#house will say something in a way that is honest to god giving dark romance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

farfromharry · 3 years

Text

Who would’ve thought | Frat!Tom

Summary: Who would’ve thought that the frat boy with the concerning reputation would actually be a big softie with a thing for romance? All it took was the right girl.

Word count - 3,705

Warnings - drinking, mentions of throwing up, language

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Tom Holland, the ultimate frat boy of the campus.

You first heard about him through people in your classes, the classes you were meant to share with him if he were to ever show up. He was considered cocky, a little bit of a whore, and didn’t have a care for anyone who he wasn’t A, trying to sleep with or B, wasn’t a part of his frat.

You didn’t expect good things at all when meeting him for the first time, so that dreaded day when you got your new seating arrangements for the rest of the term and you just so happened to be sitting next to the frat boy himself, was unfortunately also the first day he showed up to your criminology class.

He showed up in a rather casual outfit, nothing too out of the ordinary. A dark blue hoodie with a matching cap sitting backwards on his head. When he turned his head to the side you could see the accent of small brunette curls sticking out of the back of his hat, accentuated by his sharp jawline.

He took one look at the seating chart and you saw, even from your spot near the back, the way his eyebrows drew together in confusion. He had no idea who you are.

You left him to work it out on his own, not wanting to be that girl who made a fool of herself in front of the infamous frat boy.

It didn’t take long until you felt his presence beside you, forcing yourself not to look. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him and missing the way you cursed yourself for giving in so easily.

“Are you Y/N?” You nodded your head and you could almost see the breath of relief he let out.

Tom took a seat next to you with a small smile. You assumed he was just trying to get on your good side to ask you for answers or borrow your notes, something he’d need for missing so much of the class work. “I’m Tom,” he said, deep voice unwillingly making your stomach fill with butterflies.

He held out his hand for you to shake, a crooked smile on his lips as he waited for you to respond. “Y/N.” The second your hand touched his, the boy was convinced he had to get to know you better, something about your shy persona intriguing him. “But, you already knew that,” you laughed nervously.

He thought your nerves were cute, the corners of his eyes creasing from how hard he was smiling. He slid into the seat next to you, the boy mentally debating how he was going to go about this. Tom wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t think you were gorgeous because he was definitely slightly taken aback by you when you first looked at him with those doe eyes, so he didn’t want to ruin things before they’d even started.

“So, you probably know I haven’t been to a single one of these classes,” he said. You laughed, nodding your head. He felt his own lips twitching into a smile when he heard the angelic sound. “Are they really as bad as everyone says?”

You hummed as you thought about it, taking a few seconds. In that time Tom was fully taking advantage, his eyes raking over your face admirably, taking a mental note of all your different features. You tried not to let your nerves get to you when you noticed. “They’re definitely as bad as people say.”

He groaned, catching the eyes of a few different people around you both that made you sink into your seat awkwardly. He laughed it off, finding it amusing how easy it was to get you all flustered, deciding he would be using that with his flirting tactics from then on.

“Let’s hope you make them better then,” he mumbled, biting his lip to contain the smirk threatening to overtake his face. You didn’t respond but he could see from his peripheral vision that you shifted nervously in your seat.

Tom wasn’t sure if he was also getting flustered while talking to you or if he was subconsciously thinking showing off his physique would somehow catch your interest like it had done countless times before with the other girls on campus. But either way, he pulled the cap off of his head, lazily running his fingers through his curls for a second.

You glanced over when you saw his hands go to the hem of his hoodie, watching with the tip of your pen between your teeth as he began to peel the material off of his body.

You almost choked when you saw the grey, cotton shirt slip up and expose the bottom of his abdomen, hard muscles and a sliver of his underwear peeking through.

He placed the hoodie on the back off his chair once it was completely off, exposing the tight, plain grey shirt that clung to every ridge and muscle.

He heard your shaky inhale and couldn’t stop the smirk that crept onto his face, shooting you a single glance before he turned his head back to the front of the class.

You’d expected Tom to be a lot more distracting, seeing as he was quick to start up conversation with you earlier, but to your surprise he actually seemed to be paying attention.

This class flew by much quicker than the all the other ones, and you weren’t sure whether that was due to your thoughts being cloudy by the pretty boy next to you.

“Do you maybe want to come to a party next week?” he asked. You were taken off guard, your eyebrows raising as you packed away your stuff.

“I, um-“ He could see your internal conflict, interrupting before you had the chance to reject his offer.

“You don’t have to, of course, but if you do-“ He tore the corner off of a sheet of paper in his notebook, scribbling down the address of the frat house that you were sure you’d be able to find without his help. “Here’s the address, and there’s my number.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he handed you the scrap of paper, your fingertips brushing and creating another wave of butterflies for you.

“Uh, thank you. I’ll be sure to consider it.” You didn’t want to give him a final answer right now because you weren’t much of a party girl. You’d much rather stay in but as soon as your roommate got word she’d definitely be making it her mission to get you to that party.

“I look forward to maybe seeing you there.” He gave you a fake salute and turned to walk away, one hand holding the strap of his bag and the other carrying his discarded hoodie. When he reached the door of the classroom he gave you one last look over his shoulder, throwing you a wink before he was gone.

»»——⍟——««

The week had passed and you still hadn’t used Tom’s number at all, and he didn’t have yours to text you first, so he just has to wait. The man had no idea if you really were coming or not. It was unusual for him but he was nervous and his friends were starting to notice. Harrison had seen how Tom took a little extra time to get ready for tonight, pointing it out to Tom’s younger brother who brushed it off as him trying to pull another girl, and he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Who are you waiting for, mate?” the blonde asked, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. Tom sighed, checking the watch on his wrist one more time, assuming that you weren’t showing up.

“A girl from my criminology class, but doesn’t look like she’s gonna show.” The younger of the two just shrugged his shoulder, encouraging his friend to finish his drink and go get another one with him. “Just enjoy your night mate, with or without her,” he said, lightly punching his shoulder in a friendly way before disappearing into the crowd. Tom nodded even as he walked away, quietly mumbling to himself, with or without her.

That mindset was gone as soon as he saw you. His entire face practically lit up as he spotted you coming through the front door of the house, politely pushing your way through a group of people who were blocking the entrance.

He was by your side in seconds, people moving out of his way as if he was a God, and you had to admit you were a little grateful because it definitely made it easier to move.

“You came,” he cheered, boldly linking his fingers with yours and dragging you straight to the kitchen. He could tell just from the way your hand subconsciously tightened around his every time someone so much as cast their eyes your way that you were nervous, if you were being honest you didn’t really want to be here.

“Yeah, um, my roommate,” you poorly explained, pursing your lips together. He nodded in understanding, giving you a quick run down on the drinks the frat house had on offer.

He was only slightly surprised when you turned them all down, shyly asking if you could have water instead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, your eyes roaming around the kitchen. This was one of the more less crowded areas of the house, and even then you could barely breathe from the wave of people filtering in and out every few minutes to get more drinks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t enjoying the party. Even with his efforts of getting you to loosen up, Tom could still see the traces of a frown on your lips and your stiff posture. He took a step closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your lower back, your eyes flickering to him to see what he was up to. He leaned down to your ear so you could hear him better, more or less having to shout for you to hear his words over the booming music.

“D’you want to get out of here?” he asked, gulping down the remainder of his beverage from the solo cup. Your eyes widened at the suggestive comment and you would’ve been disgusted if he hadn’t jumped in so quickly after the words left his mouth to correct his meaning. “Not like that, no, I meant um-“

This was the first time you’d seen him nervous, and you found it quite adorable the way his cheeks turned a light shade of pink; although that could’ve easily just been from the alcohol or the heat of the room.

“I meant, you don’t look like you’re having fun, and as my guest it’s my job to make sure you are.” His words didn’t sound any better in your head, but he clearly thought they did in his drunk one.

“What are you saying, Tom?”

“Do you want to go on a walk with me or something?” You smiled softly, thinking over your options quickly. Either stay in this dreadful party with the couples making out and drunk idiots running about the place, or go get some fresh air with a very cute and surprisingly polite frat boy.

It was safe to say your mind was quickly made up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He linked your fingers together so it’d be easier to lead you through the crowd, throwing out his cup on the way.

Stepping outside the front door of the house you were hit with a wave of very cooling fresh air. You felt your body heat immediately cool down, a nice and very different sensation from the heat inside the party.

You still didn’t seem to be away from drunken idiots, Tom letting out a groan when he noticed some kids throwing up on the grass outside the house. Your face screamed disgust but you couldn’t help but laugh at him anyway.

He led you away from the house, muttering something about how he was going to leave that to someone else to clean up.

You didn’t even realise that you were still holding hands until Tom subconsciously squeezed yours when he felt you shiver from the sudden breeze.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling your hand away and shooting him a tight lipped smile. You could see him frown slightly and with a small accepting nod he slipped his hand back in his pocket.

“So, why did you suddenly decide to show up to class?” you asked, a little out of the blue as you strolled side by side down the path in the empty park. Tom didn’t really have a good answer, it was either show up or completely fail the class and he wasn’t prepared to get yelled at by his mother for failing yet another class; but that didn’t sound like a cool thing to tell the girl he was trying to impress.

“Maybe I heard there was a really pretty girl in there who could use my attention,” he flirted, bumping his shoulder against yours. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath for him to stop being so cheesy.

You didn’t understand why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you. It’d only been a week since you’d met but even in such a short time Tom had found himself infatuated with you, but not in a creepy way.

“Why did you invite me, Tom?” The question had been lingering in the front of your mind for days, and unfortunately you just had to ask now.

You both came to a stop, turning to face each other as you peered at him curiously. You saw Tom’s cheeks flush, the close proximity of your faces allowing you to see every small detail of the way his blush overtook his cheeks and nose.

“Just full of questions aren’t you?” he nervously laughed. The question was rhetorical of course, buying him time to come up with an answer. He took a deep breath, pursing his lips together awkwardly. “I like you. I know we only met last week but I-“

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, needing time to comprehend what he’d just said to you. “There’s something about you Y/N, and I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your silence didn’t seem like good news to Tom. He let himself get ahead of the situation completely, his heart sank into his stomach and he was bracing himself for your rejection.

“Tom, is this some kind of joke?” you asked, convinced this couldn’t have been real. The big frat boy with the bad reputation wanting to go out with you?

“No, no of course not. Y/N, just give me a chance,” he begged, taking your hands in his gently. His thumbs stroked circles over the skin on the back of each of your hands, his eyes watching you full of hope.

“Come on, one date. If you hate it you don’t even have to talk to me ever again,” he offered. You cocked your head, your eyebrows drawing together in a way Tom thought was cute.

“Really?”

He tried to backtrack. “Well, no. That’d suck for me if you did. But you get the point.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at the pair of soft brown eyes that were waiting for hopefully a good answer.

“Fine. One date can’t hurt.” He cheered silently, leaning down to place a cheeky kiss on your cheek that left you stuttering nervously.

“You won’t regret it.”

»»——⍟——««

It was many weeks before you actually gave into Tom for a second date. At first it was just dates, which from what you’d heard were out of the ordinary for him in general, but then somehow it progressed into a beautifully blossoming relationship, if you do say so yourself.

You were scared at first that he was going to fall back into that fuckboy role, or like in the movies he was going to be embarrassed about being seen with you, but it was the complete opposite.

He couldn’t tell enough people that you were dating. When dragging you along to parties it was always, have you met my girlfriend Y/N?, or an arm thrown around your shoulder with lots of kisses placed all over your face and neck to let people know you were taken.

Cute little picnic dates became surprisingly very common when you and Tom finally made things official. All your friends told you that they’d never known Tom to be this involved with a girl, because he didn’t normally waste his time taking his pursuits on dates.

The first time showed up at your door with a picnic basket and flowers in hand you were honestly shocked. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere because of the nice weather but it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, watching you set the flowers down on your counter. You turned around with a playful eye roll at the way he was rushing you.

“Go where?” you giggled, slipping your hand in his outstretched one. He placed his lips on yours softly, drawing an unintentional grin from you. “‘m taking you on a picnic, want to enjoy the weather with my girl.”

From that day on it was almost a weekly thing, but it was also the thing that let you know Tom was serious about your relationship and wasn’t just planning on breaking your heart.

You and Tom had been in a comfortable silence for a while now. He believed you were reading the book you brought with you, so he didn’t want to interrupt. He chose instead to just look around at your surroundings, watching other people laugh and have fun in the field that sat in front of the university.

Little did he know you’d actually been admiring him for the last ten or so minutes. You stared at the way his jaw clenched every few seconds, making his jawline look even more prominent than it was. The way his curls so effortlessly fell into a perfect position on his head, and the way his biceps would bulge in the tight black shirt every time he would fix his hair after a slight gust of wind blew it into his face.

You snapped out of your daze when you noticed he was talking to someone, wondering if it was you. That was when you noticed a group of lads that were in the same frat as Tom, teasing him about how whipped he was for you.

“Fuck off,” Tom groaned, flipping them all off as they chuckled. They eventually gave up, running away snickering at the rise they’d managed to get from their clearly irritated friend.

