#And now the Dorito won’t leave him the fuck alone

[eliot-is-dead]

BillFord edit/YouTube self promo :p

Shameless self promo aside, I’m actually really proud of this lmao

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hey there wendy! I hope youre having a good day. Just finsished reading Bewitched, oh lord have mercy im bout to bust 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ amazing 👏🏻👏🏻

Saw your requests are open and *slides 1000$ cheque was wondering if you could write some omegaverse content for the JJK dilf? Maybe like they being jealous because an alpha gives you a quick hug and their scent lingers on you. Perhaps some *ehem spicy ehem* scene included too would be great. Thank you in advance! Stay safe wherever you are wendy! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Finally getting to this (among the other requests I've been trying to get to!) Headcanons it is!

Jealous: Alpha! Nanami Kento/ Gojo Satoru/ Geto Suguru/ Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

wc: 635

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Nanami Kento

Nanami isn't the type to get jealous easily.

He would most likely inquire about the smell and where it came from - and why an alpha even had the idea that they could touch you, a marked mate of another alpha.

Then he considers that he might not have made it clear enough to the others that you were his and his alone, so he cooks you a nice dinner, makes dessert, and strips you down until you're bare naked and spread on the dining room table.

"It's odd," Nanami breathes, sliding into your weeping cunt. "I really think I've made it very clear that you're my mate."

"Ungh..." you groan, feeling him sink into you as your head drops against the spot where your food was moments ago.

"Doesn't matter, though." He takes off his tie and lays it next to your face, smoothing his hands over your back while he fucks you. "This will do the trick."

Gojo Satoru

Okay, Gojo is just... he's Gojo.

Of course, he'd frown, then sniff you again, then laugh.

"This is a prank, right?"

"Uh..." You look at him in confusion, worried about the sinister look in his blue eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You and some alpha played around today, hm?"

Oh. The memory of Geto giving you a hug before you left now makes you flinch. Not good.

"Tell me who you were with."

"Suguru," you whisper, placing your hands behind your back. "But he's--"

"Hm. My best friend." Gojo leaves the home, and you worriedly follow him around the block, trying to appeal to his common sense.

"We didn't do anything!" Satoru rings the doorbell, waiting for Geto to answer it with an impatient air about him.

"Oh, hey! What a welcome surpri--" The wind is knocked out of Suguru as Gojo punches him in the gut, making him sink to his knees.

"That's for hugging my mate. And for the Doritos you stole. Mostly for the Doritos." Gojo grabs your wrist as he storms off, and you give Suguru an apologetic smile as you're dragged off.

Geto Suguru

Geto is not a possessive man.

Normally.

But when he finds out that another alpha has been lingering around you for more than a week - all bets are off.

He won't say anything about it, but he will handle it. Quickly.

"Where are you going?" you wonder, holding out his lunch for him to take to work. Except he's not dressed for work.

"Pack business," he grumbles before leaving, shutting the door with a solid thud. When he returns, however, the first things you notice are his scraped knuckles and bloody shirt.

"What happened?" you ask, fear creeping into your veins as you slide your hands down his arms.

"Just handled some stuff. Nothing to worry about, my love." And he kisses you like you're the last woman on Earth.

Toji Fushiguro

SIR, I--

Toji is a menace.

A MENACE!

He actually wanted to kill the man - but then decided another route would be more profitable.

Teaching people a lesson is his thing after all.

"Hey, don't look away."

The fingers on your clit speed up, and Toji murmurs sweet words into your ear as he pumps into you. You spare a glance at the man tied up in the chair, cheeks red and humiliated by the way you're spread wantonly for Toji.

"She's got a good, wet pussy. Can you hear it?" You moan a little, clinging to Toji's back as his green eyes slide from your face and to the captive. "I said, can you hear it?" The man mutters past the gag, making a sound that satisfies Toji enough to slide himself between your folds a little faster. "You're gonna watch me fuck my mate. Then you're gonna clean her up."

[hungryistrying]

it takes you and me to make us

summary:

"This is kind of random,” at the sound of his voice, Jinx’s eyes flicker up at him, “but do you want kids?"

At his unexpected question, she abruptly sits up straight, looking at him in bewilderment while she can hear the Windows error sound play on repeat in her head as she tries to formulate a response. Ekko continues to play with her hair, patiently waiting for her answer.

"I have twenty-two cents on my bank account and a Dorito chip in my pocket," is what she ends up blurting, brain still empty

They've been together for a year now, which is the longest Jinx has ever been in a relationship. Still, she wasn't prepared for Ekko to start talking about their possible future.

rating: teen

word count: 2593

part one | crossposted to ao3

Jinx is convinced her brain is short-circuiting at this point. She’s been sitting at Ekko’s dining table, for what feels like a century now, working on her mechanical project and she’s losing her mind because it doesn’t make any sense. 

To make matters worse, the sun is beginning the set and the light is glaring into her eyes. She rests an elbow on the table and moves her hand to her forehead to avoid getting blinded. Could she simply move to the opposite side of the table? Well yes, but screw the sun. She was here first and she’s not about to move just for that fucker.

As she continues to sketch out her design, she bumps into another technical problem. Her brows furrow in confusion and she purses her lips in thought. This is making less sense than Jinx herself does after six shots of liquor.

She balances her pencil between her upper lip and nose, using her free hand to flip through her Engineering Mechanics book. Her eyes scroll over the page to try and make sense of this assignment, but at this point, her brain is so tired that all the words blur together.

She groans in frustration, allowing her pencil to fall from her lips along with her will to live. Okay, she’s being kind of dramatic but this project is due in three weeks and she can’t even get the prototype sketch down so she’s kind of fucked (and not in a fun way). 

Is this her own fault for putting it off for so long? Well yes, but she had to binge the last season of the latest telenovela she started watching. It was a necessity to figure out whether or not Alejandro would actually leave his wife for her evil twin sister or not. The ending was a total disappointment and she stayed up until 5 a.m. for no reason, but at least she had her answer (sort of, she still didn’t know Spanish).

Okay, screw this. She’s not even registering any words on the page and clearly isn’t making any progress on the stupid project either. She’s in her junior year and this should be a piece of cake, yet she’s fighting for her life out here.

“You alright?” At the sound of his voice, her eyes flicker up to Ekko, who looks at her from across the table with a mixture of concern and amusement.

She’s currently studying in Ekko’s apartment, which isn’t an unusual arrangement for them. Today she’s even blessed by the fact that his obnoxious roommate Scar isn’t here – who she just barely tolerates because he’s Ekko’s closest friend. Otherwise, she would consider risking life in prison by hitting him with Vi’s car. At the very least, he isn’t here today to give her an additional headache, because this project alone is exhausting enough.

With a defeated sigh, she slumps down over the table like some sad, deflated balloon before responding, “Would you still love me if I told you I hate engineering now?”

He gives her a sincere smile and rests his hand on her own, giving it one comforting pat before he replies, “Hell no.”

She pulls her hand back and sits upright again with an aggravated roll of her eyes, while Ekko just laughs at her. “That’s it, I’m dumping you.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” His tone and expression are equally flat as he says it.

To be fair, she threatens him with this every other week, so it’s no surprise he won’t take her seriously but it still pisses her off. So she grabs one of her crumpled designs off the table and tosses it at him.

He gives her an unimpressed look but still allows her to chuck it at his head. Placated, she starts, “Anyway, how’s job hunting going?”

At her inquiry, it’s his turn to groan. His head falls back in frustration as he answers, “Would be going a lot easier if Professor Heimerdinger would give me that damn letter of recommendation already.”

Jinx scoffs, having never been fond of that old professor. He’s just really annoying with all his nonsense about “an inventor’s responsibility to society” and “treating change cautiously” or whatever he even talked about. 

“He still hasn’t? Didn’t he say he would like a month ago? Damn old coot.”

Ekko laughs at that, lowering his head to properly look at her again. “Old coot or not, it’d make my life a lot easier. All these jobs have impossible requirements. Like how’s a guy supposed to build six years of experience if no one will hire him in the first place?”

She gives him an encouraging grin. “They’ll want to, trust me. Experience or not, you’re a genius and any company should be grateful you even want to work for them.”

His expression softens into a warm smile and Jinx can feel her heart do that stupid little thing that tends to happen when he looks at her like that. She thought maybe she’d get used to it or that the feeling would wear off over time. But at this point, she’s afraid that him looking at her like that will always be her undoing.

“Thanks, maybe I just need a break.” He shuts his laptop and pushes his seat back to stand up. “We’ve been sitting here for two hours now and I think my head’s about to explode if I have to write one more motivation letter.” 

He pulls his arms over his head and groans at the satisfying stretch. The movement causes his shirt to rise, revealing a peek of his stomach. Jinx’s eyes are laser-focused on the sliver of skin until he clicks his tongue and says, “Stop objectifying me.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “How’s it objectifying if you’re my boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” he corrects. “You just dumped me, remember?”

“Oh, shut up.” She leans forward to smack his ass, making him squawk in indignation. 

“Wow, objectifying and sexually harassing me? It never ends with you.” How Ekko keeps a straight face as he says that is beyond Jinx, but she refuses to be outdone by him.

“It’s not harassment if you like it,” she says matter-of-factly, which really is a terrible thing to say in any other context, but Ekko’s being a little shit and two can play that game.

He shakes his head in disapproval, but she can see the corners of his mouth begin to rise. “Whatever, I’m grabbing a drink.”

She cackles in triumph at his inability to think of a comeback while Ekko graciously ignores her and heads to the fridge. After opening it, he nods back in her direction. “You need anything?”

She hums in consideration. “You have Mountain Dew, by any chance?”

“I don’t buy disgusting drinks," he replies without missing a beat.

She gasps, mock-offended. “This is why we’re breaking up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anything else you want?” he laughs.

After thinking it over, she shrugs. “Whatever you’re having is fine, I guess.”

He returns with two bottles of iced tea. “Thanks." She reaches for one of the bottles, but Ekko pulls back his arms so she can’t grab it from her seat. “What?” she grumbles.

He gives her an expectant look. “You’re thanking your ex-boyfriend in his apartment when he brings you a drink?”

“Okay, sorry, we’re not breaking up. Now gimme,” she says in the most unapologetic tone possible while making grabbing motions at the drink.

He doesn’t look very impressed at her sorry excuse of an apology, but huffs an amused breath and hands her the drink anyway, taking a seat beside her. He squints when the sun hits his eyes and turns his head to face her. “Isn’t the sun getting in your face?”

“Fuck the sun, I was here first.” She furiously unscrews the bottle cap and takes a swig of her drink. It’s peach-flavored, not bad. Mountain Dew is still better but unfortunately, she just had to date a certified Mountain Dew hater.

He bursts into laughter at that, taking a sip from his own drink and adjusting his position on the bench, so the sun doesn’t shine directly in his eyes. “Alright then,” he slings an arm over her shoulder and nods at the mess of papers and books sprawled over his table, “you need any help with your project?”

She lets out a tired sigh, slumping down and resting her head on his shoulder. “Nah, I’ll figure it out. I think I just need a break too.”

He hums in agreement, his fingers wrapping around the end of her braid and playing with her hair. 

For a moment they stay just like that in comfortable silence. Jinx is content to keep it that way as her brain is way too full and tired to think of anything else to say at the moment. She feels her body relax against his. Her guard is completely down because Ekko just has that effect on her. He makes her feel calm and grounded when her mind is going a hundred miles per hour. 

They’ve been together for a little over a year now, which is a startlingly long time for her to be in a relationship. She’s never been with anyone for more than a couple of months tops, but somehow it’s so easy and comfortable with Ekko. He’s not just her boyfriend– he’s basically her best friend.

That’s not to say they never fight or get into stupid disagreements (once even going so far that Jinx was convinced their relationship was over), but Ekko is always so resolved to talk it out. Sometimes it infuriates her, but overall she’s just baffled that he still wants her when she knows she can drive him insane at times.

"This is kind of random,” at the sound of his voice, Jinx’s eyes flicker up at him, “ but do you want kids?"

At his unexpected question, she abruptly sits up straight, looking at him in bewilderment while she can hear the Windows error sound play on repeat in her head as she tries to formulate a response. Ekko continues to play with her hair, patiently waiting for her answer.

"I have twenty-two cents on my bank account and a Dorito chip in my pocket," is what she ends up blurting, brain still empty.

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her response. "Yeah, I didn't mean right now."

“Oh.” She can feel her body sag in relief. “Yeah. That makes sense. I was just…surprised.”

He laughs, “I got that impression.”

Her mind is whirling at his question. Kids? She’s not entirely sure if she’s fit to be a mother. It’s not as if she hates children or anything, she’s honestly just never thought that far ahead. She could barely keep a cactus alive, let alone a whole other person. At the moment it just sounded incredibly overwhelming.

“Jinx?” She snaps out of her thoughts, only now realizing she was frowning so hard her forehead has begun to hurt. Ekko looks at her concern. “Talk to me? We can drop the topic if you want.”

Truthfully, her first reflex is to joke that she is the child, so raising one is definitely out of the question. But Jinx knows Ekko. Knows and sees the way he tends to bounce his leg up and down when he’s nervous. And she knows that he’s trying to stay casual for her sake, but that this topic probably means more to him than he’d like to let on.

 She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder again, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. “Honestly, I have no clue. It’s just that…I’m a mess, you know?”

“I have noticed, but carry on.” She sends him a withering glare that just makes him snicker in response.

“I’m being serious here.” She shrugs. “You know how I am. Honestly, I already consider it a win if I make it past the week alive. I’ve never seriously sat down and thought about stuff like this.” Never even thought it was an option, she leaves out, but she has a feeling he catches onto it anyway if the meaningful smile he sends her way is anything to go off.

“That’s cool, there’s no rush. I was just wondering,” he assures.

She nods and asks, “What about you? Do you want kids?” He shrugs and fiddles with the cap of his bottle. She sits up straight and lays a hand on his leg to stop its bouncing, playfully glaring at him in hopes of calming down his nerves. “Hey, I was just being super honest and serious for you. It’s your turn now.”

A startled laugh escapes him and he shakes his head at her. “You’re unbelievable.” Despite his words, Jinx can see the tension leave his body. “I guess?” he starts, turning his head to properly look at her. “It just sounds…nice. Settling down one day with the person you love and starting a family together.”

Jinx feels like her heart is caught in her throat as she leans in closer, drawn into his personal space at his words. “And…” her voice is breathless as she asks it, “that person’s me?”

He raises his hand and caresses her cheek, she leans into the touch. “Yeah, I’d like it to be. Would you?”

She seriously thinks it over. Simply put, it still sounds like a lot. But the person asking her is Ekko. 

He’s the person who begrudgingly watches telenovelas with her even though he doesn’t get the appeal. He’s the person she goes to when she wants to bitch about how gross Vi and her now-fiancée are. He’s the one that puts her in her place when she’s being petty and encourages her when she needs it. He’s also the person who’s annoyingly smug when he beats her at Mario Kart. And he’s who she turns to when she doesn’t know what to do with herself anymore.

Jinx swallows down the lump in her throat before shooting him a tentative smile. “I guess it doesn’t sound so bad if it’s you.”

She closes the gap between them, pressing her mouth against his. She feels him smile against her lips as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Eventually, she breaks the kiss and climbs onto his lap, wrapping her hands around his neck and connecting their mouths again. She licks the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

Ekko wraps his hands around her waist and comfortably leans back against the bench while allowing Jinx to lead the kiss. She kisses him until they’re both breathless, before separating their mouths again. 

She presses her forehead against his and cheekily grins. “Since you want kids one day, how about we practice?”

He raises a questioning eyebrow at her. “Don’t you have an assignment to work on?” 

She leans forward until her body is flush against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “We’re taking a break anyway. Why? You don’t want to?”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, but his hands wander down to her thighs, firmly wrapping them around his waist before he stands up. Jinx squeals in surprise at the sudden movement, the pull of gravity momentarily throwing her off.  

She firmly wraps her limbs around his body so he doesn’t drop her. He lays sloppy kisses along her cheek as he carries her through the living room and into his bedroom while Jinx laughs the entire way there.

[elisela]

do you know how to do take-aways? (read on ao3) derek x stiles, g, 2.2k, au, meet cute, fluff, kid fic

prompt: call me for @tylerhunklin

--

"Hey Scott," Stiles says, jamming the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can go back to typing with both his hands. "Desk duty is killing me, man, do you know how much of a backlog on paperwork there is in this place? Fucking ridiculous—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts in, “I have a call I need you to take."

Stiles sits up straighter and frowns. "We've got people out on patrol—"

Scott's laughter is warm and familiar in his ear. "No, it's not a patrol thing. I'm gonna transfer it over to you, okay? And I’m still coming to bring you dinner tonight."

"Roger," Stiles says, lazily snapping a salute despite Scott not being able to see him. There's a pause and a click, and he slips back into his professional mode—the one his dad definitely wishes he would use more often. "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Deputy Stilinski, how can I help you?"

"Hi," a small voice says. "Do you know how to do take-aways?"

He frowns, glancing over at the display on the phone screen. He'd think it was a joke except he doubts Scott would patch that through, and there's a childish tone to the voice that's difficult to fake. "Like subtraction?" he asks.

"Yeah," the voice says. "We learned it today but I don't remember and I gotta do my homework."

He presses his lips together so he doesn't laugh and slouches, relaxing a little in his seat. "Sure do," he says. "What's your name?"

