#rose met this guy that reminds him of Kira. it didn’t go well as you’d expect. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years

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more ways than one (01)

word count; 4951

summary; your first meeting with the stranger you rescued doesn’t go as smoothy as you’d hoped.

notes; I remind y’all that Stiles was possessed, but it veers off and it goes away, it’s not really mentions how, but the nogitsune never splits from Stiles. Allison is still alive, and Malia and Stiles are not a couple. Oh, and Derek is away travelling with Cora. That’s about it.

warnings; violence, choking, aggression.

You chewed on the straw in your mouth absentmindedly, your gaze trailing off into the distance as the girls talked constantly around you. You were vaguely following the conversation as they spoke, the girls chatting loudly about everything you had all been through lately, as though the supernatural was public information and they didn’t care about the opinions of those tables around you all who could easily eavesdrop if they bothered to listen closely.

Your eyes were squinted a little, the sun shining down and giving a warm feeling over the day, despite the storm that was due to set in later on in the day, and Lydia had texted you all this morning and told you to be ready to go for a late lunch while it was warm. She claimed that after everything that had happened with Stiles’ brief run-in with possession, and the year of supernatural crap that had gone down during your sophomore year, that you were all well overdue a lunch date to chat. That, and she was taking the opportunity to introduce Malia to the world of once again being bi-pedal and human.

Said strawberry-blonde snapped her fingers in front of your face, calling your attention to her and your thoughts snapped away from the nightmare you had somehow landed yourself in, your eyes focusing in on her as you pulled your milkshake away from your mouth, smiling as casually as you could as you looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed as she studied you carefully, before her lips were twisting up in a smirk.

“What’cha thinking about so hard there, girly?”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head and smiling casually as you lifted one of your fries to your mouth, chewing on the soft potato as you shrugged at her, trying your best to play it cool, but the four sets of eyes on you were throwing you through a loop. “Nothing.” You watched them carefully, swallowing the milkshake before taking a long sip of your milkshake, the chocolate flavour filling your mouth and she merely hummed, Allison was snickering as she turned to whisper to Kira, and Malia simply watched the interactions, taking the last bite of her double-cheeseburger and licking the sauce from the edge of her mouth, humming happily around the food.

“So, you’re not thinking about a pale and male-covered boy with brown hair and bright eyes?” You practically choked on your drink as Allison questioned you, your eyes wide as you wondered whether they’d found out about the lookalike you’d stashed at Derek’s loft, and you sputtered for an explanation, your cheeks heating up with a red flush, Kira cracking up and slapping the huntress on the arm as the two curled into each other in a fit of giggles.

“She’s totally thinking about Stiles, look at her blushing!”

You felt relief seep into your body as the tension slipped away, your body slumping in the seat as you rolled your eyes, your racing heart calming as your secret remained safe, for now. “Wait, am I missing something? Why would I be thinking about Stiles?”

Lydia picked at her acrylic nails, not even bothering to look up at you as she spoke. “Maybe because you’re totally into each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. You know the two of you have gotten super close, lately!” Allison insisted, and your brows rose as you glanced around the other girls, and Lydia mumbled her agreement as she sipped at her water, a half-eaten salad sitting in front of her.

“When I first met you guys, I thought you were together,” Kira added, and you rolled your eyes, nibbling on your lower lip as embarrassment flooded through your system, the copy-cat male you’d hidden away yesterday slipping from your mind as thoughts of the original filled your thoughts. You loved your best friend, you truly did, and you couldn't deny how much closer you’d gotten to him lately, but it was only because he’d come to you when he started to feel the effects of his possession, confiding in you long before anyone else had. “I think you’d be cute together.”

“Are they not together?” Malia muttered, looking intently at the uneaten food on your plate, and you giggled as you offered it up to her, a bright smile taking over his face as she accepted the plate ad placed it down on top of her own empty one, quickly tucking into your leftover food.

“C’mon girls, he’s totally in love with Lyds, since like third grade. You know this, he’s not exactly subtle.” You teased, knowing it was true. The boy spoke about her all the time, and while he hadn't quite been as vocal about it, you knew he was still pining for the red-head girl.

“Everyone’s a little bit in love with me, but not everyone holds hands with their best friend.” You snorted unattractively, giving her a side-eye and leaning back, your legs crossing proudly as you thought about it.

“When have I ever held hands with Stiles?”

“Uh, like six times over the past three months?” Kira objected, the others all making various sounds of agreement as you watched Malia finish your meal too, a proud smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair, legs parted and hands sitting on her stomach as she groaned happily at the feeling of having a full stomach.

“Three of those times he was unconscious, one of those times he was going into a bathtub full of ice and one of those times he was checking into a nuthouse.” You pointed out, and the banshee counted them off on her fingers, wiggling a finger at you as she smiled.

“That makes five, what about the sixth time?”

You shrugged, deciding to bait them a little, a sigh falling from your lips. “You’re right, me and Stiles are totally and madly in love. You caught us out.” Their jaws dropped as they leaned forwards, a collection of squeals sounding as you tried to keep a straight face, eventually cracking up, and one by one they caught on as they scowled at you, Allison flicking you in the arm and Lydia pinching the other one, and you jumped away from both of them, rubbing your arms as you all but cackled at having fooled them.

The conversation moved on as they began to focus on other things, and you pulled your phone from your pocket, two messages flashing up on the screen and you clicked on the first, rolling your eyes as you opened the message from Stiles.

[batman 🦇💛] bring me ur leftover pizza back from lunch?

can’t, malia ate it, whoops x

[batman 🦇💛] >:( I can’t believe this, does 12yrs of friendship mean nothing to u?!

You grinned, rolling your eyes and tuning out the taunts and whistles you got from the group around you as they realised you were texting your best friend, your fingers flying over the screen as you typed out your reply, checking the time before you did.

according to the girls, it means we r in love x

[batman 🦇💛] ha. funny. ive seen u eat sand. couldnt kiss u now.

shut up, dumbass. I was 6 and u dared me x

[batman 🦇💛] kinda sad to kno the girl i'm in love w/ thinks i love u but that's my luck.