“‘M sorry about them,” he said, gently running the back of his hand over your cheek. You nuzzled closer to it for a moment, providing him with a split second of affection before you were back to your book.

All the teasing left you thinking, Tom noticing the way you were chewing on your bottom lip, something he’d noticed you did often when you were deep in your head.

“‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your face. You sighed softly, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

“Who would’ve thought?” you mumbled, barely catching his ears from how quiet it was. He hummed in confusion, having no idea what you were referring to until you’d decide to finish your sentence.

You rolled over onto your stomach, inevitably rolling off of Tom’s lap. You pushed yourself up to your knees, hands on either side of Tom’s legs as you got close to his face with your own.

His hand shifted from his lap to cup your cheek, a small grin forming on his face as the man admired how beautiful you were up close. He was almost too distracted by your features, and those sparkling eyes looking at him to even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth, but luckily he caught them anyway.

“Who would’ve thought that the king of the frat, the biggest playboy on campus, whore if you will,” you exaggerated, lips curling into a grin. “Was secretly a big softie.”

His heart fluttered slightly but he scoffed at your beginning words, feigning offence at the names you’d labelled him with. “I can be romantic,” he whined, trying his best to defend himself.

You hummed, pretending to think about it to tease him even further. He huffed, happily forgetting his pouty mood with a few soft, short kisses from you.

“I’m kidding,” you whispered, slotting your lips together again in a sweet kiss. “Better be,” he grumbled, rubbing his thumb across your temple lovingly.

“Even if you are a whore, you’re still my favourite whore,” you teased, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your giggle. You saw him roll his eyes, his hand playfully pushing your head away from him until you were once again laying back in his lap.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, nudging you with the knee that you were laying on. You chuckled quietly, nuzzling your head against his stomach, your arms snaking around his waist.

“I love you though,” you whispered, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted off of you. That was the first time either of you had said those words. You hadn’t been dating long, and part of you was still scared he wasn’t serious about this, but god did it feel good to say out loud.

Tom was shocked, staring down at you with his mouth agape. He felt butterflies exploding in his stomach and he realised he should probably say something before you start to overthink, something you were very good at.

“Yeah?” he asked, just making sure. You nodded your head, tightening your grip around your boyfriend’s torso, almost like you were afraid he’d run away.

“I-I love you too,” he announced, feeling your entire body relax against his. “Even if you do think I’m a whore.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

tom holland taglist → @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @call-me-baby-gir1 @icyhollands @sinisterspidey @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys-blog @itstaskeen @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @spideyssunshine @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @piscesparker @bvttercupbby @mymilliefrommarketing @spideyspeaches @kujokura @l0velyevans @jess-holland23 @felicityparkers @quxxnxfhxll @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @bora-world @annathesillyfriend @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @hollandswife @sunwardsss @dhtomholland @messedupmyfuckinglife @bi-lmg @londonspidey @multixfandomwriter @mrsholland96 @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @aayaissaa

#tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #frat!tom

725 notes · View notes

cloudteawrites · 3 years

Text

chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

885 notes · View notes

londonalozzy · 3 years

Text

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

460 notes · View notes

eunkimmie · 3 years

Text

i have always loved you

anonymous: How about about Sal and fem!Y/N raising a baby together? The two were FWBs, but then a slip-up resulted in Y/N becoming pregnant so they ended the sexual relationship and opted to co-parent. Thankfully, they were graduating from uni soon at the time of their slip-up. As the years roll by, Sal and Y/N grow closer and slowly fall in love. They get together after realizing their feelings for each other are genuine and eventually have another baby.

(had to reupload)

warnings: she/her pronouns, pregnancy, FWB, nsfw, non-canonical Sally Face plotline word count: 3.6k Sal was a sentimental guy. He had a lot of feelings swirling around in his heart. Big feelings for a small guy. As true as that was, Sal was never one to see sex as anything sacred or sentimental. He didn't believe in "saving himself" for anyone—it just wasn't something that was for him personally. To him, sex was just something that came to those that experienced sexual attraction. Arousal wasn't a foreign feeling to Sal, he had been a teenager once, too. Sal was attracted to her. This girl—Sal barely even knew her name, god—was just hot to him. His type, for sure. You were Niel's friend and greeted the group with a smile. Sal was twenty-one now. Twenty-one years old, never had a girlfriend, and a virgin. Sal supposed that his teenage years weren't exactly spent pining over girls or having sex. To Sal, virginity wasn't anything more than a social construct. So why was it that he was suddenly so aware of his own virginity as this girl—(Name)—laid below him with her brows furrowed in pleasure. It was dark, pitch-black almost, to the point where you couldn't make out the scarred features on Sal's face. Very much intentional. He was sure he looked like a fool, anyway. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, lips parted as grunts and breathy moans came from his lips.

Sal's shaky hands came down to grab the sides of your hips, angling his own hips to thrust into you and pull your body back down on his dick. It was hot in every way, Sal felt like his entire body had been set on fire. His hair that had been messily pulled up into a bun was barely tied up anymore, blue strands stringing down from his ears. You screamed as Sal moved his hands up to your back, pulling your entire body up to manage a new position. You rode him as Sal's hips snapped back up in sharp rhythm to meet a steady pace, moaning loudly, shamelessly, as his cock buried deeper inside you with each thrust.

"F—uck. Fuck!" you screamed, arms wrapping around Sal's neck as his teeth bit every so gently down into the curve of your neck. Your nails ran down his back, no doubt leaving scratches behind, which made Sal groan. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck—" Sal pushed you down to lay on your back, pulling out quickly and pumping the tip of his cock hastily before finishing on your stomach. The two of you breathed in quick rhythm, Sal eventually collapsing down on the mattress of his bed. He felt his face burn hot, realizing the rash decision he had made. He hadn't even asked. "S-Sorry," he gasped between breaths. You didn't seem to mind, giving him an honest "it's alright" before wiping your stomach off with a few tissues. You dismissed yourself to go take a shower after putting your clothes back on, the two of you suddenly hyper-aware of Sal's roommates.

Sal pulled his boxers back on as well as his prosthetic and laid out on his bed feeling embarrassed. He hadn't exactly...made you finish. Fuck, you probably thought he was some kind of loser. His first time and he finished in probably five minutes. All Sal could do was groan in mortification and get dressed, shamefully, of course.

He had already settled back into his bed with a video game by the time he heard a knock on his door. You made your way in after his go-ahead, hair wet and chipper.

"Hey," you said plainly. You pointed to a spot on his bed, and after his approval, you sat down comfortably. Sal felt embarrassed all over again. "Um...sorry. About that. I don't really—I mean, I've never—"

Your laugh cut him off. It seemed harmless, and Sal felt his shoulders relax a bit as you waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, don't worry about that. Seriously. I'm not going to judge you over sex." He gulped, staring at you beneath his prosthetic. You seemed awfully understanding, but your reassurance did make him feel better. A beat of silence passed before you spoke up again. "Maybe...we could keep doing that? If you'd want to? Sorry if that sounds intrusive."

"Like..." Sal paused, setting his game down and watching as your body language showed signs of bashfulness. He felt a bit surprised at your own timid nature. Hadn't you realized how bad he was at the sex stuff? Really, he only copied what he had seen in porn. Copied it poorly, that is. "Like some kind of friends with benefits thing? Even though I suck?" That made you laugh, and it was such a beautiful sight to behold. The bed shook as you turned to face him properly, legs crossed on his mattress. "I don't think you suck. Fuck, I sound like some kind of pervert...But, still. You don't have to say yes, of course...I just thought, well. I thought I would at least ask."

Sal would've been an idiot to say no.

The two of you continued like that for a while, probably for longer than you should've as just two friends. You were close friends, friends that fucked every once in a while. It seemed to satisfy the both of you, but you two were by no means careful. Usually, the two of you had sex on a whim—he could recall the riskiest time was when the entire group was out shopping and the two of you got one out in a bathroom. Still, Sal just...never really considered the risks. Besides, the two of you had been doing it for this long, and nothing had happened, so the chances must be low, right?

...One morning you showed up at Sal's little shared house.

"...Hey. Are you the only one home right now?" Sal opened the door to let you in, eyes widening just a bit as he shrugged. Perhaps your relationship had gotten too casual, but he just hadn't ever stopped to even ponder the situation. Sure, he had a little crush on you when Niel introduced you to the group, but that turned into a sexual relationship. Maybe Sal had feelings for you. Maybe they were buried so deeply that Sal never even realized. But he knew that, even outside of your sexual relationship, that he cared for you regardless.

"Yeah. It's a little early, isn't it?" You breezed past him, sitting down at the dining table and sliding a wrapped breakfast sandwich across the table, a gesture for him to sit. He watched as you bit into your own, curious. "Did you just want to talk?" You offered him a smile, one that signaled that you were here not to have sex, but instead to just be a friend.

Sometimes Sal couldn't help but wonder. He'd get lost in his thoughts, listening to ambient music in his room, what would life be like if you two had just stayed friends? Maybe that could've lead to a real relationship. Maybe. And the two of you weren't in a situation where it was awkward, or where they would have to sneak out of the other's room after a night of sex. They could cuddle and wake up next to each other, have some breakfast, and carry on. Sal always felt butterflies when he woke up and you were sleeping next to him. In some ways, he felt wrong for feeling that way. He didn't know what to feel. Perhaps a part of him figured that this was the closest he would ever be able to get to have a real romance with you. Sal didn't know. It hurt his head if he thought about it for too long, so really, why even bother pondering the possibilities?

But when you sat across from him, so mundane, eating a breakfast sandwich and looking sleepy, how could he not feel these things?

"Is that bad? If I just talk?" you looked up at him, hoping you hadn't caught him in the middle of anything important. It wasn't bad. It was never bad. Sal always had time for you. "No, I was just laying around. Todd and Niel went off to the supermarket, and I think Larry is out in the shed."

"Right, well..." you paused, biting your lip. "Okay, so you know how we always promised to be open with one another? Like transparency?" Sal quirked an eyebrow, nodding and gesturing for you to go ahead. "Yeah, so like. Fuck, man, I'm just gonna come out and say it. I missed my fucking period." At this, he saw your hands clench a bit harder down on the sandwich you were holding. Your eyes gathered tears in the bottom lid, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "A-And I don't know if that means anything, like shit. It couldn't, and I would be here just freaking you the fuck out, but I dunno man. I'm just...Shit, I don't fucking know what the hell I would do if I were..." Sal stayed silent, the cogs turning slowly in his head.

"A-And I don't know, like, I'm twenty-two. I know a lot of people have kids by now, but I just—I don't know, and it's not like I'm asking you to be super involved it's just—"

"What? I would want to be involved." Sal's lips seemed to move on their own, but it was just so painfully obvious to him. Obviously. Obviously, he wanted to be involved. It wasn't a question, really. The two of you had known each other for about a year now, and even though nothing was truly going on...Truth to be told, Sal couldn't help but think about you even after you were gone.

After about five positive pregnancy tests, the two of you agreed to stop your situation. There were a lot of tears, more so from you with Sal rubbing circles on your back. You would cry to him about how you weren't ready, or how you were going to fuck up, and all Sal could do was be there for you. Sal didn't see him as much as a father type. In fact, the two of you hadn't even ever worked out what the situation was. He wasn't even sure there was a situation.

It was strange. Sal wasn't a father. He didn't look like a father. He didn't know how a father was supposed to behave. Sal spent his weekends playing video games and learning Pokemon themes on his guitar, that wasn't what a father was supposed to do. At the very least, Sal had already moved his bed and belongings to the basement of the house and made a makeshift nursery in his bedroom.

A baby girl, chubby and crying had come after months of going back and forth on what to do. It was strange. Sal never saw himself as an adult. He'd grown in height and gained some tone in his body, yet still he couldn't differentiate the person in the mirror from the kid who used to wear pigtails every day and get pushed around in school.

What was probably worse is that Sal didn't feel a connection with his child. The child was his, undoubtedly, but he didn't feel much. He had read and heard about parents being so enamored and parents who just immediately felt love for their child, but Sal didn't. He stared back at the baby girl, her features taking after yours for the most part, yet hair as blue as the sky, and furrowed his brow. You, on the other hand, held the child close to you, foreheads touched together as the baby cried and you let out shaky breaths. Parents didn't always have that immediate connection with their children, but, even still...Sal could open his heart up just this time for a child. For you. Even though he had seen the worst of what the world had to offer, he would try.

Try he did. Sal couldn't see any other reason to do anything but for his child. Diane. That was her name. There wasn't any other option, and you had almost instantly agreed. Henry cried, the recollection of his late wife and his memory as a father had come forward as he sobbed when Sal's baby had touched his face for the first time, tugging at his beard. Sal's dad hadn't been there for him when he needed it most, coming around in an attempt to make things right when it was almost too late, but Sal refused to make that mistake. He did everything for his daughter. He was taking online college courses to get a degree in graphics. He did so much, too much, maybe, as in the wake of his determination the two of you hadn't even discussed your own relationship. In fact, it never even came to mind until Larry had asked. The two were sitting outside after having met up at the lake. Larry, moved out by now and living in a shared apartment closer to his community college, and Sal, still living with you, Todd, and Neil, sat in the grass drinking sodas.

