on a plain latte, knowing it would take less time to make than the other things on the menu.

You reached for your wallet to pull out the five dollars you would need to pay, your stomach dropping when you realized you had left it back in your dorm. 

Trying to gain the courage to walk out without ordering anything (and after sitting in line probably looking like an impatient bitch), you looked around to see if anyone was watching you.

“Good morning!”

Just your luck! You were next in line.

You stepped in front of the counter, fiddling with your fingers as you tried to make the most apologetic face you could muster. You felt extremely awkward in this situation and knew you had to make this quick to make sure you didn’t hold up the line any further. It didn’t help that the barista taking your order was extremely cute and had the most endearing dimple.

“Uh, good morning. Sorry, I must’ve left my wallet back at my dorm… I’m sorry for holding you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, that happens to everyone at least once. What can I get for you?”

You stared at the boy in front of you. Did he understand what you were saying?

“I don’t-”

“Have any money,” he finished, “I know, but that’s alright! I could never deny anyone their daily dose of caffeine.”

“Are you sure?” Accepting this offer would go against every manner in the book but your eyes were already starting to droop from drowsiness.

The barista named Chris, according to his name tag, flashed you his dimple one more time.

“It’s on me.”

With a little bit of extra leg power, you made it to class on time. Your teacher was five minutes late anyways, but that just gave you a little bit of time to enjoy your latte, your name written in neat, curvy letters on the side of the cup.

You had never really understood the hype around coffee, especially when it just meant waking up even earlier to get it. You still didn’t understand why people went out of their way to get their hands on this stuff, when seeing a barista smile was all you needed to instantly forget about your rough morning.

“You’ve never seen him around?” You asked your roommate.

“The only Chris I know on campus is blond and has no dimples in sight, maybe he uses a nickname?”

“But wouldn’t Chris be a nickname?”

Your roommate shrugged and handed you a couple of your shirts that had gotten mixed up in their clothing.

“No matter what his name is, he has to be a student here if he was working at the shop. Just keep an eye out, you’re always holed up in bed anyways.”

You scoffed but didn’t say anything, knowing they had a point.

“I saw a flyer outside of the bathrooms, some music group is performing at the coffee shop tomorrow night. It’s not a party! So you can’t give me the same excuse as always and who knows, maybe this is your chance to find your mystery boy.”

“What are the chances he’s going to have the same open mindset as you and want to check out this random group?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, most people like trying new things in college.”

“Are you sure I look alright?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror hanging on the back of the door (technically your roommate’s), scrutinizing your outfit and pulling at the accessories you had added on to the outfit.

“You’re never this insecure about the way you look,” your roommate noticed. “Is it because you’re going to be reunited with your mystery man?” They teased.

You laughed along with them, brushing the statement off. Right now, you were just excited to spend the night with a friend. They were right about you not going out too often but you wanted to make sure you made a good first impression on your campus’ night life, especially if everyone was going to be the kind of person who listened to an amateur music group.

“What did you say the name of the group was?”

“3RACHA, I found some of their music on SoundCloud and they’re not too bad but I’m not a big fan of rap.”

“You’re telling me we’re going out to a cafe to listen to a bunch of college kids rap?”

“Technically the youngest one is still in high school.”

“You’ve really done your research,” you teased.

You dashed out of your dorm room before your roommate could throw anything at you.

The two of you had made it just in time for the lights to be lowered for dramatic effect, grabbing one of the last open tables and settling in quickly so as not to disturb the surrounding silence.

“I didn’t know they had so many fans,” said your roommate, referring to the large number of people who had come to listen.

Before you could agree, the two of you were shushed by a nearby table. 

Two short guys walked onto the makeshift stage in the back corner of the cafe, catching everyone’s attention desire their small statures. 

The shortest one had a cap pulled down so low you couldn’t even see his eyes and instead had to focus on the sharp jawline that was framed by jet black hair and shaved sides. The boy following behind him had a jawline to match, but chubby cheeks to go with it. While his looks may have contradicted it, he had a confident air about him. He shot a smirk into the crowd before he started talking and you swore you could hear someone gasp at the gesture.

“Uh… thank you all for coming out tonight! We’re 3RACHA as you can tell by all the posters,” he scratched the back of his head, “my name’s Ji-J.One and this is-”

“SpearB,” the shortest boy growled, clearly agitated by the fact that he almost didn’t get to introduce himself.

“We’ve got three new songs to show you guys and if you like them enough you can listen to them on Soundcloud! Our first song is called ‘Runner’s High’ and was produced by the one and only-”

“CB97.”

Everyone in the crowd turned their heads to watch the last boy run up onto stage, microphone in hand and dimple in full view.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, trying to get your roommate’s attention before you were shushed yet again and the music started.

The song wasn’t bad at all, kind of impressive actually considering it was made by a couple of college boys with the help of one still in high school. If you weren’t in the back of a dark cafe surrounded by what seemed to be kind of die-hard fans, you’d go on your phone right now and find a way to download it.

You didn’t catch the title of the next song but your friend next to you visibly perked up when mystery-cafe-boy shouted out some of their favorite JYP artists. You knew this detail would win their approval of “CB97”, if you ever got the balls to go up to him after this.

Thank god (and your roommate) for picking today to give you the confidence boost you needed to go out.

“Are you gonna go up and talk to him?” 

The two of you were awkwardly sitting at your table, watching as the cafe started to close up and the trio started putting away their laptop and speakers.

Your friend had to stifle a laugh when you told them how CB97 was oddly familiar and made sure to mention that you should thank them by paying for dinner tomorrow night. 

“It’s not like I know him! What do you expect me to say, ‘hey, I’m the one who you gave a coffee to for free the other day because I was dumb enough to forget my wallet’?”

Your roommate shrugged and looked over to the three boys who were obviously ready the leave. 

One second they were there sitting next to you and the next they were up on their feet heading directly for “J.One”. 

You had no time to react or ask them what the fuck they were doing and they were too far away for you to eavesdrop on as you watched them out of your peripheral vision, looking away slightly to not seem so obvious. 

You watched as the two other rappers walked over to your roommate and joined the conversation and you chose that exact moment to look directly at “SpearB” to try and read his lips, making eye contact with him. 

He smiled at you asked your roommate a question right after, causing the whole group to turn and look at you. 

You were already on your feet before your friend had a chance to wave you over. 

You were extra mindful of anything discarded on the floor that you could potentially trip on and end up making a fool of yourself. 

After introducing yourself (your eyes only flicking to Chris’ for a second) your roommate took over. 

“This one was raving at the table about your guys’ music.” 

Only internally.

“What was your favorite song?” Chris asked you. 

While your heart fluttered, your mind was clear and when you told him it was “Runner’s High” he seemed pleased with himself. 

“This was our first time performing it live, we’ve been working on it for weeks trying to perfect it,” SpearB admitted. 

“I’m glad I came out to hear the finished product.”

“This one here never gets out of the dorm, always studying or doing homework.”

“He’s the same way,” SpearB revealed, gesturing towards Chris. 

The barista-by-day, music producer-by-night looked sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. 

“If he’s not working on his own song, he’s helping us with one of our own. We probably get really annoying, actually.”

“Not at all, I like working! Music is what I love.”

“How long have you guys been doing this?” You asked. 

J.One told you it’s only been a few months since they started posting their music but that they’ve been working on it basically all their lives, even if it wasn’t necessarily together. When SpearB and Chris were placed in a dorm room together randomly and both of them needed help moving in their equipment, it was basically love at first sight. 

“We found Jisung at an open mic event one night or another and invited him into what we were trying to start up.”

“Jisung?” Your roommate was staring holes into the boy in front of them.