You cooed, rolling your eyes and promising that you’d text him later as you swiped out to the other text, your stomach churning as you realised it was from Derek. Admittedly, he was only asking about his loft, and whether you’d been over to check everything was okay, but it still made guilt twist at your guts before you sent a half-true reply, choosing instead to cover up the real facts.

Instead, you chose to tell him that you had definitely been over to check and that everything was tip-top okay, neglecting to tell him that you were stashing a supernatural double of your best friend only two weeks after he was mysteriously possessed and released, and that he was cut up and injured and arrived from a weird storm. Minor details.

Clearing your throat, you pulled out a handful of notes from your purse, placing them down in the amount that you owed as you excused yourself from the table, balancing the strap of your bag on your shoulder and smiling at the complaints of your friends as they encouraged you to stay, but it was already nearing the late afternoon and early evening, and you needed to grow the courage to return to the scene of your crime.

The pharmacy was only a quick walk around the corner, and you’d made sure to park your car outside of it so that none of them would see you leaving and entering the building with a suspicious amount of medical supplies, and you pulled the crumpled paper with your list pulled on out of your pocket. Smoothing the crumpled item out in the palm of your hand, the bell above the door jingled, the air conditioning washing over you immediately and you shivered at the sudden temperature drop upon entering the shop.

Peering at your own writing, you smiled uneasily at the cashier who was watching you, a kid who’d graduated just a year or two earlier, and her eyes narrowed on you as you moved through the shelves. Plucking one of the plastic shopping baskets from the side, you held it carefully in your arms, avoiding their scrutinising gaze.

Paper Stitches.

Your eyes scanned over the shelf, a surprising number of options displayed before you, and even the first option was already showing you the impact that this little shop was going to have on your bank account, and you simply prayed it would be worth it. Taking the largest size and strongest strength in your hand, you shrugged to yourself, dropping it into the basket and scanning the other ones. You could always pick up another size of you needed them, but you were definitely going to need at least two boxes of these ones for now.

You couldn't help the scowl on your face as the sum total began to add up in your mind, moving along the aisle to the wrapping sand covers,

Bandages. Gauze.

There were far too many options of bandages and covers, a jumble between compression wraps, light and thick material covers and thick and padded gauze. You could barely tell the difference between any of the options, and you began to think that maybe you should have paid a little more attention to the quick google search you’d done earlier as to what you actually needed.

First up, a collection of thick, cotton wool paddings to place over the large gashes the man had obtained, followed by gauze and bandages, a hand rubbing over your forehead as the collection began to gather up in the bottom of the basket. Your fingers brushed over the rolls of medical tape, and you dropped a roll of that in too, knowing you’d need something to fasten the material to his torso with.

You skirted around the corner to the next set of shelves, your cheeks flaring in a blush as you caught the suspicious gaze she was giving you, and you cleared your throat, holding your head high as you ignored the judgement hanging on her sights.

Antiseptic Wash. Hand Sanitizer. Cotton Balls.

100 cotton balls in a bag for three dollars felt like a good enough offer for you, and you dropped it into the basket, humming to the tune playing over the radio above your head as you swiped a large bottle of antiseptic wash from its place, and finally, a few of the small bottles of hand sanitizer, because you’d been needing some more of that anyway.

You hadn't quite been ready for the odd glare the ex-peer had given you when you placed the basket on the counter, and her eyes moved slowly between the items and your eyes, a sarcastic smile on her lips as she slowly began to ring them up, placing them all in a paper bag for you and ensuring they would all fit.

In a bid to avoid the wight of her stare fixed on you, you let your eyes scan over the ‘last-minute-purchase’ options on the counter, adding a packet of strawberry bubblegum to the collection and she scanned it through, reading your total to you and you jammed the card into the reader, wincing at the price that was displayed on the small screen. Your fingers punched into the buttons as you bit your tongue, taking the card and the bag as soon as you could and you darted from the shop, barely pausing to take your receipt from her as you fled.

Placing the stuffed paper bag on the shotgun seat, you rounded the car, letting out a deep sigh as you strapped into the seat and stuck your keys into the ignition. Digging into the bag beside you, you fished out the bubblegum, taking a stick from the packet and unwrapping it, popping it into your mouth and letting the chewing motion and sweet flavour soothe you as you started up the car and began the well-ingrained journey to the loft, anxiety riddling your body.

The radio played quietly in the background as you made your way along, the only sounds filling the car being that of the quiet hum of the latest chart-toppers, and the occasional pop of the bubblegum in your mouth. You weren’t really too sure why you were still keeping this secret from everyone, you had the perfect chance at lunch to tell the girls about what had happened, to get help and confide in someone.

Stiles.

Deep down, it was about protecting Stiles. The ripples on the surface of the water had only just smoothed back down, and you weren’t willing to throw the next stone in a situation that you were absolutely certain you could handle yourself. How dangerous could someone who was 147 pounds and unconscious be?

That was the only thought that was strong enough to force you up and out of the car, your feet carrying you forwards as you unlocked the main door, clicking it shut behind you as you made your way toward the stairs, choosing to walk all the way up to the top instead of taking the rickety elevator. You could use the time to calm yourself down, work out what you were going to do if the stranger you were harbouring was now awake.

Your hands were shaking so much that the keys were jingling as you walked, and you clenched them in a fist, taking a deep breath as you reached the final level and pausing before the silver metal door. With a deep sigh, you unlocked it carefully, sliding it out of the way and looking inside carefully. Natural light was flooding in through the huge bay windows at the other end, the concrete room lit up with warm light that almost made the monochrome grey space look welcoming, and your eyes zeroed in on the space that had once occupied that man you had rescued.

Nothing seemed out of place, the room wasn’t trashed and rummaged through, and everything was still and calm as you took a first cautious step inside. By the second step, you were sliding the door shut behind you, your brows furrowing. By the third step, a cold hand was sealed tightly around your throat, pinning you up to the wall as the tips of your toes brushed the ground.

The bag in your arms fell away, the items within it scattering across the floor as you squeaked, coming up to grab at the wrist holding you so tightly to the wall as you struggled to drag in any breath at all, your gaze meeting the furious one of the face you knew so well on the person you didn’t know at all. Those familiar honey-brown eyes were scanning over you interrogatively, and the long fingers wrapped around your throat flexed, tightening for a second before you were released, and you fell to your knees, eyes watering as you took in burning breaths, rubbing soothingly at the skin on your throat as the man merely stood and watched you for a second, before spinning on his heel and walking away.