"So...I don't know, man."

"Huh?" Sal had looked over at him. The sun had just barely dipped down beyond the horizon, the sky a pale purple. Larry shrugged, pursing his lips together in thought. "You know, a lot of people who have a kid and live together are at least dating. In most situations." Sal continued to stare, the realization of his words sinking in. Larry was right. Sal knew he was right. Perhaps Sal had forgotten. And that was truthful, too. It was so easy to forget when the two of you were living together, raising a child, and maybe just every once in a while waking up next to each other like you used to.

"And don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. In fact, I couldn't be happier for you. Ash too. You haven't really been this happy, this grounded, since you got here. To Nockfell. It's just...I dunno. Haven't you ever thought of, like, marriage?"

Marriage. Yeah, Sal had thought of marriage. The first time he saw his child he thought of it. The first time he held her, the first time he had taken off his prosthetic and his little girl just stared up at him in the same way before her little hands reached up and grabbed at his nose, he thought of marriage. Even before that. When your stomach was swollen, seven months pregnant, and Sal had caught you staring down at your stomach with a swirling mix of emotions behind your eyes, he thought of marriage. The two of you slept in the same bed. Every time he'd wake up next to you, he thought of marriage.

Sal Fisher was so undeniably in love with you. He had been so undeniably in love with you, maybe even from the first time he laid eyes on you. It hadn't ever been about sex. It had been about you. About how you smiled at him, and how your arms would wrap around his shoulders as you kissed him deeply. It had always been about you. Sal had been so blinded, he truly thought sex was the only way to keep you around. But now...Well, shit, what now?

"...I have," Sal finally responded. "I love her."

Larry stared at his friend, Sal's eyes roaming over the moon's reflection in the water.

"Isn't that answer enough?"

. . .

Little Diane was two, now. Sal finished his basic courses and graduated from the two-year school. The two of you were busy packing up your daughter's belongings into boxes, a moving truck waiting outside.

"Are you sure we cant convince you to stay?" Niel joked, hand intertwined in Todd's. Todd nudged his husband, laughing a bit with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, it's not like they have a kid or anything." You laughed, smiling brightly at the two. It had been a long journey of memories in this little house. It wouldn't ever be a place you nor Sal would forget. But it was time to move on. Sal had gotten accepted into a college to finish out his degree, and you had managed to get a job with a lot of flexibility in the same area.

"Yeah, but...California. It's just so far. And so different from Nockfell."

"True, but I think that's a good thing, honestly. This town is so strange...I could never figure out why, but it just gave me this feeling...And I don't want Diane spending her childhood years here." Todd exchanged a knowing look with Sal, the two remaining silent about the shared knowledge. Todd cleared his throat, ridding his head of the foul memories. "I suppose you're right. We'll have to come and visit sometime."

Larry and Ash had come over to the house as well, all helping you and Sal move and disassemble furniture. Gizmo was purring happily on the couch, content to watch the rest of you do all the heavy lifting until it was time to go. Henry and Lisa had even come over, Diane resting in her grandfather's arms. With all of the helping hands, you and Sal were about ready to get moving in just a few hours,

The two of you stood outside the house, your daughter asleep in her car seat in the back of the moving truck. It was strange. Sal had spent years in this town. He was just a kid. A kid that played guitar and a kid that loved video games. A kid that would search for an hour with his best friend Larry for quarters hiding around Addison Apartments just to buy a bag of chips from the lousy vending machines downstairs. A kid that had gotten mixed up with the supernatural that he would be sure to protect his daughter from. A kid that simply met a friend of a friend and fell in love with her smile. Sal couldn't help but wonder how different his life would be if not for you.

You and Sal exchanged your goodbyes tearfully with your friends and family, promising to keep in touch. And finally, with a turn of a key, you were off to a new life. It was a long drive in which Sal reflected on his life. He could've been a nobody. He could've been that weird kid with some weird mask and from a weird town. Just another picture in a yearbook. Maybe in another life, he had been a murder. He chuckled...how unlikely. He couldn't have ever imagined his life like this. Sal Fisher, the family man. He wasn't too sure that his face would fit in at a PTA meeting.

After hours on the road and multiple stops, the two of you arrived at a neighborhood with a row of brick townhomes lining the road. They weren't the best or the most luxurious, but they were within walking distance of schools and a good driving distance from Sal's university and your job. Maybe it was a bit cliche, and in sincerity, all too normal for Sal's life. He was the guy who had talked to ghosts, and yet he was about to move into a cookie-cutter neighborhood with a kid.

The two of you stepped into the house, the smell of dust being the most prominent. It would need cleaning and hard work, but it was yours. Sal didn't think he was exactly cut out for the whole "white picket fence" family, but a family nonetheless.

A family. A husband, a wife, and a daughter. Except, that wasn't his situation. He had a friend and a daughter.

Sal stared at his life. Twenty-five. Years had gone by, probably in the most unexpected way that Sal could ever imagine for himself, yet he still felt as if he hadn't moved very far with you. But you were here. In a house that you two had bought together, with eyes he had stared into for four years. His daughter with his mother's name and his hair was in your arms, giggling and squirming around, eager to crawl around the new environment. He looked over at you, eyes shining bright with hope of a new adventure and lips upturned in a smile.

"Can you believe it? Sal, our own place. This is insane. Can you believe it?" your head turned to meet his gaze, tears gathering in your eyelids. Sal stared at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Sal?"

"Marry me."

The words came out fast, but the same nonetheless. The weight of them wasn't something Sal was aware of. He had been thinking of this for years. Never the right time, never the right place. But everything seemed right. Standing here, seeing you smile the same way as you did at that first meeting years ago. It was different now. He couldn't imagine a life without you in it. Sal wanted to see you smile as he slid a wedding band on your ring finger. He fantasized about his little girl walking down and throwing petals. It was silly, but it was what he wanted. He was sure of it.

"W-What?"

"Marry me. I love you."

You stared at him, mouth agape as the breath was taken from you. This was Sal. The father of your child. It was Sal, the one who had refused to leave your side when you were pregnant. Who stayed calm when you couldn't. Who had played with your daughter and refused to stop smiling for her. Even before that, it was the same Sal who had kissed you like there was nothing else in the world to do. Sal Fisher was full of love to give and wanted nothing but the best for everyone around him despite the world throwing so many challenges his way. What other response was there to give?

Sal took your hand after lowering his prosthetic, eyes staring seriously. "Will you marry me?"

"...Yes."

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher #writing #sally face x you

323 notes · View notes

pure-kirarin · 3 years

Text

Slow & Steady [P2] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

Genre : Romance - Smut - Bestfriends to lovers General warnings : Alcohol consumption - Dark themes - Swearing - S m u t - possessiveness - Mention of ex-relationships - jealousy

A/N : This is really different from my usual writing style but I am experimenting. Please tell me your thoughts and don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the tag list :) AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31877203?view_full_work=true

In the last chapter -- «-Enough playing now, you're going to sleep. -B-but ! This wasn't what I asked for....You're really a coward after all...You virgin... » He carried you to his room, putting you on the bed and sitting next to you. «-I'd love to prove you wrong. However, it would be better if you were in a state where you'd be able to recall how good I am. If you want me to fuck you this badly then maybe ask me when you're sober.

Part I - Part II

Part II -Yeah yeah...Pff..You're no fun Sabo. Things were finally getting interesting ! »

He smiled seeing that you were now calmer. You started to yawn and bury your face in his pillow. He loved to see you getting so comfortable in his room. He really needed a cold shower after your little show. -Goodnight (Y/N). I'll sleep on the couch. You can get comfortable. -Are you crazyy ? You gonna leave me alone like this ? Let's sleep together~ -Come on (Y/N), you're a big girl. You could sleep alone for one night, would you ? Translation : I don't want to spend the whole night with a semi. And you're dangerously flirty, and I have wanted you for years and now I have to abstain.

-Pleaaaase. You said looking at him with puppy eyes. He rolled his eyes placing a hand in his hair. God.damn.it.

You won again. Like every time. * * * You opened your eyes hardly next day, feeling something hard against your thigh. You looked at the ceiling

Oh...I am not in my room...Where the fuck am I ?

you turn around only to discover the embodiment of Adonis to your side. A light beam was lighting up Sabo's face. He looked like an angel as his beauty couldn't be that of a human.

Was he always this handsome ?

You didn't know, in fact, you have never had the occasion to wake up in his bed. Wait, in his bed ? This realization came slowly as your head was still foggy from yesterday's consumption.

You looked down, the thing that was pressing against your leg was indeed :

his thing.

You frowned, blushed, pulled away, put a hand on your lips repressing an internal scream, all of this in around three seconds. You then tried to calm down, telling yourself that it was very normal for a man to experience this kind of morning unconviniences, and that Sabo was a man, after all. Even if you have always seen him as a bestfriend, he was still a man that is capable of physical attraction.

Now that this internal monologue was done with, you felt a bit calmer, but that didn't answer your question. You got out of bed, trying to recall what happened after going in the bar. And it came back. All of it. Without any mercy for your feelings.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Your only wish was to disappear which meant : calling Nami. You headed out of the house, not even having the courage to face your bestfriend.

« Namiiiii -Uh ? What's the matter ? -I fucked up. I fucked up really bad. -Oh yeah ? Tell me about it. -Wait, why do you seem excited ? -O-oh I'm not excited. Come on tell me. What else could you have possibly done ? -I asked Sabo to fuck me. -Wait what ? You could hear Vivi ask Nami about what happened and her answering « She asked Sabo to fuck her ». -Nami ! Don't go on telling everyone about this. I'm on my way. -For starters, Vivi isn't « everyone », she's my girlfriend. And I'm here waiting for you to tell me what happened. -Wait, I'll come at your place. This can't be discussed over the phone. »

You hung up on her. Ten minutes later, you were at her place. Extremely confused. Nami was painting her nails bright red on the bed while Vivi was sitting comfortably on a chair. You let your whole body weight fall on a lounge pug, tourmented. «-So tell me how you and Sabo ended up fucking. She emphasized the last word in a way that made you almost choke on air. -We didn't actually. Nami and Vivi both sighed in a synchronized « Ah » of disappointment. -So hmm...I don't remember clearly. I was really drunk-- well that you're aware of and...And Sabo didn't want to leave me alone so we went to his place. Ace was at Thatch's so we were alone. We hugged and he comforted me. Then I started teasing him, and I don't know what I was thinking, but I kissed him, and then I asked him to fuck me. -Wow that escalated quickly. Said Nami as she continued painting her nails.

-Well, I was heartbroken, I needed something, someone, and he was there, and you know Sabo, he's a good guy ! I don't know what's worse, the fact that I asked him to fuck me or the fact that he said no.

-Oh god I'm so so sorry

- Nami please don't make things worse for me.

-No offense, but you're so dense. Sabo has always been into you. Do you want him, or do you not ? I know that going right into a relationship after a breakup is a bad idea. But honestly it's worth giving it a shot. He's a really good guy. Try dating someone nice for once.

-I don't know, he has something unsettling about him. Like « almost too good to be true » you know ? Added Vivi.

-Ohhh~ I see. Honestly, I always thought that he was a bit prude and hella vanilla. I mean, yes, he's my best friend. But he has never talked about girls to me or about sexual stuff. So I just assumed that. I never thought that he'd be packin' like that. You said as you popped a lollipop in your mouth.

-Ah ? Was it really that impressive ? asked Nami, genuinely curious.

-Yeah. On a scale from 0 to doflamingo he's a solid eight point seventy five. (*)

-Oh gosh. I understand why you're so worked up now.

-That's really...precise. Added Vivi, a bit horrified.

(*) [ The dear reader might need this clarification ; Doflamingo was Law's uncle, he sometimes came to pick him up after uni with his luxurious lamborghini. He wore extremely tight pants that left little to the imagination. And he was most known among your clique for having a nine incher. It was a running joke wether to know if Law got his uncle's genes. Needless to say that this joke wasn't to Law's taste. Now back to our adorable Y/N. ]

-So. I really don't know what to do. I am still heartbroken. -And horny. Added the ginger. -Yeah, that too. I'm afraid of ruining our friendship. -Listen dear, said Nami as she was closing the nail polish bottle, if you're not going for it, someone else would. And trust me, that girl Koala is upping her game. She's going to steal him right in front of your eyes, just like this - and she snapped her fingers. -Oh, and then, you can forget about being « best friends ». Said Vivi adding fuel to the fire. -Yeah, once he's gonna start dating, he won't have too much time for you-- and then, that Koala girl, my god, she seems extremely possessive ! -No way, your voice was detached, trying to act is if you weren't worried, Sabo has never dated any girl before.- -Yes but he seems to get along with that girl. And to be honest, she's kinda cute.

-Nami ! Vivi pinched her forearm playfully, pretending to be jealous.

-That hurt ! And don't be jealous, you know that you're my only one~

-Hmm...I prefer that. Vivi laughed. You started caughing reclaiming for their attention.

-Attention please ! We're discussing my dick-appointment here.

-Jesus you're really annoying, (Y/N), just go for it already.

-How much did he pay you to tell me this huh ?