“At your service,” Jisung replied with his cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m Changbin and this is-”

“Chan,” he waved to your roommate before turning to you. “But we’ve already met.”

“You actually went out for once?” Jisung teased the boy. 

“Not quite, I made her a latte a few days ago.”

“Not only that, but he refused to let me pay.”

“If I remember correctly, you had forgotten your wallet.”

“This is the one?” Changbin smirked. 

“You told them about the most embarrassing moment of my life?” You played up the dramatics. 

“He practically wouldn’t shut up about how cute you were, I’m surprised he didn’t write a-”

“Jisung! Changbin! How about I help you two bring your stuff back to your dorm?”

“It’s only a couple-”

“Nonsense, see it as payment for your performance. You can tell me all about the next project you’re working on!”

Leaving you and Chris...Chan...CB97 alone in the middle of the cafe save for the lone employee screwing around in the back, your roommate took both of the other boys by the arm and dragged them outside with their things. 

“So,” you broke the silence, “how many fake names do you actually have?”

The boy in front of you laughed, a high-pitched chuckle finding itself out in the air. 

“Chris is like, my English name, it’s on my documents as a first name while Chan is written as like, a middle.”

“An English name?”

“I’m from Australia. Chan is my Korean name but I basically use them interchangeably, hence the name tag.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say after that, not wanting to make a joke about having multiple names and somehow insult him with any possible ignorance. 

“You came out of your dorm for this?”

You smiled, laughing a little to yourself at the fact that a part of you was hoping you might see your mystery boy again if you came. 

“My roommate saw a flyer and looked you guys up,” Chan grimaced. “They only had good things to say, I swear! But I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and came out too.”

Chan’s gaze fell to the floor as he fiddled with his thumbs. 

“Do you plan on going out again any time soon?”

You cocked your head to the side, kind of confused by his question. 

“Maybe, if you are, I could come along?”

You giggled at the implication, nodding and laughing again when Chan looked visibly relieved at your answer. 

“I can give you my number and we’ll find a time where we’re both free and actually willing to leave our work behind.”

“I’ll make sure to take a couple of long breaks.”

Wanna meet me after my shift and we can go out somewhere?

As long as there’s a latte ready when I get there.

Consider it done. Don’t worry about paying for this one, it’s on me.

#bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #chan fluff #chan angst #chan smut #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #barista!chan #rr:bang chan

[scribeofmorpheus]

Dangerous Liaisons Part 6

Catch Up here!

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: 3888 (It’s a long one guys)

Rating: L for Strong language! Is that even a rating?

A/N: Okay, this took me a while to finish because I kept getting distracted. Editing? What editing? Just ignore my errors for now! But! I really enjoyed the dynamics in this one. Writing for Karen and Ward was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Especially, the dark side of our heroine! Not a lot of Billy sadly, but he’s front and centre in the next chapter... and so is the prickly family dynamic! (I also tagged some new people to this update, hope you don’t mind). Don’t be afraid to ask to be tagged! Sidenote: I’ve been waiting forever to use this gif.

***

You made your way through the busy offices of the Bulletin. The room was buzzing with life. Employees in middle-class dress smarts hovered around from desk to desk. Some had files in hand, others typed away brutally at the clunky, old computer keys. The atmosphere was electric… productive. As a kid, your father had spent many hours dealing with interviews and alike, but always in the comfort and security of his own home. He always liked having the high ground, made reporters feel uneasy in unwelcome spaces. Except for this one reporter, Ben Urich.

You had been barely out of your teen years when you had watched through ajar doors as your Father lost his iron-clad composure after being accused of something malicious by the straight-shooting reporter. You had never seen anyone rattle your Father to that extent. Ben Urich had gained your respect in that moment, and it wasn't until this very moment that you realised just how much you admired him for that. The irony of Karen Page working for the same newspaper as the one reporter you respected did not escape you.

"Can I help you?" asked a balding man with a salt and pepper beard and drooping eyes. He was cleaning his glasses using his tie as he stood like a man of authority next to a door labelled:  'EDITOR' with a name underneath written: 'Mitchel Ellison'.

"Mitchel Ellison, I presume?"

"Just Ellison," he extended his hand once his glasses were fixed back onto his face. You shook it. "Still haven't answered my question." He said plainly.

"Ah, yes sorry. My name is Y/N Y/L/N." He raised a brow at the mention of your last name. He recognised you then.

"Ah, the elusive heiress to Armistice Security," he said knowingly.

You shouldn't have been surprised. Your Father was Carl Kurogawa, CEO and founder of one of the leading military contracting companies. The press loved him and after Henry's death… well, more and more people were digging into your family's history. That's one of the reasons you legally changed your last name to your mother's maiden name.

"Since my Father and I don't share the same last name, I'm inclined to correct you on that front. I have no affiliations with Armistice Security," You said rather harshly.

"If that were true you'd have sold your shares a long time ago," he retorted quickly. No doubt Ellison had a hard time trusting people, but at least he called things as he saw them.

You sighed, "I'm here to see Karen Page. I called earlier about giving her an exclusive."

"What about?"

You smirked, "Sorry, that's privileged information. You'll just have to find out about it in the editorial room." Ellison huffed lazily, you amused him a little.

"Her office is right through there," He pointed down the hall and to the right.

"Thank you." You smiled flatly.

You knocked on the door with a sign covered by masking tape with the name Karen P. written on it. It was obscuring the name of whoever owned this office space before her.

"Just a second," a soft female voice spoke out.

Impatient, as always, you opened the door anyway. Karen was about to speak from behind her laptop screen, but upon seeing you, her face had a confused look plastered on it.

"Who?--" She squinted her eyes trying to remember. She didn't seem to recognise you. Being in a room full of reporters who usually could pick you out in a crowd, this was certainly a refreshing first. A laugh tried to trickle out of you but you held it back and instead chose to introduce yourself.

You held out your hand, "Y/N Y/L/N. We have an appointment today..." Karen still had a hard time placing you, this time you did giggle. "The Rand Enterprise exclusive about expansion in Hong Kong."

And suddenly, like lightning hitting its mark, Karen finally put two and two together.

"Of course, sorry," She returned your handshake. "I've been swamped lately, and as you probably deduced for yourself, I'm a little new at this." She gestured to her desk filled with overflowing, loose paperwork.

"Reporting or an efficient filing system?" you joked. She laughed awkwardly.

"Both," she sat down and gestured to the chair in front of her desk for you to have a seat. "Which is why I am a little apprehensive as to why you chose me to handle such a story. In fact, why the New York Bulletin? Isn't the Hong Kong expansion something a business magazine would kill to get an exclusive on?"

You smirked, "Oh, it is. Which is why I'm not giving the exclusive to a business magazine. Also, I read some of your other stories. You tend to be discrete about who your sources are when they want to keep things hush, hush."

Karen pulled out a notepad and pen, clicking it once to jot down something on her notepad.

"Why the secrecy? It's not like you're reporting on anything the company doesn't want the world to know… right?"

"I'm just… beating a colleague to the punch," You felt proud at the prospect of Ward reading this exclusive in a small newspaper after he had spent months preparing to give this exclusive to the Wall Street Journal. The look on his face when he finds out he doesn't have an exclusive anymore filled you with delight.

"Sounds alarmingly ambiguous."

"It sounds like an exclusive."

Karen took hint of your tone and cleared her throat, "Okay, so what can you tell me about Ward Meachum's new merger deal?"

You crossed your legs and leaned back, but made sure not to look too comfortable. "For starters, I can tell you it's not Ward Meachum's merger. He shook hands and posed for photo ops but they were my contacts and it was my project. I worked in Hong Kong for several years before I returned. Suffice to say, I had the means, Ward had the poster boy look."