You watched him go, shaking your head as he stormed away, and once your breathing had finally calmed and your heart had stopped racing so had on your chest that you thought it may burst out, you began to slowly gather up the items you had dropped, stuffing them all haphazardly back into the now torn paper bag and standing it up. Sitting on your knees, you took a moment to gather yourself, your eyes locking with the narrowed brown ones watching you, goosebumps rising over your body and you tried to seem strong, not to let him know quite how terrified you really were, as you took the back, standing on unsteady legs and holding your head high as you stared him down.

Making your way over to him, you placed the bag down in front of him, raising your brows as you moved slowly, the warning growl in his throat being acknowledged as you held up your hands, palms out to him to show you meant no hard, despite the fact that he'd attacked you only moments prior. Instead, you slowly tipped the bag upside down, allowing all the contents to spill out across Derek’s plain black coffee table, the man’s eyes scanning over it all, his face twisted in confusion as he looked at each item.

You stood with him in silence for a moment, letting him look at all the items, before he was stepping away from you, a snarl on his lips as he moved as far back as he could while still being able to watch your movements, track what you were doing. With a heavy sigh, you backed away yourself, never taking your eyes off of him out of fear of what he might do once you did, and for each step backwards you took, he moved forward one, and you slowly guided him toward the kitchen.

He lingered in the doorway as you moved around, never taking your eyes off of him for more than a split second as you searched through his drawers and cupboards, a small sound of victory leaving you once you found something you could work with, and you slipped two packets of the instant-noodles from the collection, dropping them on the counter as you continued your hunt on your meal-making task.

He flinched each time a pot or pan clashed, his eyes once again narrowing menacingly, and you had to suppress a chuckle because it was no longer focused on you, but instead on the source of the loud sounds, as he glared at a frying pan that had shifted and fallen loudly on another one. Selecting a pan big enough for the job, you quickly filled it with water from the tap, deciding that using the hob was definitely the safest bet, as you worked with this. Tearing open each packet, you held it up to show him as you watched on curiously, and you dropped the solid blocks of noodles into the water, waiting for it to begin to bubble over the flame.

There was nothing in the fridge that you could use, he’d gotten rid of everything perishable before going away, and you made a mental note to buy food, your heart once again sinking at the savings-draining task you had taken on. Maybe if you told Lydia, she’d give you her card and allow you to pay using her platinum, but you highly doubted you’d get away with telling her now without having to endure a long sit down talk and a lot of disappointed looks, which you weren’t ready to deal with. Lydia Martin could be scary when she wanted to be.

The silence hung heavily in the room between the two of you, and you tried to school your face into a stoic expression, despite the stormy scowl that was being directed at you, his body shuffling as you looked at him, his shoulders rolling from the discomfort of his injuries and he looked like he was going to try and dash at any moment. Taking two dishes from the lower cupboard beside your legs, you placed them out on the table gently, a fork beside each one and you stirred the noodles, the pasta soft and flimsy as it circled around, the savoury smell filling the air and you quickly dished up the food after switching off the hob, placing a fork in one bowl and pushing it across the countertop toward him.

He stepped forward as you took a seat on one of the stools, and you watched as he lifted up the instrument, pushing the pasta around the dish, a growl leaving him as he dropped the fork back into the bowl with a clatter, and you raised your eyebrows as you ate your own food, fixing him with a judgemental look and shaking your head. He used a single, skinny finger to push the bowl toward you roughly, some of the soup sloshing over the side and you let out a sigh, continuing to eat your food as he glared at you.

You had never felt quite so intimidated while in the presence of a bowl of noodles, and had you been anywhere else, in any other situation, you might have found this situation funny, perhaps even laughed at it, but right now, you worried you may actually choke on the noodles from stress. When you finally finished, and he was still twitching from foot to foot in front of you, his nervous shuffling giving you anxiety, too.

“What? You don’t eat, then?” He merely snarled at you, despite the rumbling in his stomach as the delicious smell drifted through the air and you raised a brow at him, shrugging and taking the bowl, his eyes watching as you snatched the food from in front of him. You made sure to make a show of tipping it into the garbage disposal, his eyes watching as the food slipped away into the drain and his jaw tightened, twitching as he ground his teeth together, his body jerking in shock as you slammed your hand down on the button on the wall and the loud grating filled the room, before you finished it, a smug look on your face as you cleared the dishes into the sink to clean later.

He stalked from the room as you did, his nostrils flaring at your actions and you wanted to stomp your foot on the ground and groan, but instead, you merely clenched your fists by your sides, following after him as he whipped his head around to see you following him, choosing to make his way over to the couch and poke through the items spilt out on the coffee table.

He picked up the bag of cotton wool balls, looking at them curiously before dropping them and you cleared your throat, his hard gaze directed back to you as you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. “Those wounds on your back are bad, you should let me take a look at you.”

He blinked at you, twice, eyes wide and his face didn’t move, giving you no indication that he was actually understanding a thing you were saying and you took cautious and slow steps toward him, his body tensing up as you did and you plucked the item from his hands, meeting little resistance as you held it up.

“These are for cleaning the wounds. On your shoulders?”

You placed the item down, motioning to your own shoulders as you tried to make him understand, and he twitched at the motion, his features falling from their hard glare a little his eyes softening and he swallowed thickly, his gaze dropping from yours for just a moment as he adjusted his arms. A wince was clear on his face as he moved his arms back, his lips parting and a quiet groan left him.

Your own shoulders slumped as you watched him, and you picked up another couple of items, deciding to offer him a small smile as you held it up, jiggling the packages before him, and the crinkling caught his attention. “These are for wrapping and padding the cuts, because those are really bad, and they’ll get infected.”

He pursed his lips, but for once they weren’t fixed in a heavy scowl and you felt as though perhaps you were making some kind of progress with him. Placing them down, you moved through the rest of the items, lifting each one slowly and telling him what it would be used for, only receiving the same blank looks and lonely silence as he stood before you, his gaze flicking over both you and the room multiple times. Despite the lack of verbal confirmation, you were choosing to believe that he understood you, because his posture had loosened, his body slumping forward a little and he seemed a little less like he was preparing to fight for his life at every turn of events.