"Talia Marie Hale," she says promptly, and Stiles scribbles it down on a piece of paper. "How do I do five take away five?"

"Can you put up five fingers?" he asks, and she makes a noise of assent. "Okay, now put five of them down." He hears her counting in the background and he copies the number the shows on his display underneath her name, then clicks over to run it through the system. When she stops, he says, "okay, how many fingers do you still have up?"

"I don't have any," she says. "How do you write that?"

"Zero," he says. "Do you know how to make that? It's like a big o." He waits another moment before asking, "is anyone in the house with you, Talia?"

"Yeah, my auntie," she says. "But I can't ask her questions while she's writing unless it's an emergency."

He can't catch himself before he laughs. "What made you decide to call 9-1-1?"

"My teacher said if you ever need help you can call," Talia says. "And I really need help. What's seven take away three?"

--

The second call comes in three days later. He's peeling apart his turkey sandwich and layering Doritos on it, providing much-needed crunch, when his phone rings through from dispatch. "Sup, Scott," he says, because Scott's the only one who ever bothers to call him directly.

"Sorry, Stiles, just me," Kira says. "I have someone on the line for you. Given that she asked for you by name, maybe you could remind her that this line is for emergencies and talk to her guardian?"

He presses the top slice of bread back onto his sandwich and leans back in his chair. "Got it," he says, and waits for the click. "That you, Miss Hale?"

"Hi, Mr. Deputy Stilinski,"  she says, tiny voice chipper in his ear. "I'm really confused about this take away."

"Hit me," he says, and she giggles.

"Ten take away six," she says. "I put up all my fingers but I got confused."

He hums and glances around his desk. "Are you with your auntie again today?" he asks, and when she confirms he adds, "do you have any toys at her house?"

"I'm at my house," she says. "Auntie watches me while Daddy's away for work, but she's busy writing her thesis so I can't go in the office."

"What's your dad's name?" he asks.

"Derek Samuel Hale," she says. "And my auntie's name is Cora Elizabeth Hale, and my other auntie is Laura Margaret Hale, and my dog's name is Ruffio Hale. Like from Hook. Auntie Cora named him because she said Daddy was scared of Hook when he was my age and she likes to make fun of him. Daddy tried to rename him but he only wants to answer to Ruffio now."

He writes it all down with a grin—even the unasked for information—and flicks at his mouse to wake his computer. "Your aunt sounds pretty cool," he says. "Okay, go get ten small toys and we'll get your math done. Blocks, if you have them."

He runs Cora's name through the system as he waits, just to make sure Talia isn't being left with someone irresponsible, and finds nothing of consequence. He keeps the list, though; he'll tell Talia not to call 9-1-1 anymore unless it's an emergency, and if she does, he'll get in touch with her dad then.

--

"Little red h-hen makes s-sop," Talia reads, and pauses. "That doesn't sound right. What's ou?"

"Spell the whole thing for me," he says, and corrects, "soup," when she does, spearing a piece of microwaved chicken and popping it in his mouth. He's quiet while she reads, only interjecting when she needs help, trying to eat silently in the background. She mostly spells the comprehension questions for him and he reads them to her, and when she finally thanks him and hangs up, he looks up to see his dad standing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops, I finished the file on—"

"When did your desk turn in to the homework helpline?" Noah asks, frowning, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"She only calls on my break, it's fine," he says, waving a hand to brush away the question before picking up the file. "Anyway—"

"Are her parents aware?"

"I left her aunt a voicemail on Monday," he says, and when his dad just looks at him, he sighs. "Fine, I left her a message last Monday and I haven't heard back, but she's not alone in the house, nothing bad is going on, she's just—lonely, I think." It's something he understands; after his mom passed away, he'd started calling Edith, who worked the front desk of the station when he was a kid, every night his dad wasn't home.

"Call again,"  Noah says, "and next time, make whoever is home with her aware of it. Once or twice is fine; every day for weeks is a problem."

--

"Here," he says, and Talia gives him the first letter promptly before pausing and spelling out the rest. "Good job. Um, said."

He might be extending their time on the phone, just a little. He likes talking to her; she reminds him of himself, her elementary drama always makes him laugh, and she likes asking him questions about being a deputy. So he’s not really looking forward to asking to speak to her aunt and put a stop to all this.

When she seems like she’s winding down, he sighs. “I know you’re not supposed to interrupt Auntie Cora,” he says, “but I was hoping to talk to her. Can you tell her Deputy Stiles is on the phone?”

“Oh, Auntie’s not here,” Talia says, and Stiles feels the beginning of a heart attack coming on before she adds, “Daddy’s home now. I’ll go get him.” He hears a thunk and then little feet running, her calling out for her Dad before there’s a muffled thump.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” he says, “this is Deputy Stilinski from BHSD—is this Mr. Hale?”

“This is,” he says, and if it’s possible to fall in love with a voice, Stiles does so right then. Soft and gentle, just a bit of concern, and he has to stop himself from running Derek’s name through the system to get a photo. His dad is already irritated with him for encouraging Talia’s calls (and, you know, for the whole stopping a bank robbery in progress thing that led to the injury that landed him on desk duty), he doesn’t need to add misuse of resources to the list. “Is everything okay?”

He takes a breath and explains, starts from the beginning and includes how he gave Talia his desk number so she would stop calling 9-1-1, makes sure to add that he’d tried to get ahold of Cora—and leaves out the fact he hadn’t called Mr. Hale directly even though he could have easily done so—and when he’s finished talking, he adds, “I didn’t mind, honestly, she just told me today that you were back in town and I wanted to let you know.”

There’s a pause where he holds his breath and hopes that Mr. Hale doesn’t think he’s a creep, or doesn’t demand to speak to the Sheriff—but he just lets out a breath and says “I am so sorry, I’ll absolutely talk to her, it won’t happen again.”

“I really didn’t mind,” he says again, because he also doesn’t want to get Talia into trouble. “She must get home from school at the same time my break starts because she always called at the same time, I wasn’t busy. Just making you aware.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hale says. “Deputy—” and isn’t Stiles going to have dreams where his name is said like that, low and grateful and—

“Sorry?” he asks, flushing when he realizes he’s lost track of the conversation. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I appreciate what you did,” Mr. Hale says. “I’ll talk to her.”

--

Talia doesn’t call the next day.

She shows up instead.

“Mr. Deputy Stiles!” he hears from the front, and his head snaps up to see a little girl with long dark hair looking around the room, envelope clutched in one hand, the holding onto the hottest man Stiles has ever seen and holy shit, he suddenly believes that karma is very real and he has clearly done something good in his life to earn this kind of reward.

He starts to stand, and her eyes catch his and light up as she tugs her dad towards him. “Miss Hale?”

“Hi!” she says, flinging her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and looks over at her dad, who gives him a sheepish look and shrugs. “I got a hundred percent on my sight words test and Daddy said we could go to ice cream to celebrate and then when we were at ice cream he said we should do something nice for you because you helped me so so so much and I really wanted to come here anyway because I want to see a real jail and Daddy said if I was really really nice and asked politely then maybe you could show me some handcuffs—”

If this is what he’s like, he’s starting to understand why it was difficult for him to make friends in school, because she just does not stop, and doesn’t leave an opportunity for him to get a word in. He crouches down so he’s eye-level with her and waits it out, accepting the envelope when she finally runs out of words and beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, and when he opens it up to find a drawing and a handful of gift cards, he looks up to Mr. Hale. “You really didn’t have to, Mr. Hale,” he says, wrapping one arm around Talia’s shoulders when she darts in to hug him again.

“Derek,” he says, and when he smiles, Stiles is pretty sure he’s found God. “We don’t want to take up your time, I just wanted to thank you.”

“But—” Talia starts, and falls quiet when Derek looks at her again. “I can’t even see the people in the jail?”

“It’s not really a jail,” Stiles says, shrugging, “just a holding cell. And there’s no one in it right now.”

“Boo,” Talia says. “Can I meet your Sheriff?”

“Lia,” Derek warns, and she sighs explosively. “Sorry about—all this. I talked to Cora and she knows to give Talia a little more attention during homework time, so she won’t—she shouldn’t—be calling you again. Talia, we need to get home. Say thank you and goodbye.”

“Bye, Mr. Deputy Stiles,” she says, and he knows—he knows—that her sticking out her bottom lip and pouting is nothing more than a manipulation tactic, but it hits him all the same. “Thank you.”

--

“Deputy Stilinski,” he says before he fully has the receiver to his ear, wadding up a piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Jordan’s head to get his attention. He motions to the pizza box laying on his desk—dinner for the station courtesy of Derek, who clearly didn’t know the going rate for tutors given the sheer amount he’d dropped on gift cards—and makes a grabbing motion. They’ll be having station dinners for weeks—so long as they cater to his busted foot and bring him what he wants. Otherwise, he’s spending it all on himself.

“Hi,” someone says, and “sorry, this is Derek Hale, Talia’s dad?”

“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“I—” there’s a pause and a muffled sound, a conversation happening just outside of what Stiles can hear. “Sorry, I—I wanted to ask if you would be interested in getting coffee on Saturday. With me,” he adds, and Stiles can hear it when he cups his hand over the microphone and says, “Talia, stop.”

It’s like a record scratch in his brain. “Coffee?” he repeats. He’d thanked karma for smiling down on him, but he’d figured the encounter with Derek was one and done. “You want—with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “although my daughter is also extremely interested and I believe is willing to fight me for you.”

Laughter bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You know, I think Talia did call dibs first,” he says, grinning. “What if we all got coffee and then you and I went for lunch?”

“I can work with that,” Derek says. “It’s a date.”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Thanks for the Doritos!

Pairing: Klaine | Rating: T | Words: 1,410 | Tropes/Genres: BabBoy!Blaine, humor, friends to lovers, crime

Summary: Kurt and BadBoy!Blaine try to lift some chips from the local convenience store. Things don't go exactly as planned.

A/N: did i proofred this? no <3 i was anxious about my first day back at work and wrote this instead sorry not sorry Based on this this batshit tumblr post that gives me ALL the serotonin warnings for a non-canon character holding a gun and crime ig

Continue Reading Below or Read on AO3

“This is stupid. It’s not gonna work.”

“How would you know? We haven’t even tried it.”

“I feel like there’s a better way to satiate your case of the munchies than shoplifting from a Seven-Eleven.”

“The clerk gets paid the same whether or not the bastard CEOs of the company lose a couple of bucks. Unless you’ve magically conjured up a wad of cash?”

“You know I haven’t.” Kurt almost growls. Blaine doesn’t mean it that way, but they’ve had enough conversations about Burt’s medical bills that he should know tight money is a sensitive topic for Kurt. The defensive fire in his belly dies down a little when Blaine reaches out to squeeze his hand—his free one holding his trusty skateboard—reminding Kurt he’s not alone in his suffering.

Until meeting Blaine, Kurt would spend his afternoons at home, with nothing except reruns of Golden Girls to keep him company while he prepared his dad’s dinner.

And then one cold October afternoon, while Kurt was hiding from Karofsky and Azimio under the bleacher, he nearly tripped over a mass of black clothing. The bundle of black subsequently sat up, revealing a head of unkempt curls and a disgruntled snarl that softened into a smirk upon seeing Kurt’s face.

He offered Kurt a cigarette, his hand, and his name.

Ever since then, Blaine has shown Kurt in numerous ways that you don’t need to do anything to have a good time. All you need is a roof, the night, and two people who, for some reason neither can quite explain, care about each other.

“Don’t act so high and mighty, Hummel. We both know you’re no stranger to theft.”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

Blaine looks over and makes a dramatic pouty face, complete with pleading puppy-dog eyes that make Kurt’s knees too weak for his liking. “Tell that to my weeping heart. I’m still picking up the pieces from you refusing my several offers of marriage.”

Kurt’s face burns red and he huffs, yanking his hand away. Blaine always does this. Ruins the moment with some dramatic, over-the-top fake flirting, as if he doesn’t know what he looks like—as if he doesn’t know Kurt’s head over heels for one of McKinley High’s most notorious bad boys. For God’s sake, he’s about to commit a misdemeanor just to get him a couple of bugles. Of course he’s in love with Blaine.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“As you wish.”

Kurt walks in first, gives a friendly smile and half-wave to the cashier before heading to the chip aisle. He loiters there for a minute or two before Blaine walks in, heading straight to the counter where he’ll pretend to be looking for a specific cigarette brand he can’t remember the name of.

The second the clerk has his back turned, Kurt ducks to the ground and rips open his backpack, quickly and quietly throwing an assortment of chips in, only pausing when he grabs a bag of Doritos. A smile cracks his face; they’re Blaine’s favorite.

He’s so preoccupied with putting extra ones in there, that he doesn’t even hear the ding from the bell of the front door.

The way Blaine will tell the story to Kurt later that night—and to others for years to come—he’ll say that the first thing he saw was the barrel of a shotgun sticking up above the stand of newspapers by the entrance, and that’s all it took for him to rush to Kurt’s side.

Kurt’s zipping up the backpack when there’s a familiar hand on his shoulder, and Blaine’s panicked face in front of his.

“Guy with a gun just walked in,” he exhales in a terrified breath.

Kurt’s eyes go wide as dinner plates, and although the shouting he can hear coming from the front of the store confirms it, he still can’t believe it. “There’s—what!?” he whisper-shouts. Almost instinctively, he tries to stand up to look over the aisle, but Blaine drags him back down.

“Get down!”

“Oh fuck,” Kurt cries, adrenaline spiking when he hears the robber’s angry shouts of curse words and demands of money. “We have to do something.”

Blaine nods, and his immediate agreement makes Kurt fall that much more in love with this idiot. “He can’t see us here. I’ll stay here, you go to the next aisle over. I’ll create a distraction, and I need you to—god, Kurt, if anything happens to you,” he places a tan hand in Kurt’s pale face, and the warmth makes Kurt gasp, “I need you to leave okay? Don’t you dare wait for me. Call the cops when you’re out.”

“But I—”

“Call the cops.”

There’s no time to argue, so Kurt just nods and hurriedly crouches his way to the right, until he’s in the aisle out of the robber’s eye line, but can still see him.

A second later, he hears Blaine’s skateboard collide with the metal of the counter and figures that’s his cue to run.

Now’s his chance to run straight out of the convenience store, like Blaine told him to. Like he most certainly should… but the robber’s turning towards the chip aisle, where Blaine is. The robber is turning to the chip aisle where Blaine is and has a fucking gun, and after months of overthinking this thing he has with Blaine—a friendship, but also implicitly more—Kurt doesn’t think at all.

With the robber’s back to him, Kurt breaks out into a sprint and tackles the lanky man to the floor.

Kick knacks, candies, and various other impulse buy items go flying as Kurt messily pins the disoriented thief to the floor in front of a large metal stand full of cookies.

Blaine comes from the other side, seemingly out of nowhere and frozen momentarily in shock. Through magic, some sort of telepathic bond, or sheer luck, he manages to read Kurt’s mind and as soon as Kurt scrambles off the man, heaves the metal stand on top of the assailant.

They share a wide-eyed look of panic, an unspoken agreement, before bolting out.

Blaine hops over the groaning robber to the previous aisle, to pick up his skateboard. Meanwhile, Kurt’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he locates the rifle, still alarmingly close to the robber’s hand.

It won’t even register until about an hour later that holy fucking shit he was holding a loaded gun, but for now he grabs it and runs towards the door, shoving it into the clerk’s hands before lining up with Blaine, skateboard and backpack in hand.

The clerk looks at them with equal parts shock and gratitude, before turning the rifle on the robber to ensure he doesn’t try to escape.

As the two boys race out the door, Kurt tosses out a “Thanks for the Doritos!” to the clerk.

They don’t stop running for a solid minute, but when they do Kurt’s hamstrings are burning and his lungs are on fire, throat sore from breathing in the cold air too quickly.

Hands on his knees and still panting, he looks at Blaine. “Oh, my god.”

Blaine looks up at him from a similar position, breaking out into a wide, beaming grin that morphs into a fit of laughter. “We just did that.”

“That was reckless,” Kurt says, astonished for a moment before joining Blaine in his laughter.

Laughter slowly dying down into chuckles, Blaine stands up straight and cups Kurt’s cheeks in his palms.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, hints of laughter still lighting up his voice.

Before Kurt can throw his eyes back into his skull—because Blaine always says he loves Kurt, as a friend, of course—Blaine’s lips are on his, warm and solid against the cool autumn air and taking what little breath Kurt has away.

He’s a little more than speechless when they finally break apart. Blaine isn’t.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“I… w-wait, so… this whole time… you weren’t fake flirting with me?”

“I mean, I might’ve been a little too playful with it, but I was hoping eventually you’d take the hint.”

“I… don’t do well with hints.”

“Alright, no more hints. In that case, can I just kiss you again?”

Kurt barely restrains a hiccuped little laugh. “You, Blaine Anderson, can kiss me anytime you’d like.”

And from that day on, he does.

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt.4

AN: YAY its finally here! Thank you so much to everyone for reading and for your patience! This is the final part of this series. enjoy <3

"Y/N?" a gentle tap on the wall outside your bunk. It was Liz. "We have an interview with Spin in like 5 minutes."

You groaned and pulled your wrinkled sheet over your face, turning away from the sound of her voice, soft and hesitant as though she were afraid the slightest noise would shatter you further.

"You guys go without me," was your muffled reply, "I've hogged the spotlight enough anyway."

" Are you sure? They'll probably be pissed the lead singer isn't there."