Without skipping a beat, Karen jotted down on her notepad in shorthand. You were curious to read what she had written down, but this story wasn't what was important right now. You needed to gain her trust and get her guard down before asking about the incident with General Schoonover.

"Why did you leave Hong Kong?"

"I'm sorry?"

Karen plastered on a genial smile, "You mentioned your posting in the Hong Kong offices as being your primary qualification for spearheading this merger. If you managed to accumulate such good connections, why leave such a promising post? Wasn't accepting the post at Rand a step down?"

Karen was a sly one, this explained why someone with no background in journalism got ahead so quick. She was fishing for two stories in one interview. The Rand scoop and why you were offering her the Rand scoop. You made a mental note not to underestimate her. "This story isn't about me, Miss Page."

"Is it not? You’re not a disgruntled employee as far as I can tell. And giving a small newspaper access to such an exclusive doesn't make much sense unless you're trying to gain all the credit, but that wouldn't exactly help moral at the workplace if they found out you leaked the story. And unless you're Mr Meachum's scorned lover--"

You snorted a little at the insinuation of you being Ward's scorned lover. "You want to know what I get out of this. What my angle is."

"To be frank, yes."

"That's easy Miss Page. An ally at a respectable paper. That's something of great value in my line of work."

"In corporate legalities or military law?"

You smiled. Karen had just given away her ace in the hole. She had done research on you, which meant she knew exactly who you were when you walked into her office. She really was a sly one. "In a competitive corporate world."

You both exchanged a look that carried the fake pleasantry smiles not uncommon with most of your social interactions, but both you and Karen's eyes held a glare that spoke volumes. It was a look of respectful rivalry and cautiousness.

"Look, Miss Page--"

"Karen is fine."

"Okay, Karen. We can spend hours going round in circles, continuing this verbal detente with one another, or you can ask what you really want to ask me and save us both some time."

"It's the same question. Why me? And no bullshit. Why come to me, out of all the other more qualified and respected reporters? Why come all the way down to Hell’s Kitchen?"

"To be honest. My father hates this newspaper. And my boss is an ass. So if I can manage to serve a big ol‘ 'fuck you' to the both of them, it's a win-win for me." Karen seemed pleased with your answer. "But, there is one other reason."

"Yes?"

"The Punisher."

Karen froze for a second, you noticed her battling for control to remain unreadable.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked, trying to seem oblivious to what you were implying.

"You are the one who wrote of his demise, did you not? It was quite the… unexpected angle. You framed his narrative to be more sympathetic than most other news outlets."

"I wrote Frank's story. Everyone else had already written about the Punisher."

"And weren't you assigned his case when you worked for… Oh, what was their name again? Murdock and Neilson?"

Karen's brows knitted together and she straightened her back to appear slightly taller than you, "Nelson and Murdock." Karen huffed. "And here I thought I was the one conducting the interview here."

Strong-arming Karen was proving to be ineffective. It was time to play a different angle. You sighed and stood from your chair, gathering a file from your purse and presenting it in front of Karen.

"Look, Karen. I'm not here to accuse you of anything. If anything I commend you for writing the real story about Frank Castle. It shows your willingness to bring the truth to light. It's the reason I thought you could help. You worked with him and I know you were at the scene of General Schoonover's murder."

"How?" Her eyes skittered between you and the file.

"I also know that you've read up on me. You and me have something in common." Karen broke eye contact for a brief moment. "I just want closure. And I think… I think you knew the Punisher better than you let on. And everything that happened, all the people he killed… I think they were part of something bigger. Schoonover, Frank and… my brother’s death." You had to pause to take a breath. "It's all connected. And I've hit a dead end. You're the last thread I can pull. I know you know something. I'm just hoping..."

Karen looked at the file you gave her. It had your brother’s name printed on the yellow jacket. She sighed and slid it back to you. "I don't know anything. I'm sorry."

You smiled with disappointment, sliding the file back to Karen. "I've got more copies. Keep it." You grabbed your bag and headed for the door. "My numbers on the back. In case you suddenly remember something." As you walked out the door, you caught a glimpse of Karen burying her head in her hands and whispering a soft "Fuck" under her breath. That made you smirk slightly. Now you just had to wait and see if she'd call.

Even though you knew full well that you and Karen had kept your voices more than professional, you couldn't help but feel eyes on you as you walked out of the Bulletin's doors. Specifically, the judgmental eyes of Mitchel Ellis.

***

When you got into your car, you finally let the tough as nails act slide away and suddenly you felt limp. You closed your eyes and looked up at the car's roof feeling particularly aimless. As the seconds turned to minutes, your mind kept trying to make sense of all the puzzle pieces that didn't fit together in your investigation. Then, your phone chimed from inside your pocket. You half expected it to be Cecil and the other half… well, you reprimanded yourself for wishing it was Billy. What you didn’t expect to find was an email from Ward. Not just any email, a letter of notice.

He was firing you.

Over a fucking email.

The damn merger story hadn't even been put to print yet, even if it had, your name would remain anonymous. Which leaves the very probable reason for your contract termination being the result of a hurt ego and rejected advances.

"Asshole!" You swore. Rage bubbling to the surface, you typed away at your phone and sent a message you knew you'd come to regret, but your anger had gotten the best of you.

"Karen. About keeping my name anonymous, don't bother." You hit send and without missing a beat, you dialled Cecil's number. If Ward wanted to play dirty, you had no problem playing it his way.

"Heyyo," Cecil answered in a drowsy tone.

"Hey, I need a big favour."

***

You stormed your way up to Ward's office, ignoring the protests of his assistant clomping after you in heels she wasn't comfortable running in.

"Ma'am!" She whisper-shouted frantically after you as you burst into his office. Ward had turned to you with a shocked expression mid-sentence. A room full of important busy-bodies craning their necks to look at who cause this disturbance. Ward glared at you menacingly and then eyed his assistant who swallowed loudly. "I'm sorry Mr Meachum. I tried to stop her."

"That's quite alright. We're just finished in here," Ward buttoned his three-piece suit-jacket and motioned for the men to exit the room. A fake smile tugging at his lips. When you were finally alone, Ward closed the door behind him before walking over to his desk. He leaned his tall frame against it languidly. When he didn't speak, you did.

"A fucking text, Ward? You don't have the balls to fire me yourself, you had your assistant type up the fucking thing?" You tried to keep a handle on your temper. "What was the reason? Please tell me there's a better reason than your hurt pride!"

Ward gave you a cheeky smile, enjoying your anger a bit too much. "Well, you mean despite you showing up late to the meeting the other day, then feeding me some bullshit excuse of traffic being the reason you were late? And don't even get me started on all the other times you've put off work hours to do God knows what!"

"You're firing me for tardiness? I'm the one who spearheaded this expansion project in the first place. Without me-"

"I'm firing you for unprofessional conduct. You can do whatever you please after office hours, but social calls the same day you're late to the closure of the project you were in charge of? That's unacceptable."

"So this is about your dumb fucking ego!"

Ward's eye twitched and you could all but see his professional disguise begin to crack, "I expect you to remove yourself from the premises immediately before I call security. You can collect your things from rece-"

Before Ward could finish his threat, you took out your phone and pressed send on a video file. In an instant, Ward's phone chimed from his desk. He glanced over at it and saw your name on the email.

"The fuck is this?" Ward asked, an eyebrow arched.

"This is me choosing to stoop to your level, Ward." Your words were saturated in disgust.

"Is this a threat?" He gawked at you, completely surprised.

"Open it and find out."

Ward did as you suggested and his face went pale. The video showed him rifling through his desk drawer and pulling out a small tin, before proceeding to empty it of its contents and snort the white powder that came from it.