It wasn’t until you’d finished talking to him and moved toward him that his defensive stance returned to him. He jerked aggressively away from you as you took a step toward him, and you lifted your hands, reaching out to him carefully as you motioned towards his back. “Let me take a look at your injuries!”

He stepped back again, his legs hitting the edge of the couch and he went rigid as you closed in on him, a low growl sounding from his throat, the noise rumbling from his chest in a warning and his eyes were practically burning with rage, his anger having built in seconds and your jaw dropped.

“We just talked about your injuries! I told you what I need to do!”

You tried one final time, reaching for him carefully and he took your wrist in his hand squeezing so tightly that your knees buckled as you released a cry, and he growled once again, this time predatory, as if to tell you to back off or it would get worse. Then, he was using his grip on you to push you back as you stumbled over your own feet, just about stopping yourself from tripping up and falling on your ass.

“Fine!” You snapped, your arms flying out to your sides as you shouted at him, and his eyebrows raised at your increase in volume, his eyes wide as he watched you, your own jaw clenching and you pointed at him angrily. “Go ahead, die of fuckin’ osteomyelitis for all I care!”

Your cheeks were flushed, and you fixed him with the harshest glare you could, before letting out a deep sound of anger, a groan that rippled through your body as you threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to calm yourself down. Taking a series of deep breaths, you calmed your racing heart and the heat that was curling up your cheeks died down.

You mumbled curses under your breath, turning back to him to find him staring at you intently still, and you ran a hand through your head, grimacing as the tension in the air hung thickly. “Look, I’m going to go and get some warm water, we really need to sort out those gashes or you’re going to get really sick.”

You nodded at him, hoping that he understood before you were rubbing your hands together and turning on your heel, making your way into the kitchen. Fishing out a fresh bowl, you turned on the tap, running the water over the inside of your wrist to test the temperature, and when it became too hot for the skin there, you knew it was the perfect temperature. Gathering enough in the bowl, you placed it on the side, searching through the drawers for some clean rags.

When you first heard the metal of the door sliding, your brows furrowed, and it took a second before the realisation of what that particular grinding of metal meant, your eyes widening and you squeaked, dropping the material on your hands as you dashed from the kitchen, your eyes scanning over the empty loft area and your heart raced, bile rising in your throat as you guts twisted. “Shit!”

Your eyes focused on the open loft door, and you ran towards it, your feet moving quickly down the stairs as your tried not to fall, your blood pounding in your ears and you let out a panicked and frustrated yell as you noticed the main door now hanging open too, his taller stature and head-start ensuring you wouldn’t catch up to him even with his injuries, the area surrounding the loft still and empty, as though he had just disappeared.

Your legs buckled under you as the consequences began to run through your mind. Worry, fear and anger flooded your system as you kicked at a rock on the ground, tears lacing your eyes from the overwhelming floods of emotion bubbling over inside of you as you tried to work out what the fuck you were going to do now.

The sun was almost setting, dark clouds moving in over the sky and threatening to break at any time as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking screwed.”

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter Eight

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Was writing this chapter when I should have been doing school work...Any regrets? None. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I’d love to know what you think especially that it’s a little different from the others! <3

Heart to a Gunfight | Chapter Eight

Bucky was right. Peggy wasn’t on your side.

“Sorry, YN but you made me the judge. My decision is final,” Peggy declared, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Bucky’s the ultimate winner.”

Shooting Steve a pleading look, you begged him to help you change Peggy’s mind, but he shook his head with a laugh, dismissing your silent message. You sighed. It didn’t matter. You had chosen Peggy for her impartiality in all matters, and now it was backfiring on you.

Bucky shot you a smug grin.

He was lucky you were sitting across the table from him or you would have swatted him on the arm for that look. His smile grew as if he was more than aware of that and had chosen his seat precisely for that reason.

You glared at him. He narrowed his eyes at you in challenge, but the playful fire behind those blue eyes made your breathing shallow. It was hard to look away when he looked at you like that.

“You had a good run,” Steve said, patting your back.

Turning in your chair to face him, you tried to look mad but the smile on your face refused to leave, “I only lost because you got me in this mess in the first place. No little scheme, no chance for loss, right?” You noticed Bucky open his mouth, probably to gloat or say something cocky, so you talked over him, “I just need to say that I was an incredible fake girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend?”

Kira’s voice froze you to the core, your heart lodged so far up your throat in an attempt to escape that you weren’t sure you could breathe. Bucky’s eyes were wide, blatantly filled with panic. Neither of you said anything for a moment, staring at each other while Kira - and probably Brad - stood beside you, waiting for an answer. You could feel your heart pounding as if it was trying to find another way out by bursting through your skin.

Bucky’s surprise made way for anguish and you knew in that moment he had resigned himself to being caught. The last time you had seen a look that came close to resembling that one was when he had first seen the engagement ring on Kira’s hand. That moment had only been a few hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. You sucked in a breath, hoping to get more oxygen to your brain. No one had said anything yet, but someone had to.

Bucky looked like he was about to bite the bullet, so you narrowed your eyes and subtly shook your head no. He got the message and stayed quiet, not needing anymore convincing not to go through something like this. You had agreed to Steve’s ridiculous plan when you couldn’t have cared less if you had driven Bucky off the road. You’d be damned if you let it all go to hell now.

Turning around, your lips twisted into that semblance of a smile you were tired of using, “Yeah, fake girlfriend.”

Kira was looking between you and Bucky suspiciously, but you had a feeling she hadn’t caught more than your last declaration. You had to hope she hadn’t, because your lie relied heavily on that little fact.

“You must know what I’m talking about,” Confusion pulled at Kira’s face and you figured it was a better sign than that smug sneer of hers. You continued with a little sigh as if what you were trying to say was obvious, “You know, when you’re out dancing with your girlfriends and a guy gets way too aggressively touchy so one of your girlfriends pretends to be your girlfriend to get the guy to piss off?”

“Oh yeah,” She nodded with a little eye roll as if she knew all too well what that was like, “We’ve all been there, haven’t we?”