"Then let them be pissed."

Liz lingered in silence for a moment before deciding it was best to leave you be. It had been a couple of weeks since you'd found out about Alex's little foray into filmmaking, and a gush of old trauma had emerged new again. All the work you had put in to rebuild yourself and to forge a new life had all but crumbled away in a matter of minutes, and you isolated yourself in response.

You stopped leaving the bus because of the stares. Once rumors had gotten out that there was video footage of you doing the deed, people seemed to glance over at you before whispering insidious somethings among their companions. You didn't need to hear their conversations to know just how humiliating their words were. Things took a turn for the worse when reporters began to have the audacity to ask you about the video, probing into if you were in a relationship with Alex. It was then that you realized he had sabotaged your moment, your success, and made it all about him.

You began to miss a few shows, something you had never done before. But you just couldn't bring yourself to give a damn. Your bandmates kept their distance, realizing you needed your space; but their concern was permanently painted on their faces.

"Hey Y/N," Gavin spoke hesitantly one afternoon, "You know...Gerard's been asking about you."

The sound of his name made your heart beat quicker. You hadn't made an effort to see him since the video came out. "Oh?"

"Yeah he really wants to see you. He's worried about you...we all are."

"I'm fine." you said curtly. "I mean, tell him not to. I'm fine. I just need to be alone."

"You sure? I think some social interaction might do you some good--"

"Gavin, I want to be alone. Please."

He merely nodded before heading out the bus door, finally giving you what you asked for.

Out of respect for the fans, you managed to pick yourself for performances again, but it felt like you were merely going through the motions, your passion nearly extinguished. You became angry at yourself for feeling this way, like you were giving up on yourself and your goals. Between sadness and guilt, there was no bright side you could look to as an escape.

Then, you ran into Alex.

This was what you had really been dreading. You knew how smug he must be, knowing he must've gotten under your skin, his favorite place to be. You'd snuck out of the bus for some much needed fresh air, but you didn't need to go far before you heard your name being called.

"Y/N! wait up!" a chill shot down your spine. You didn't turn around. Instead, you began walking faster.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second--" He grasped your arm, but you pulled it back so quickly it seemed to surprise him.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"C'mon don't be mad."

You couldn't help but laugh at the nerve of his comment. "How could I not be? I didn't even know you had filmed me. I didn't get to agree to any of this! And then you decide to make it public? And you," you said, angry tears building up to a waterfall, pushing a fist into his chest, "you are a nightmare that won't go away! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Alex was calm-- So calm that it only angered you further. "You're thinking about this the wrong way. The publicity could be great--I mean people are already eating it up. They love us together. Honestly? I did us both a favor." He smirked, making your skin crawl. "But there's something else, Y/N. Something you should remember." He leaned forward, speaking into your ear in a low, serpentine voice, "This is what happens when you think you can go off and make something of yourself without me."

You were speechless, your stomach dropping as if it had been kicked. "You're disgusting. I'm leaving."

"Going to see your friend Gerard? Hey, ask him what he thinks of our movie for me. I'm making another one with some My Chem fans anyway." He spoke to you with your back turned, already walking away, but you could hear him smiling.

You halted in your steps, torn between slapping Alex across the face, crying, or simply walking away. After a deep breath and far more self control than you knew you possesed, you chose the latter, swiftly walking back towards your bus to isolate once more.

****

The sun was revolting.

That was the first thought when Gavin flung open the curtain that marked the border of your bunk, your own personal ecosystem that no one had dared enter for the past few weeks. He kneeled on your mattress and reached over you to open the blinds on your wall, and you winced as the sun struck your face like a laser.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N!"

"Gavin, its August."

"Well it might as well be Christmas when you hear what I have to tell you."

You groaned and rubbed your eyes. "What is it? I'm prepared to be underwhelmed."

"I didn't even need to open that window! There's that bright and sunny optimism we've come to know and love."

You hit him with a pillow. "Out with it."

"Alex got--"

"ALEX GOT KICKED OFF WARPED TOUR!" Liz shouted, bursting into your bunk from out of nowhere.

"What the hell Liz! I wanted to tell her!"

"Too slow!"she teased.

Your head was reeling. "Wait, wait, wait....what? How?"

"Don't know all the details but it definitley had to do with his...activities. Turns out he was asking underage fans to flash him and his band to get backstage and shit. Someone snitched I guess, thank god. The whole band's been kicked off and banned from Warped tour.

For the first time in forever, you laughed.

You practically cackled. You laughed so much that it felt like you couldn't stop.

"I think we broke her." Liz muttered to Gavin.

"That's fucking amazing." you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

"It is, and its good to hear you laugh again." Gavin said. "Come out with us later, to celebrate."

"I will sometime, but I'm still not quite ready. People are gonna try to ask me questions, I just know it. I'm still not up for it."

Liz and Gavin nodded. "We'll be here when you are."

***

Later that afternoon a few quick knocks sounded from the bus door. You debated getting up to answer it, but human interaction was the last thing you wanted right now. There were a few more small knocks; and you able to ignore the unwanted visitor until, after a moment of silence, something slid under the door. Once you heard their footsteps disappear into the distance, you peeled yourself from your nest on the couch to investigate.

It was a white envelope with your name scrawled across the front. You hesitated for moment, wondering if another piece of your past was about to jump out and bite you. But after steeling yourself you pressed on, your fingers swiftly retrieving the mysterious contents.

You immediately smiled. It was a card with a drawing of you on the front, in a style that was unmistakably Gerard's. You were on stage wailing into the mic, confidently waving your middle finger. You couldn't help but laugh.

Fuck em all. The world needs you out there. If you're feeling up to it, come to our set tonight.

Hope to see you there.

-G

You closed the card and reveled in the much needed buzz of happiness it gave you. Gerard. You thought he would've have been angry with you since you had all but ghosted him these past few weeks, but that clearly wasn't the case. Your legs wanted to run after him, but you as you were covered in dorito dust and sadness, you decided to stay put. You'd make yourself somewhat presentable and then see their performance tonight.

***

You stood just off stage,  just hidden enough in your oversized hoodie to feel comfortable. Right before they began their set, Gerard turned and saw you, eyes widening with a glad surprise as though he hadn't thought you'd actually come. His expression quickly melted into a welcoming smile, and you couldn't help but break out into soft grin of your own.

The band greeted the crowd, already energized and cheering them on. You'd expected them to launch into a song, but instead Gerard began speaking.

"This is a special set tonight guys, because someone very important to me is here. Someone so strong, so kickass that sometimes I wonder if she's even a real fucking human being." He glanced over at you, eyes electric and impassioned, immediately i heat rise to your shrouded cheeks. "Well some asshole tried to hurt her. Tried to make her feel small. But I want her to remember she's too fucking amazing to ever let someone make her feel that way."

You could feel the sting in your eyes as tears began to build.

"And that goes for all of you out there, cause these same assholes have been messing with fans too. So if you ever see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands asking you to show them your tits for backstage passes, I want you to spit right in their fucking faces and yell 'FUCK YOU!”

The crowd went crazy, and you couldn't help but let out a small cheer as well, despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N," Gerard breathed, "This is for you." and with that, the band launched into one of the most passionate sets you'd ever seen. You stayed for it all, loving every moment. As soon as it was finished, Gerard thanked the crowd and made a beeline off stage, directly where you had been stationed all evening.

His eyes were dancing with happiness at the sight of you, pumping with the adrenaline of performing, sweat still dripping from his dark hair. "Hi," he said,pausing for amoment as though he was holding back from so much more, "you came!"

"After the invitation I received? How could I not?"

"So you liked it?"He beamed, his cheeks, pink from exertion, reddened further. "I wanted to do like a mini comic but I ran out of time." As he grinned, fresh crimson gleamed from a small split in his lower lip. What you thought had been makeup turned out to be a genuine injury.

"You're bleeding." you observed softly.

His brows furrowed in confusion, a finger darting to his lip. He dabbed it, smearing blood onto his chin.

"Damn, again? Don't worry, it's nothing."

You didn't hesitate to grab a tissue from your pocket, step forward and gently press it against his cut. He looked down at you with affection, causing you to look away as your heartbeat picked up its pace. Instead you analyzed his face and noticed it was patterned with small bruises.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me. What happened?"

It had been just the two of you speaking intimately just off stage, but crew and media began pouring through and milling about the area. You realized just how close you were standing to Gerard, and pulled your hand back when you noticed people watching. A pew passerbys patted Gerard on the back, offering their compliments of the band's performance. He quickly thanked them, barely turning his attention from you, afraid you might run off. He grabbed your hand, leading you to a quiet area.

"I may have gotten into a fight."

"What!? You don't even leave your bus, how did you get into a fight?"

"I had to. Someone very important to me was being hurt."

You stared at him for a moment, putting the pieces together in your head. Gerard knowing about the video, Alex's sudden departure from the tour...

"Gerard, you didn't."

"I did, and I'd do it again, Y/N. Besides, you can't say he didn't have an ass-kicking coming to him."

You let out a soft laugh, but your vision began to blur as tears welled. A swirl of emotions welled inside of you, tumultuous and much more than you had anticipated feeling tonight. You were touched that Gerard was so concerned about you. Embarrassed that he had to get involved at all. Glad that he did, after all.

At the sight of your tears, he stepped closer. It was him now who tenderly wiped your face, brushing away stray tears with his thumb.

"Jesus, Y/N, I can stand a few punches to the face but I can't stand seeing you cry."

That was all you needed to hear to get oceans pouring from your eyes instead of streams. You embraced Gerard, burying your head into his shoulder. Gerard folded his arms around you in response.

"Y/N I want to tell you...I mean I hope you know...just how important you are to me and how I feel about you. You deserve to be happy."

"You're so nice to me that I almost don't know how to process it." you admitted beneath an awkard, tear-ridden laugh. "Thank you. You need to know you're important to me too. I..I just--" You planted an aggressive kiss on his cheek, unable to express your myriad of emotions in words.

"There, I think that expresses everything."

"Everything?"Gerard asked, brushing a strand oh hair behind your shoulder, "There's a few points I'd like to add."

His hand cupped the side of your face and your lips met, softly at first, a salty mixture of tears and coppery blood. The kiss quickly deepened, caught in your own world, unable to get enough of the taste of each other. That is until Gerard winced and pulled back, blood dripping from his lower lip. His cut had only deepened from your exertions.

"We'll have to postpone this until that's better." you said, handing him another tissue.

"Damn. Kinda regretting that fight now." He laughed.

"Don't regret it. Besides, its not an entirely bad look on you." you teased.

A bashful expression crossed his face as he brushed his hair back from his face.

"I hate to say it but I have a press thing to do in a few minutes with the guys. Meet me in my bus later?" He said, offering another peck on your cheek.

"I'd be crazy not to." you replied, ambushing him with one final hug before he walked off.

You realized something immediately. Despite everything, the heartache, the surprises--you regretted nothing. And as you lifted your fingers to your lips, still buzzing from impact, you knew this had been a tour that changed your life, after all.

Tomorrow, you'd be back onstage, ready to begin again.

Taglist: @pacifymebby​

[jamaiskookie]

Yoongi Doesn’t Romance [myg x reader]

✂︎ warnings: excessive cursing, bad writing

✂︎ word count: 6.6k (I meant to write a very short drabble… aHAHHA)

✂︎ genre: it’s.. literally just crack. Good dosing of cheesy romance and overused cliches

✂︎ A/N: it took awhile but we here!!! with a short drabble but still!!! hope you enjoy this cringey fluffy fic full of shameless jimin and shy yoongi- arguably the best yoongi

masterlist asks

✂︎ synopsis: yoongi isn’t great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

“... and I don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on denying it! You obviously have a crush on him!” You roll your eyes at Namjoon, flicking your index finger at his forehead and watching as he flinches and lets out multiple sounds of pain, which you promptly ignored. 

“I’m denying my crush because he so obviously doesn’t like me back! He hates me, Joon. He literally detests me.” You say, jumping back onto the stained and cluttered couch that occupies most of you and Namjoon’s shared dorm. 

“And I’m telling you that you’re overthinking it,” Namjoon says, chewing on some popcorn. “I don’t think he hates you, you’re just exaggerating things.”  

“I am not!” You protest, swinging your head around to look Namjoon dead straight in the eyes. “He hates me! He practically leaps out of the room whenever I’m around.” Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Taehyung, who is currently seated two feet away on a small thrifted chair. 

“Shhhhhhhh-” His eyes are still fixated on the TV screen, watching the random nature documentary playing that you and Namjoon had long ago abandoned. You and Namjoon both watch Taehyung for a second amusedly as he attempts to stuff popcorn kernels in his mouth and completely misses the mark. You’ll have to remind him to clean up the floor later. 

“But,” Namjoon whispers to you, “Literally every time you aren’t around I swear all he can do is run his mouth on and on about you.” 

“Not true!” You yell, squeaking out a quick apology to Tae, who glared at you for interrupting the segment on apes. Something about how apes can learn languages, but you’re not too sure. “Lies!” You hiss, elbowing Namjoon in the rib. 

“Ow-!” He jumps back, wincing. “Why do you always resort to violence?” You didn’t have an answer to that question, unfortunately. “And I’m not lying! I swear on my bonsai trees he always asks where you are whenever you don’t show up to stuff.” 

“Maybe he just wants to know how much glorious time he has left before he has to face me again.” You offer, tearing open what must be your third dorito family pack of the night. (It’s fine, you’ll burn it off by running to class tomorrow when you’re inevitably late once again.) “Namjoon, face the facts: he only tolerates my presence occasionally because we share a couple of mutual friends. If it weren’t for you and the other guys, he would’ve already started a  hate club for me, I’m sure of it”

Namjoon stared at you exasperatedly, before muttering something that very suspiciously sounded like ‘God you’re such a dumbass’ before taking out his phone to swipe through Tinder, not uttering another word to you. 

Despite Namjoon’s utter and complete lies, you don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to Min Yoongi. Not his hatred towards you, or how he speaks two words maximum every year directed at you, or your massive slight crush that you’ve harboured for him, or how cute he looks with beanies on, or how you almost fainted that one time you saw him playing basketball, or- well, you get it. 

The point is, you can’t acknowledge your crush on Yoongi (Even though everyone around you is fully aware of it) because he seems to completely resent you and your existence for no reason in particular. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, and many others insist that he doesn’t hate you as much as you think, but you dismiss their stupid assumptions time and time again. You’d love to believe them, but the evidence and first hand experiences you’ve had says otherwise. 

✂︎

Exhibit A: He seems to avoid you on campus, or anywhere you go. This one is actually quite impressive considering the classes you two share. You’ve never seen someone go so out of their way to ignore someone they don’t like. It’s pretty commemorable. Whenever you sit in the same row as him during a lecture, he’ll move seats. One time you waved at him at a coffee shop and he just strangely blushed, and bolted out of there faster than you could say ‘rejected’. Taehyung ended up saying it, all while laughing his ass off. (You made him pay for your coffee that day.) Everytime you head over to Jimin’s dorm, he’ll just blankly stare at you two and march straight towards his room and lock himself in there until you leave. He even gulpes and swerves away when he sees you in a hallway. 

You know, that awkward thing when you’re heading the same direction so obviously you’d try and be slightly friendly and wave or something but then he’ll just suddenly turn around, navigating through the crowd of angry, late students and facing all that social pressure just so he doesn’t have to waVE BACK AT YOU- okay, maybe you aren’t as over this incident as you thought. 

Exhibit B: He won’t speak to you or touch you or interact with you in any way. Okay, maybe ‘in any way’ is a teensy bit exaggerated, but he definitely seems to find trouble when you two are left alone for some strange reason. He seems to be fine when all your other friends are around, but he just looks so uncomfortable when it’s just you two. He won’t look you in the eye, and he’ll just mutter incomprehensible sentences under his breath. 

A couple months ago you attempted to hold a decent conversation with him in the kitchen of Jin’s fancy ass apartment. After many awkward silences that you had to fill up with your timid and boring small talk, he just mumbled something and you had to watch him go into the bathroom and scream. Either he was having some really bad explosive diarrhea, or having to talk to you was just that excruciating. Apart from intense Uno game nights or when he’s under the influence of alcohol, you’ve never even heard Yoongi raise his voice!

How is it possible that just by talking to you, he feels the urge to scream? You aren’t that boring, you think-! Actually, now that you think about it, you did try and bring up sea otter fun facts as a conversation starter, so maybe that’s why he had to scream. 

Personally, you think that sea otters are the most adorable creatures to ever grace the earth, but Yoongi does seem like the kind of guy to prefer bats or something like that. 

Exhibit C: The elbow incident. This haunts you to this day, not just from the horrible humiliation, but if the two previous exhibit’s weren’t convincing enough, this was real cemented evidence that Min Yoongi hates your guts. 

You were talking to Jimin about the significance of ‘Phineas and Ferb’ in the cinematic industry, when your dumbass had tripped and caught yourself on Min Yoongi’s fucking arm (His bicep, on a completely unrelated note, was much bigger and stronger than you had thought, which was a complete other source of anxiety.) You would much rather fall on the ground and break all your bones, because the look on Yoongi’s face as he stared down at you clutching his arm like some sort of idiot, could only be described as disgust or horrified. Maybe both. You immediately let go, of course, and blabbered out apology after apology, but all he did was just stare and blink owlishly at you. 