"I think that camera angle suits you. Does those cheekbones of yours the justice they deserve." You held up your own phone which played the same video.

"You bitch!" Ward snarled.

You took a step back and held up a single finger, "I'd be very careful about what you do next, Ward. One press of a button and I send this video to a very respectful reporter whom I was just in talks with a few hours ago. Then the whole world will know that the respectable and business savvy, Ward Meachum has a coke problem."

He clenched his fists till they went white, "How the fuck did you get your hands on that? Are you spying on me now?"

You laughed, "I have better things to do, Ward. But don't forget, I'm great at making connections. And this is a video from your security cameras in your office. I just know a guy who's good with computers."

"What do you want," Ward's words came out hesitantly.

"My job back for starters. I've worked too hard for someone like you to get in the way of it. Shouldn't be too hard to do, I'm guessing you hadn't consulted anyone about it. We can just keep your email between you, me and your lovely assistant."

Ward folded his arms and took a tentative step forward. He was trying to reassert his position of power, but you didn't budge. "And how do I know you aren't bluffing? I have a PR department available around the clock. We can spin this video however we want."

"Read tomorrows paper," you said snidely. "And once you realise I'm not bluffing. Add a raise while you’re at it." You added before walking out of his office. Adrenaline soaked your muscles and you felt powerful. As the door closed behind you, you heard a crash coming from Ward's office. His assistant looked at you with wide-eyes.

"Might want to hold off Mr Meachum's appointments for the day. Something tells me he won’t be in a very cooperative mood today." You winked at the assistant and rode the elevator to the carpark.

***

As you walked to your car, your phone rang. You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Jesus, I can't catch a break today." When you saw the caller ID you were pleasantly surprised. "Mom?"

"Honey, hey! I was worried I wouldn't get a hold of you, busy schedule of yours and all that," she rambled quickly in that shaky tone that had become her new default in the last couple of years. "I- Uh…"

Your heart began to race with worry, "Is everything okay?" You interjected.

"What? Oh, oh, yes! Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be? I'm calling because there's something important I have to… Umm. Why don't you come home for a bit and I'll explain everything."

"Mom, what is this about?"

"See you soon," she said hurriedly, cutting the line straight after.

"What?" You stood dumbfounded and slightly worried. You made your way to your car at a jogging pace and set off for the family mansion.  

When you arrived, you were surprised to find a car parked by the driveway. You didn't pay it much attention, you were more preoccupied with finding out what that weird phone call was about. You rang the doorbell and the house butler answered the door. He seemed baffled to see you. To be fair, you were surprised you hadn't talked yourself out of driving through that accursed gate brandished with your father’s initials.

"Weathermire." You greeted him professionally.

"Miss Y/N. It's been a long time. I last saw you at the--"

"Gala. My mother called me. Do you know where she is?"

"The kitchen I believe, miss."

"Thank you," you made your way through the grand opulent mansion with familiarity.

"Would you like me to inform your Father-"

"No," you said almost instantly. "It’s better he doesn't know."

When you got to the kitchen, you were greeted by the image of your mother and several cook staff preparing food.

"Oh, Darling. You got here quicker than I expected," your mother said gleefully. She walked over to hug you, wiping her wet hands on her apron. She looked elegant as usual. Weathermire entered the kitchen just then and with a simple glance, she instructed him to go off and do something. He complied with a simple bow.

"Mom, what's all this? When you called, I thought…" You didn't know what to say, you honestly didn't know what to make of her phone call. You shook your head. "Why did you call me here?"

"Oh, well I figured we could have a little family dinner. I have been sat at an empty table for weeks now. Your father always has his meetings, you always have yours. I figured today there would be no excuses for you to be antagonistic towards each other."

You snorted, "Whatever brought that idea on?"

Just as your words escaped your mouth, Weathermire opened the doors to your father's study and your father and his guest stepped into the kitchen. Everyone's expression -except for your mother's- was that of being caught unawares.

"Billy?" You asked in shock. But as soon as you said his name, you regretted it.

"Do you two know each other?" Your father asked with a stiff tone.

You shot Billy a look you hoped mirrored 'Don't tell them about us'.

Billy, like the chameleon he was, flawlessly kept his composure and replied, "Yes, we had the pleasure of meeting at your Gala a few weeks ago." He smiled at your parents dashingly.

"You never told me you knew my daughter," Your father said.

"Your daughter?" Billy pretended to be caught off-guard. Now it was Billy's turn to shoot you a knowing look, "It never came up."

"We only talked for a brief moment. There wasn't any polite way to bring up my parentage to a complete stranger." You said through gritted teeth.

Your fathers eyes squinted in your direction and your mother cleared her throat, "Come now, we can all get to know each other better over some food."

Billy and you simultaneously tried to object but your mother interrupted, "Hush, you're both staying for dinner and that's the end of it."

You put on a painful grin. Something in Billy's expression found this whole exchange humorous.

"You two go set up the table, we'll be right over." You mother ushered them out of the kitchen.

You sighed when it was just you and your mother in the room. "How long have you known?" You asked her, not even bothering to deny you were more than acquainted with Billy.

"Since I saw the two of you leaving the Gala together." She had a smile on that showed she was proud of her meddling. "When he came over to discuss business with your father… well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a reason for the both of you to be civilised and enjoy a meal with your mother while she got to know this very nice man I've heard nothing about, by the way."

"There's nothing to say. We went out for drinks once."

Your mother eyed you for a moment, not believing you for a second.

"Okay, maybe twice. But he's not--"

"I'm not what?" Billy asked.

Chapter Seven!

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#Billy Russo #readerinsert #reader insert #Billy Russo x Reader #The Punisher fic #Marvel Fic #Ward Meachum #A lot of cat and mouse in this chapter #Karen Page #Listen I love Ellison's cameo #scribescribbles #ben barnes #the punisher imagines #billy russo imagines

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Merry Christmas, @jadorehale!

Read on AO3

*****

Here today, gone tomorrow

Stiles wakes up sweaty, dizzy, and with a persistent throbbing behind his eyes. He lifts his head and blinks blearily, and then immediately regrets that decision when last night’s tequila decides to try and make an unwelcome reappearance. It takes a few minutes, and couple of deep, careful breaths, but he eventually manages to swallow back the wave of nausea without throwing up all over himself.

Or whoever he’s sharing a bed with, because there's a warm body spooned up against Stiles’ back, a heavy arm draped over his waist, and a mouth pressed against his shoulder, huffing out quiet, steady little breaths.

It’s not uncomfortable, actually, and since moving too much seems to be a shitty idea anyway, Stiles snuggles back against the guy—and it’s definitely a guy, hello morning wood—ready to doze off again. The guy makes a sleepy noise, tightens his grip, and pulls Stiles back against his chest, nuzzling at the back of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles could get used to waking up like this. Well, minus the hangover, but the rest of it is pretty sweet. He’s getting cuddled, this bed has way less pointy springs than the shitty one in his dorm, the sheets are super soft, and the scent of contented alpha hanging in the air is a nice change from the aura of weed surrounding his roomate at all times.

Now, if only the sun could move a couple of inches to the left, and stop shining right into Stiles’ face, that would be—

“Shit!” Stiles exclaims, eyes flying open.

The world tilts dangerously when he props himself up on his elbow, double vision going full force as he frantically looks around the room in search of a clock. He doesn’t find one, but spots his phone, thankfully not quite dead yet, on the bedside table, grabbing and unlocking it with shaking fingers.

8:17. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

His shift at the library starts at 9:00. If he’s still in the same neighbourhood as the bar he ended up in yesterday, then there’s no way he’ll make it back to campus, and then to work on time. Without a pit stop at the dorm, he might just make it, though.