You agreed, feeling the tension at the table deflate like punctured balloon, “Yeah. So, I was just telling the guys what a great fake girlfriend I was the last time Peggy and I went out dancing together.”

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Bucky grinned, reaching his hand across the table to take yours, “If you being a fake girlfriend is anything like you being my real girlfriend, then I was already convinced.”

You pursed your lips, trying hard not to laugh.

“How’d the nearly newlywed game go for you guys?” Brad asked, seeming genuinely interested.

You shrugged, and said, “Not bad,” and the same time as Steve said, “Pretty well.”

Brad took a swig of his beer, “Nice.”

“Unlike the future bride and groom, we actually got all the questions right,” Kira added, “I guess it’s just proof that Brad and I are perfect for each other.”

You hated the way she stared at Bucky as she said those words, and you had trouble believing she had just dissed the guests of honour so openly. Judging from Brad’s furrowed brows, her declaration had taken even him by surprise. But when she looked up at him, he shot her a loving smile.

“You guys will be at the wedding, right?” Brad asked, and for a terrifying moment you thought he meant his own wedding, “These things are always more fun with game partners!”

Even though every variant of absolutely not flashed through your mind, you smiled and nodded. There was no reason to tell Brad that you had no intention of ever going to the wedding. Steve and Bucky would have to inform him with whatever solid excuse they came up with when they saw each other that day. Even though tonight had gone better than planned, you weren’t about to be anyone’s fake girlfriend ever again.

Brad wrapped an arm around Kira’s waist and pulled her closer, “Cool! Well, we’re heading off! We just wanted to stop and say goodbye. It was nice meeting you all.”

You said your goodbyes, faking the pleasantries for the final time of the night, and kept the smile plastered on your face until they were out of sight. With a long sigh, you fell back in your chair and closed your eyes.

“What do you say we take off once we’re sure they’re really gone?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” Steve’s enthusiastic voice agreed, “I’m ready to get out of here.”

You opened your eyes. So were you.

Fifteen minutes later you were hugging Steve and Peggy goodnight, promising to text them once you made it home safe. You stood beside Bucky, watching as she walked around to the passenger side of Steve’s car.

“Night Peg.”

Before she got in, she winked at you, a sly grin on her lips. The look would have terrified you less if you had any idea what she was so smug about.

When their car was gone, you turned toward Bucky, no longer sure what to say now that you were on the street in the real world. The streets were as silent as they could be in the city, which wasn’t saying much, but it was still quieter than the party. The silence stretched between you, filling the air as if it was tangible.

“So…” You mumbled, wringing out your hands.

He ran a hand through his hair, “So…I’m that way.”

You followed his pointed finger and realized you were parked down the same street, “Me too.”

As you walked to your cars, you wondered what you were supposed to end a fake date with. A handshake? A friendly nod? A kiss on the cheek?

Bucky came to a stop in front of a sleek Audi and laughed when he noticed your car parked right in front of his. He walked over, pretending to inspect the space between the two cars, “You’d better not have gotten any rust on my car by being parked so close.”

You rolled your eyes, “I was parked here first. Remember?”

He looked up at you from his crouched position, “True. The crazy lunatic got here first. I should have remembered.”

“You’re an idiot and a granny driver,” You laughed, pushing his shoulder so that he toppled over.

“Speedy,” He dusted off his hands and rose to his full height, standing so close in the tight space that you could see the colour of his eyes even in the dark, “That’s not what we had agreed on. Those aren’t the words you’re supposed to say to me.”

You gazed up at him and cocked your head, “They’re not? I can’t seem to remember what it was we agreed on.”

“That’s okay, I do,” His lips pulled into a slow, cocky grin, “You’re supposed to admit that I’m a better driver than you are.”

You grit your teeth, steeling yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth, “Fine. James Buchanan Barnes, you are a better driver than I am.”

“See. Was that so hard? He crooned.

“You’re still an idiot,” You smiled, shaking your head and stepping away toward the side walk, “And that was the most horrible thing I’ve had to do all night.”

He barked out a laugh and waved you toward your car, “Well, it’s over now. And I have to admit, Speedy, you were a pretty decent fake girlfriend.”

“More than pretty decent,” You corrected, “I’d say excellent. And you weren’t bad yourself, Soldier.”

There was a pause, where you were both smiling at each other until his faded, “Thank you. Really,” He said, meaning far more than just the minor compliment.

You nodded, knowing it couldn’t have been easy for him tonight, even with you hanging around. He was actually a pretty decent guy and he didn’t deserve what Kira had planned for him tonight. Even if it wasn’t what you had planned on doing tonight, you were still glad you did it.

“You’re welcome. See you around.”

He rubbed a hand over his stubble, “Yeah…See you around, Speedy.”

You unlocked your car and got in, weirded out by the unfamiliar feeling in your chest. Ignoring it, you turned the key. Nothing happened. You tried again, but the car wouldn’t even sputter an attempt at life. Before you could begin a full scale decent into panic, you reminded yourself that you were a mechanic. You were equipped to deal with the sort of thing. All you had to do was breathe and think it through. Your car couldn’t die. No. No, whatever was wrong could be fixed.

Your lights were your first check. Had you left them on and killed the battery? No. You tried the key again. The lights turned on but nothing else happened. Definitely not the battery then. The transmission? The starter? Doubtful. You had changed both those last year.

You let your head bang against the steering wheel, the horn startled you back up to a seat. What was wrong with your car? Your heart began to pump faster, the fear of losing your car rushing in even though you knew you’d have to bring it to the shop before you’d know anything for sure. Why did this have to happen tonight of all nights?

You jumped at a knock on your window, the onslaught of emotions making you jittery. Bucky stood outside your car, head tilted as he motioned for you to roll down the window.

“You good?”

“Yes?”

He raised a brow, “You don’t sound sure.”

“My car won’t start, that’s all.”

He thought for a moment, “Did you run out of gas?”

“Did I run out of gas? Of course I didn’t run out of gas, I…” You forgot to stop for gas on your way here. If you hadn’t left so late, you would have stopped for gas like you had planned. But the moment you had seen all seven of Peggy’s ‘where the hell are you’ texts, you had rushed over, not once looking twice at the two gas stations you had passed on the way here or the gas light that had been on since yesterday. You dropped your head on the steering wheel, the horn blaring obnoxiously again, “I ran out of gas.”