You proceeded to blush madly and run away, hiding your face in Jimin’s chest, which was, in hindsight, not a good idea, considering how hard he was laughing at the time. (What you didn’t see was Yoongi staring from behind you, deciding to never wash the hoodie he was wearing ever again.) 

So, that concludes your argument against Namjoon’s preposterous claim that ‘Yoongi doesn’t actually hate you Y/n, it’s all in your head’ Delusional, that’s what he is. How could someone like Min Yoongi, a person you have literally been drooling over for most of your academic career, a person who single handedly has every sorority girl wrapped around his finger, even tolerate your very existence, much less be attracted to you? No, none of it makes any sense. You’ll continue to hurt yourself by being around him, despite clearly knowing that he detests your presence, and will even deny the crush you’ve somehow managed to build up for him. 

Because even though it hurts to see him flinch and ignore you, you truly do think that Yoongi is one of the greatest people to ever walk on this shitty earth. He’s caring, even if he does pretend to not care, he’s smart, passionate, ambitious, and you’d be absolutely lying if you said you haven’t dreamed of pinching those squishy cheeks he seems to hide away so often. 

If only you knew why he hated you so much. 

✂︎

All the way across campus, Yoongi was having a similar breakdown while Jimin looked on anxiously. 

“God fucking dammit!” He screamed. The sound comes out slightly muffled since Jimin can only hear what he’s saying through the pillow that Yoongi currently has his face buried in. He kicks his legs up and whines, hitting the bed with his hands. Jimin is suddenly reminded of his 4 year old cousin who threw a tantrum when she didn’t get the doll she asked for. 

“And then you know what I said, Chim?? Do you kNOW?” Yoongi’s been screaming for the past thirty minutes or so. Jimin’s surprised that nobody on campus has come pounding on their door telling them to shut up yet. 

“Please, do enlighten me.” Jimin murmurs, picking at his nails. 

“I said ‘Salutations’ AND THEN I RAN OUT THE FUCKING CLASSROOM.” Yoongi tilts his head up from the pillow and groans, scrunching his nose up at the embarrassing thought.

“At least it’s not as bad as the time you screamed in the middle of the street when she touched your shoulder… right?” Jimin offers timidly, forcing a smile on his face. An angry, sleep deprived Yoongi is already scary enough, but he’s ten times more intense when the source of anger comes from you. 

Honestly, sometimes he wonders how effective it would be if he could just lock Yoongi and you in a room and force you two to admit your feelings for once. (Until he mentioned this idea to Namjoon, who dejectedly informed him that they’ve already tried that.) ((Yoongi broke out of the room using a bobby pin and sheer force of will)) He’s never even seen a pair so smart, and yet so obliviously naive. Anyone with functioning two eyes could see the horribly obvious feelings the both of you shared for each other. In fact, for the first couple months upon meeting Yoongi, he thought that you were his girlfriend, based on how much he talked about you. That assumption carried on when he met you, until Jin told him that the two of you were just in a weird phase of dumbasses who kinda flirt. 

It’s not Yoongi’s fault that he’s so bad at having actual emotions that aren’t the tears of joy that he sheds whenever he gets free coffee from the barista at the local cafe, and it’s not your fault that your self esteem is too low to recognise that Yoongi basically worships you. 

In theory, you two are a match made in heaven. Both just as stupid as the other.

“How do you do feelings, Jimin?” Yoongi sits up from the bed, and Jimin thinks that the tear tracks and defeated look on his face is a tad bit dramatic, but he chooses not to comment on it, for fear of his own life. 

“... what?” 

“You know, feelings. How do you romance?” 

“... what?” 

Yoongi, completely exasperated, throws his hands up in the air and turns around to face Jimin. “Everytime I try to talk to her by myself it’s like I’m a fish out of water. I get way too nervous, and then she starts talking about otters, and she’s way too pretty so I obviously start freaking out! I don’t know, you and Jungkook have been dating for a year now, right?” Jimin nods.

“How’d you do that.”

“... Are you asking me how I got a boyfriend or-? Because I assure you that 85% of getting Kookie to be my boyfriend had to do with my great ass, so I can’t really help you out there- ” Jimin laughs as he watches Yoongi squeal and cover his hands over his ears. 

“Can I ask you for relationship advice without hearing about your sex life, please?” Yoongi pleads. “I know too many unnecessary things about how Jungkook is in bed.” 

Jimin decides to put his friend out of his misery. He places a hand on his shoulder, and shoots him a soft smile. 

“Yoongi, my young grasshopper- ” He retracts the hand when he sees the deathly stare Yoongi is looking at him with, but so far so good, “- there really isn’t much to it. Tell her you like her, and in the very, very, extremely small chance that she rejects you, so what? It’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life getting ov- ” Jimin’s voice falters again when Yoongi’s stare intensifies. 

“You don’t get it!” He complains, throwing himself back onto the bed once again. “You’re all good at this sort of stuff!” Jimin tilts his head in confusion. “You know, relationships! Talking to people! And I’m pretty sure Y/n is the love of my life, so I’m literally going to break down if she rejects me! I’m going to cry for days, I already know it!” Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, pouting at nothing in particular. 

“She’s so perfect, smart, nice, caring, funny, strong and incredible. It hurts that she’s never going to like me the way I like her.” 

“You know, Yoongi, if you never talk to her, she’s never going to know you feel that way.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, while it takes all of Jimin’s strength to restrain himself from not throwing Yoongi out of the window. 

Once he’s absolutely sure that Yoongi is fully asleep, he pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. After a few quick taps, he brings his phone up to his ear. 

“Guys, I can’t deal with him anymore. We have to do something.” 

✂︎

“I would like to, once again, reiterate that I am 100% against this idea.”

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Namjoon grumbles something about being unappreciated, but continues to speak up.

“It’s a bad idea, Chim. Logically, there’s only a small chance this will work out in our favour, and if it doesn't, I’m at least certain that Yoongi will dislocate all of our limbs until we’re a pile of human flesh.” 

Jimin dismisses the thought. “Yoongi would never do that to us.” 

“Of course he would,” Taehyung piped up. “Do you remember the time he dyed my bright pink because I made fun of Y/n for her stupid heart patterned boots and she cried?” 10 pairs of eyes slowly looked up at Taehyung. 

“Well, that’s justified, we all want to murder you.” Taehyung gasps at Jin, who smiles back at him in return. 

“And also, you were being a huge asshole that day and you totally deserved it. The pink hair didn’t even look that bad.” Tae smiles proudly at Jimin. 

“That’s true, I fucking slayed with that pink hair. I kinda miss it, actually… ” He hums thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Jimin looks away and scoffs. Taehyung’s one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he gets a little too art-kid-college-dropout-hipster for him to handle. 

“Do you guys think I should dye my hair pink again?” Nobody answers his question. 

“Tae might be an absolute douchebag, but he has a point. We all know how protective Yoongi is over Y/n. Are you willing to potentially risk your life if this doesn’t work out?” Curse Namjoon for being logical. Maybe Yoongi killing him is a bit of a stretch, but he would make Jimin’s life a living hell if this operation ended up a failure. 

Nevertheless, he continues to insist. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I physically can’t stand Yoongi stomping around the dorm because he’s emotionally incapable of working out his feelings anymore! Yesterday he fell asleep in my bed. My bed, Namjoon. For such a tiny man, he’s really fucking heavy, I couldn’t move him and had to crash on the couch for the night. If this doesn’t end up working, Yoongi will just go back home and mope around all day long. Nothing different from what he’s doing now.” 

“Um, what’s the worst that could happen?“ Namjoon asks incredulously. “How about if Yoongi finds out we tricked him, invites us to a murder mystery party, but then decides to kill us instead, and covers it up by burying our cold hard, deAD bodies in a highly unhygienic GRAVEYARD? What will you do if that happens, Jimin?“ 

“..........“ 

Nobody says anything to Namjoon, and the boys turn to Jimin once again. Shaking his head, and attempting to ignore... whatever the hell Namjoon just did, Jimin speaks. 

“Oh come on guys!” He shakes his shoulders and lightly taps his foot against the ground. “Aren’t you guys tired of dealing with these two dumbasses too?” A murmur of agreement seems to go around the group, and Jimin breaks into a huge smile. 

“Well, gee,“ Namjoon mumbles sarcastically. “Why don’t you just make a Namjoon Facebook hate group?“ Taehyung shushes him. 

Beside him, Jin and Jungkook are exchanging money, clearly for some kind of bet. What the bet entails, Jimin has no idea, but he doesn’t have the time to question them right now. 

“So, we’re in?” Everyone slowly begins to nod, all except Namjoon. Jimin beams, looking up expectantly at him. Namjoon bites his lip, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Fine.” He grumbles out, not acknowledging Jimin’s shouts of joy. “If this goes wrong though, you bitches better be fucking responsible.” 

“Well, I’m happy you’re all on board, because Hoseok is already here.” Jimin happily smiled up to find Hobi shuffling through the cafe doors, waving enthusiastically at him. He also decides to ignore the collective round of groans and ‘Jimin!’’s that went around the table. 

“Why did you even ask us for our opinions if you already planned this out anyway?” Jungkook hisses, awkwardly smiling at Hoseok.

“Because you guys can never say no to me!” 

“That’s only because of how fucking annoying you are, Chimmy.” Jin moves over in order to let Hoseok sit, even though he doesn’t look overjoyed at having to abandon his favourite seat. 

“Well, all of you look super happy to see me.” Hobi jokes, immediately picking up Namjoon’s milkshake to take a sip. 

“Sorry that you had to get dragged into all this bullshit, Hobi,” Namjoon says, pushing his milkshake towards him and sticking a second straw in the cup. 

“No problem! I love pissing Yoongi off!” The group slowly stares at Hobi, who is still cheerfully sipping at Joon’s milkshake. 

“Well,” Taehyung mutters. “What else do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Drowning yourself in lava?” 

“Taehyung, play nice. Some people are just special. Anyways, here is the plan for Operation: Delusional Idiots Who Need To Make Out.” 

“... Can’t we shorten that?”

“Yeah, seems pretty lengthy.”

“How about Operation: DIWNTMO? Like, pronounced as diwinteemo?”

“That’s… even worse, somehow.”

“Let’s just shorten it to Operation: Delusional Idiots.” 

Six voices, in the middle of the busiest cafe on the school campus, suddenly shout out the words ‘Operation: Delusional Idiots!’, and a cheer goes around the table. 

Onlookers wonder if they are referring to themselves. 

✂︎

In hindsight, Namjoon was probably right. But Jimin can be extremely convincing sometimes, and Jin takes every opportunity to throw a party, so maybe Namjoon was fighting a lost cause in the first place. 

He ponders what he wants his tombstone to say, while pacing around Jin’s apartment, where the party is already going on, full force. Maybe something like ‘Kim Namjoon (1994-2020) Murdered by Min Yoongi at a house party.’ Well, at least if he really does die tonight, it would be a good night for it. 

Namjoon has many complaints about Seokjin. He could probably pull up a never ending list of the girls and guys who have come complaining to him for his friend’s mistakes, screaming about how Jin broke their heart, so and so. But, even he has to begrudgingly agree, Kim Seokjin throws one hell of a party. 

It was one of those rare nights where you could actually make out the faint stars in the Seoul skyline, where the twinkling of the stars felt peaceful. Namjoon isn’t too much of a party person, but the monsters that he calls his friends go out every Friday night, pulling him along most of the time. He’s gotten used to just camping out on Jin’s fancy apartment balcony, (Seriously, what kind of college kid has a balcony?) avoiding the cheers, loud screaming and horribly unhygienic things that are happening inside. 

Unfortunately, thanks to Park Jimin and his horrible ideas, Namjoon is currently wincing in the middle of a huge crowd full of sweaty bodies. He regrets not faking a fever while he could, but it was way too late now. His job tonight was to keep Y/n preoccupied. 

“Remember Joonie, under no circumstances can Y/n see Yoongi before Hoseok completes the task. If she even sees a glimpse of him, she’s going to freak out and leave.”

His aforementioned target was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon is starting to worry that all their efforts will go to waste just because you decided it was another Friday to stay in bed and watch Disney movies on repea-

“wHOA!” Another sweaty hand pulls him out from the crowd, and Namjoon stumbles out, breathing heavily. 

“Why aren’t you out on the balcony?” 

“Why- what- oH! Y/n!” 

You stare blankly at Namjoon, who is still rubbing his arm in pain. 

“You came!” He says, with a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher. 

“What do you mean, I came? Of course I came! It was you and Jin who insisted I come, right?” You dragged him over to the makeshift bar that Jin had set up hours ago on his kitchen island, pouring the both of you strong drinks. You’ll need it to get through the night. 

“Right!” Namjoon awkwardly laughs and follows you into the kitchen, craning his neck to lock eyes with Jimin, who then gives him a thumbs up and leans over to whisper to Hoseok. 

“Y/n,” He says, patting your back when you start coughing lightly from the shot you just downed. “We’re friends no matter what, right?” 

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, looking around Jin’s apartment. “Wow, it’s pretty empty today. Aren’t there usually like 50 people trying to get into one of these parties?” Luckily for Namjoon, who was almost sweating and about to cry trying to come up with an excuse to satisfy you, you ignored him and continued talking. 

“Whatever, it’s fine. The less, the better.” You’re still looking around the crowds when you grab a hold of Namjoon’s shoulders, turning him towards you. “Yoongi’s not here, right?”

“What? hahahHHAHAHA nO of course not!” 

“Oh okay,” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I look terrible today, I would not be able to face him.”  

“You look great today! What do you mean…!” Hopefully you dismiss the bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. It is pretty hot in here. 

Apparently, it took multiple threats, to Yoongi’s coffee machine and lots of bargaining from Jimin to convince him to attend the party, but it seemed to have worked, considering that Namjoon could make out the dark figure of Yoongi, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans in the corner of the room, chatting to Jungkook. His eyes, however, were riveted straight beside him, on Y/n. 

“They really are idiots.” Namjoon muses to himself. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung is waving his arms around trying to catch his attention. He mouths something that Namjoon can’t quite make out, so he just mouths a ‘what?’ back at him and shakes his head. 

Namjoon can almost hear Taehyung sigh from across the room. 

You’re still pouring your second shot, so you don’t notice as Hoseok walks slowly from the living room. Namjoon has actually never seen his friends more concentrated on anything in his life. Even Seokjin, who was, just a second ago, dancing with some guy that Namjoon isn’t even sure he knows, has now pushed the stranger away, completely fixated on Y/n, who is blissfully oblivious to the attention focused on you. 

“Hey…!” Hoseok slowly slides in, real fucking smooth, if Namjoon could add, beside Y/n leaning on his forearm and smiling up towards her. Namjoon has to commend Jimin for the execution of Operation: Delusional Idiots. He’s honestly never seen Jimin put this much work into anything. 

Hoseok was the only mutual friend they knew of that Yoongi was familiar with, but not Y/n. Jimin said that he had considered Jackson for a short while, before realising that Jackson can’t talk to girls for shit. At least Hoseok can force his thoughts into some semblance of order when he’s flirting. 

“Oh! … Who,” You furrow your brows at Hobi, and Namjoon slowly backs away against the kitchen wall. “Are you?” Hobi laughs and spins around to face you. 

“I guess you don’t know me. I’m Jung Hoseok,” He sticks his hand out and you tentatively shake it, making him grin. “I’m friends with Namjoon.” He points up at Namjoon, and Joon awkwardly smiles, waving back at the pair. 

“Ohh,” You say, nodding. “Hi! Nice to meet you!” Sometimes Namjoon worries about you. You’re way too friendly and nice for your own good. 

“I’m a dance major, actually. You can call me Hobi, by the way.” He smiles at you and finally lets go of your hand. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” You shake your head, murmuring incoherently. “No, I didn’t think so. I’d remember you if we met.” You giggle and push him aside playfully, offering him a drink. Hoseok accepts it with a smile even wider than the last. 

(Namjoon is now a little skeptical about Hoseok’s claims of flirting skill, but thankfully, you are, admittedly, a little stupid when it comes to this kind of stuff. You probably won’t even notice Hobi’s flirting with you at all.)

From the corner of the room, Yoongi’s deep gaze is now glaring deep into Hoseok’s back, but Hobi either seems to not notice or acknowledge it. He continues to stare at Y/n, laughing at whatever comes out of your mouth. 

“You’re a dance major? That’s so cool!” You gush, and if he didn’t know you so much, Namjoon would think that you were flirting back. No, you were just that naive. 

“- Thanks!” Hobi suddenly laughs at something that Namjoon didn’t manage to catch, but what he does catch is the look on Yoongi’s face when Hobi touches your forearm. 

Even Jungkook, who was talking to Yoongi, gulped and took a step back. Jin gestures something to Jimin, and Jimin shoots back an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then shouts something over to Namjoon, but he can’t quite hear over the loud party noise. 

 Based on his own mediocre lip-reading skills, he either said ‘It’s going well’ or ‘Jungkook smells’ He’s thinking maybe it’s the first. Namjoon slides away from the kitchen to join Jin, who is happily watching all of this unfold from the sidelines. 

“When do you think he’ll break?” Jin says, sipping on a bright blue drink that Namjoon doesn’t even want to know the contents of. He quickly glances over at Yoongi’s face, which is getting redder by the moment. 

“Anytime now. His glass is about to explode from his grip.” Sure enough, Namjoon predicted correctly. A few moments later, Yoongi begins to stalk over to the kitchen, and Jin clinks his bright blue monstrous concoction against Namjoon’s glass. Grumbling, Jungkook also comes over and slaps a $10 dollar bill into Jin’s palm, scowling when Jin smiles and accepts it. 