Standing up is a Herculean task—seriously, fuck tequila—and Stiles has to brace himself with a hand against to wall for a long moment until the room stops spinning. Which puts him in prime position to get a good whiff of himself, and nope, he can’t show up to Saturday Reading Hour like this. So, plan; shower, get the taste of death out of his mouth, find his clothes and hope they’re not a completely lost cause, somehow get to work on time.

Right. Totally doable. Probably.

Once he’s relatively sure walking won’t result in falling over, Stiles moves around the bed towards the bathroom, and then stumbles for reasons entirely unrelated to alcohol. Because holy crap. Holy crap!

The sheets must’ve slid down when Stiles got up, because they’re now pooled just below Stiles’ bedmate’s ass. And what an ass it is; big enough to really grab onto, and looking deliciously firm, with two inviting dimples above it. It connects to an expanse of tan, muscled back, including a tattoo, which ends in a strong neck, and a head of tousled dark hair. With Stiles gone, the guy has shifted onto his front, face turned to the side, giving Stiles a perfect view of a cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, pouty lips, and a pair of thick, almost ridiculous eyebrows.

“Well done, me,” Stiles says, and just barely resists the urge to high five himself.

He lets the guy—Derek, Stiles is about 85% sure the guy’s called Derek—sleep, and tiptoes into the bathroom. It’s a shame he only has vague memories of last night—drinking too much because he was frustrated with his project partners, not very subtly ogling Derek across the bar, letting Derek push him up against the wall next to the bathroom, a cab ride to a hotel that felt like forever, coming hard enough to pass out before Derek had even pulled out—Stiles thinks, a little sadly, as he tries to wash off the clubbing grossness. Derek, as shallow as it sounds, looks like he knows how to show an omega a good time.

It’s 8:36 when Stiles comes back out of the bathroom, minty fresh, wrapped in a fluffy hotel bathrobe, rubbing a towel over his hair, and feeling a little more alive. His clothes are strewn all over the floor, and his underwear has mysteriously vanished, but he finds his pants, jacket, socks, and shoes, at least. There’s an open suitcase on the floor, though, and Stiles only hesitates for a second before he goes to rummage through it, pulling out a pair of briefs and a red henley. They’re both a size or two too big for him, but they’ll do for the morning.

His wallet’s still in his jacket, thankfully, and his phone has just about enough battery left to call an Uber. All in all, his drunken adventure could’ve ended much, much worse.

Derek’s still out cold when Stiles crouches down next to him, but he grunts when Stiles, unable to resist, runs his fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter, and he leans into Stiles’ touch, reaching out blindly until he catches the zipper of Stiles’ jacket. He tugs, then huffs, disgruntled, when Stiles stays where he is.

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles murmurs apologetically, scratching gently at the back of Derek’s head. “Gotta head out. Call me?”

He’d stolen Derek’s phone at one point, Stiles remembers that much, before he’d decided to screw it—both figuratively and literally—and just go back to the hotel with Derek. Stiles has never been patient. Or good at denying himself. It’s a whole thing.

“Mmh,” Derek hums, clearly still only half awake. He does tip his face up, though, and Stiles doesn’t have to be asked twice; he leans in, closing the distance between them, and presses his lips to Derek’s.

And jeez, Derek certainly knows how to kiss. Stiles gets lost in it for a few minutes—in the drag of Derek’s stubble against his cheeks, Derek’s mouth moving softly against his, Derek’s fingers toying with the hem of his stolen shirt—groaning, disappointed, when he finally manages to pull himself away.

“Call me,” he says, again, and straightens up.

He can’t resist dropping one last kiss on Derek’s forehead, before he dodges Derek’s grabby hands, and makes for the door. He’s alone in the elevator down to the lobby, which is probably a good thing, because he’s smiling all goofily, his face red with beard burn when he catches sight of himself in the mirrored walls. There’s a huge, already dark bruise on the side of his neck, and Stiles can’t help but prod at it, shuddering delightedly when the slight pain makes him feel warm all over.

Yeah. Definitely could’ve gone worse.

* * *

Derek doesn't call. It’s—it’s whatever.

Stiles is disappointed, sure, and then angry, because what kind of asshole leaves someone with a temporary claiming bite, only to go on to totally ghost them? Real dick move, that. For a hot second, Stiles thinks about going back to the bar where they met, but Derek’s from out of town, so chances that he’ll be there are pretty slim, and Stiles refuses to be the clichéd, clingy omega who makes an idiot of himself by running after a clearly disinterested alpha.

Fuck Derek. Stiles doesn’t need some hot shot alpha doting on him to feel good about himself, he knows his worth. He’s smart, cute—growing into his ears and lanky limbs had really helped in that department—hard working, and has a group of amazing friends. So, really; fuck Derek.

And, once October rolls around, and school work picks up again, Stiles doesn’t have the time to think about stupid, sexy Derek anymore, anyway. He has study sessions with Scott, Kira, Malia, and Mason at least twice a week, works at the library with Hayden on Saturdays, and spends most Sundays tutoring—read: trying to not kill out of frustration—Liam and Corey.

In between all of that, he somehow needs to find the time to eat, sleep, Skype with Lydia, and call his dad every now and again, which is more than enough to keep him busy and distracted. Not that he needs to be distracted, because he’s absolutely not still hung up on Derek, not even a little bit, nope. Zero pining is happening, here, no matter what Scott keeps saying.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Corey asks, one Sunday morning in November, watching Stiles across the table instead of focusing on his reading. “You’re kind of pale.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, then pointedly looks at the open book in front of him. “Done with the chapter?”

“We can totally reschedule,” Liam pipes up hopefully, then lets out a huffed oomph when Corey not so subtly elbows him in the side. “If you’re sick, I mean. Maybe you should go back to bed?”

“You can sleep off your hangover after we’re done with your essay,” Stiles says, making Liam groan dramatically, and slump down further in his chair. Corey does look genuinely concerned, though, so Stiles shoots him a reassuring smile as he nudges the book closer to him. “I’m fine. Stressed, but what else is new? The glamorous life of a college student.”

There are a few minutes of blessed silence, during which Stiles resolutely ignores the worried looks Corey’s shooting him. Then, suddenly, Corey blurts, “You’ve gained weight.”

Stiles slowly lowers his pen. “Excuse you?”

Corey shifts uncomfortably, not quite meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Well, I mean. You have? And you’re always tired, and now you’re looking sick, and—”

“Did you get knocked up?” Liam cuts in, shrugging and demanding, “What?” when Corey groans, and facepalms.

“We were just wondering,” Corey continues, sheepish but determined. “You have to admit, it kind of fits.”

“What the—no!” Stiles snaps, and then, when Corey and Liam share a disbelieving look, he adds, glaring, “I’m not pregnant. And I liked you both better when you didn’t like each other.”

Liam grins, and throws an arm around Corey, who rolls his eyes, but goes with it. “You love us.”

Stiles scowls at them. “Go back to work.”

They do, researching quietly, but Stiles can’t concentrate on his own project anymore. He’s reeling, heart pounding way too fast, because what if? It’s possible, technically, even if unlikely. Stiles’ sex life hasn’t exactly been flourishing the last couple of weeks, and he is on birth control. Which isn’t always 100% effective in omegas, but he always uses condoms, to be extra safe. He doesn’t remember using a condom with Derek, but he also doesn’t remember not using one, and he always does, which means he probably did.

Right?

Right.

He’s just stressed, maybe in the beginning stages of a cold. That certainly explains the headaches and exhaustion. And so what if he’s gained a pound or two? It’s Scott’s fault, for buying all those tubs of completely unnecessary Getting Over Derek ice cream. Everyone knows Stiles is a sucker for Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie goodness.

Pregnant, pfft. Ridiculous.