He chuckled, “I can go to the station to pick some up.”

You immediately shook your head, and mumbled into the steering wheel, “No. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s really not that far,”

“No,” You lifted your head and shook your head more forcefully.

He leaned his elbows on the window ledge, leaning further into your car, “It’s a fifteen minute drive, there-back, at most.”

“No, really Bucky, it’s fine,” You tried to shoo him out of your car, but he wouldn’t budge, “I’ll call a cab or something.”

He sighed, clearly exasperated, “I’m right here, Speedy. Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll go.”

Your hands smoothed out the invisible pleats on your steering wheel, your thumbs brushing back and forth, “Okay. Yes. Fine. Thank you. But I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to sound so miserable,” He laughed, opening your car door, “It’s just a quick run for gas. And anyways, you did owe me a drive. You need to see what it’s like to be in a car going regular speed.”

You stopped, confused, then realized he was right. You going for a drive in his car had been a part of his terms. You hadn’t remembered that part because you had been so focused on the hit to your pride, but he was right. Yet, he hadn’t said a thing.

“You know I would have honoured our agreement if you had reminded me. Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged and unlocked his car doors, “You did way more than I ever could have asked for tonight. I didn’t want you to spend more time with me than you actually wanted to.”

You stared at him from the other side of his car and couldn’t quite pinpoint the look on his face, “At least our drive now has a destination.”

He nodded and you let yourselves into his car. The seat was as comfy as his car was fancy and you relaxed into the material as he eased out of the parallel parking and onto the boulevard at a decent speed.

“I take it this gas station is actually a five minute drive there-back but with your driving it’s fifteen?”

He glanced over at you, a faint smile on his lips, “Ha ha. Very funny, Speedy. Be glad I’m not kicking you out of my car for that.”

“Like you’d do that after I saved your ass tonight,” You laughed, looking out the window.

“You might have saved my ass, but I still won our game. I think I got the better end of our bargain. All I have to do is drive you to get gas. Speaking of, how does it feel to sit in the passenger seat of an excellent driver?”

“Like I’m being lulled to sleep,” You teased, though it was partially true.

The soft music coming from the radio and the cool breeze from the open windows was more peaceful than any spa you had been to. He drove the rest of the way in silence and you found yourself drifting off until your pulled into the gas station. Getting gas wasn’t long and you were back in the comfort of his car with a full canteen of it to bring back to your car.

“I’ll be honest with you, Speedy,” His voice snapped you awake several minutes later. You hadn’t realized you had drifted off again, “I’m surprised it wasn’t anything worse than an empty tank of gas.”

You stared out the window at the passing city and sighed, “I can’t say that I wasn’t worried about that myself.”

He didn’t say anything else, pulling off the main boulevard onto the smaller streets that led to your car. When he spoke up again, his voice was soft and tentative, “What is is about that car? Why don’t you just get yourself something more reliable?”

You began fiddling with your hands in your lap. There was the easy answer. The answer you gave everyone who asked you. But you couldn’t seem to find it in you to lie.

“It’s…I was…” You stopped, trying to find the words you had never spoken aloud.

He glanced over at you, eyes leaving the road for a long moment to get a better look at you, “You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay,” You said quickly, wondering why this was so hard. It wasn’t a big deal…“It’s actually a little silly. I got that car when I was starting college and even then, it was seconds away from the scrap yard. But it was all I could afford and my cousin, who had given it to me, said it said it still had a solid year in it. Long story short, I was partway through my semester of a bachelor’s degree I couldn’t care less about when my car broke down. Everyone told me to sell it for parts…to buy a new one, but I couldn’t afford to buy a new car, even with the money I would have gotten from it. For fun, I started looking into the mechanics and…”

“And you realized you liked doing it,” He finished when you said nothing.

You nodded, a faint smile pulling at your lips, “I loved it. And it turned out, I was good at it too. Really good actually. The thing is…the thing is, that car gave me a sense of direction when I had none. I dropped out, went to trade school and actually felt like I had a purpose of some sorts. Once I had fixed the car, I decided to keep it and I couldn’t get rid of it because…I can’t get rid of it because I’m afraid that if I lose my car, I lose everything it gave me. I know that’s silly, but…”

Bucky didn’t say anything, double parking beside your car. Humiliated, you were about to mutter some half assed apology and flee from his car when he said, “It’s not silly, you know. At least I don’t think so.”

You snorted, “We’re not fake dating anymore, you don’t have to say things like that anymore.”

He put his hand gently on your arm to stop you from leaving the car, “I’m being honest YN.”

“Are you?” You whispered, staring into his blue eyes, wondering if you had learned enough about him tonight to know if he was telling the truth.

He held the look as if he knew exactly what you were looking for and a small, sheepish smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. You felt yourself drawn in and your turned slowly, leaning toward him. He did the same until the two of you hovered over the stick shift, inches apart.

“Yeah,” He murmured, eyes searching your face, “I’m being honest.”

“So, you won’t make fun of my car anymore?” You asked.

“Absolutely not,” He laughed and leaned back against the door, running a hand through his hair, “Regardless of why you’re keeping it, it’s a piece of garbage and I’ll make fun of it until the day it dies.”

You backed up too and felt the tension leave your body, like you could breathe properly again, “Then you’ll be making fun of it forever. I plan to never let it die.”

“All the better for me,” He smiled, bright eyes locked on your, “I get to make fun of it forever.”

You smiled back, unable to look away until an obnoxiously rude honk blared from a passing car.

You looked back down at your hands, “We should probably get out now.”

“Yeah…”

You got out of his car, pulling the canteen out with you. Although the air in the city was never fresh, you sucked in a large gulp hoping to make sense of the amalgamation of emotions rattling around in your brain. You weren’t sure what you were feeling, but whatever it was, you figured it would go away as soon as you got a good night’s sleep.

You walked over to your car and emptied the gas into it, knowing you’d still have to stop for more if you wanted to make it home. Bucky leaned against the driver’s door, watching as you did.