“Yeah, so a group of otters are actually called a romp, can you believe that- oomph!” Seemingly popping out of nowhere, Yoongi grabs a hold of your hand, glaring at Hobi. 

“Yoongi!” You squeak out. Namjoon, that fucking liar! He left you all by yourself with a new friend and didn’t even bother telling you the love of your life was in the very same room? You didn’t even wash your hair yesterday night! Well, at least someone finally listened to what you have to say about otters… say, that was a bit unordinary, nobody else has ever been interested in your otter fun facts before- 

Your trail of thought fades away when you look back up at Yoongi, who is still strangely looking at Hobi. “Um...” How is he holding you right now? He flinches away whenever you poke him on the shoulder, how is he holding your arm right now, completely unaffected? Oh. 

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t touch you willingly. He just has to be stupidly noble and moral and save you when you’re alone with a man he isn’t familiar with. “Oh, ah… Yoongi! This is my new friend, Hobi! You have nothing to worry about, I was just talking to him about otters and- oh, nevermind. Anyways, you don’t… have… to… hold my hand anymore.” Well, at least you can save him from the embarrassment of holding your hand any longer. 

“Yoongi, Yoon- Yoongi,” He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you attempt to slip yours out of his. He seems to be gripping on, for a reason you can’t seem to comprehend. All he’s doing right now is maintaining eye contact with Hobi. Instead, he just glares into his eyes, repeating your words. 

“Friends. Friends?” 

“Yes, friends! Oh, ah, let me introduce you, um, Hobi, this is Yoongi, and Yoongi, this is-”

“Jung Hoseok. You call him Hobi?” 

“Well, yes- oh! Do you two know each other, or?” 

“Of course!” Hobi says, pouring another drink out. He stretches out his arm and offers the glass to Yoongi, but all he does is stare at the glass, not moving an inch. Still smiling brightly, Hobi just brought the glass to his lips, sipping on two separate drinks at a time. 

“Long time no see, man! Yoongi, how’ve you been?” Yoongi, still clutching onto your hand, stayed silent for a while, all while Hobi continued to smile. 

“I’m… fine.” He eventually chokes out. 

“Yoongi, are you okay? You seem really-” You’re once again interrupted when Yoongi pulls you away, stomping out the kitchen. You lean backwards, yelling out a quick apology to Hobi, but he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest. 

“Yoongi, you’re being rude! I said you don’t have to worry! Hobi is a new friend I met, he’s a friend of Namjoon’s, and we were just talking about otters-” 

“Why are you defending yourself?” Boy, you just keep on getting interrupted tonight. 

“Wha- huh?” Yoongi finally lets your hand go when he reaches the apartment door, shutting it closed, leaving it swinging in midair, even though he regretted it immediately after. You can still faintly hear the party going on through the door, but you had no time to process the fact that Yoongi just pulled you outside the party when he spoke up again. 

“I said, why are you defending yourself like that? You have no reason to. You’re acting like I just caught you cheating.” Yoongi’s voice turns faint towards the end of his sentence, and he looks down at his feet, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“I’m not defending myself! I’m just- I’m just, well, I-” You fumbled with your words, stuttering and fidgeting around with your fingers. Why were you defending yourself? It’s not like… Yeah, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything. 

“You can talk about otters to whoever you want. You might want to change up your flirting tactics though, not many people can put up with your strange obsession with otters-”

“hEY!”

“- Anyways, Hoseok’s, not a bad man. He’s pretty great, actually,” Yoongi admits. “He’ll treat you well. And he seems to be super interested in you, so… ” Yoongi clears his throat. You narrow your eyes and look down at his shuffling feet. This is probably the most Yoongi has ever spoken to you, in private, anyway. Why is he so unbothered? And why does that bother you so much? He doesn’t even care a little bit? Does Hobi really seem like such a great guy? 

“You don’t care?” 

“No, just, you know, don’t get hurt, or whatever. I’ll have to murder him… Or something.” You let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.  

“So, if I go straight back in and ask Hobi out, you wouldn’t mind?” You swear that a vein pops out from Yoongi’s neck, but perhaps it was just your imagination. 

“Why would I mind?” He says, through clenched teeth. 

“... You’re right. Why would you be mad? You don’t care about me anyways.” Something ticks in Yoongi’s jaw. 

“What do you mean I don’t care for you?” He blurts out, just as you were about to head back through the apartment door. 

“Oh no, please, it doesn’t bother me as much now, trust me. It’s fine, Some people just don’t… vibe with you, I get it! You don’t like me all that much, it’s okay! It’s not like you’ve hurt me or anything! You just don’t like talking to me because I’m kind of a dumbass, that’s alright. It’s okay to keep avoiding me. And again, I’m sorry for the whole elbow thing, you didn’t talk to me for like the next two weeks, and again, I totally understand, you know?” Yoongi stares at you, blinking in realisation. 

“So… you mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve thought that… I didn’t like you?”

“Well,” Now you’re blinking confusedly along with him. “Isn’t that… why you run away everytime I come over to hangout with Jimin?” Yoongi brings his hands out of his pockets and buries his face in them, groaning. 

“And that’s why you don’t like talking to me, right? And that one time I spoke to you and you went into the bathroom and screamed for like five minutes? … Do you not hate me?” A look of realisation floods his eyes, and Yoongi leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the ground until he’s practically sprawled out on the floor. Staring aimlessly, he reaches up and grabs your hand again, pulling you down to face him. You let out a small squeak, but you crouch down on your feet, awkwardly looking at your right hand that Yoongi (!!!) is currently holding for the second (!!!!) time. 

“Forgive me, Y/n.” He whispers, dropping his head onto your hand. 

“Forgive you? What for? Yoongi this is a little dramatic, don’t you think? This is technically a public area, um, maybe you wanna go back to your dorm? I can call Jimin out here, I’m sure he’ll leave the party early, let me just-” He pulls you back and won’t let go, even when you try to stand and leave his grip. 

“Yoongi!” Like a child clutching onto his mother, he just sits there and pouts, not letting your hand go. 

“I’m sorry!” He wails, lightly kicking his feet up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being my emo self and avoiding you, I’m sorry for making you think I hate you when that really isn’t the case at all, I’m sorry for being an idiot and screaming whenever you touched me, I promise that none of that was ever your fault, because you must have felt so hurt and disgusted by me-” Yoongi suddenly looks up and glares at you. 

“Yah! Why didn’t you just slap me!”

“Slap… you?”

“Yes, slap some sense into me, you idiot! I was so mean to you, why didn’t you just tell me you were hurt?” 

“Well,” You said, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t hurt!”

“Yes you were!” He wails again. Some sort of strangled noise comes from the back of his throat. “You must’ve been really hurt, and I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be hurt! I don’t want you to date Hobi, and I don’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and I’m fucking stupid!”

You speechlessly opened your mouth and closed it again, like a fish. Well, that was a full 180. What is he talking about? Apologising? You had dealt with the uncomfortable small talk and denying your feelings for years only to have him apologise now? You finally manage to open your mouth and firmly say something, but what comes out of your mouth is certainly not what you planned to say. 

“Min Yoongi!” You yelled and watched him slightly tilt his head up. “How could you say that now!?” His head is fully up now, gazing at you slightly dazed. “How dare you mess with my feelings for the past two years, just to completely, unexpectedly, blurt all of this out outside of Seokjin’s shitty house party?” You cry, slouching down onto the ground and sitting cross legged. Your unoccupied hand reaches up to your hair, frustratingly running your hand through your messy locks. 

“... If it counts for anything, I think that your obsession with otters is really cute.” You sniffle, for no particular reason, and nod. 

“... Does that mean you like me then?”

“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, taking your other hand out of your hair and placing it into his own. “Isn’t that obvious, you fucking dumbass?” 

“You’re kinda giving off mixed signals here.” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together in a brave act from an unusual burst of courage that he managed to somehow build up. 

“Y/n,” 

“Mmph- Yesh?” 

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’m sorry for being a dumbass who couldn’t ask you out, and I’m sorry I had to do this at Seokjin’s ‘shitty house party’, but I’d really like it if you would go on a date with me sometime.” 

Yoongi releases your cheeks from his grip when you stay silent for a small while, red slowly creeping up from the neck up to his ears. 

“I mean, you know, only if you want to, it’d be fine if all of that was just, you know… ” Yoongi mutters, gesturing around randomly. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Yoongi.” 

“Oh. Cool, that’s cool. That’s… yeah that’s cool.” 

“Text me the details?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, I’ll do- I’ll do that.” 

You can hear a faint scream when you enter Seokjin’s apartment again, but instead of filling you with the insecure, horrible feeling like it once did, you just smile and giggle to yourself again. What you don’t seem to notice is Jimin, Jin, Joon, Tae, Jungkook and Hobi exchanging victorious glances across the room. 

(About a week later, Yoongi took you to the zoo for your date. He slightly regretted that decision after you spent an hour making faces at the otters.) 

[hobihobihoe]

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader                                                                

2.5k ish 

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states  “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Three

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Fluff

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Mentions of sex, language, mature themes, mostly safe but not suitable for young audiences below the age of 16, and binge eating if you are easily triggered by that.

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5.8k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

Masterlist

⇤Prev | Next⇥

                 __________________________________

“My boyfriend actually called me his wife today.” “Oh yeah, well mine already proposed to me, that’s right, five years since we've started dating!”

“Oh, Lyric, you’re lucky. My boyfriend only ever invited me to his family’s tree trimming party and we got blessings from all of his great-aunts, uncles, and other relatives. His parents even call me their future daughter.” You roll your eyes at how unrelenting these girls are. They won’t even stop talking about boys for one second and you’ve been at this sleepover for five hours. It’s supposed to be the last sleepover of the decade as seniors, for everyone since you and this tiny group started planning in the seventh grade. Just because you’re all girls doesn’t mean boys are the only thing you have to talk about! It’s not an obligation. This isn’t a disney movie where the prince is going to marry the princess at the end, it’s real life and everyone is too fucking clingy to realize it. 

“Can we not talk about boys tonight?” You finally ask out loud, earning a gasp from everyone in the vicinity, including Bae, who happens to be a lesbian. Even she was enjoying the boy talk. 

“Why? That’s literally what sleepovers are about.” Your other friend, Joy points out. You sigh in frustration, falling back on the carpeted floor while hugging your soft ladybug plushie.

“Looks like someone’s having a bit of drama, we heard from Jessica. Now, tell mama River what’s really going on.” You take in a deep breath before slowly explaining your situation with the boys.

“And these boys are a gay couple?” Bae asks in a questioning tone.

“They are! But...after a certain encounter, I’m not really sure what to think. They’re older, and in love with each other, but I feel like I’m just intruding at times, you know?” Another girl that goes by the name of “Temoshika-san,” which is her japanese name nods in agreement, holding out a tray of foods for you to snack on.

“Eat. I binge whenever I’m stressed.” She says after you take a tiny bag of doritos. 

“Hon..I’m gonna say something but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” Your most sensible friend, Toriel (oh yes I named her after an undertale character) says after a long moment of silence. 

“Shoot. I’ve already made plans with them for next week to see a concert so there’s nothing that can surprise me now.” You bite your lips. It’s been an entire month since that day when Yoongi demanded you to lick ice cream off his boyfriend’s cheek and things escalated from there. 

You didn’t have sex, but it was a close call. Your heart almost ran away from you. Yet, they don’t bring it up, so it’s safe to assume that they felt nothing from that encounter. 

Maybe Jimin didn’t anyways. Or maybe he was feeling just as horny as you! Who knows? No guy has ever looked at you that way before, so you wouldn’t even know.

“I think that both of these boys might be catching feelings for you. But they’ve probably never had feelings for a girl before, so they don’t know how to go about it.” Her theory makes sense. Suddenly, all of the pieces click in your mind.

“You’re a genius, Toriel!” You give her a hug before whipping out your phone to text Jimin. Right on cue, you get a text! But you’re surprised to see that it's not from Jimin.

“Damn, that's some cold shit right there. I didn’t know what you did to piss him off so much.” Bae chuckles at your misery as you put your phone away.

“Wanna spill the details?” A girl by the name of Cleo asks. You roll your eyes.

“It was just Yoongi. He said he and Jimin wanted to talk to me. As if things haven’t been awkward enough.” You feel like you’re walking on eggshells with the two, as you’ve stopped hugging Jimin for longer than 10 seconds. 

And you’ve stopped your musical obsessions with Yoongi as well, keeping the fangirling to a bare minimum. You just want everything to go back to normal, so you can continue onto your adult life without holding on so much to the past. And they aren’t the only things bothering you, but Jungkook has been desperately trying to fix your relationship.

Jasmine won’t so much as breathe in your direction, as she doesn’t need you anymore. She has everything. The popular clique, a hot boyfriend, and perfect grades. She isn’t bothering you at all, but you are tempted to scream in her face about keeping her boy toy in control. He keeps wandering out of her lane and onto yours. Which you think you can use to your advantage.

It’s not like you’re going to sleep with him or anything, you just think it’s the perfect opportunity to take back what was rightfully yours. And in this case, Jungkook is the perfect trophy. You don’t like objectifying people, but at this point you don’t even care if he used your name to impress a couple of underclassmen, you feel honored, actually, but you don’t actually care about him. He kissed you too, while he was dating her. That’s a sign that things aren’t looking too good for them. 

Who are you kidding?! You should let them go. As if you have the balls to actually sneak around Jasmine’s back and snatch her boyfriend from her.

“Girl, just talk to them. I advise you to tell them as soon as possible what type of feelings you may or may not have for them. It’s gonna be okay.” Toriel pats your back as you recover from the growing anxiousness in your gut. Something tells you, everything is not going to be okay.

“Moving onto our next sleepover activity….horror stories!” 

                         ༻• The Next Day, At Your House •༺

You sneak into your home early in the morning, around 7 or 8, to be exact, hoping that Jimin and Yoongi were away at work. Your mom is already gone, as she texted you that she would be going on a business trip this particular week. The slumber party kept you awake all night, and the girls had really scary stories to share so you weren’t exactly calm...even now you are on edge as Jimin frightens you from behind.

“Hi.” You jump back, startled because of how quiet and swiftly he came up from behind you.

“H-hey. I thought I was home alone.” He gives you a sweet smile, the same comforting grin you saw that day in the cafe after you almost embarrassed yourself while asking for his number. Those were the good times, when you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. A friendship with anyone of the opposite sex is complicated, after all. You convinced yourself of this since Yoongi and Jimin are 100% gay and show no signs of any lust or extra thirst after you but you still had awkward tension. Hell, even now after Jimin walked up from behind you like that, you still have a strange feeling in your gut.

“You thought wrong! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about

 how you almost peed your pants after I gave you a scare.” The mood is mellow, and you’re both comfortable around each other. Maybe Yoongi was the problem. But you don’t want to upset Jimin, as he’s your best friend at the moment and he’s been for you a lot more than anyone has been in the last decade.

“So, what’d I miss?” You ask, leaning in to give your best friend a hug. You inhale his strawberry-fresh scent, a little bit in awe as you’ve never gotten a waft of a nice-smelling boy. Jimin is an angel, a perfect exception. You hope you can find a man who’s as caring and attentive as he is, in the future.

“Yoongi and I have been thinking a lot about you recently, mainly how you opened up to the two of us about your life and leaned on us so easily, really it was crazy how you trusted us so easily when you barely knew either one of us,” You laugh sheepishly, mentally scolding yourself for being so childish in the first place. “But it was so admirable. And we thought, we could do the same for you. So you can learn more about the kind of people we are. We don’t like looking back on the past, but there are some parts that we just can’t leave behind. Like for example, our two exes,” At first, you think little of this. ‘He must mean the people that he and Yoongi dated before they found each other.’ That was your first thought. Just like he’s reading your mind, he answers your question, “We’re open to polyamory.” Your mouth drops to an “o” shape, and then you rack your brain for the correct answers.

You got nothing. You have no clue what the fuck a polyamory is.

“What’s that?” He chuckles at your innocence just as his boyfriend comes down the stairs.

“Hey, Yoongz, wanna explain what polyamory is to our good friend here?” You look up at the older man with curious eyes. You want to know.

“Multiple people in a relationship. Basically, Jimin and I used to invite over two other guys and we used to go on dates and do other stuff but it was really chill, nothing too serious.” You gawk as the two lean into each other for a kiss and then Jimin crawls into Yoongi’s lap before turning his head to stare at you. Two pairs of eyes are just on you, and you feel so vulnerable with all the attention on you.

“Anyways, I wanted to mainly apologize for what happened that night with the ice cream. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, and I thought I was too, until I realized I was gay. I just needed a reminder, I guess. So I thank you,” You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry, Yoongi’s expression was hard to read.

“Hyung...why do you gotta do her like that?” Jimin’s words throw you off guard. “You know what, instead of beating around the bush, I’ll just tell you: I’m bi, Yoongi was pan when I met him.” He rolls his eyes at the boy.

“Wait, didn’t you say you came out to your parents?” You ask curiously.

“I did. As gay, but then I ended up having a one night stand with a woman and after that I realized I liked both.” You take in the information very well, not letting it affect you one bit. “You know what, I’ll let you two figure out your shit…” You give Jimin a panicked look before turning to Yoongi with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“I don’t care what your sexuality is,” Your statement throws him off guard as his eyes widen quickly. “I just know what I felt was real. There was a weird connection, a moment where I wanted to kiss you.” He coughs before spreading his legs on the couch and putting his hands in his lap. You’re not gonna lie, he looks hot.