Scott doesn’t think it’s ridiculous, when Stiles mentions it over dinner later. Instead of laughing it off with Stiles, he looks thoughtful. “You have been taking a lot of naps lately.”

Stiles stares at him, incredulous. “Scott. Scotty. My man. You can’t be serious right now?”

“And, no offence, but they’re kind of right about your weight—”

“It’s called the freshman fifteen, oh my god!”

“You’re a sophomore, Stiles,” Scott points out, ducking the couch cushion Stiles throws at him. “Also, you’ve been puking on and off over the last couple of weeks, and—”

“You’re the one who made me eat that questionable burrito!” Stiles screeches, a little shrilly. This definitely isn’t going the way he expected it to. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He immediately feels guilty when Scott looks hurt at that, muttering a quiet, “Sorry.”

“I’m always on your side, you know that,” Scott says, scooting closer. Stiles puts up a token protest when Scott grabs him, flailing a little, before letting Scott pull him in to hug him into submission. “You’re my brother, and I love you. But you’re also the most stubborn person I know. I’m just trying to help, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs, and turns his face into Scott’s neck, breathing in deeply. Scott’s alpha scent is familiar, soothing, and Stiles allows himself to be calmed by it, knowing Scott would never use any of this against him. He’s not that kind of alpha. And he knows Stiles could totally kick his ass.

“The student health center does free blood tests,” Scott says, after a couple of minutes, resting his chin on top of Stiles’ head. “They were super nice and helpful when Kira and I had our scare last semester.“

Stiles doesn’t say anything, but he does lean into Scott some more.

* * *

“Hey, dad.”

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear to glare at it. Having a cop for a dad is just unfair sometimes. “So, uh,” he says, because lying’s useless once his dad is in Full Sheriff Mode. Capital letters and all. “There’s something I should probably tell you.”

He glances down at the sheet of paper on his lap, chewing the inside of his cheek, not sure where or how to begin. It had taken him another week after his conversation with Scott to muster up the courage to go to the student health center, and then several more days after getting the results to psych himself up enough to call his dad.

It’s not that he thinks his dad will be angry, or unsupportive, but there’s really no good way for a child to tell a parent, “I had a drunk one-night stand with a stranger I met at a bar, got knocked up, can’t find the other dad, and have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.”

“Stiles,” his dad says, gentle but firm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I had a drunk one-night stand with a stranger I met at a bar,” Stiles blurts, and once he’s started, he can’t seem to stop, much to his horror. “I got knocked up, and I can’t find the other dad, and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.”

He doesn’t realise he’s breathing too quickly, close to hyperventilating, until his dad instructs, “Slowly, Stiles, in and out. Come on, in and out, Stiles. Like me, okay?”

Stiles nods, even though his dad can’t see, and tries to match his breathing to his dad’s intentionally, exaggeratedly loud one. It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually Stiles manages to croak out, “Thanks.”

His dad doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Oh, kiddo.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, hot with shame. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, now,” his dad cuts in, “I’m not angry, Stiles—”

“Just disappointed?” Stiles finishes, with a self-deprecating little laugh, and rubs a hand over his itching eyes.

“No,” his dad says, taking Stiles aback with the vehemence behind that one word. “Stiles, no. Hell, kid, I’m not gonna lie and tell you this is what I wanted for you, because we both know it’s not. It was a dumb and dangerous thing to do, and whatever you decide to do now, things’ll change and won’t be easy, but it happened. It is what it is. And we’ll figure it out, together. Okay?”

Stiles has to swallow the lump in his throat before he can speak again, but even then, all that comes out is a sniffled, “Dad.”

His dad is smiling, Stiles can tell, when he says, “I love you, too, kid. Now, tell me the plan. You been to see a doctor already?”

Stiles flops down sideways on his bed, and makes himself comfortable, relaxing slowly but surely now that the worst of it is over and done with. “Not yet. Christmas break is in two weeks, I thought I’d go see Doctor Yukimura when I get back home? She’s known me forever, and she can probably refer me? If I’m staying, I mean. I—” he hesitates, frowning down at his carpet. “I should, right? Stay home, I mean? My scholarship should be transferable, so I could take a semester off, maybe even a year. And it’s not like I can keep a baby in my dorm, so Beacon Hills Community College makes the most sense. I could live at home, be close by, and—”

“That’s not what you want,” his dad interrupts softly. And, normally, Stiles would bristle at being told what he does and doesn’t want, but his dad is right, and they both know it, so he clicks his mouth shut. He does scowl a little, though. “Columbia has been your dream since you were ten years old, Stiles.”

“Well,” Stiles grumbles bitterly, “a baby wasn’t exactly part of that dream.”

“Dreams are adjustable. You’re not the first person to have a kid while you’re still in school, and you sure as hell won’t be the last. No one’s saying it’ll be a cakewalk, but since when are you the kind of person to give up without even trying, who’s afraid because things might get difficult?”

“It’s not—” Stiles huffs, frustrated. “What if I can’t do it, though? What if I fuck it up?”

“Don’t think that I won’t call you out on your language anymore just because you’re about to be a parent yourself,” his dad teases, making Stiles bark out a startled laugh. More seriously, he adds, “And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I know you, kid, and you’ll regret not having given it a go more than potentially failing.”

Which is true, but his dad sounds a little too smug about it for Stiles’ taste. “Yeah, yeah, old man. Hey, no,” he says, tisking, when his dad makes an outraged sound at that, “you can’t complain about that anymore. You’re going to be a grandpa soon.”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by a drawn-out groan.

Stiles grins into his pillow. “Didn’t think about that, did you?”

“Menace,” his dad says, much too fond for Stiles to take him seriously.

* * *

Stiles is torn between embarrassment, and a fierce, previously unknown sort of pride as he watches his dad practically shove the ultrasound pictures at Mrs Owens from down the street, beaming wide enough to look completely deranged. Mrs Owens—mother of six, grandmother of thirteen, great-grandmother of ten—takes his enthusiasm in stride, cooing appreciatively, and nodding along to whatever Stiles’ dad is saying.

Another shopper coughs pointedly at them—which, fair enough, they’re totally blocking the dairy aisle—which only makes Stiles’ dad thrust the picture under his nose, still smiling brightly. The guy’s eyes widen, but he obediently takes a look at Stiles’ offspring. Stiles’ dad wearing a holster with his service weapon in it probably plays a pretty big part in that.

“That’s going to take a while,” Stiles murmurs to himself, absently petting the slight swell of his stomach.

He turns the shopping cart around, heading for the meat counter. He’d been terrified, initially, of people’s reactions to the pregnancy news, even if he’s a little ashamed to admit it now, because everyone’s been great about it so far. Scott, being the big softie that he is, had cried, which, as usual, had set Kira off as well. Mason had immediately offered to babysit, Malia’d bought him a giant box of earplugs, and even Liam and Corey have been less whiny during their tutoring sessions lately. Sure, Lydia’d yelled at him over the phone, but more out of concern than anger, and only until Allison had snatched the phone away from her to squeal at Stiles. Even Danny and Jackson, after the news had gotten around, had sent congratulatory texts. A slightly insulting one, in Jackson’s case, but congratulatory nonetheless.

And Stiles isn’t naive enough to think that there aren’t people gossiping about the 19-year-old, unwed, pregnant omega behind his back, but with the Sheriff being so obviously overjoyed with the whole thing, no one’s been brave enough to say anything to Stiles’ face, at least. It’s a small victory, but Stiles will take it.

Especially considering that their search for Derek has yielded zero results so far. Stiles hadn’t expected it to, since they really didn’t have anything to go on, but he’s still disappointed. There’s no guarantee Derek would care even if he knew—hitting and quitting isn’t exactly a point in his favour—but Stiles has decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not because Derek deserves it, but because every kid should at least get the chance to meet their parents, no matter what happens after.