-What ? He didn't pay me ! You're just always getting your heart broken. I'm just trying to be a good friend.

-Say that you are trying to get rid of her~ Jokes Vivi.

-Vivi, don't expose me like this- Nami plays along while laughing.

-I hate you girls ! You say as you throw a pillow on Nami. The ginger starts complaining that you messed her Nail polish, and the whole scene metamorphosed into a pillow fight.

* * *

You spent the whole day with the girls, chit-chatting about boys and girls and playing stupid games. You felt way more comfortable now, less ashamed. However, you were surprised because you didn't get a message from your bestfriend. You wondered wether he was mad at you, it wasn't in his habits.

You decided to message Ace [click for conversation] [ (Y/N) : Heyy amigo is Sabo ok ? Did he tell u smth abt yesterday ? Ace : Ouch, your hurting my feelings, </3 Only talking to me to ask about my brother~ Yea hes okay why tho ? (Y/N) : Ooo kay. He's home ? Ace : He is. Why don't u directly text him ? (Y/N) : Don't tell him I asked. Btw I didn't forget about those 10 bucks you « borrowed » from me. Give it back.] He didn't answer. You sighed and decided to go see Sabo to settle things down. It was the first time that you were embarrassed to see your best friend. You dressed up in a black skirt and t shirt. You didn't usually pay attention to your looks when you went to hang out at Sabo's, but you were really stressed out and what the girls have said about Koala made you scared of losing him. After all, you had some abandonment issues. You had to settle this down once and forever. You arrived at the guy's place, it was an apartment not so far from your own student flat. You knocked on the door and Ace opened : -Ohhh, (Y/N), he whistles, lookin' like a girl today huh ? -What are you implying you dumbass ? Where's Sabo ? -He's in his room with Koala.- -Wait what ? Koala ? What is she doing here ? Ace raised an eyebrow then said amused ; -I don't know, go ask him yourself. -You're useless as usual. -Always so sweet. You on your period or something ? -I didn't forget about my twenty bucks by the way. -I said I'm goin' to pay you back alright ? Now go talk to Sabo. You and Ace were always teasing each other in a brotherly way, but in reality, he really cared for you, it was just your usual way of communication. But it was true that knowing that Koala was in Sabo's room put you in a bad mood. You knocked on the door with a knot in your stomach. Did they start dating ? Was Sabo interested in her ? These ideas were torturing you. But why did you care anyways ? It was none of your business. He could date whoever he wants. You opened the door but there was only Sabo relaxing on his bed, still fully clothed. « - Sabo ?-Oh, (Y/N), what brings you here ? -Why ? Do I need a reason to see my best friend ? He sits on bed looking at you. He doesn't fail to notice your cute outfit, it was different from your usual sweatpants and hoodies, the way it complemented your figure was almost too much for him. Just that sight was driving him insane, but his face didn't betray his emotions, like always, he acted friendly, not an ounce of lust in his dark ebony eyes. You took place next to him. He smelled good, you thought. The same fresh minty smell as last time. Did he always smell this good ? -(Y/N) ?Huh ? Is everything okay ? His voice seemed concerned.He cared for you. And you had those stupid immature and posessive thoughts. Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N), you thought. -Oh yea-- wasn't Koala here ? Ace told me you were with her.

You tried so hard to act like you didn't care, but he knew you like the back of his hand. But still, he played along. -Hmm..Yes. She just left. I was going out as well. He says with a sweet smile, looking at his watch. You couldn't help but make a disappointed face. -But Sabo I wanted to - I'm really sorry (Y/N), let's talk later. He ruffles your hair and you close your eyes as he does so. You felt stressed out. What happened exactly ? You felt intimidated in his presence for the first time. You wanted him to stay and talk this out. It was a bit awkward for you now. You never thought too much. As he was going out of the room you held the fabric of his coat tight in your hand ; -Sabo- -Hum ? Need me to drop you somewhere ? -N-no. You let his sleeve go, realizing what you have just done, I'll stay a bit then go back home. Don't worry about me. -Alright then. See you later ? -Yeah. See ya. ]

You looked at Sabo go away and you followed him shortly after. Meanwhile Ace was sitting on the couch and watching some movies. You went back home and was quite tormented. It wasn't the right time to worry as you had your assignments and studies to deal with. On one hand, you didn't even have the time to think of your ex boyfriend and his cheating but on the other, you felt like you were let down by Sabo. But why ? He didn't do anything. He just found himself a new friend and a potential new girlfriend.

He didn't even talk about her, but why where you so upset by him meeting her ? After all, he had the right to date just like you always did.

A few days have passed and you didn't get the chance to talk to Sabo. Your exams were getting closer and closer and you didn't feel ready.

Usually, Sabo would help you with your assignments but you were too scared to ask. You realized how much you relied on him and how he has been always there for you.

Who were you exactly to him ?

Maybe you took him for granted.

As you were on your bed looking at the ceiling and trying to collect every drop of motivation in your system to study, you heard your phone ring. It was Sabo's ringtone ! ----- Tag list : @vemuabhi @chloe-abbacchio @mwls-garden @soanywaysistartedsimping If you wanna get tagged just ask for it :)

#one piece x reader #one piece imagines #one piece scenario #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo #one piece scenarios #one piece sabo #one piece sabo x reader #nami #vivi #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #trafalgar law #nami x vivi #portgas ace #ace

164 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

A Discovery of Ghosts // Luke Patterson

Summary: Avoiding the house, the eldest Molina sibling has been unaware of the new chapter in Julie’s life until one fateful night.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff and overprotective!reader

Words: 2.1k

Oh look! Another JATP fic. Weird how it appeared? Enjoy! I may have a part two for Lost Time. If you want it, let me know!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The dirty bag dropped on the ground as you cracked your neck heading straight for the kitchen, for the last year you would find Julie in there. Before the loss of your mother Julie spent all her time in the studio whether it be doing homework or playing the piano. Now, with the grief still striking hot within the Molina family even a year later.

“Jules?” You called out pouring a large glass of water. Dropping the empty water bottle in the sink.

In all honesty you hadn’t been home longer than to grab a bite and sleep before heading straight back to the field. It was a way of keeping away from the sadness permeating the house and the absence of your mom. Along with avoiding the awkward conversations of selling the house when it was really only Julie that okay with it.

“Dad?” You called next grabbing the sticky note off the fridge

Girls,

Carlos had a last-minute practice. Money left in the jar for supper.

- Dad

You hummed heading for the stairs to take a shower taking a guess that Julie was either in her room or at Flynn’s place. Bag in hand along with the softball bat you started up the stairs leading to your room. The faint conversation from her room was odd to say the least, the door was closed, and it sounded like more than one person.

The door opened easily under your hand scaring Julie who was sitting on her bed with a disgruntled expression. Her look of terror and nerves was the most concerning. Dropping the bag, you gripped the softball bat tight as you pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Jules?” You spoke scanning the room, “Why do you have three boys in your room?”

The room went stock still, each boy scanning your form and the bat in hand. Standing in uniform coated in red soil from the infield you were on the more intimidating side.

“You can see them?”

“Jules, are you okay?” You questioned ignoring her odd question with a look of concern, the bat dropped low.

The last year had been extremely more difficult on Julie than Carlos and you given that Julie was closer with Mom with music. Carlos and you hadn’t inherited the gift that Julie had been born with; yet she hadn’t found interest in sports.

“She looks like she could break us?”

You sent a confused look at the trio giving your attention back to your little sister, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, but you shouldn’t be acting out like this.” Julie’s jaw dropped at your words, “I’m not acting out! Dad can’t see-“

“He can’t see this because it shouldn’t be happening Julie.” You sternly told the younger Molina, “Just let me shower and we’ll hang out. You can pick the movie and the snacks, but they have to go. If you want, we can even dig out the projector.”

You pointedly looked at the three boys before turning your heel to head out of her room to yours down the hall. The door was closed tight as it always was, it was your space so when the door was shut no one went in. Trust was important in your family and with Julie uncharacteristically sneaking boys in that could mean all trust on closed doors would break.

“They’re ghosts.” Julie called out from her open door. The concern for the girl growing at her words, “I know that sounds bad and makes it seem like I need to see Dr. Turner but I’m not lying.”

You sighed at the girl completely in disbelief at the length she would go to lie, “Maybe you should see Dr. Turner Jules. Seeing the doctor doesn’t make you weak.”

Julie was silent as you began to open your door before the blonde boy literally appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“Oh my god!” You screamed stumbling back from the tall male, “Oh God. Scratch that! WE both need Dr. Turner.”

Two more bursts of light happened as the other two boys appeared in front of you with sheepish expressions. You took in a deep breath finally taking into consideration of Julie’s admittance.

“I-“ You choked out, “Does this mean Benny was a ghost?”

Julie blushed at the mention of her childhood imaginary friend that she had had for a number of years. It was also a time that Tía Victoria was not welcome in your home when she went behind your parents to schedule an appointment with Dr. Turner.

“Benny? No, I’m Reggie.” The boy with slicked back black hair spoke shaking his head, “This is Alex and Luke.”

You mutely nodded clenching your fists together, “Good thing you’re a ghost or I would have punched you.”

Luke’s eyes widened at the threat, “Whoa.”

“Now move. I just got home from practice, I’m sweaty and dirty.” You announced side stepping the ghostly trio. You grimaced at the blush appearing on Reggie and Luke, “Dead but still think inappropriately.”

“We’re teenage ghosts.” Alex announced glancing at his best friends. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as you took in his words.

You glanced over your shoulder at your little sister, “Just stay out of Julie’s room. And don’t look under Carlos’ bed.”

With that you opened the bedroom door and slammed in in their dead faces. The room had drastically changed from the previous year mainly the pale pink was painted over by a new colour. It was no longer the little girl’s room your mother had decorated while preparing for your birth. It was a young woman’s room decorated to fit your personality.

Located on a wall was the rack of softball bats with a number of softballs settled in divots on the connected shelf. Your room also had the only other connected bathroom, being the oldest sibling had benefits.

“Ghosts.” You muttered jumping when a thud happened. Turning your heel, you saw that Alex had opened the door and tossed your ball bag in.

“You left this. Sorry for interrupting.” Alex apologized as he left the room again.

“Boundaries!” You called out heading into your bathroom. Alex smiled at how similar he thought you and Julie were to each other.

Half of you had anticipated Julie getting the living room ready instead of using the projector in the garage; it was a part of growing up. The first time you can remember seeing the projector was when you first got your period and it became a thing with your mom. For the length of time for you period you had movie nights in the garage and when Julie got her first period it came a ritual. It helped that as sisters your periods synched together.

“Julie.” You breathed finding that she had surprised you. She had waited in the living room for you, “You didn’t.”

Shyly the younger Molina girl nodded her head and led you to the studio outside where it decorated as if the past year hadn’t happened. The projected was brought out along with countless snacks, fuzzy blankets and soda. It was also barren of anyone else.

“I’m guessing from the amount of time you’re in here that the ghosts live here?” You deduced at the musical instruments placed in an area they wouldn’t get in the way.

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, “I’m not sure where they are.”

“Righ-“

“Reggie!” Alex hissed from the loft with an apologetic expression, “We’re finding something to do while you use the studio. We’re be gone in a moment.”

Reggie and Luke nodded in response while digging through the things that had collected up there since 1995. Your smile turned into a frown at the discontentment they each displayed.

“Jules. Do they have anywhere else to go?” You whispered feeling sad when Julie indicated that this was their only place, “Why don’t we change this?”

“Change what?”

“I know that this feels odd without Mom but maybe we can make this better. Alex, would you guys like to stay?”

The question was barely spoke before the three ghosts flashed down to the ground floor with beaming grins. Each boy nodded happily eyeing up places to sit, Luke having fallen on the couch beside you. Julie shuffled making more room on the couch draping a blanket over her lap.

“So, Julie…comedy, horror, or romance?” You questioned raising one eyebrow up waiting for the reply, “Or we can subject the boys to Twilight. Then again Alex might enjoy Mean Girls.”

After reading the short description of the film Mean Girls was vetoed out along with Horror but the issue came with the move genre. Luke wanted a film with music while Reggie was asking for romance and Alex was just wanting to watch something.

“Pitch Perfect.” Julie and you spoke together nodding frantically, it had a moderately nice balance between music and romance.

“Pitch Perfect.” Alex stated unamused at the title, “How is that romance?”

“You’ll find out.” You smirked at the male dead teenager who would more than likely adore watching films to catch up on everything he missed during his twenty-five years in a dark room.

Every once in a while, Luke would gaze longingly at the food gathered around the only two living people. It was sad given the love he had had with food when he was still alive, he would anything in sight to be honest.

“Oh my god! The Breakfast Club! That came out ten years ago! It’s popular now?” Reggie exclaimed twisting to look to Julie.

“Gentle reminder. It came out thirty-five years ago. It’s a classic John Hughes! Of course, it’s popular.” You chuckled shaking your head by leaning back. You felt the caress of Luke’s gaze on your cheek but when you glanced over, he was staring hard at the screen.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded with a smile painted on his lips getting further into the comedy he found somewhat interesting. It was the song choices that got to him.