“Then why didn’t you?” You let out a small giggle before realizing that he’s completely serious.

“Because you and Jimin are dating...and I don’t like cheating.” He crosses his arms, this time scooting in closer to you. 

“But we were both there, and the vibes were all right.” You feel a slight pressure on your inner thigh when you realize that Yoongi is touching you. His hands are wandering up your thigh in broad daylight. You luckily have a blanket covering you, but the look of fear on your face is a dead giveaway.

“It’s because you wimped out.”

“You should’ve just done it anyways. I probably would’ve kissed you back.” He starts kneading your thigh, giving you an almost-massage, and just as you’re about to let out a moan, Jimin comes back, holding a bowl of popcorn and setting it down on the coffee table.

“Surprise movie night...er day.” He sits next to you, oblivious to what his boyfriend is doing. You glare at Yoongi when you feel his fingers pulling your leggings down and they wander into your panties. You’re damp. Completely soaked because of this stupid man that you’re attracted to and the fact that you basically just confessed to him. He smirks when he sees your eyes roll back in your head when he reaches your g-spot, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. You cling to him, pretending that you’re simply cuddling him as Jimin’s eyes stay trained on the screen, but you fail horribly at keeping things discreet when you moan into his ears. The movie blasts at a loud volume, so the speakers drain out your groans as Yoongi drives you to an orgasm.

“Come for me, babe. Don’t want Jiminie to see, is that right?” Yoongi knows the boy would probably just join in if he actually noticed. He still manages to upset you, as with all your might, you try not to scream from pleasure.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna come.” You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out the softest but sexiest moan he’s ever heard, as his fingers twist inside of you and you climax right then and there. He leans in and finally, you get a taste of his sweet lips. 

“Let’s continue this later?” He whispers to you, winking at Jimin as you sink into his arms, panting heavily and recovering from your intense orgasm. And yes, the boy knows what his boyfriend was doing under the blanket the entire time. 

After the movie, you quickly run upstairs to take a shower. You didn’t expect to get fingered on your couch. You didn’t think Yoongi would actually kiss you. And you certainly didn’t think things were going to return to normal ever again. They already had girls. How many did they date in the past? Obviously having a third partner didn’t work out for either of them so what difference would it make if you were part of the equation? You step out of the shower to find Jimin in your bedroom, playing games on his phone as he waits for you. You clench your towel, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you step into your bedroom, closing the door.

“Hey! I wanted to see what you might be wearing to the concert, have you picked out an outfit?” You walk past him, motioning him to come to your closet as your finger picks and chooses the cute dress you found at the mall.

“This one.” You can see his eyes lighting up at the thought of you wearing that dress, but then his gaze darkens when he imagines you out of it. Speaking of...there was only a thin towel wrapped around your body, even then it wasn’t enough to stop his imagination. You have nice boobs, can you blame the poor guy?!

“Nice choice. I’ll just uh...step out so you can get dressed.” Also known as code red: he has a boner. You quickly throw on some shorts and a sweatshirt, as you don’t dress modestly at home. You check yourself in the mirror, making sure it’s not too much in case the boys feel uneasy. 

Today’s a slow day. You finish up your homework before making your way to the kitchen for an evening snack. It’s only 5:00, yet you’re starving. What you see next surprises you, as Yoongi is on the counter while Jimin kisses him breathlessly. How do people kiss so long without breaking for air? As you observe, Jimin breaks the kiss, smiling at you as his boyfriend turns to look at you as well.

“Come here, darling.” Your feet are jello as you stumble to the two, trying to ignore the way Yoongi’s bulge is sticking straight up as Jimin’s hands are on either side of him.

“Wh-what?” You blush, unable to help yourself as the blue haired god in front of you looks so good. “I like your hair.” You whisper quietly.

“Thanks, although I’ve had this hairstyle for a while,” He removes his arms from his boyfriend, putting his attention on you. “Now, you’ve been a dirty girl, fooling around with my boyfriend when I’m not looking, is that right?” You swear if you weren’t holding onto the counter you would’ve fainted.

“What? Cat got your tongue? You have quite a mouth on you when my fingers are buried in your pussy but you can’t say a word when my boyfriend asks you a perfectly valid question?” You’re shocked, frozen, freezing. 

“Answer me, sweetie. Did you like it when he fingered you earlier?” You blush and nod, evading his gaze. “Look at me when I talk to you, Y/N.” When he says your name you look up, your eyes meeting his as you do. Five seconds barely pass when he smashes his lips against yours, in a desperate manner. Yoongi’s just watching, patiently waiting for you to break the kiss so he can continue the conversation.

“Y/N, we need to be honest with you. We’ve...taken a liking to you.” You don’t know how to process this information. But Jimin’s look of pleading is enough. They both want you.

“So please, will you consider joining our relationship?” You purse your lips. Every fibre of your body is screaming yes, but your mind is telling you to be reasonable, and think through this. You don’t need this right now in your life. You’ll hold them back, they’ll hurt you later, this is setting yourself up for failure.

Yet you want it so bad.

“Can I think about it? Please?” You don’t want to reject them right away.

“Of course. Take your time.” Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand before leading him to the couch. You hope they won’t ask you before the concert.

                                        ༻• At the Concert •༺

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The men brought you to a freaking J-hope concert. Not just anyone but the J-hope. He’s the most popular solo act on the planet. After he broke up with his boy band BTB, he went all crazy and started rapping about sex, and fame, and real life issues. Everyone loves him.

Including your two friends who dated him back before he was famous.

Yeah, they have a history together.

“You like it so far?” Jimin asks, leaning in while cracking open a can of pepsi.

“Are you kidding? You got premium seats to see the J-hope?” He gives you a cheeky grin before turning to Yoongi and conversing with him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the two of them, even if you are at a J-hope concert. You feel lucky enough to be breathing the same air as him, but it’s thanks to the couple sitting beside you. Not to mention...they even dated him at some point.

“This last song goes out to two dear exes of mine…” You thought you imagined it, but he seemed to look up at your row, as if he was staring straight at Yoonmin.

“Last summer when you told me you weren’t feeling well, I thought it was just a little bump in the road, But now I know, It was all because of her, Ohhh my love, How I loved you way back then, But I was too blind to see, You really didn’t care at all,”

You don’t know how to react. Should you clap? Or laugh, or cry? It sounds like whoever he’s singing about cheated on him...with a girl.

“Now I don't care, it's all choices by my fate,  so we're here, Look ahead,  The way is shinin’, Keep Going Now,”

The song suddenly gets more upbeat and then the crowd goes crazy as he has an outfit change with a snap. Also, this man is glowing. The lights are perfectly bouncing off his slightly tanned skin, making him appear more heavenly. God, how did they live through this?

“That’s My Ego!” He sings the chorus cheerfully before finishing off and then fireworks light up the night sky, making some audience members cry. Jimin and Yoongi are both staring at you, though, as you watch with wonder. You look so innocent, and you’re so small...the two of them are already whipped for you, can’t you see that? Oh wait, you do.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask them, and they simply smile at you. As if that wasn’t heart-melting enough.

“Nothing. Let’s go backstage.” You blush as they both take either of your hands, leading you out of the crowded stadium so that you can visit J-Hope backstage. You were about to meet a celebrity, while being held by two guys that confessed their feelings to you just a few hours ago! As if things couldn’t get any better.

“J-HOOOOOPE!!!” Yoongi grins, throwing his arms around the celebrity as he walks into the room.

“Hey Suga. OH JEMIN!” Jimin and J-Hope share a handshake before hugging as well, and then he turns to you.

“Who is this beauty?” He turns to look at you, kissing your palm softly in greeting.

“Y/N.” You answer him, trying to conceal your uwus.

“Wow. You’re even more perfect than how they described you. You know, I’ve never seen them like someone more than they like you.” He whispers into your ears. You’re a little bit distracted by the fact that an IDOL is whispering in your ears right now. His breath smells so good. His sweat smells expensive, though.

“Y-you really think?” You ask.

“I know so.”

“Okay, if you’re done hitting on our friend, how about you tell us what you’ve been up to?” J-Hope holds up a finger, revealing the engagement ring to all of you.

“Who…?” J-Hope blushes before turning to his mirror.

“Remember that one producer? The girl who was older than me by 10 years or something?” Everyone nods, except you, who has no idea what’s going on.

“Turns out she was my soulmate all along. She proposed to me, and we’re getting married next month.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” You clap for him as the two men beside you look at you with love in their eyes.

“I’m so excited. She’s just a bucket of sunshine. Oh shoot, I’m almost late for the wine tasting. Bye guys.” We wave as the celebrity packs up his things for the day. “So, it looks like you guys lowered your standards for me.” “Oh, stop, he wasn’t even well-known when we met. And now, we’ve all moved on. The three of us are together and that’s what matters.” Yoongi cuts you off before you even start. When you get home, you’re less than amused that your mother is getting ready for the stupid marriage meeting in her room. She ushers you to change, greeting the boys but whisking you away from them just as quickly. You wave goodbye to them, in a dreary mood. “Remember to behave, poise and manners, Y/N. You want to look like a good wife.” “I don’t want to get married. I’m only 18, ma.” She brushes your hair, looking at you with teary eyes. “Your dad wants you to. And he gets what he wants. No matter what.” You sob the entire car ride, your father didn’t even bother coming home as the purpose of this stupid meeting was to make himself look good. You look up to see that the boy before you is an overgrown specimen of child. Not even a man, but just a buff baby. “Hi, how old are you?” You ask politely. The boy lowers his eyes. You already know where this is going even though you’ve barely said a few words. “15, you have nice tits.” You’re in shock, uncomfortable, lonely, and worst of all, your mom won’t even look at you. Your dad presents you like a trophy and then forces you to tell the other parents about your academic achievements before forcing you to sit down. You want to cry. But you don’t. Instead, you call Jimin. “Hey, what’s up? Is the dinner going well?” Your voice starts breaking before you even talk, making you suck in deep breaths before looking out the bathroom window. “No, Jimin. I can’t stay here. They’re gonna force me to marry a 15 year old that just said my boobs look nice. I have to get away, do you guys think you can get me away from my parents? I’m 18, so they can’t legally do anything about it.” You hear him talking to someone in the background, presumably Yoongi.

“It’s me, Jimin just told me...I’m so sorry. All of that is awful, but is running away really going to solve anything? I know things seem bad now, but wait until your mom knows about us, I’m sure she’ll be accepting.” Yoongi sounds confident in himself, so you don’t feel like putting him down.

“Her, maybe. But not my dad. He’ll disown me.”

“Y/N, you are no object. They can’t just marry you off to anyone. And if they do, we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. You should be allowed the choice of marrying someone you love.” You frown, seeing the tears falling out of your eyes.

“I’ll go out with you.”

                                       ═══ 🅣🅘🅜🅔🅢🅚🅘🅟 ═══

Your first date is at the cafe where it all started. The boys make sure to take time off at the same time so your schedules match up. It’s not the most conventional date, as the three of you start discussing where you’ll move in together after you run away from home.

Your dad hasn’t even spoken more than a couple sentences to you. Wow, so caring. You have no reason to stay with them anymore, as he literally forces you to go to stupid dinner parties and sets you up with boys that are too young for you. Even a 12 year old, like what the fuck?

“How was dinner last night?” Jimin asks. You roll your eyes.

“Horrible, as always. These boys are nightmares. I feel bad for their future partners.” You comment.

“Who cares? It’s just dinner. And you’re dating us now. Talk to us, babe.” You like being called “babe.” Especially when Yoongi says it, because he’s just so closed off to everyone else.

“Do you like it when he calls you baby? Because I’m pretty sure he likes it too.” Jimin giggles. Being with your best friend is really no different, except now you can kiss and hug and show affection romantically. He’s just a lot more cuddly with you. And Yoongi doesn’t mind it one bit.

He actually sometimes joins in, hugging you and Jimin lovingly. He’s so protective of you two. You love it.

And they’ve started picking you up after school, to take you out so you can be away from your house for a bit. But at the end of the day, you can always count on crawling into bed with them and dreaming your troubles away. You’ve been sleeping better with them cuddling right next to you. 

Sneaking into bed with them has become a habit of yours, and you especially don’t make it clear around your dad that you have feelings for them. Although, lately everything has been striking a nerve. He often calls you to awkward dinner parties and you can’t do anything about it.

Even your boyfriends agree that it’s a bit too much. So much, that one day, Jimin decides to suggest something crazy.

“Let’s make your dad think that you’re ruined.” This catches yours and Yoongi’s attention.

“What? What the hell are you going on about, Jimin?” Uh-oh, when Yoongi uses that tone and says his name like that, you know someone’s in trouble.

“I’m saying that we make her dad think she lost her virginity.” You cross your arms, gasping as Yoongi shields your face with his arms protectively.

“What are you saying? That’s absurd. Her father is already strict as is with us living here, everytime he sees us he crinkles his nose even more. We repulse him, Jimin. What makes you think that we aren’t gonna tick him off even more?” Yoongi makes a good point. Your father was very strict, and homophobic. Perfect traditional 1800s father of the year.

“He’s here because he wants to see his little girl get engaged, right? Well, what if she brought the engagement to him? Have him walk in on one of us sharing a moment with her and then having her dad say she has to marry us?!” You’re baffled. You didn’t think your boyfriend was that dense. 

“Idiot, he would probably disown her. And also, no. Maybe not marriage, he might just throw her out of the house altogether.” While you’re busy planning, what you fail to recognize is that your father leaves town again. He’s flying away, and you had no knowledge of it until your mother called you and you saw his packed suitcases as he hugged you goodbye. Looks like the meetings have come to an end.

“Jimin!!! Yoongi!!!! Come downstairs, I need to talk to you two about something.” My mother calls out to them.

“What?” Yoongi is the first to make his way down the stairs, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I’ve noticed the way you two have been interacting with my daughter as of late. The deep stares of longing everytime we sit on the couch and watch t.v together, the smiles of adoration that you only have reserved for special people, heck, even once I saw you holding her hands like she would disappear if you let go,” You can hear the nervous gulps come from the two men as they stare directly at your mom. This can’t be good. “You both have crushes on her, right?” Their eyes widen.

“What? No, I’m dating Yoongi-Boongi. My heart belongs to him and only him.” Jimin says a bit too quickly, making your mom raise her eyebrow in question.

“Your daughter is very pretty, I’ll give you that much, but I’m dating Jimin.” She clicks her tongue, not fully believing them.

“I know what it looks like when boys have a crush on a girl, seeing the way you act around her. So how about you tell me the truth straight to my face?” Jimin is the first to break under her intense stare.

“Fine, you caught me. I like her, okay?!” He says, blushing a brilliant shade of pink. When your mother sees that Yoongi’s expression is indifferent, she narrows her eyes at him.

“You know, don’t you?” He doesn’t say a word, instead taking your arm and pulling you beside him.

“Ma’am, I would like to get your permission to be your daughter’s boyfriend….along with Jiminie.” Considering you were secretly dating for weeks, now seems like the perfect time to ask. Go Yoongi!

“Yes, of course you can date her. You both are so caring and kind and I can’t imagine anyone more fit for the job….even though I didn’t expect two guys. It may be a little strange but I trust that you know your boundaries.” They nod, each of them hugging you tightly and giggling like children.

“We’ll make sure to treat our girlfriend with kindness and respect.” With Yoongi’s gummy smile, your heart melts. You really, really like him.

“You better, or else you’ve got another thing coming.” Your mother’s gaze is threatening enough, as the two men stiffen their backs and stand up straight.

“Loosen up, she’s just kidding. Right, ma?” She nods, laughing happily as she sees her ships coming to life before her eyes. She’s always wanted her daughter to be happy, instead of subjecting her to a life of unhappy arranged marriage. She wants to give her everything she didn’t have as a child.

“Yup. But seriously, break her heart and you’re dead.”

“Moooom.”

That night your mom leaves for work. She didn’t tell you, but you really noticed when you called out for her and she didn’t answer back, only leaving a text on her phone that she would be late. You knew this meant you were home alone with your extremely attractive boyfriends again for the second time this month. 

You’re excited, but nervous. The last time the three of you were in the house like this, they made out in front of you and then made you extremely horny. Now, you could only imagine what would happen with the three of you in an actual relationship.

“Y/N, come watch netflix with us!” Jimin calls you to his room, and your eyes widen. You’ve been in their room before, but never totally alone. Your mom or dad would be in the house, but now you’re stuck with these two. 

“What are we watching?” You penguin-walk to Yoongi, who hoists you up onto the giant bed. Immediately you fall back from the weight of his knees forming a little disbalance on the mattress. It’s just a tiny ditch. 

“I thought you were gonna fall, be careful.” He lightly scolds you, before sitting back and getting cozy with Jimin as you stay in the middle, right between them.

“You guys are so warm.” You inhale their scents, taking in their musk and surprisingly sweet cologne. The strawberry scent must be coming from Jimin. The axe must be from Yoongi. Either way, you’re comfortable.

“No, you are.” Jimin pulls you in between his legs, peppering kisses all over your neck. Normally, you’d be turned on in the situation, but it’s completely innocent. You giggle as he tickles you with his faded blue hair and then you both get lost in each other’s eyes. You love his crescent shaped eyes, how he is a perfect mix of masculine and feminine, breaking all traditional roles of what it means to be a man in the modern world of 2020. If anything, his soft features are what makes him more “manly.” There’s no correct answer. He’s perfect the way he is, and you love the way his lips form a tiny pout, even when he’s happy.