“Thank you, Bucky,” You said, slamming the gas tank shut, “Really. I think this also makes us even now.”

He huffed out a little laugh, and pushed off your car, “Good night, Speedy.”

You walked past him and pat him on the shoulder, wishing him good night. You paused, with your hand on the handle, wondering what hell of a kind of goodbye that was.

You were about to open the door when he spoke up, “Speedy?”

You turned.

“Come to the wedding with me?”

“What?”

He sighed, rubbing his jaw, “I know we’re even now, but I,” He stumbled, looking for right words, “I don’t know if I can…Kira…you-”

“I get it,” You cut him off, putting a hand on his arm, “I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, don’t give a chance to change my mind,” You said, wondering what you were doing. The wedding was the last place you wanted to be and yet here you were, agreeing and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, “I figure you and I will inevitably end up spending more time together now that you’re no longer on tour, so why not? What’s one more night?”

He let out a breath of relief, “Thank you.”

“And anyways, you’re not completely miserable, Bucky, even if you do drive like an old lady.”

“Always with the compliments,” He chuckled.

“That’s the fake part of the fake girlfriend talking,” You tried to hold back a grin, “I can’t seem to get a hang of this whole compliment thing.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, making himself look a little smaller, “Good news is, we have about three months to work on it before the wedding.”

“I thought you knew how to be charming,” You groaned.

His brows furrowed, “I do?”

“Reminding me that we’re going to have to spend so much time together is not charming,” You drawled.

He shook his head, hair falling in his face to cover the smile on his lips, “You would know what not charming is”

You swatted at him, though for some reason what you really wanted to do was brush the hair from his face, “Takes one to know one.”

He stopped you from making contact, holding your hand gently in his and not letting go, “Maybe all that time together will make us friends.”

“Friends,” You murmured, gazing up at him, “I thought we were already friends.”

He titled his head to the side and he whispered, “Then maybe we’ll learn to be better.”

“It’s the only way to be convincing, right?” You shrugged.

He let go of your hand, watching it fall between the two of you. Then he nodded, looked back up, his lips pulling into a small smile, “Exactly. The only way to be convincing.”

He took a step back, ran his hand through his already messy hair and kept backing up, his eyes never leaving yours, until he was at his car, “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

You opened your door and shrugged, “Probably sooner than I’d like.”

He shook his head, eyes bright with laughter, “Good night, Crazy Lunatic.”

“Good night Old Lady.”

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #james barnes #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #mcu fluff #Steve Rogers #peggy carter #fan fiction #fanfic #fake dating

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writings-of-dumpy · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Dream III

A/N: This chapter contains mentions of blood and abduction. You’ve been warned

“Dude, how have you not asked her out yet? She’s clearly giving you all the signs. Her heart rate even goes up when you talk to her,” Scott asked Stiles after they met up for dinner before heading to the party at Kira’s sorority house.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to say ‘hey, I see you in my dreams sometimes, want to go on a date?’”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You’ve known her, officially, for like a month now. She likes you, ask her out.”

“Why doesn’t she ask me out then?” Stiles countered.

“Maybe she’s trying to give you a chance so that she doesn’t hurt your ‘frail masculine ego,’” Scott joked, quoting the ethics lecturer from earlier.

Stiles chuckled. “You’d be surprised how right Dr. Helmberg was today, alright? Some of the guys at my dad’s station are nutcases exactly like that.”

Scott shrugged and thanked the cashier as he grabbed their food. Stiles looked at the unusually large bag and then up at Scott’s face.

“Kira always forgets to eat before parties, so I’m bringing her food,” Scott shrugged.

“D’aaawwww,” Stiles mocked and opened his door.

“Oh just wait until you start dating Rose,” Scott threatened once the pair were seated in the car.

Stiles scoffed and drove towards the honors sorority house. They were among the first to arrive given that Scott was dating the host.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot to eat I was so busy setting everything up! Thanks, babe!” Kira said excitedly once Scott arrived with food. The three of them ate together and admired Kira’s work on the house—there was a full spread of snacks and an even larger spread of drinks. Stiles tried to think of how many people Kira was expecting and it seemed impossible to come up with a large enough number.

“So, Stiles, how come I don’t see a woman on your arm, hm?” Kira asked him. Stiles nearly choked on his food at her question.

“Um.. uh..” Stiles stammered with his mouth full.

“He’s too chicken to ask out the girl he likes,” Scott interrupted.

Kira looked at her food and then back at Stiles. “Sorry for eating your family,” she said and took a bite with a smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

~*~

The party was now in full swing with music playing and lights down low. Stiles stood off to the side and bobbed his head to the loud music and caught glimpses of his friends dancing as he sipped his drink. As he was scanning the room, his eyes fell upon a familiar face.

“No way,” Stiles mumbled to himself as he gazed at Rose’s face from across the room. After adjusting his flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves and fixing his hair as best he could without a mirror, he gave himself encouragement, “Okay, Stiles… now or never.”

He kept his eyes on her as he made his way through the crowd towards Rose and when he emerged on the other side, there was only a few feet between them. All Stiles could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears as he approached her despite the music being nearly deafening. “Rose, hey!”

She turned to look at him and Stiles noticed that she had more makeup on and her hair was curled to frame her face delicately. He had noticed the blue dress she wore from across the room, but up close it was much more eye-catching as it fit her figure perfectly.

“Hey, Stiles! I didn’t know you were coming!” she responded and faced him fully.

“I didn’t know you were, either! Are you here with anyone?” he asked her cautiously.

Rose shook her head. “No. This is my sorority, though, so I figured I’d better show up.”

Stiles smiled and nodded while he exhaled a sigh of relief. “Yeah! You’re so smart, it’s no wonder you’re in the honors sorority…”

Rose smiled and Stiles saw her cheeks turn slightly more red. “Thank you.”

As if the universe was for once on Stiles’ side, the music changed from the upbeat and thumping EDM to a slower ballad. Stiles was reminded of high school dances as the single people either paired off together or took a break for a drink. Stiles swallowed a lump in his throat and bit his lip.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked Rose and offered his hand to her. She smiled and nodded, then took his hand.

Stiles led her to the dance floor and once they found a spot, Rose wrapped her arms around his neck gently as his hands gently smoothed over her waist and he pulled her against him.