The music from your Spotify playlist muted the outside world as you focused on the computer screen open to a document. Eyes shifting between the paper of notes on your desk to the half-written History essay due in a few days. The last week had been mostly adapting to being one of two people able to see the band.

“Y/N.” Luke spoke from the doorway he had poofed into. A frown pulling the corner of his lips down at the lack of attention. In an action of desperation he chucked a pencil on your back; you flinched turning to see him in your room.

“Luke?” You asked removing an earbud from your ear. The joys of 2020 came with Bluetooth earbuds.

“Oh. You were listening to music.” Luke nodded moving to grab the earbud from the desk curiously, “Where are the wires? So small! How do they work?”

Launching into a short history on the change of music technology Luke was enthralled by the passion you carried. What he didn’t know was you were researching the changes between 1995 and 2020 for his benefit. Going as far as to compile a playlist for all three boys to introduce them to modern music.

“This is insane.” Luke mumbled handing the earbud back, “Cell phones are what get me!”

“Hey, doesn’t matter if your seventeen or forty-something…you still don’t understand it.” You smirked flinching when Luke tossed a decorative pillow at you with practiced ease. The squeal fell from your lips as it happened.

“If I was forty-something this would be very wrong.” Luke cheekily retorted tapping a finger on his knee thinking back on everything that happened, “Had everything gone to plan you would have known me only by music.”

“I’m sorry you died but I’m really happy we met.” The nerves evident in your tone, something that you didn’t often show. Softball was important and possibly the only ticket to college if everything went right.

“Me too.” Luke smile at the girl across him eyes so soft he could see what Alex and Reggie were trying to tell him.

Luke had a crush. Luke had feelings for a girl living and unable to feel his touch.

“Hey! I made a playlist for you guys. Let me know when you want to hear them, and I’ll get it playing for you. I have to get back to my essay. Feel free to stay.”

Luke graciously took the earbud from your hand leaning back on the bed as you played the rock he had unfortunately missed out on. Both unaware that his fingers had grazed your hand during the handoff. Luke has a crush and he can touch her too.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #angst #caitsy and ash productions #jatp #jatp fanfic

620 notes · View notes

helaintoloki · 4 years

Text

Odds and Ends

pairing: Ben Hargreeves x reader, Five Hargreeves x reader

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, death, unrequited love

notes: listen, the pairings sound odd but they make sense when you read it i promise

prompt: “There’s a time for us, it’s just not now.”

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes; you witness the moment of your birth from an outsider’s perspective, you revisit your first steps and your first love, you remember the quiet nights of rainfall on the windows and the smell of freshly cut grass on early school morning’s. You can recall how it felt to get your heart broken for the first time and the warmth you felt wrapped in your mother’s embrace. It is quick and long all at once, like watching a movie, except everyone fails to mention what happens once the credits begin to roll. Where do you go? What do you see? What do you do?

You’d been the first to get struck by the Handler’s gunfire, a bullet flying straight through your chest and embedding itself in your heart. You died almost instantly, and despite the pure horror that struck Five at the sight of your gruesome death he could do nothing to save you as he too crumpled to the ground. It was a split second of pain, and then you were gone.

Just as you had been promised, flashes of the life you had lived pass you by with the same quick clicks of a slideshow presentation on a projector. You could see yourself nestled in your mother’s arms, the swaddle of blankets encompassing your figure shielding you from the outside world. You watched your younger self shyly display your powers to a stoic Reginald Hargreeves, seven heads curiously peeking through the crack of the door to get a look at the team’s newest edition while your mother watched on anxiously. You saw the way in which you napped upon Five’s shoulder, the rainfall pattering gently against the window as he read the pages of his favorite novel, and you relived the sadness that came over you at his disappearance. You witnessed the quiet nights of stargazing alongside Ben, experienced your first kiss again and your first time falling in love only for it to end in bloodshed and a snowy funeral with tearful apologies and guilt ridden thoughts. Everything you’d ever lived through plays out in front of you right until the final gunshot, and then everything around you goes dark. There is nothing.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the empty space where life ends and the afterlife begins, but soon enough you find yourself wandering through the doorway that suddenly presents itself to you. There are no clues as to where it might lead, but light bleeds through the cracks and beckons you to step forward before you can change your mind. You’re overwhelmed by the warmth that surrounds you the moment you step foot inside, and it takes you a moment to adjust before you can fully comprehend where you are.

The room you stand in is quiet, sunlight filtering through blinds and coating the cream colored walls in golden hues. Colorful houseplants line the shelves and photo frames fill in the empty spaces— moments from different points of time occupy the frames, stolen glances and hidden kisses and dreamy smiles. You gravitate towards the photo next to the succulent plant and gingerly pull it from the shelf: it’s a photo of you and Ben as children, and with a watery smile you bring the picture close to your chest and clutch it tightly against your heart.

“I thought you’d like it,” a voice says gently, your whole body stiffening in surprise at the sound. A single tear slides down your cheek before you can will yourself to turn around, and you nearly drop the frame at the sight before you. He’s different than you remember him, but he still has the same kind eyes and gentle smile that you missed ever so dearly. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you, welling with tears as he opens his arms to you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Ben,” you whisper in a trembling voice, a choked sob escaping you as you fling yourself into his arms and hug him impossibly tight. You can feel the warmth that radiates from him almost as if he were alive, can sense the way his arms wrap themselves around your waist and squeeze you unbearably close to his chest, and you can savor the sensation of his plush lips pressing against your forehead in a tender kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, afraid that if he raises his voice any higher he’ll disrupt the peaceful quiet you find yourselves in. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I didn’t either,” you admit with a weak smile. Chills crawl down your spine as you’re reminded of your own death, but you push the thoughts away in order to make room for Ben. After all these years, you’ve finally been reunited with the love of your life, and if you’re being honest you aren’t quite sure how to act. It almost doesn’t feel real, and a small part of you is afraid of waking up and finding that it was nothing but a dream. Ben pulls your attention towards him with the careful guidance of his finger underneath your chin, his reassuring features calming your nerves.

“You’re not dreaming,” he promises you. “This is real, you’re home.”

“I’m home,” you reiterate with a tearful smile before carefully cupping his face in your hands. “I’m home.”

(Five’s body tremors in time with his breathless panting as he struggles to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids. His body is warm and cold all at once with the blood that slowly pools around his figure, and he uses some of the last remaining strength he has to turn his head and look upon your body. You lie lifeless and still, hair splayed around your head like a halo and crimson red seeping through your clothing, and a shuddering breath leaves him at the sight. His first love, his only love, the one that could have been had he not gone against his father’s wishes all those years ago, is dead, and it seemed he could do nothing to stop it. Soon he would join her along with the rest of his siblings in the quiet afterlife, and so would come the final end of the Umbrella Academy.)

“I’m so sorry about what happened to you, Ben. You were so young, you didn’t deserve it, and if I had just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, “it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“But being alone for this long...”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” Ben says with a faint chuckle, “but I’m okay now, we’re okay, and I don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“I missed you,” you profess vehemently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says with a careful smile, one that slowly begins to dwindle with time.

“Ben?” You prod gently. “What is it?”

(All Five had ever wanted was to keep you safe, whether it be from a scraped knee after a bout of rough housing with Diego or the end of the world, it was his job. You’d fallen in love with his brother in the wake of his absence, something Five could never blame you for no matter how much it hurt, and it was through Vanya’s book that he got a glimpse of the life you had lived without him. Your secret romance with the Horror, your descent into loneliness and isolation after his passing, your work as a nurse under the guise of a fake name so that you could use your gift without anyone ever associating you with the life you had lived as a child. You didn’t want it, and he’s sure you didn’t want this— to die such a horrible death at such a young age when you still had your whole life ahead of you. Five had lived long enough to see what the world had to offer, if he were to die now he’d have all the boxes checked on his list, but you and his siblings still had so much to live for and so many things left to do.

“I just want you to be careful,” your voice echoed in his mind, young and naive and apprehensive about Five’s plan to travel without Reginald’s permission. “Be smart about this, smarter than you usually are, and make sure you come back home.”

“You’re the genius who said we should jump. Right?” Luther. “You’re the one who got us stuck here.”

“Start small.” The voice of his father. “Seconds, not decades.”

Wait a minute, that’s it! By god, that’s it!)

“You can’t stay.”

“W-What? I don’t understand, what do you mean I can’t say?” You sputter, taken back by Ben’s blunt declaration. You were dead, where else could you go, what else could you do besides spend the rest of eternity with the love of your life?

“You can’t stay,” Ben repeats solemnly. “You can’t die yet, it’s not your time.”

“But I am dead! A bullet literally went through my heart, I don’t think you can exactly come back from that,” you protest anxiously.

“I can’t explain it, but trust me when I say that it isn’t time for you yet,” Ben pleads, gently taking your trembling hands in his own and giving them a soft squeeze. “You still have so much to do in life, so many great things. You’re going to get married, you’re going to settle down in a nice little house with cute little kids running around the place, and you’re going to be happy. So happy. But you can’t do that here, so you have to go.”

“Ben, please,” you beg through a sob. “Please, I want to stay here with you. Don’t make me go back, don’t make me leave you, I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ben shushes gently as he cups your face in his hands and brushes away your falling tears. “Hey, it’s okay. Y/n, I promise you we’ll see each other again, okay? I promise.”

“But I just got you back,” you croak, and Ben can only offer you a trembling smile in return.

“There’s a time for us,” he reassures you, “it’s just not now.”

Ceaseless tears fall down your cheeks as you collapse into his arms, your hands clutching tightly at the fabric of his sweater the same way in which a small child would clutch at their favorite blanket. Ben is warm and safe, he is home, and your heart aches at the thought of having to say goodbye a second time— you could hardly handle the first. You had been inconsolable, your sobs had been gut wrenching for the rest of team, and if not for Allison urging you to eat and take care of yourself you might not have ever recovered from your grief. The universe was unfair and unkind, taking the person you loved away from you not once but twice, and despite how strong you wanted to be for Ben you couldn’t help but feel defeated.

“Will you kiss me while there’s still time left?” You snivel, holding on tightly to Ben’s wrist as he reaches up to cup your face and caress your cheek with his thumb. He smiles, sweet and tender, and pulls you close.

“I’ve waited seventeen years to kiss you again,” Ben professes, and without a second to waste he pulls you in close and presses his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss.

(Time is reversing. Five can feel the blood slowly seeping back into his body, bullet wounds seem to heal themselves and the corpses of his loved ones are beginning to reanimate as everything becomes undone. The pain is nearly gone, and it’s with a newfound determination that Five wills himself back onto his feet and travels back seconds in time to prevent their deaths, to prevent your death.)

You can feel yourself slipping away from him, you’re losing your grip, and despite how desperately you try to cling to him your touch is beginning to fade. Ben can faintly feel your lips against his own and knows that it’s time, but he holds onto you for just a little longer until he can’t feel you in his arms anymore. He pulls away with a bittersweet smile and releases you from his hold, eyes gazing at you for the last time.

“You get a second chance,” he says. “Make the most of it, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

(With a startled gasp Five finds himself back in time just moments before your deaths. Your eyes meet his his frenzied ones and you frown, gently reaching out to him.

“Five? Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer before he’s disarming the Handler of her firearm, and it’s with that single act of defiance that your death is finally reversed.)

You don’t remember your death and you don’t remember your reunion with Ben. You’re none the wiser, and Five wants to keep it that way. With the Handler dead and the threat of the Swedes gone your life is no longer in danger, and he finally feels like he can breath again.

“You okay?” Your voice sounds gently, pulling the boy back to reality. He gazes upon your figure, wisps of stray hair straying from your braid and a questioning though kind smile on your face, and a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding leaves his lips at the sight of you. You don’t return his affections and you’ll never be together, but he can live with that so long as you’re safe and sound.

“Never been better,” he replies with a closed lip smile. You catch the boy off guard by pulling him into your side and giving his shoulder a tight squeeze, an act of affection only you can get away with, and after a moment has passed you release him with a small giggle.

“Come on,” you gesture as you begin to follow Vanya and the others, “we still have work to do.”

He walks beside you in a comfortable silence, and though he doesn’t know it there’s a faint voice that echoes distantly in your mind, one you can’t place but find soothing nonetheless.

“There’s a time for us.”

And there will be, but for now you’ll just have to wait and see.

#this took me two days to write #listened to the mtv unplugged version of take on me while i wrote it #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number five imagine #the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #angst!!!

553 notes · View notes

nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 5/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The autumn winds heralded more clement weather, carrying the tart scent of peaches and pine in the air. With the balmier weather, everyone in the estate had taken their opportunity to be outdoors. Nanami himself had been dragged out and was walking with everyone who cared to go to the private orchards when at breakfast, the groundskeeper announced that everyone can go peach picking.

He watched from across the table as the object of his attraction visibly lit up, your glorious blue eyes brightening exponentially. You loved peach picking and he loved seeing you all excited over small things. But it turned out to be something of a disappointment when your attention turned to Geto instead of him, inviting him to go with you.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” you asked expectantly, giggling like a little girl when Geto nodded, placing an arm over your shoulder and hugging you to his side while he said, “Anything for my favorite girl.”