“Just kiss already.” You both look over at Yoongi, who is more concerned with the movie playing on the screen than his two partners sharing a moment right next to him. You give Jimin a look as he leans in and finally closes the gap between you two.

[naferty]

Stony high school sweethearts where Tony, taken in and adopted by Edwin and Ana Jarvis, attends public school and gains a huge crush on the resident bully beater and shrimpy hero Steve, aka as his best friend, and has said feelings reciprocated. The two date and are practically glued to the hip. No different to them growing up together as besties. Now there’s more hand-holding and the occasional kiss. 

They spend every minute that they can together and would spend plenty more if only there were more hours in the day. So they settle for hours at night to share a bed and cuddle. 

Now Ana and Sarah are lax when it came to the two dating, but even Steve and Tony know they have to put their foot down when it came to sleeping together. Having sleepovers as best friends is one thing. Having sleepovers as boyfriends is another. They’ll say no if the two even try to ask.  

Instead, they’re ninjas and decide to sneak into each other’s rooms through their windows at night. Tony is just small enough to fit through Steve’s small window and Steve, well, Steve can fit through almost any with his tiny stature. 

Every night, may it be school night or weekend, the two share a bed together, swapping every now and then with whichever bed is more convenient or closest. They get so used to this that on the rare nights where one can’t make it to the other and they try to sleep alone they have the most horrible rest a teenager has to endure. The next day it’s pretty obvious to all the two didn’t get proper rest.

They make up for it the next time they can sneak into each other’s room. Cuddle the hell out of each other. 

Then it starts to happen. 

Growth spurts. 

It’s not that bad on Tony’s end. He gets a few inches more on him and he does widen out a bit, but he blames that one the many burgers they chow on. All in all, he still fits through Steve’s window no problem. Every now and then getting snagged by the shoulder but always pushing through. 

For Steve, it’s the absolute worst. He gains a few inches around the same time Tony starts to get them, but unlike his genius boyfriend, Steve. Doesn’t. Stop. One month he’s shorter than Tony. The next he’s equal to Tony. A week after he’s an inch taller than another and than another. At one point Tony demands he tell his body to chill the fuck out with the growing but alas, his body doesn’t listen. 

Not only that, Steve’s body widens, too. To a greater extent than Tony’s. One minute, Steve’s shoulders to waist ratio is that of a stick. The next, he’s a walking dorito and a hazard to window frames. Especially Tony’s window frame. 

At the start of gaining those few inches, Steve is still able to push through the window no problem. When those inches reach Tony they start to notice Steve getting stuck and needing to shake himself in order to squeeze in. They don’t talk about it after it first happens and ignore it the seven more times it happens, hoping Steve will stop growing and finally settle on his height. 

They rely on Tony doing most of the sneaking, but one night Tony is unable to leave because of reasons so it’s up to Steve to get his infiltration going. He gets out his home no problem and reaches Tony’s window in record time. Up he pulls himself and through he goes. At least that’s the plan anyway. The moment his shoulders touch the frames he’s stuck instantly. He wiggles around, pushing in inch by inch with his legs dangling. He kicks wildly to gain momentum just as he had done the past few times this has happened. 

Tony tries to help by grabbing the edge of Steve’s shirt and yanking, stretching the material and doing nothing for Steve’s situation. Eventually, Steve admits defeat and pushes back to dislodge himself only to realize... he won’t move. 

“Tony, don’t panic. I think I’m stuck.” 

Tony does panic. Boy does he panic. He can’t have Steve dangling out his window at this time of night. What if a neighbor sees? Sees the lower half of a random person outside his window? The neighbors might think someone is breaking in, or Tony is trying to sneak someone inside. Both of which are equally bad because it’ll result in them calling his parents and he can’t have that! 

Tony pushes. Steve pushes. The frame creaks but nothing changes. Steve is really stuck there and they are both dead if they don’t do something soon. Steve admits defeat and is ready for his honorable death. Tony is too young to die. 

Tony, frantic, calls up the gang for help. Less than twenty minutes later here are Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey and Pepper standing on Tony’s lawn. Their hair tussled in different shapes and forms and all wearing a variety of pajamas and looking at these pair of legs dangling out Tony’s window. 

They laugh for a good minute before working together to each grab a hold of Steve’s long legs and pull. Steve pops out from the woodwork like nothing. He’s not expecting the sudden release and falls face-first on the lawn. The gang pat themselves over a job well done, say their goodbyes and wish the two luck on figuring out how to get Steve inside and if he gets stuck again they’re not picking up their phones this time. 

Tony and Steve are left alone again. They put their heads together to try and figure this out. A lightbulb flicks on in one of their heads. 

“Do you want to try the front door?” Tony says. 

“Yeah, yeah I’ll try the front door,” Steve agrees. 

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 2 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: Bitchin’ is a multichapter fic, surprise!! This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and helping me with Yara’s character overall. Hope you appreciate the easter egg based on her!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART TWO

"Yara!"

The eyes belonging to the girl in question, flashed your way, widening in alarm.

"Oh, yikes." Was her automatic response, her bag of cool ranch Doritos falling onto her lap.

You were angry, that much was evident to her. Yara was sat in your shared dorm's living room, a thick blanket engulfing her small frame. You briefly glanced towards the TV, it was tuned into MTV, the familiar music video of Every Breath You Take by The Police playing, before directing your glare back onto the copper-haired girl.

"Before you say anything," Yara began, swallowing down whatever remaining food was in her mouth, "you should know they were having a rerun of the VMAs – which I missed last night – at the same time as the lab."

"You left me alone! You said you would go to the lab yesterday!" You griped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yes, yes that is true but I would also like to point out the fact that Madonna performed, so it wasn't like I even had a choice when you really think about it." She countered, tone pitching comically.

"You absolutely had a choice!" You laughed, shaking your head.

"Mm... I could argue that it is a subjective opinion."

You walked over to your best friend, sighing as you slumped down beside her, placing your backpack onto the floor.

You offered Yara a sideways glance.

"Did Duran Duran at least win something?" You asked begrudgingly.

"Nothing. They were robbed!" She squinted, shaking a fist in the air angrily.

A small chuckle escaped you despite yourself.

"You really should have gone to the lab, you know." You reasoned, reaching into the bag of chips.

"And smell like frog insides for the rest of the day? Grody to the max." She responded, before flashing you a look. "No offense."

"None taken." You grumbled, her observation fully noted though.

"Besides the makeup lab is next week. What could I have possibly missed this class?" Yara dismissed you absentmindedly, turning back towards the television as she reached for another chip.

"Well." You chuckled nervously. "For one, I have a boyfriend now."

At your words, Yara froze, a chip still in her hand as she paused mid-bite.

"You what?!" She all but shrieked, causing you to jump.

"Who? How? When? Tell me everything!" Her hands found your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You shoved her off with a laugh.

"Uh, well, his name is Jungkook–"

"The Jeon Jungkook?! From our lab?" Yara interrupted, eyes wide and shining with interest.

"Um... yes?" You responded cautiously.

Yara let out a scoff, leaning back further into the couch.

"Unbelievable. I leave you alone for one day and you get a boyfriend! And a fine one at that. This is so bogus."

"Mine and Jungkook's whole relationship is bogus, Yara." You rolled your eyes.

At your words, your best friend raised an eyebrow and you took that as an invitation to continue speaking.

"I'm only pretending to date him to make his ex-girlfriend jealous."

A sharp laugh from Yara caused you to pause, watching the way her amusement was short-lived, her smile fell as she took in your serious expression.

"Oh, you're serious." She deadpanned.

You nodded, "When you didn't show up Jungkook ended up being my partner and... well, I'm still not sure how it happened but he basically offered to fund my STEM event in exchange for helping him making his girlfriend jealous."

"They are the weirdest couple." You breathed out, shoving another chip in your mouth.

"Wait... he's gonna fund your event?! Y/N, you've been planning that thing since we got to university!"

A smile found your face, your excitement once again seeing you.

"I know! I wouldn't usually get involved in someone's love life like this but was too good of an opportunity to turn down."

"Man, I'm so happy for you! Still kind of disappointed but happy nonetheless." Yara smiled, causing you to frown.

"Disappointed? Why are you disappointed?" You pressed.

Yara clicked her tongue at you, looking at you as if the reason should be obvious.

"What do you mean why am I disappointed? Here I was ecstatic to hear that my best friend has gotten a boyfriend only to find that it's got a contract behind it!"

You giggled, nudging your knee into hers. "Think of this as a smart business venture I'm embarking on."

Yara stared at you for a moment, something clearly weighing on her mind as her lips fell into a subtle pout.

"What?" You mused.

She fluttered her eyelashes, "Does this mean you aren't going to fuck him?"

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yara!" You gaped.

"Because, if you want to get technical, you kind of have to so I can live vicariously through you. It's girl code." She continued, reaching over and popping another chip into her mouth.

You frowned. "That is gross and also not a thing."

"I'm serious, I'm not accepting anything less than, like, third base." Yara pressed with a wag of a finger.

"Why don't you worry about your own sexual escapades instead of worrying about mine." You paused before continuing. "Which won't be happening, for your information."

The snacking girl let out a deep groan, throwing her blanket off of her as she stood up, taking the bag of chips with her much to your dismay.

"Well, it's not my fault I'm not getting any, okay! So do us both a favor and freak his shit." She called out, walking over to the kitchen.

"Can you stop emphasizing your lack of dick for one second?" You chuckled. "If you're that desperate for dick go back to Eunwoo."

Eunwoo was a boy Yara messed around with last semester. The relationship was short-lived, Yara quick to cut things off as soon as she realized Eunwoo was looking for something more than just a brief fling. Because ironically, despite how Yara crowed about being lonely, there was nothing that sent that girl running faster than actual feelings.

"Sweetie, I'm desperate for good dick." Yara scoffed, having had emerged back into the room, her auburn hair now let down, her trusty scrunchy back around her wrist.

"Was Eunwoo really that bad in bed?" You wondered, eyeing your best friend curiously as she moved to turn off the TV that had gone neglected the moment you stepped into the room.

Yara shrugged. "No, he was fine."

"So...?"

An enthusiastic pound against the poor television box rang out, the soft side of Yara's fist having had slammed down dramatically.

"I don't want just fine, Y/N! I want dick so totally tubular that I feel it in my guts." She declared.

A sputtering cough fell from your lips as you choked on your inhale of air.

Yara looked at you with mild concern, suppressing her laughter as she walked over and began to pat your back.

"I seriously question how you wiggled your way into being my best friend." You breathed through your coughs,.

"Eat my shorts, Y/N. You love me and you know it." She dismissed easily.

You merely grinned, unable to dispute your best friend's claim.

"Now go shower." Yara ordered, using one hand to point in the direction of the bathroom, and the other to pinch her nose shut dramatically.

Sighing, you heaved yourself off the couch. You doubted you smelled as bad as Yara made you out to, but you couldn't deny that a shower sounded terrific right now.

"Yes, sir." You sent her a salute cheekily before turning to head to the bathroom, shaking your head as she called out after you.

"And when you come out I need to know every single word you and Jungkook exchanged. If you're dating him then so am I, bitch!"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The weekend had breezed by quickly, homework and the newest Cyndi Lauper album occupying all your free time. You hardly had time to contemplate your new role as Jeon Jungkook's new girlfriend.

You and Yara had been in the midst of a conversation about what exactly she should get her little sister for her 13th birthday when you first spoke to Jungkook again.

"Cabbage patch kid?" Yara offered, causing your nose to scrunch up.

"How old do you think your sister is?"

"Hey, don't sass me. For your information, Lyanna still has all her Care Bear tapes. She threw a hissy fit when my mom tried to give them away last Christmas." Yara recalled.

"Still, she's becoming a teenager. I vote no on the cabbage patch kid."

"I'm with you, babe." Jungkook spoke up suddenly, lips pressed together as if in contemplative thought.

You hadn't even noticed him enter the classroom, much less approach and listen in onto your conversation.

"Jungkook!" You breathed out in surprise, stomach fluttering slightly as you realized what he had just called you.

"Why don't you get her a pair of roller skates?" He ignored you, placing a hand on the table and leaning onto it. You tried your hardest to ignore the way the muscles in his arm flexed with the movement.

You cleared your throat, "Roller skates?"

"Yeah. Every kid has to get a pair of roller skates. It's like a rite of passage."

"I never got roller skates…" You muttered.

"And you were robbed of a childhood." Jungkook informed you solemnly, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Sup." He said suddenly, eyes flickering to Yara as he offered her a casual nod.

You watched in amusement as a pink hue made its way onto your best friend's face, nodding back at him.

Seeing as Yara had remained silent this entire time, you realized it was probably best you introduce the two.

"Uh, Jungkook this is Yara, my best friend. Yara this is Jungkook, my... "

Business partner?

Temporary acquaintance?

"Her boyfriend." Jungkook finished for you cheekily, sending you a wink.

"Fake boyfriend." You reminded, causing Jungkook's eyes to widen.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He stated bluntly, eyes gesturing to Yara forcibly.

Oh. He thought you wouldn't tell your best friend about him? Hah.

"She already knows we're not actually dating–"

An angry shush came from the messy-haired boy, preventing you from talking further.

He hunched closer, eyes flickering across the classroom, "Keep it down, would ya? There are eyes everywhere."

"Sorry, jeez." You apologized dryly, raising a brow as you mimicked his motions.

"Bold of you to assume I won't be guiding Y/N throughout this entire arrangement." Yara spoke finally, her nose turned up slightly.

"Is that so?" Jungkook looked at her in surprise.

"Yep. In fact, I've self-appointed myself manager of your entire relationship." She replied smoothly.

Jungkook grinned, clearly finding humor in her words, "Well, then. With that kind of assertiveness, I'm sure we're in good hands. Nice to meet you, Yara."

"Likewise."

You frowned as your best friend and Jungkook shook hands.

"Anyway, as your manager, my first bit of advice for really selling this whole fake relationship thing is for the two of you to sit together. So if you'll just excuse me..."

At the sight of Yara reaching for her notebook and pen, alarm ran through you.

"Wha– Excuse me, what are you doing?" You protested immediately.

Jungkook, on the other hand, simply grinned. "Great advice!"

"Why thank you, I accept payment in cash and Annie Lennox cassette tapes."

"Yara, where are you even going?" You whined, watching as your best friend chucked her things into her bag.

"To sit at another table. Who am I to keep people in love apart? Jungkook you can take my seat."

Your shoulders slumped miserably as you watched as the smirking boy replaced Yara's spot on the stool beside you.

"Have fun, kids." She teased, waving the two of you off with a hand as she walked over to another table.

"I like her." Jungkook smiled cheesily.

"She's not kidding, you know." You warned. "If she says she's our manager then you better believe it. Whether you like it or not, she's gonna accomplish what she's set out to do."

"Reminds me of you." He replied with a hum.

You blinked in surprise.

"Was that... a compliment?"

"Was it?" His eyes went wide, voice pitched in feigned surprise.

A small laugh escaped you and before you could retort with your own sarcastic comment, your professor began to speak.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you all had a good weekend." Mr. Kim greeted, his usual coffee mug in hand. He looked somewhat worse for wear, you noted. "I did. And as I sat here and reflected the choices I made Sunday night, I came to the conclusion that I will be sparing you the boring lecture this class and putting on a movie.

Widespread chatter of relief fell over the class, everyone elated to hear that this specific class would require minimal effort.

Mr. Kim had just sunk into the chair by his desk when a hand of a student shot up.

"Yes?" He answered.

The owner of the hand spoke up, "Should we take notes?"

Mr. Kim stared at the student with subtle bewilderment.

"I mean if you want? Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you all, I'm hungover as all hell. As long as you watch quietly and keep the lights off, I don't care what you do."

And with that, all the students turned back to chat amongst themselves.

It was funny, Jungkook thought, how easy you were to read when you thought no one was looking. He had been watching you through the corner of his eye, watching the way you hung onto the professor's every word and how disappointment washed over you when you realized there was no learning to be done today.

"Cute." He muttered to himself.

"What was that?" You replied absentmindedly, reaching for a sheet of paper.

Jungkook straightened in his seat, unaware he had said that out loud.

"Nothing."

You paid his reply no mind, however, pencil in hand as you began to write something onto a sheet of loose-leaf paper. Jungkook's head tilted in mild curiosity as he watched, wondering what it was you were doing.

To his surprise, the very paper of interest was then thrust his way, a soft sound ringing out as it rubbed against the cold surface of the lab table.

"What am I looking at?" Jungkook deadpanned. You shifted in your seat before responding.

"I think it's about time we talked seriously about this... relationship of ours. We need to establish rules."

Jungkook glanced back down at the paper.

"I see."

Suddenly, Jungkook's hand reached out for the zipper of his bag. You watched in silence as he pulled out the first writing utensil he could find – a blue marker – and jotted something down quickly.

You frowned, scooting your stool cautiously closer to him to get a proper look at the paper he had just written on.

"What is this?" You frowned.

"I believe it referred to legally as an amendment." He informed, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Jungkook, I'm not going to kiss you."

Despite your seriousness, a smile nearly escape your lips at the sight of Jungkook's mouth falling into a pout.

"Why not?" He asked.