They’ve exhausted all their possibilities, though, from Danny’s hacking magic to Lydia bringing her social media connections to bear, and there’s been nothing. Well, apart from that freak incident when Stiles had thought he’d caught Derek’s scent near their bar, only to follow it to the Starbucks across the street, and find a curly-haired guy with a scarf fetish, and a bitchy attitude.

He’s not quite ready to give up yet, but Stiles isn’t actively holding out hope anymore, either.

Which makes it all the more surreal when Derek himself rounds a row of shelves, basket in one hand, and his other arm casually slung around none other than scarf guy’s shoulders.

Stiles freezes at the sight, instincts going absolutely haywire. Part of him wants to rush to Derek’s side, is almost excited to see him, while another wants nothing more than to turn tail and flee. He wants to hide, to never face Derek again, and he wants to confront Derek, to yell at him, to bare his teeth at scarf guy, to bury himself in a hole and never come out again, to—

“Stiles?” his dad asks, suddenly, from behind him, making Stiles jump, and only just bite back a shriek. “What’s going on? Are—”

“Shh!” Stiles hisses frantically, mind apparently made up.

He pushes at his dad, urging him back around another row of shelves, out of sight. His dad’s eyebrows are up nearly to his hairline when Stiles turns to him, hands braced on his hips, and foot tapping against the floor impatiently. “This is strange even for you, kiddo.”

Stiles shoots him a bitchy look, then inches forward again to peer at Derek. He’s standing in line at the register now, head bent towards scarf guy, talking quietly while they wait. Stiles automatically narrows his eyes at scarf guy before he realises what he’s doing, and quickly slips behind his shelf again.

“As fun as this is, I don’t actually want to—”

“Derek’s here,” Stiles whispers furtively, risking another quick glance. He huffs when his dad nearly crushes him as he leans over him, trying to get a look of his own. “The one with the leather jacket. Who wears a leather jacket in December? And how dare he look so—so hot doing it, and those jeans are definitely a size too—”

“Yes, thank you, Stiles,” his dad interrupts, grimacing a little. “Who’s the curly one? They look cosy.”

Stiles scowls, because, yes. Yes, they do.

Then he meeps, and flails back, because Derek is turning around, shit, shit! His dad catches him under the arms, more than used to Stiles’ clumsiness by now. He’s frowning, though, lips pursed, and that’s never a good sign.

“What?” Stiles demands, righting himself with as much dignity as he can muster. He waves jauntily at old Mr Henderson, who’s definitely seen the whole thing. “What’s with the face?”

The face in questions hardens. “That’s your Derek?”

“Not my Derek,” Stiles says, feeling himself flush. “But, I mean, yeah. That Derek. Why?”

His dad doesn’t answer. Instead, he straightens up to his full height, tugs at his jacket to make sure his badge is visible, and goes to step around Stiles.

“Oh, no! No, no, no!” Stiles says, grabbing two handfuls of his dad’s jacket to hold him back. “Dad, no.”

His dad lets himself be tugged back, but it’s only done reluctantly. “I could find a reason to arrest him.”

“Yes,” Stiles drawls, and rolls his eyes heavenward. “Because that’s totally how we should broach this unexpected fatherhood topic. Throw him in the back of the cruiser, take him down to the station, and oh, by the way, you knocked up a teenager, you’re going to be a dad, surprise!”

“Fine. But talking to him—”

“No, dad, I don’t—”

“Stiles—”

“I’m not ready!” Stiles says, too loud. Mr Henderson is still staring, and this time, both Stiles and his dad wave at him, before looking back at each other. “Dad, please. This is—it’s out of nowhere, okay? What would I even say? How would I even say it? I can’t—I can’t do it, dad. Not yet. Please.”

His dad’s expression softens at that. He clasps Stiles’ shoulder, then sighs, and pulls him into a proper hug. “Aw, hell, kid,” he says, squeezing Stiles carefully, mindful of Stiles’ stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Stiles mumbles into his shoulder, hugging back tightly.

After a moment, his dad asks, “What about stopping him if I see him driving around town?”

Stiles swats at him, and his dad laughs, kissing the top of Stiles’ head despite Stiles’ protests. “God, dad, come on.”

“Good afternoon, Mr Henderson,” his dad says innocently when he finally lets go of Stiles. “Nice weather today, isn’t it?”

And he wonders where Stiles gets it from.

* * *

The shirt hits Stiles in the face, nearly knocking the ice cream out of his hands. He shakes it off, clutching his bowl against his chest protectively, and glares at his dad.

His dad is not impressed. “Up and at ‘em,” he orders, leaning over the back of the couch to take away Stiles’ bowl. “Go get dressed, we’re leaving in half an hour.”

Stiles pouts up at him, and doesn’t move. “I’m perfectly comfortable right where I am, thank you very much.”

“Tough luck, kiddo,” his dad says as he moves to, presumably, dump the bowl in the sink. “Mayor Hale’s holiday party is tonight. And, as the Sheriff, I have to make an appearance.”

“Have fun,” Stiles says sweetly, intentionally missing the point.

A moment later, his dad is back, and yanks the comforter away from Stiles. “I will, because my son is going to come along to spend some quality time with his loving, understanding, very patient father.”

Stiles whines, and makes grabby hands for it, but his dad just throws it on the armchair all the way across the room. “Rude.”

“It’ll be good for you,” his dad insists, “to get out of the house for a couple of hours, talk to some people, wear actual clothes.”

He says it jokingly, but Stiles can tell there’s real worry underneath. It’s been four days since the Derek sighting, and Stiles has pretty much moved onto the couch, wearing his baggiest clothes—the stolen henley happens to be super soft, the fact that it used to be Derek’s has nothing to do with anything—and stuffing himself with junk food, wrapped burrito style in his dad’s comforter for some reassuring family scent.

“Fine,” Stiles groans, grabbing the shirt. “But no eggnog for you. That stuff’s basically just sugar and fat. Also, it’s gross.”

Which is how Stiles finds himself standing opposite Mayor Hale in the Hale mansion foyer forty-five minutes later, feeling self-conscious about the way his shirt—bought for his high school graduation over two years ago—stretches tautly across his stomach. If he pops a button, he’s going to make his dad eat tofu turkey for Christmas.

“Mayor,” his dad greets.

Mayor Hale shoots him a mock annoyed look. “How many times, John?”

“Talia,” his dad corrects with a laugh, returning the kisses Mayor Hale brushes against his cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You remember my son?”

“Mieczyslaw,” Mayor Hale says, nodding. She clucks at the hand he offers, hugging him gently instead. “Little Mischief.”

Her gaze gets stuck on Stiles’ bump when they pull apart, making Stiles blush, and shrug sheepishly. “Not so little anymore.”

“Congratulations, Mieczyslaw,” Mayor Hale says sincerely, before ushering them both along. “John, we’ll have to catch up later. Make yourselves at home, grab something to drink. Patrick and the kids are around somewhere, if you need anything.”

“Props to her for remembering my monstrosity of a name,” Stiles whispers as they make their way into the dining room, grinning up at his dad. “And not mangling it beyond recognition.”

His dad immediately zeroes in on the finger foods, of course, and Stiles trails him to the buffet tables to fill a plate of his own. Stiles gets a few more congratulations, and his dad gets drawn into handshakes and hugs all around, which gives Stiles ample opportunity to sneak some veggies onto his plate.

“Celery isn’t a Christmas food, Stiles,” his dad complains once he notices, but dutifully takes a bite anyway, only rolling his eyes a little bit.

They both turn when someone asks, “Stiles?”