My favorite girl. He had to stop himself from being petty and scoffing at the very thought of it. His annoyance was further validated when you generalized your invitation, saying anyone who wished to could come, voiced out by Yuuji who pouted at you and said you should have been inviting him since he loved picking peaches as much as you did.

That was just how it was with you when it comes to Geto. You forget everyone around you the moment he makes an appearance, and it seemed Nanami wasn’t an exception. He could accept that in the past. Ever since, you had been vocal about your preference for the dark-haired man who spoiled you to no end, letting you have your way and without fail made you smile and laugh like you never do with anyone else. When their group would go out, travel or do something else recreational, you’d always be where Geto was, dangling by his arm. You mellowed out with him when you met Yuuji, but the truth is that Geto Suguru is your favorite among your older brother’s friends.

This time, however, he couldn’t rest easy with you interacting that way with said male. If he was being honest, he only agreed to go peach picking after Gojo made him tag along because he wanted to keep a close eye on you. He was also being obvious about it with the way he was trailing you with his eyes every other five seconds, the realization dawning into him when Shoko walked beside him, grinning as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

“If you want to be with her, just do it,” the woman told him, easily reading him as usual. “You look like you’re about to blow your top.”

Nanami just glanced at you, his eyes involuntarily flicking to your familiar figure now circling around Geto as you walked, your hands and arms animatedly making big gestures as you seemingly explained something to him. He felt his temper rise when the male grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap an arm around you, his dark eyes finding Nanami over his shoulder in a sly taunt.

Shoko clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We all know, Kento.” She glanced behind her where Gojo and Utahime were walking. “Only that white-haired idiot seems to know nothing. Or he pretends not to know.” She sighed. “I can’t blame him though. She used to be this really cute bundle of joy, but look at her now. She’s a grown woman.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He knew exactly just how much of a woman you have become physically and mentally. What he doesn’t understand was why you weren’t walking with him instead while you’d be sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and hugs from him since the previous day when the pair of you returned from the lake.

At the rehearsal the previous night, you had stuck to him like glue, not that he minded. You purposefully touched him even when everyone was watching, running your fingers over his arm, leaning against him while everyone waited for their turn to practice their part for the ceremony and holding his hand while he sat with you in the garden during breaks, all the while feigning innocence to your actions. You even went to the extent of wrapping an arm around his waist while Gojo was speaking to you. The man, obviously aggravated, narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heels and leaving.

“God, he’s so frustratingly dumb,” you muttered under breath, watching him leave. Only you had the guts (and right if Nanami was being honest) to call your brother dumb. It somehow made Nanami think that you were really just doing things to get a rise out of Gojo for whatever reason or whatever complex you had with him, but what confused him was that you didn’t stop even if your male clone wasn’t looking.

It was no different at the dinner that followed at the restaurant the family had rented for the night. You purposefully said you forgot something, declaring that you will be riding with Nanami instead, tossing your car keys to Megumi who saluted him while snickering with Nobara. Yuuji, being the most annoying of your three friends, deliberately bumped against him and said, “Make the most of it, Nanamin.”

He would have smacked the boy at the back of his head if the conniving little sprite dragging him around didn’t pull him towards his car. “Wait for them to leave,” you told him as you boarded his car.

“I thought you forgot something.” His lips quirked upwards, already realizing what you were playing at, but before he could say anything more, you grabbed him by the collar, silencing him with your lips. That ended up with you two being half an hour late to dinner after that one kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in his car with you sitting astride his lap while he kissed you stupid.

When both of you finally got to the restaurant, he expected you to let go of him, but you boldly walked with him to your designated seats, holding onto his hand as you led the way. He did not miss the way your parents were looking at the two of you, but he pretended not to notice. Your father was rather approving which was a relief but your mom was just confused. He could just surmise that your friends were in on it when you ended up sitting on the same table, reserving two seats for him and you, further proven when you exchanged high-fives with Nobara who, in turn, winked at Nanami. Of course, he thought, they knew.

You engaged in conversations with your friends for most of the duration of the dinner, but you never failed to smile his way or wink at him when you think no one’s watching. You didn’t ride home with him since he had to drive stupid Gojo after he got too drunk to function and instead drove your car with your pals. You and your friends didn’t come back for another hour, but when you got home, you rifled through the house, loudly asking everyone where he was.

Nanami had to suppress laughter as he crossed the foyer on his way to the stairs and saw how you pushed past Suguru to make your way towards him, latching onto his arm and announcing to everyone that you will walk him to his room cause he might get lost. You had giddily stuck to what you said you’ll do when he noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and you had that odd smile on your face.

“Sweetheart, are you high?” he asked, gently holding you at arm’s length. He already knew the answer to his question when he caught a whiff of weed on your hair. Typically, he’d scold you, but the way you were tittering for no reason was just too adorable for him to handle.

“Don’t be mad,” you said to him, attempting to pout, but you couldn’t in your state. You then started poking his cheek that he eventually had to hold your hands away from him. When you finally stopped laughing, you blinked up at him and said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice as he pulled you to a side hallway, pushing you against the wall, giving you a peck. You whined loudly. “You call that a kiss?” you complained.

“Be specific, love. How do you want me to kiss you?” he teased, leaning his forehead against yours, trying hard not to laugh as he held you back, preventing you from touching him. He was already aware of how you could easily take the reins and dominate him.

You smirked at him. “Kiss me dumb. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Kento?” You seemed to have discovered that calling him by his given name has become his weakness, and you succeeded because in the next second, he was all over you, prying your mouth open with his tongue as he pressed you against the wall with his body. You submitted to his touches, pulling him closer, your sensuous lips and the sweet flavor of your tongue driving him insane. Before he lost control, he walked you back to your room, defeating the purpose of you walking him to his.

But now, he had to watch you being monopolized by Geto.

He sighed. He could trust Shoko to shed off pretenses for once.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know she’s really fond of Suguru, but I can’t help but –” What was it that he felt exactly?

“You’re jealous. It’s natural especially when she was all clingy with you yesterday.” She chuckled. Shoko couldn’t have been more right, but the scene playing out before him was the least of his problems. It ran deeper than just the moment at hand.

Nanami promised to keep it a secret as Geto’s friend although it killed him a thousand times when three years ago, just a week before the time he had to haul you out of a bathtub after your cocaine episode, the male came to him, confiding that he wanted to pursue you romantically.

“Good luck on that,” he remembered telling Geto, feeling that same pang of envy pervading his system, but then the latter said, “It’s just that she said she likes someone else.” He looked at Nanami sharply as if he was angry at him for some reason, but retracted to his easy-going mood. “Forget I said anything. I can’t have her.”

“Why is that?” Nanami asked then.

At that, Geto smiled, sadness crossing his features. “I don’t deserve her.”

At odd to his words three years ago, Geto was as close to you as ever. You’re obviously still very fond of him. Still, Nanami wasn’t sure what the intention was behind Geto’s calculated actions. The man was just as aggravating as you are with your mutual penchant for games and keeping people on their toes.

Shoko stole him back from his reverie. “Just put a label on it already. She likes you, too, you know.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing then. “Men are such dense creatures.”

“That’s offensive.”

“So is your obliviousness.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, her laughter dissipating. “Talk to her and find out.”

“I saw what you were doing with Kento last night.”

You looked at Geto who was walking beside you, not really knowing how to respond to his observations and settling for twirling the wicker basket you were holding. He flashed you a knowing smile, already used to your behavior when you were puzzling something in your head, caught up in your own bubble.

“I’m not as frustrated about Nanamin as much as I am with Satoru.” You sighed, remembering how your brother just walked away when he saw you holding onto Nanami, annoyed as if he thinks you were just trying to rile him up. “He’s so dense with things like this.”

“You’re one to talk,” Geto stated frankly, snickering at your appalled reaction. “On a more serious note, why?”

Letting up on your scowl, you said, “Well, he’s being a bitch about how I never tell him anything anymore. He asked whether I liked Nanamin and what was going on when I was being very obvious. I kissed the man in front of him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sweetie, that’s not straightforward at all. You know yourself better than anyone, and seriously, even I get all confused as to whether you’re just messing with everyone, not to mention that you’re so erratic that we just don’t know what to expect from you.” Geto eyed you placatingly, letting you know that he was being earnest.

You easily laugh and smile because of him, but he just as easily offends your by being so brutally straightforward. You’re realizing that now that he was acting more like your older brother, and you knew you couldn’t get offended when you wanted assurance. “I just want to include him all the time but his reactions are so fucking infuriating. He treats me like a kid crushing on his friend if anything.”

“So, why not talk to him about it?”

“I don’t want to sit down and talk to him about it as if I’m asking for permission or approval. I love Satoru to smithereens – don’t tell him that – but he doesn’t get a say about what I want in life especially not where the people I date are concerned especially since he seems to have an aversion to me being attracted to any of you guys ever since I turned twelve.”

Geto chortled. “So you’ve been crushing on Kento since you were a kid?”

You made a face at him, punching him on the arm. “No, idiot. I liked you first.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

You momentarily stopped walking. “Yes, but then I found out what a womanizer you are but I won’t even venture into that. I’m not really fond of martyrdom,” you deadpanned.

Not even hiding his affront, he walked back to your spot and flicked you on the forehead. “I’m very offended you’d say that to me!”

“It’s true though.” You laughed, reaching over to squish his face before walking around him in circles. “If you think I’ll cry over your pretty face, you couldn’t have been more mistaken. Besides, I don’t want to share.”

“Now you’re just being a jerk.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning insult. “I’m hurt, baby.”

“You deserve it for kissing that cheap model wannabe in front of me on your first runway show.”

“My, my. Your tongue’s loose today. Tell me more.”

“I settled for thinking I’ll just steal you from Satoru to be my best friend. Well, that’s before I met Yuuji. I guess I was just really jealous of what you and Satoru had. I wanted everything he had anyway until I realized that’s now how it works and there were things about me he couldn’t have either. Makes it fair.” You chuckled, finally making it in front of him. “Like that personalized plush bear you gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Man, that was huge.”

Laughing with you, he held onto your arm, pulling you close to him, glancing behind him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, still giggling.

“Your boy toy would have killed me with those looks he’d been throwing at my direction since breakfast,” Geto whispered to you, making you look over your shoulder, too. There, you found Nanami, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous with the rakish way his hair had been styled and his chiseled physique outlined by the long-sleeved running top he had on. He’s been dressing more casually recently much to your satisfaction.

“Don’t call him that, He’s not my boy toy.” You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Sometimes, I have to stop myself from jumping his bones.”

It was Geto’s turn to make a face at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but don’t say those things to me. Anyway, are you two together now?”

You tensed slightly and shook your head. “That’s up to him.”

“What?” He scoffed. “In case you’re not aware, you’re a prize. Don’t go doing all the work.”

“I know.”

“He should fight for it, too, if he wants you.”

“So Yuuji says.”

“He’s right.” Geto stopped walking, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

You nodded, poking fun at him. “More than your hoes, I hope.”

He clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “I’m being serious here. You may think I’m a hedonistic bastard who only thinks about getting laid all the time, but you’re a different story, sweetheart. I treasure you like Satoru does, and if I see something wrong, it’s my duty to tell you.”

Seeing the somber look on his face, your smile dropped. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he began. “Kento is a good man, better than Satoru and I combined to tell you the truth. But when it comes to things like this, he has the tendency to be indecisive.”

Your heart dropped, feeling nervous all of a sudden as your eyes widened in fear at the prospect. “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“Honey, he loves you. I know so.” He snorted. “Bastard can’t even resist you anymore by the looks of it, but trust me when I say he’s going to over-analyze things because there are so many things to consider instead just going for it.”

“You mean Satoru?” you griped.

“One of them anyway.”

“O…kay.” You pouted in perplexity. “How would you advise me to proceed?”

Geto finally let up on the seriousness, bursting out laughing. “The gods are fair, aren’t they?”

Understanding why he was laughing, you punched him on the arm again. “I know I’m dumb at this, but at least try acting like the older, more mature one here. You should be flattered I’m coming to you for shit like this at all.”

Still laughing, he pulled you close and hugged you, planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head. When he was calm enough, he breathed out and squeezed you tighter. “Talk to him and be direct about it.”

You decided to approach Nanami when you spotted him alone under one of the trees, reading a book. The forgotten basket of peaches beside him, only half-filled, was indicative that he forgot about the activity at hand and is in his own world again. You adored his quiet side, the way he kept to himself, unafraid to be alone and always comfortable in his solitude, so much so that you hesitated to disturb him.

Quietly, you stalked towards him, making sure not to make any sudden sounds, but being him, he was immediately able to perceive your presence.

"You have a very dark taste in literature as a child," Nanami spoke when you’re within earshot, sensing your presence.

You frowned, sitting beside him, confused at first but upon seeing your battered copy of "Coraline" sitting on his lap, you understood what he meant. "Where did you find that?"

"In the library." He finally met your gaze, his expressions unfathomable. "I remembered you gushing about it when you first read it."

You nodded in understanding, but couldn't quite keep your mind in the conversation, plagued with thoughts of what Geto told you earlier. He was saying something about your fascination for the horror genre, but you cut him short, saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly at the question, his quizzical gaze prompting you to proceed.