“Is this okay?” he asked her.

She smiled up at him, “It’s perfect.”

Stiles smiled down at her and they began to sway to the music. Stiles couldn’t help but stare into her eyes and he lost total track of everything but her for a moment. He thought about the dreams he had and how much he loved to make her smile. He had only really known her for a little more than a month, but he felt like it had been much longer—he felt like he’d known her his whole life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rose asked him softly.

Stiles was pulled from his trance and he shook his head gently. “Nothing… You just look very beautiful tonight. I mean, not that you don’t always look beautiful, it’s just that tonight is special because of the party and I—”

“Stiles, it’s okay. Thank you. You look very handsome,” Rose giggled and said to him with a hand on his face. He felt his cheeks heat up at the touch of her soft and gentle palm.

The music then changed back to upbeat dance music and they were suddenly crowded by all of the people who had sat the past song out.

“I’m not drunk enough for this yet,” Rose proclaimed and headed towards the drink table. Stiles followed closely behind her with a determination to keep an eye on her because of his worried thoughts of supernatural beings lurking in the shadows to ruin his life by hurting her.

“That was fun,” Stiles said with a smile once they reached the table.

Rose smiled and poured two shots of whiskey then handed one to him. “Well, I’d like to blame the inevitable embarrassment I’ll feel later on this Fireball.” Stiles smiled and tilted his head.

“Why would you be embarrassed?” he asked her. She looked at her drink and then at Stiles.

“Huh. Same color,” she said lowly and took the shot. Stiles downed his and looked back at her expectantly.

“Well, I want to keep dancing with you if that’s okay,” she told him. “But I’m bad at dancing and I’m good at getting drunk because of how rarely I drink, so I’m hoping anything stupid I do you and I can both blame on the alcohol poisoning.”

Stiles laughed and took her hand without thinking; he just wanted to be close with her again.

Stiles didn’t know how to react to the gyrating couples at first, but then he saw Rose start to dance and she gave him a look that encouraged him to follow her moves and he did as best he could, but watching her was much more fun for him. With a small smirk Rose gripped his hands and placed them on her hips and she danced on him in time with the music. Her movements reminded him of an inappropriate for his age video he had seen in his younger teen years, and Stiles was nearly frozen—nearly. He could feel every movement she made on him and he thanked whatever entity was looking out for him tonight and begged it for her to not notice how tight his pants were getting. She leaned back and pressed her back against his chest and ran a hand from his hair, down his face and then spun around and ran it down his chest and stomach only to remove her hand before his belt line. He looked at her with a bitten bottom lip and responded by gripping onto her and pulling them closer together so that there was minimal space between them and he moved his hips with hers. He had no idea how long they danced like this and Stiles didn’t care—he couldn’t get enough of her. It was only when she rested her head on his shoulder, out of breath, that he came back to reality.

“Want to sit down?” he asked her and started to realize the alcohol had kicked in for her.

“Yeah,” she said.

Stiles helped her over to a table and then grabbed her a water before sitting next to her. He found her lazy expression and loose limbs endearing—it made her less intimidating to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Stilinski,” she said and giggled before chugging the entire bottle.

Stiles laughed and looked at her closely. “I thought you said you were bad at dancing.”

“I am. But I got you drunk enough to not realize it, and myself drunk enough to not care,” she responded.

Stiles’ smile grew wider—he wasn’t about to disillusion her with the fact that he barely felt anything. Instead, he let his inhibitions fall to the wayside and he wrapped an arm around her. She lazily put her head on his shoulder and then leaned her mouth on his ear.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes, Stiles,” she said in his ears. “It’s nothing weird, it’s just us…”

“In a meadow of sunflowers?” Stiles finished her sentence. She sat up and seemed to sober up quickly.

“How did you know that…?” she asked and looked him in the eyes.

“I’ve had that dream, too,” Stiles told her.

The two of them sat for a moment just staring at each other, then Stiles spoke up, “This is probably a conversation for when you’re sober.”

Rose nodded. “Yeah… but it’s definitely a conversation I want to have.”

Stiles nodded and smiled, then touched her hand gently. “I would too.”

“Stiles! There you are!” Stiles heard Scott yell from behind him.

Rose looked over at Scott and smiled. “Hi, Scott.”

“Oh, hi, Rose. Can I borrow Stiles for a minute?” Scott asked and when Rose nodded, Scott took Stiles several feet away from the crowd.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, only slightly irritated.

“He’s here—the Lamia I keep seeing around campus! And he’s not alone. He brought two others with him,” Scott told Stiles.

“Oooh, okay, that’s not good. But it might be fine.. They haven’t attacked anyone, right? Maybe they’re here to just have fun?” Stiles offered.

“I doubt it. I think they know I have means to kill them. Remember that weird message taped to our door a week ago?” Scott asked and pulled out the piece of paper with the cryptic message written on it.

“Um, NO… What message? You didn’t tell me about a message!” Stiles sputtered out.

“Well, here it is.” Scott handed Stiles the paper that read, ‘10 days.’

“What the hell does that even mean?” Stiles asked. “Does someone want our room?”

“No, I think it’s a warning from them. Like they’re giving us a chance before—” Scott started, but was stopped by screams from the crowd.

The music had stopped and the crowd erupted in chaos with a few gathered in a circle. Scott and Stiles rushed between them to see what the commotion was about and in the middle of them laid a girl’s body covered in blood and motionless. Scott knelt down and grabbed the wrist of the girl and tried to feel for a pulse but felt none.

“Okay everyone back up, I’m calling the cops,” Stiles announced and dialed 911, and looked at Scott, who was examining the body for any signs of life.

“Stiles…” Scott said and showed his friend the bloody scrawling on her arm opposite of him: ‘1 of 3.’

Stiles gulped and he looked around for Rose, but only found a piece of paper where she was last.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher’s voice said in his ear.

“I’m at Beacon University Phi Kappa applesauce whatever house—you have GPS, Stacey—and we need an ambulance and the police… and probably a body bag,” Stiles said into the phone as he unfolded the piece of paper. His blood both drained from his system in shock and boiled with rage upon reading the paper.

‘2 of 3.’

#stiles stilinski x oc

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