The man sounds amused, almost gleeful, looking Stiles up and down critically, straying to his stomach before settling on his face. It makes Stiles’ hackles raise, even though the man’s another omega, and he moves his hands over his stomach instinctively. “Yes? And you are?”

“Hmm,” the man says, instead of answering. He’s smirking, holding up a finger as he scans the room before calling out, “Nephew dearest, a moment, if you may?”

Only then does he deign to introduce himself. “Peter Hale. And you, my boy, are exactly the entertainment I was hoping for tonight.”

Stiles gapes, and behind him, his dad’s scent is souring, but before either of them can say anything, Derek walks up to Peter, looking about as confused and shocked as Stiles feels.

“Derek,” Peter says, eyes flickering excitedly between Stiles and Derek, “I believe you know Stiles? Our beloved Sheriff’s very obviously pregnant son?”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Stiles tells him, then rounds on his dad when he makes a reprimanding noise. “Don’t even. Hale. Nephew. You knew, didn’t you? You’ve been working with Mayor Hale for over a decade, you must have recognised Derek at the store. And you dragged me here on purpose, didn’t you?”

His dad does look guilty, but he also stands his ground. “I will drive you home right now if you want me to. But you need to talk to him sooner or later, Stiles. Probably sooner.”

“How about right now?” Peter suggests, because he is, apparently, a total shit-stirrer.

“Peter,” Derek growls warningly, and Stiles knees absolutely do not go weak at the sound, nu-uh.

His dad is still watching Stiles, smiling when Stiles gives him a minute nod. “You know,” he says to Peter, dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder, “I think I remember arresting you for public indecency a couple of years ago. Right around the time Mr Argent got divorced.”

Peter doesn’t look happy as Stiles’ dad leads him away, but he has the good sense not to complain. Stiles watches them go, worrying his bottom lip. He feels a little betrayed that his dad didn’t just tell him, but he also knows himself well enough to know that he would’ve delayed talking to Derek for as long as possible without his dad pushing him. Not that he knows what to say to Derek, now that they’re here.

So it’s Derek who breaks the tense silence with a tentative, “Stiles?”

And, suddenly, Stiles is furious. Because how dare he? How fucking dare he sound like—like he gives a shit, after vanishing for months? After ditching Stiles? After being a huge freaking dick?

“You,” Stiles snaps, whirling around, and poking a finger into Derek’s chest. “You never fucking called!”

Several heads turn in their direction, but Stiles is beyond caring. He opens his mouth to really tear into Derek, but forgets what he was about to say when Derek takes his hand. “Not here,” Derek says, tugging at their linked hands. “Come on.”

Stiles digs his heels in for a moment, to show Derek that he could resist, before following Derek out into the hall, then up the stairs. Derek guides him into an office, and barely has the door closed before Stiles says, accusing, “So, you don’t just claim and ditch, you’re also embarrassed to be seen with me.”

Derek’s voice is almost jarringly soft, especially compared to Stiles’, when he says, “That’s not true.”

“Oh?” Stiles rips his hand away, crosses his arms over his chest, and glowers at Derek.

“I wanted to call, but—”

“This better be good, buddy.”

“But,” Derek says, ignoring Stiles’ interruption as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He thumbs at the screen for a few seconds, then turns it around, holding it out to Stiles. “But this.”

There’s Stiles name, followed by three eggplant emojis. Underneath it is Stiles’ number. Or, rather, the first four digits of it. The rest is missing.

“I would have called,” Derek says, moving closer. “I would have, Stiles, I swear. I looked for you, everywhere, but I couldn’t find you. I want you, I never meant to—hey, no, please don’t. I’m sorry.”

Stiles hasn’t cried over this entire fucked up situation once in all the weeks since waking up next to Derek, but right now, he can’t hold the tears back. He lets Derek cup his face between his hands, lets him wipe at his cheeks, and closes his eyes, breathing him in. He’s ashamed, for causing all of this in the first place, and still jittery, but also happy, and relieved, and he goes eagerly when Derek wraps his arms around him, tucking himself as closely against Derek as humanly possible.

Derek’s breath hitches tellingly when Stiles brushes his nose along his neck, arms tightening automatically. He presses his open mouth against Stiles’ temple to scent him, swaying them both gently, one hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, the other stroking up and down Stiles’ spine.

They’re both mumbling apologies, and desperately clutching at each other; it’s a total mess, but Stiles wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

“Your henley stopped smelling like you,” is the first coherent thing Stiles manages to get out, minutes later.

It makes Derek chuckle wetly. “You can have all the sweaty, smelly shirts you want from now on.”

Stiles smiles against his neck, giddy. “Jackpot.”

One of Derek’s hands moves to Stiles’ waist, where he hesitates for a moment, before settling it on the side of Stiles’ bump. “You’re—is it—”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, taking pity on him. “They’re yours.”

Derek pulls back, shining eyes wide. “They?”

“It’s twins. Surprise?” Stiles offers, making jazz hands.

“Twins,” Derek says, faint, and plops down on the desk behind him. “I’m going to be a dad. To twins.”

Stiles pats his chest consolingly, stepping between his legs. “It takes some getting used to, trust me.”

“This is—it’s a lot,” Derek agrees, rubbing a hand over his face. When he meets Stiles’ eyes again, he looks stubbornly determined, though, promising, “I’ll be there. For you and the babies. I want to be, if you want me to be.”

Which is great news, of course, but Stiles needs to know, “What about your—the cherub guy?”

“Cherub guy?” Derek mouths to himself, and damn him, even bewildered is a good look on him. “Do you mean Isaac?”

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably, and frowns down at Derek’s knees. “Maybe? I don’t know. But I saw him in a café back in New York, and he smelled like you. And you seemed, uh, pretty friendly, at the store a couple of days ago. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I guess, because, I mean, we’re not—”

“Isaac’s my intern, and my friend,” Derek says, settling his hands on Stiles’ hips. His thumbs press in carefully, and there’s nothing in his scent to indicate that he’s lying. “We work together, that’s all. He comes to New York with me every other week because he’s thinking about transferring to NYU. I’m an architect, and he’s doing his BA in real estate. NYU offers better options than BH Community College.”

“I don’t want to transfer,” Stiles blurts, then winces at his own abruptness. “I’m at Columbia. And I really love it. And you live in California.”

“We have offices here and in Manhattan. If you want to stay in New York, I’ll put in a transfer, spend more of my time over there,” Derek says, all casual, as if he isn’t offering to move across the country. Just like that. Stiles has no idea what his face is doing, but whatever it is, it makes Derek smile, and lean in to brush a kiss over Stiles’ cheek, murmuring, “I told you, I want you. All three of you.”

Stiles groans, and thuds his head against Derek’s shoulder. “Stop being so—so perfect, ugh.”

“Sometimes I grind my teeth in my sleep?” Derek says, amused, nosing behind Stiles ear, then lower at Stiles’ neck where he left the claiming bite, which really is unfairly distracting.

“Well, apparently I fail at remembering my own phone number when I’m drunk, so I’d say we’re about even.” Stiles pulls back a little, but only enough to properly look at Derek. It’s probably for the best anyway; the Mayor’s son and the Sheriff’s kid getting caught canoodling at an official event would definitely make the front page of the BH Gazette. “Which totally is the worst of my bad habits, I’m an absolute delight otherwise, you’ll see.”

“Over dinner?” Derek asks, sly and shy all at once. “The diner’s open all night. My treat.”

“Well,” Stiles stalls, pretending to consider. “Will there be curly fries?”

“You know what,” Derek says, going for serious, his mouth only twitching a little, “I’ll even throw in a milkshake for dipping.”

Stiles beams at him. “It’s a date.”

#jadorehale #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17