"What are we?" you blurted out, your blue eyes quite unable to meet his dark ones. You don't exactly know what was making you behave with such uncertainty. After all the times you had been confident where he was concerned, you were suddenly scared. You didn't fear being rejected by anyone. It has always been the case for you since you’re younger, but you were afraid of not knowing, of not being sure.

Nanami looked at you, deep in thought for a few moments until he finally told you, "That's up to you, isn't it?" His tone had a bite to it.

Unable to place where he was coming from at the moment, you hesitated. You rummaged through your head about what his response to you could imply, frowning when you came up with nothing. "What?" you said, thinking it better to ask.

"You heard me." He shrugged, opening the book to the page he was reading. By the looks of it, he was trying his best to ignore you.

You fought the urge to pose barb at him, too, wanting nothing but to get a straight response from him. "Why is it up to me?" You totally didn't understand, thinking it ought to be a decision the pair of you should make. Wasn’t that how it worked?

Silently cursing at the whole situation, you contemplated on your past relationships. All of them seemed less complicated. They liked you, you liked them. You decide to date, and when things don’t work out, the arrangement is broken off. High school and college boys were irritating to say the least, but you were expecting it to be a lot more straightforward with Nanami because he’s a mature adult. Now it seemed like you were in one of those previous relationships again.

“Elaborate on that,” you prompted him, seriously at a loss.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this another game of yours?"

To say you’re appalled by his odd line of questioning was an understatement. Unable to control your emotions anymore, you stood up. "What are you talking about?" You burst out laughing without mirth. For once, you’re being direct with what you wanted. For once, you weren't playing and yet all you get are questions being thrown at you.

"Go play with Suguru. He seems to enjoy your antics more than anyone," he told you coldly.

"What are you on about?" you demanded from him. “I’m asking you a simple question.”

Nanami flashed you a tired smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He also stood up, obviously exasperated. "Look, I honestly don't know what we are. I'm not sure." He sighed when you eyed him in disappointment but that expression turned into icy indifference very quickly.

"You don't know," you repeated, nodding. "Okay. I see how it is."

For the first time in years, you felt stupid, so much so that you felt like tearing all the hair off your scalp. You didn't understand what was wrong with Nanami but so many thoughts ran through your head at the same time. You thought you might have asked too early. You thought maybe you read things between the two of you wrong. On top of all that, you felt so overwhelmed with anger over his response that you couldn't think straight, but you were also afraid of saying anything else in case your inner demon decides to jump out.

Turning away, you started walking away. You heard him call your name but you didn't look back, suppressing the urge to go back to him and instead storming out of the orchard. You didn't understand what the dull ache in your chest meant but you knew you couldn't handle it.

-end of part 5-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

30 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 3 years

Photo

The Tale of Queen Angie, Chapter 2

10 months later.

“So who keeps texting you?” Angie asked, trying to hide her annoyance as she did her makeup at the vanity, brushing on the heavy mascara that made her eyes pop. He had recently restored the makeup table for her, rebuilding a nice old piece that had caught her eye at a yard sale a few months back. It’s not that she had very particular tastes in furniture; she just wanted to keep him busy, focused on something for her...

From his spot on her queen-sized bed, AJ quickly reached over to the nightstand, pushing aside the tissues and lotion, and silenced his phone. Even though it was nearly noon, and a Tuesday, he still hadn’t gotten out of bed. “It’s...nobody, babe.” “Don’t ‘nobody babe’ me,” she said, her eyes flashing to meet his in the mirror, “Remember? We talked about this. About keeping secrets, from me?” To that, AJ laughed. To sound aloof, though, was a half-hearted effort,. She’s joking, right? It’s not like it’s another girl, ever. It’s just th- Well, better not push it. “S-so sorry, Angie,” he apologized, not wanting a confrontation again over something so silly, “It was the guys from work. They want me to come down to Stoney’s to watch the game.”

He had answered honestly, not even sure he was capable of lying to her at this point. AJ had, since reconnecting with Angie at the reunion earlier this year, really fallen hard for her. And it wasn’t just the tits, which admittedly were initially the main attraction. She was also smart, driven, and there was an aggression about her that, these days, had really become appealing to him. He’d never would have considered himself a...what did they call it?...a “beta”, but there was something about the way Angie took charge, managed things, told him what to do that really, yeah, turned him on. More and more every day, in fact. And not just in bed - though, haha, she did that too - but in life in general. Their romance started out with her as the aggressor, and as time went on it had become even more and more one-sided. She had been an infatuated admirer of his back in high school, but if he was being honest it was now really her that held most all the hand in this relationship. But he hadn’t seen the guys much lately, and he kinda wanted to get drunk and commiserate with them. Since losing the stadium job to that big new girly construction company, his business had taken a sour turn. He’d had to let most of his crews go, including a bunch of old friends.

“They’re down there drinking, before noon, on a Tuesday?” Angie asked, as she saw him watching her, primping in the mirror in her silk dressing robe, “And these people are your friends?”

“Well, yeah,” he answered, immediately feeling sheepish, immediately feeling like the little boy trying to explain himself to his mom. She had a way of doing that, making him feel infantile and not like the kinda-successful, twenty-nine year-old adult male he was, “but I’d just be going for a beer or two…” So...dammit... why was he getting hard..?

Annoyance was bubbling up in Angie Wade’s chest. He knew she had taken the day off, so they could spend the day together. And he wanted to go see his moron buddies, drink cheap beer and watch sports? True, she hadn’t paid him much attention this morning, and he was probably feeling a little neglected. I guess I should do something about that, she thought wryly.

“Well, tell them you're busy,” she answered, applying a dramatic shade to her eyelids in the mirror. She was almost done. “Or better yet, just ignore them. They’ll get the message.”

At that, she stood up from her makeup chair and turned around in her short, thin robe of light rose, cinched at the waist. She was facing him now where he laid, half-sitting, on the bed. He had his grey sweatpants back on but was otherwise bare. She watched his eyes move up her body, pausing - predictably - on her well-presented chest before struggling to break free of the magnetic pull of her curves and meet her gaze.

A part of him had really wanted to go meet up with his friends. To get out of bed and go do ….something normal. He’d been getting out of the house, aside from the less-and-less frequent work, not that often these days. But that desire to leave was small, and fleeting. No sooner had he really grasped how she’d made herself up today - just for him - than the thought had already vanished. Replaced, in its entirety, by her. “Put the phone down,” she told him. “Oh, uh...yeah,” he obeyed, dropping his phone, forgotten, on the nightstand and watching as she slowly began to walk towards the bed, “They’ll, uh...they’ll figure it out, I g-guess...” “Good boy,“ she purred, giving him a crooked smile that told him she was pleased with his behavior. Angie loved the way he always shuddered and grew quiet when she said that, when she called him a “good boy”. It was a thing, these days, women starting to treat their partners like children. She’d read it in the blogs she followed, heard it from friends and from the girls at work. They had all begun to like it; men, for the most part, seemed to be slowly giving up these centuries-old, macho defenses, letting themselves be vulnerable, allowing themselves to enjoy the pampering that women had started to learn was the quickest way to gain leverage and control in their relationships. And for Angie, well...she loved the way he responded to both her silent and explicit commands, just for the opportunity to hear her say those words. Good boy. He really did enjoy when she mothered him, she knew. It was kinda pervy but it worked.

“Because we’re busy today, you and me,” she continued, still approaching the side of the bed where he lay, ”Today’s our day off together....” She looked down at him, tried to keep from smirking; already his cock had started to tent his sweatpants. “Not that you’ve been working much anyways,” she added, unable to help herself and speaking plainly.

It was true. With more and more construction bids falling through during the 11th hour, his work kept him less and less busy, though he felt constantly exhausted from the stress. He had been spending lots of time here, at her place, remodeling her condo for her, sleeping over. His bank accounts had nearly dried to nothing, and the lease on his downtown apartment was up this month. Plan was to officially move in with her, soon. Angie said she didn’t need any money for rent.

Finally, she arrived at his bedside, to his left. She let him look up at her - she knew she looked impressive from this angle - and smiled down at him. She watched as he took the hem of her robe between his fingers, played with its slick, soft fabric. He was looking at her full thigh. She sat down, on the edge of the mattress aside him, and put her hand on his thin, tattooed chest.

“Uh, yeah…” AJ finally replied, these little derisive comments about his work situation irking him less and less as time went on, “I’ve got another day to kill…I guess I can relax...”

“Well, you do have work to do today, baby,” Angie informed him, tracing little circles with her finger across his once-mighty pecs. She had told him to stop going to the gym early in their relationship - muscular guys were going out of fashion, she’d said - and it showed. He was naturally a lean person, and the strong physique he had spent years building and been known for had mostly disappeared. She liked that, the weak, small-boned look, she’d found. Her friends, like that gym-rat Missy (who just got a new job), could probably squat more than him now, haha. “I have jobs for you.”

“I thought I was pretty much all done?” His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember the long list of tasks. “I finished the kitchen island, a-and installed the new shower head yesterd-“

“Not that kind of work, sweetie,” she corrected, “Relationship work. I have the day off, I got all pretty for you. I bought some new goodies at Victoria’s Secret yesterday,” she smiled down at him, watching him try to control the little eager twitches of his, “Well, technically, you bought them for me…. but either way….”

She ran the fingers of her left hand up past his right collarbone, sliding up his throat, looking at the tender, bare, smoothly unadorned skin, and thought to herself with a secret, silent giggle: we need to get you a new tattoo...

Today she’d decided that she wanted to have some fun with him. They had all day together and she really wanted to feel strong and powerful. She had seen Melissa’s Instagram earlier, and while she would never admit to feeling lesser, she couldn’t deny that she really felt the need now to flex some feminine muscles. She looked down at him, and dark thoughts went through her head.

“We’ve got alllll day together,” she continued, her free hand now gently tugging on the belt which held her robe closed, “and I want to make you ache.”

She smiled proudly as, as soon as her right breast began to come into view, he groaned. He was already so turned on, she could see that, like some brainless ape. She’d read the manuals, all those domme blogs. With everything that was going on with men these days, femdom was getting very popular. Some seemed sort of silly - so much leather haha - but there were lots of things she wanted to try, get his mind in the right place. She wanted to make him even more submissive than he was already, it seemed, naturally becoming. Showing him her breast was a start.

“Don’t you want to show me how much you love me today, hmm?” Angie purred, peeling her robe back further, now, exposing her G-cup breasts in the new push-up, black strapless bra she’d purchased, “How much you love...them?”

“Oh, god, Angie…” AJ moaned, already overcome as he watched as she dropped her robe behind herself, off her shoulders. Her breasts looked fantastic, enormous, pressed perfectly together into mind-melting cleavage. Her long dark hair had fallen softly onto her chest…

...but in a practiced move she pushed it back, over her pale shoulders, affording him a better view.

“You don’t need to show me your endurance today, baby,” she said, as she settled closer on the bed to him, pulling his sweatpants down to his knees, “I’m not interested in how long you can last.” Acknowledging his erection with a proud smile, she pulled in closer still and grasped it with her left hand. She heard him gasp, and pulled herself in closer still, to bring her big right tit right close to his face. “Today I want you to show me how weak you are for me…and my breasts…”

AJ’s mouth dropped open, his eyes goggled at the cantaloupe-sized breast of his brunette girlfriend, now just inches from his nose and mouth. She had such big, perfect breasts, he marveled, with smooth ivory skin and just the fewest of freckles. She smelled like fresh fruit, he always thought, and today her perfume had him immediately fixated. He did feel weak for her, he thought, he always did, in bed. She just had this way...and those tits...

“Look what I’ve done to you already,” she said, the pride in her voice masking a haughty disdain as she slowly began to stroke him in her fist. She smiled as, predictably, he let out a little whine and opened his mouth wider. He was staring right at her big boob, unblinking. Tit men, she marveled, they’re so easy.

She shifted her left shoulder in towards him, now bringing her left breast closer. He looked from one, to the other, still gape-mouthed like a guppy. “Today I want them to make you cum over and over and over,” she said, wobbling them just enough to bring ripples through her alabaster flesh, elicit another whine from him, “I want them to be the only thing on your mind allllll daaaay. I want you to be dumb and docile, I want you to drool over them. I want you to fucking worship them. ”

“y-y-y-yuh...yuh, okay…” AJ responded, dumbly ogling her tits, passively frozen in place. He’d learned to keep his hands to himself, times like this. She would take care of it.

“‘Yuh okay’ what?” she asked him, in correction, her left hand slowing to a stop as she waited for his answer.

“y-yuh okay goddess,” he answered.

She chuckled. She’d taught him well. “Good boy,” she commended, loving the worshipful fealty she’d gotten from him over time; it made her feel good, fed her ballooned ego. She resumed her ministrations to his just-about-average cock, thinking: Does Melissa have someone calling her ‘Goddess’?? I think not...

”oh my god you’re so big,” AJ offered, as she placed her right breast once again straight in front of his face.

“Mmhm…” she purred, feeling the urge to just squash her tit onto his mouth and nose, start to smother him, “I’m the big Titty Monster, come to eat you…”

He groaned again, his eyes fluttered in ecstasy.

God, so submissive, she marveled. If all men, honestly, were secretly getting to be like this, she thought, girls are going to rule the world. “Tell me again,” she commanded, breathing in, pushing her tit even closer to him, so that soft flesh swelled over the cup. She kept her skin smooth, soft, moisturized, for times just like this. The few, faint stretch marks, she felt, were just a testament to her womanly size.

“y-you’re so big…” he complied, repeating himself, in total awe now.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, “a G-cup.” She had originally thought she’d just make him come quick - and with where she had him at the moment she could do it in an instant. But she was actually enjoying this. “And you like that, hm? You like big. Big boobs. Big girls. Maybe I should start going to the gym, get reeeeeal big?” she posited, looming over him taller now, “Get bigger than you? You’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

“oh, god, yes,” he groaned.

Angie smiled. Again, so easy. She’d seen it, knew it. It was getting plain as day to her. But she didn’t fully understand it all yet. What is up with guys these days, wanting their women big? Bigger than them? And she was feeling it too, she realized. She’d love to see him start to just shrink up, right in front of her eyes. Something was happening, something was going on. And she was going to figure this out.

“What is it, baby? Tell me. What is it that you like, thinking about me being bigger?” she asked sweetly, continuing her slow, rhythmic attentions between his legs.

His eyes were still planted on her tit, staring at her bra. “....b-b-breassts….” he moaned.

She laughed. What a simple, predictable answer from a simple, predictable man. “Ohhhh..!” she giggled, teasing him, “Am I not big enough for you? Should I get implants? Big ones, like Amelia? Hm?”

From AJ, no answer.

“Hmmm, no. I think I know...I know what you want,” she continued, wickedly aware now of where his mind was, “Maybe I should let you get me pregnant, so they swell up..?” She smiled, feeling his body tense up, quiver under her. She’d struck a chord. “So my milk comes in?”

Beneath her AJ groaned, loudly.

So that’s another thing, hm? she laughed to herself. Typical, not surprising. Men wanted back on the tit, it just made sense, and she’d suspected it for a while now with him. She could use this, she mused. Oh yes, this was good...

“I saw how you woke up sucking your thumb last night,” she asked him, sliding her right hand up over his jaw, his cheek, to his lips, “Were you thinking about me?”

She put a finger in his mouth, watched his eyes go wide, his whole body spasm, again. “It’s okay, sweetie...” she offered, “...suck.”

His eyes fluttered, he was close. There was no stopping it now. He sealed his lips around her forefinger, and began to suck.

“There you go….” Angie purred, in a satisfied drawl. She felt his hips start to clench, and suddenly it was time. She sped up in her stroking, to bring him home. This was it. It’s too much for him. “Come for me,” she whispered, her hand beating him now, “Come for mommy…”

In a burst, in a groan, in a tensing spasm that shook the bed, AJ came in her hand. His mouth loosened its suction on her finger, so he could bleat his pleasures, but his eyes stayed wide on her tit. She milked him through his climax, purring little, maternal adulations along the way. Finally, his eyes closed, and he sank back into his pillow.

She sat back, up straight, regarded the scene with a crooked, knowing smile. She wiped her hand on his belly.

“Clean yourself up, get yourself ready,” she told him, standing up now after allowing him his few quiet moments of shame, “We’ve got all day together, baby…”

=============================

Co-written with AgeOfTheGiantess. More imagery, bonus storylines and other cool stuff at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

72 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Note

22+michael guerin?

thank you!

#22. all i ever wanted was the world [ao3]

“She asked too many personal questions.”

“Michael. It was a date. That’s what you do on dates.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like it.”

Michael ignored Isobel’s eye roll and huff, his eyes returning to his sketch. Though, sketch felt like too little of a word. He was designing a spaceship. That was bigger than a sketch. Maybe. Depends on who was asked, he supposed.

Isobel had been trying and failing to set him up with someone for months, though he wasn’t sure why. He understood on some level that it was because she felt bad, but it was misguided guilt. He didn’t need someone to entertain him while she was with her girlfriend and Max was with his. Michael was perfectly and utterly capable of keeping himself busy in one way or anything.

Besides, he could handle his own when it came to the romance department with no problems.

But Isobel seemed to enjoy finding guys and girls to send him on dates with. So he never complained, only found a reason to not go on a second date with them, and hoped she’d run out of people. She would eventually. There were only so many people in and around Roswell for him to choose from.

“Michael,” that voice he had memorized like it was his own called. Michael’s head popped up to see Alex, the owner of Crumbs, standing at the counter with the little bag that held the muffin he’d ordered and his coffee order in hand.

Michael basically scrambled to his feet and walked over, accepting it graciously. Alex grinned as he always did, bright enough to light up the sun itself.

“So, okay, I’m trying this new cupcake recipe. Can you try it for me real quick?” Alex asked, puppy eyes barely even having to kick into gear before Michael was complying. He’d do whatever Alex asked, he thinks.

He knows. Because he already has.

“Okay,” Michael agreed.

Alex held up a finger to signal to give him a second and then disappeared into the back. Michael glanced over his shoulder to see Isobel staring with raised eyebrows. He looked back to the counter.

“Okay, okay, it’s an apple pie cupcake,” Alex said, peeling down the paper. Michael quirked an eyebrow.

“Apple pie?”

“Yeah, it’s got a bit of a filling and the icing is whipped cream with a graham cracker dust,” Alex said, holding it out, “I’m thinking of making it a fall flavor, but I need a Michael’s opinion before I made the decision.”

Michael grinned and leaned forward, taking a bite right out of Alex’s hand. Alex had said before that taking something and giving it back was super unsanitary for the store and, well, who was Michael to tell him how to run his business.

“Mmmm,” Michael hummed, reaching up to wipe his bottom lip. Alex’s eyes turned‒something. It was like they’d brightened and darkened at the same time like he was so pleased that his pupils dilated. He liked the sight. “It’s good.”

“You like these or the raspberry cheesecake ones from a couple of weeks ago better?”

“Cruel of you to make me choose.”

“Please choose?”

“Maybe the raspberry cheesecake, if I have to choose? But that’s super sweet so it might not be for everyone. But also you could charge more for it because of the raspberries,” Michael brainstormed. Alex snorted a laugh and nodded.

“Here, take it. You have a good day, Michael,” Alex said, only keeping him long enough to grab a napkin and wipe his nose where a bit of whipped cream icing had gotten.

“You too, Alex.”

Michael grabbed his things and went back to Isobel who looked like she just had the most brilliant idea known to man. That immediately made him nervous. He tried to ignore it as he cautiously took a sip of his coffee. It was just right.

“I got it,” Isobel said, brightening up with her idea, “Alex. I’ll set you up with Alex.”

Typically, Michael would entertain her idea, let her think he’d be okay with that. This one, however, was too close and he immediately shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why not? He clearly likes you.”

“I’m not having you set us up, I’m not doing that,” Michael insisted, shaking his head. Isobel made a face.

“You won’t even try? Is it because you actually like him?” Isobel asked. Michael sighed, looking at her.

“Isobel, I love you. But please stop. I don’t need help. I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said honestly. He was trying to focus on building a spaceship.

“I just don’t want you to be lonely,” Isobel said, “I mean, we’re almost thirty and you’ve never had a relationship.”

“I’m not lonely, though. I don’t need a relationship,” Michael insisted. Isobel rolled her eyes and that just started to be irritating. “I don’t. I can go my whole life without one and I’ll be happy.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. It’s my brain, my feelings. I’m not you, Izzy. So, please, stop,” Michael said, his irritation starting to show in his tone. Isobel reached out to his arm, grabbing his wrist.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you cared so much,” Isobel said. He didn’t really respond, but he shoved the cupcake Alex made over to her as a sign of peace. She accepted it.

Michael looked up and caught sight of Alex washing his hands in the little sink behind the counter, laughing with one of his employees. The sight made him smile a bit which he successfully hid behind his coffee.

“But, you’ve gotta be honest. Alex is cute,” Isobel said. Michael rolled his eyes.

“I mea, he’s not ugly.”

“Knew it.”

Michael dropped Isobel off at her house at the end of the night and took a deep breath, finally feeling free for a moment.

He loved Isobel, but she could be very overbearing. Instead of thinking too much about it, though, he drove his happy ass back to Crumbs. Before he did that, though, he made sure to turn his tracking off because if Isobel found out he was seeing Alex after dark he’d never live it down.

He parked around back beside Alex’s beat-up Honda Accord and climbed the fire escape with his sketchbook in hand. It led to an unlocked window and Michael happily let himself in. The apartment above Alex’s shop was empty outside of the 6-month old beagle that immediately perked up when she saw Michael.

“Hi, baby,” Michael cooed, placing his sketchbook and his keys on the counter and going to unlock her kennel. Her little barks filled the air and she jumped on Michael, enjoying all the pets he gave her. “Such a good little Mouse, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Where’d Daddy hide your treats this time?”

“I hide them because you give her too many,” Alex said as the door opened. Michael tilted his head back, smiling at the man in the doorway as Mouse licked his chin.

“How am I supposed to say no to this face, though?” Michael asked.

“The same way I say no to your face,” Alex said. He closed the door behind him, locking it with nothing but muscle memory and walking towards Michael. He kept his head tilted back, accepting the kiss on the forehead he gave.

Alex scratched Michael’s scalp and then Mouse’s head before walking into the kitchen area. He pulled a drink out of the fridge and looked at the notebook on the table.

“God, this shit’s so good, Michael. You ever thought about learning how to tattoo and see if you’d be any good at it?” Alex asked. Michael shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t want to touch that many people.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Still. This is badass.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, slowly pulling himself off the floor. Mouse followed him at his feet. “Guess who Isobel tried to set me up with today.”

“Who?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow as he reached out with his free hand to tug at Michael’s waistband. He grinned as he molded against his chest.

They weren’t, like, together. They were taking it slow. Alex was still constantly stressed over his business and Michael was still trying to figure out what to do with himself. In the meantime, they would hook up and spend time together. They didn’t want to tell anyone about it though because other people made things complicated.

They liked this.

“You,” Michael said, “I was like ‘no’ and then I finally told her to stop setting me up.”

“Took you long enough. Though love that it took her finally trying someone that might actually catch your attention,” Alex teased, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“I just didn’t want her figuring anything out. It’s none of her business,” Michael said. Alex hummed.

“I get it. I like what we’re doing. We get our own little world without all the bullshit,” Alex said. Michael smiled at him, nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

“Yeah, exactly. Though feeding me cupcakes might not be as subtle as you think.”

Alex huffed a laugh and craned his head to finally, finally press his lips against his. The kiss was short but that was okay because Michael knew more was coming.

They weren’t in a rush. They had all the time in the world.

“I don’t plan to stop.”

“Good.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday

87 notes · View notes

readingreylo · 3 years

Text

Valentine's Day Reylo Fic Recs

It has been a dark and cold winter and reading about these two idiots has been keeping me sane. Here are some romantic and Valentine themed fics to warm the cockles of your heart. No surprises here - these are all Modern AU ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Image by @m1ssjess

Romantic Fic's

Not necessarily Valentine's Day themed, but some *chef kiss* fics with super satisfying romance. Some are smutty, some are not.

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent | Explicit | 130k | complete | Modern AU | Teachers | Co-workers | Enemies-to-lovers | Hate-to-love | slow burn | fuck buddies | idiots in love | smut | Ben POV | Ben is an asshole. A former lawyer, turned high school councilor who works at the prestigious private school that he, himself, was expelled from. Rey is an adorable art teacher who is everything he despises and who does not take his shit. They clash to say the least. He hates her. Then he wants to fuck her. Then he falls in love with her. If he plays his cards right he might get everything he never knew he wanted. | Jessie's note: this might be the greatest enemies-to-lovers I have ever read! The prose is top notch, the characterization is fascinating, the slow transition from hate-to-attraction-to-love is so brilliantly done.

Happy Reading!

#reylo #reylo fic rec #reylo fandom #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #ben x rey #i was going to add my favourite smutty fics too but this got huge and i am so tired #while making this list i re-read over half of these fics and boy do i still love them #i also kinda feel guilty for not adding my two cents to each one but i am so tired #did i mention i am tired?#i realize its still a week and a bit till Valentine's day #but we are already decorated at work and i freaking like the aesthetic #and i am a hopeless romantic

133 notes · View notes

florenceandthemachine · 3 years

Text

hear your heartbeat

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

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

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

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

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

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

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

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

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

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

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

“Stiles, I—“

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

“Laura—”

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

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

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

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

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

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

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

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

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

Please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…stories?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s younger than I am!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

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

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Derek, I know.”

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

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

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

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

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

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

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

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

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

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

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

“I—you—what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

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

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

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

Fake. It was all fake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Derek!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Mark—“

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

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

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

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

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

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

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

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

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

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

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

Fuck, he was cute.

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

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

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

“You are definitely something special.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun times.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

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

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

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

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

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

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

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

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yeah. Great time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Wait, Stiles—“

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

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

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

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

...why was Derek blushing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

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

This was exactly where he belonged.

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

62 notes · View notes