You raised a brow, "Um, we're not actually dating? Did you forget that?"

Jungkook let out a small noise of what you could only assume was indignation.

"Not to sound like a total douchebag but the fact that you don't want to kiss me is, like, totally insulting."

"I agreed to be your girlfriend, not some disposable pair of lips you're allowed to use whenever you need your ego stroked. Do I need to remind you that I hardly even know you?" You hissed lowly in case someone was listening in on your conversation.

For a moment it was just you and Jungkook glaring at each other. Neither of you was going to budge, he realized. He let out a sigh.

"Look, I see your point and what this is looking like but I promise you I'm not being creepy here. No one is gonna believe we're together if we don't kiss each other. To anyone that looks, you could just be my friend if we don't show some kind of affection towards each other."

Your arms crossed over your chest, your hard expression not letting up.

"One kiss. That's all I'm asking for. Just a peck, if that's all your comfortable with." He continued, causing you to hum.

He was certainly going to a lot of trouble just for one peck.

Maybe he did have a point. One kiss wouldn't kill you, would it?

"When?" Was your response, taking him by surprise.

"Uh... whenever? Preferably somewhere people will see. Maybe at the Halloween party this weekend?"

You frowned, a thought crossing your mind.

"You want me to kiss you at a party? In front of a bunch of people?"

"Well... not if you really don't want to..." Jungkook replied, suddenly feeling bad that you might really not be all that comfortable with this whole thing.

You shook your head, "No, it's not that."

Kissing Jungkook wasn't as daunting as the idea of doing it in front of a lot of people. It wasn't that you were socially awkward, per se, but the possibility of stage fright was undoubtedly a real one.

You let your thoughts run for a while before you finally came upon a slightly annoying solution. An audible sigh left you as you grabbed your pencil and reached for the paper.

"I don't want to embarrass myself." You told Jungkook bluntly as he read the contract's newest addition, your eyes fixated on the sheet as you couldn't find the courage to meet his eyes.

"So I want our first kiss to be somewhere private where I can make sure I know what I'm doing. Familiarize with... how you kiss... and stuff..." You trailed off, the warmth in your face suddenly too distracting to let you think intelligent thoughts.

Jungkook's eyes were as wide as saucers, glued to the side of your face as if trying to decipher whether or not you were being serious. He assumed you must be as the tone in your voice wasn't mocking in the slightest.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He nodded quickly, still noticing the way you couldn't look him in the face.

A shit-eating grin found his face, "Y/N, are you embarrassed right now?"

"No." You stressed quickly, looking over at him defensively. Your eyes fell onto his lips against your better judgment and once again you turned away from his stare, heat rocketing through you. "I just don't want you thinking anything weird like this is me wanting to kiss you."

The dark-haired boy pressed his lips together.

"Trust me, you've made your opposition against kissing me abundantly clear." He told you pointedly before reaching for the contract. You watched him gratefully, thankful for the shift in interest.

"I'm serious about there being eyes everywhere. If Kiri finds out the truth, it's game over. I'd look like a total wastoid. Not to mention I'll never hear the end of it from my brothers." Jungkook told you, pushing the paper over for you to read. Tapping the end of your pencil against the table, you pondered something before scribbling else onto the rules.

"Fair." Jungkook expressed. "As long as you can guarantee she won't tell anyone."

"Yara is lonelier than Henry David Thoreau, you have nothing to worry about." You shrugged easily.

"I... have no idea who that is."

"He's a transcendentalist writer who spent two years in isolation–"

"Oh, so you're not just a science freak. You're a well-rounded nerd." Jungkook teased, causing you to scowl.

You grabbed your pencil. You could feel Jungkook lean to peer over your shoulder, laughing lightly as he took in what you wrote. No sooner had you finished, the paper was yanked from underneath your palm, your pretend lover quick to scribble back a response.

And that was how the two of you spent the next twenty minutes, discussing rules and filling the rest of the page, muffled exchanges of giggles catching the attention of students near you as they began to wonder could possibly be on that sheet of paper that had the two of you blushing and whispering like that.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Can I put my hand in your pocket?"

The request came seemingly out of nowhere. The class had just finished and Yara had passed by your table briefly only to insist that Jungkook walked you to your dorm, promptly informing you that she and you would not be walking back together as usual, before she left the room altogether.

You sent Jungkook a pointed look as the two of you exited the classroom and walked out into the hallway.

"What like in Sixteen Candles?" You presumed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "Nice try scumbag, I'm not letting you cop a feel of my ass."

"Why do you assume everything I say has some sort of hidden motive behind it?" Jungkook scoffed. "I was trying to be romantic."

"Oh, really?" You asked, sounding skeptical.

"I mean, sure, getting to touch your ass would've been a nice perk..."

A pleasant laugh escaped you and Jungkook felt something in his chest tightened, and before he could think to warn you, his hand found yours.

You glanced down at the gesture, a shy expression finding you suddenly as you look back up Jungkook, eyes wide and face warm as he offered you a small smile.

"It's no hand in your back pocket but... this should still get the message across to everyone." Jungkook's fingers laced between yours and you tried your hardest to appear nonchalant as if your heart wasn't in your throat right now.

You simply nodded, continuing to walk alongside him as the two of you began your journey towards your dorm building.

It wasn't entirely awful, you found.

Jungkook's hand felt nice in yours. It was warm and soft– your ex wasn't one for PDA so you had always wondered what it might be like to walk around with someone you liked like this.

Shame your first time had to be with your fake boyfriend.

You hadn't realized how social Jungkook was until just now, however. It hadn't been more than a seven-minute walk but more than a handful of people had called out to Jungkook, offering him a greeting and a wave as they went about their days.

You had brought up his apparent popularity to Jungkook but he merely laughed the statement off, saying that it just came with the territory of being in a fraternity.

"Yara's gonna be so proud when she finds out we thought to hold hands all on our own." You brought up on the elevator ride up to your dorm.

The romantic embrace had been severed the moment the metal doors had closed on you two, no longer having an audience to perform for.

"She's quite the character that Yara girl." He noted.

You shrugged, "She's not too bad once you get used to her."

Jungkook shook his head as if you had miss understood him.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. You're a lot like her, you know."

"Am I?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Headstrong... passionate... won't take no for an answer... seems like the only person you two would listen to is each other."

You were surprised. Once again, it was a seemingly genuine compliment that had come out of nowhere and you weren't entirely sure how to respond. You clasped your hands behind your back, a grin washing onto you.

"Pretty sure you've got bigger balls than I do." He finished his thought, causing you to snort.

"Sorry if we challenge your manhood." You joked, nudging your shoulder into his just as the elevator door open. You slipped out onto the floor, Jungkook following behind you.

"Oh don't worry about that, babe. You two can test my manhood whenever you want." He told you greasily, a suggestive smirk on his face.

"If I weren't contractually obligated to be nice to you, I would smack you."

You reached the door of your dorm a few moments later, turning to Jungkook awkwardly.

"Well, thanks for walking me." You said.

Jungkook tucked his hand into the pocket of his jacket, shrugging coolly.

"I'll see you in class on Wednesday then."

As if on cue, the door of your dorm unlocked, swinging open enthusiastically, revealing a smiling Yara.

"Wrong. You'll be seeing her tomorrow." She stated matter-of-factly.

"I will?"

"He will?"

You and Jungkook both expressed your confusion in unison. An amused expression fell over Yara.

"I did some thinking on the walk back from class and decided that Jungkook is taking you out on a date tomorrow." She explained before turning towards the man in question. "When do you finish class tomorrow?"

"Uh... three o'clock?" He answered slowly, eyes flickering to yours to see if you had any idea what your best friend was talking about. You didn't, of course.

Yara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perfect, Y/N's last class is at two. Come pick her up here around four."

"Oh, uh, sure." Jungkook nodded, looking somewhat scared of the small but authoritative girl standing before him.

As if snapping back into reality, you shook your head. "Hold on, I didn't agree to this. Don't I get a say in this?"

Yara's eyes flickered towards yours dully, "No."

She clapped her hands together suddenly, directing her attention back to your pretend lover.

"Thanks for walking her over. We'll see you tomorrow at four. Don't be late, bye!" Yara sang sweetly, hand reaching out to wrap around your forearm.

You let out a yelp as you were tugged into the dorm, door slamming shut as you left behind a perplexed looking Jungkook.

"What the hell was that?! Why am I going on a date with him?"

Jungkook could hear your voice through the closed door, pitched angrily and clearly directed at Yara.

"Third base, Y/N. Don't make me say it again."

"I literally can't stand you."

A small laugh fell from the boy as he stood in his place in the hallway, eyebrows furrowing in amused bewilderment as he wondered how he ended up with not just one but two stubborn fake girlfriends.

[dastardlydandelion]

respice finem

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced violence and abuse

part one link

obligatory irl inspo link

Max keeps pacing up and down the diameter of the room. She stretches her hands over her head and Billy thinks her protective hovering is starting to bug the nurses. They both stayed overnight but Billy’s at least taken a couple breaks. He got himself some Doritos from the vending machine. Borrowed and smoked a cigarette even though he virtually quit a couple years back. Took a short drive to a Kmart up the road and bought Max a change of clothes, supposing he wouldn’t able to get her anything of her own if her home was wrapped in caution tape.

“You wanna go down to the cafeteria, maybe? Get something to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“Okay…did you know they have a gift shop? Wanna go check it out?”

“No.”

“Do you—“

“I’m not leaving, Billy.” Max’s eyes glitter in a stubborn glower.

“Oh, but maybe you should, sweetheart,” Susan says softly. “You’re getting restless.”

“I’m fine.”

“You should get out of this stuffy room. Go for a stroll, stretch your legs. I would if I could.”

Pure heartbreak flashes across Max’s face and Billy feels his own lurch.

“Oh dear, bad joke.” Susan frowns and flaps her hand, the tube connecting it to the IV pouch swaying gently in the air. “That was in poor taste, I apologize. But I do think you need to get some fresh air, Max. I’ll be fine.”

Max pauses. Her hands come together and she taps her thumbs together as she mulls it over.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here.” Max shifts her gaze to Billy.

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere,” he says honestly. Max is obviously wired and getting more antsy by the minute but Billy is the opposite. He’s wiped out after driving for several hours straight and aching from head to toe after scrapping with his dad.

“…alright,” Max relents after a very long moment. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

She gently swipes the back of her hand over her mother’s cheek. Susan blinks contentedly and hums in approval as Max trudges off to the door. She leaves. Susan's gaze flickers to Billy and then down. She frowns at the guardrail of the bed and uncertainly pushes at it with her palm.

“What’re you doing, Sue?”

“I don’t need this. I’m not going to roll out of bed.” She continues pushing at the guardrail but her efforts are weak and uncoordinated. Even if she had more power and precision behind her pushes, Billy’s pretty sure these things aren’t designed to be collapsed from the patient’s position.  

“It’s fine, just leave it alone.”

“No,” she refuses, eyes narrowing. “It’s in my way, Billy. It’s separating us.”

Something knocks loose inside his chest. Billy hasn’t seen her in three months. He hadn’t been particularly sure he’d ever see her again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a go. Here.” He sighs out and messes with the thing and after a couple tries and a few silent shrieks from his very sore shoulders, he finally figures out how to get the damn rail lowered, adjusting it accordingly.

“Thank you so much,” Susan breathes. “Now it's easier to do this.”

She stretches out her slender fingers and rests her hand upon his knee. She gives it a couple dulcet pats. Her pinky pokes inside the fraying tear in the denim, soft pad of her fingertip cool against his skin. Billy swallows, wonders how much he is allowed to touch. She wouldn’t be this affectionate with him if she knew.

“It’s my fault Neil found you and Max,” Billy admits, heart pumping guilt like sludge in his veins. “It’s my fault he almost killed you.”

“What?” Susan stares at with owlish eyes.

“I wanted to send Max a gift in the mail,” Billy explains, speaking slowly and plainly. “I hid it under my bed. My dad saw it when he raided my room looking for some shit he thought I stole from him. That’s how he got your address. I tried to stop him, Susan. But I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Billy.” Susan signs, rubbing her lips together. Her hand travels from his knee to his wrist and she gently pushes up his jacket cuff. Billy doesn’t stop her. He watches her eyes darken at the sight of the bruises.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“You said it was a gift for Max?”

“Yeah…new skateboard.”

“I wish you would’ve just driven over to drop it off. Because if you came over, you would’ve seen how nicely we decorated our little duplex…you could’ve seen my darling little gnomes sipping tea and these delightfully clever novelty magnets Max found for the refrigerator. You could’ve sat on our couch and while it’s a bit worn— we got it secondhand —it’s very comfy. Maybe if you saw how nice everything was and sat in our cushy, comfy couch, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

Billy gapes at her, noncomprehending. He just confessed he’s the reason she almost got killed. That it's his fault his dad literally broke into her home to beat her to death with a wrench. And Susan doesn’t seem angry at all. He knows she's on the good shit, but still. She's not out of it. She heard what he said. Ahd she is frowning but it’s a more fretful expression than anything, dimple between her eyebrows, forehead crinkled in concern.

“I waited for you, Billy.”

Oh.

“We talked about this before you left, Susan,” Billy gently reminds her. “I told you why I chose to stay. Remember?”

“You wanted to protect us,” she murmurs, thumb chary as she rolls it over his bruised wrist. “Me and Max.”

Billy solemnly nods his head.

“Mm…” Susan’s eyes rove the room and then settle back on him as her lips curl into a doleful smile. “How well do you suppose that turned out?”

Billy’s eyes travel along the chest tube to the rectangular drainage unit on the floor, the printed numbers and increments he doesn’t really understand. Glances to her legs elevated on the pillows. The right one was more badly broken. Not badly enough to require surgery, but still too swollen for a hard cast. The swelling in her left went down and Susan got fitted for a cast just a couple hours ago. The dark purple color she picked matches the massive bruise that currently blooms across most of Billy’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He bows again even though it hurts, it hurts, he’s goddamn sore but not as sore as he is sorry. Billy feels the knot tremble in his throat and he is possibly more sorry than he’s ever been anything else in his life. There is a beast in his belly with a thousand guilty eyes and shame in every one of its silent, miserable cries.

“No, no, raise your head. Don’t— it’s not your fault, Billy.” He feels Susan’s hand sweep the fringe from his face in a few quick motions, delicate and deft. “Won’t you look at me?”

Warily, he glances up. Susan’s eyes are misting up as he feels his own stinging again. Shit. Max is going to kill him if he makes her mother cry.

“I am the one who needs to apologize," Susan declares. "For the life of me, I couldn’t convince you to come with us. I failed you.”

“What?” Billy scoffs in disbelief. “No, that’s not on you. I’m stubborn, I’m—“

“I am the adult,” Susan cuts him off, voice sharp even as her hand rests against his cheek lamb gentle. “The real adult, you're barely twenty. You did what you thought was best but I’m older and I knew better, and I couldn’t make you see it. I let you stay, I left you in the lion’s den.”

Billy doesn't really see it that way. He doesn't feel like a child, doesn't want to be treated as one. And he's no longer Neil's legally, albeit he's been nowhere near financially independent. Couldn't work for a long time after that gruesome nightmare turned reality that was the worst fucking Fourth of July ever. Had to fork over all his paychecks to Neil even after he could go back to work— supposedly put toward residual medical bills insurance didn't cover, but hell if Billy truly trusted any excuse Neil could and would hold over his head. In any case, that's not entirely why he stayed with Neil. And staying with Neil wasn't even exactly the same thing as not going with Susan and Max, but abandonment wasn't a factor in the equation at all. He doesn't feel that way, how could Susan think that?

“You left me the address,” Billy pointedly reminds her and he does not let himself crane his face into her touch even though it’s cool and soft and he feels his stomach loosen with this, this featherlight clemency so careful and sweet.

Because of course he knows why he was left the address and it was never so he could mail packages.

“I should’ve grabbed you and dragged you to the car.” Susan doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.

“You could’ve,” Billy breathes and he’s not kidding either. “You’ve seen me get grabbed, Susan. I don’t fight it. Not in the house. Never did…not until he found that address.”

Susan’s thumb brushes away the tear that spills over, unbidden. Billy reaches out and does the same for hers.

“I’m not mad,” he promises in earnest.

“Neither am I. In fact, I’m…” Susan trails off, exhaling heavily as she draws her hand back from his cheek. “I don’t know, Billy. He was going to kill me. Maybe both of us and I could never say that I’m glad that happened because I am not. I am not glad Max had to see and do what she saw and did. I am not glad that at present, I cannot even stand without assistance. But…you’re here. You’re here because of what happened. Because of what happened, Neil…I never have to worry about Neil again. I never, ever have to look over my shoulder worrying about when he will find me because he already did.”

“That’s one way of looking on the bright side, I guess,” Billy mutters, voice hollow.

“Your father has done all the harm he will ever be able to do, to any of us, and now we’re together again. Isn’t there something to be said for that, Billy?”

He swallows thickly, nodding his head as he places his hand on the bed. Susan’s fingers slide over his and that’s how Max finds them when she returns.

“There you are,” Susan welcomes, smiling warmly. “That was a bit longer than fifteen minutes.”

Max freezes. “Did you need me?”

“No, honey, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just happy that you took a good break.”

Max visibly relaxes and shuffles over, lightly squeezing her mother’s upper arm. “I saw Neil.”

Billy exchanges a look of shock with Susan.

“Yeah, he had a new guard today and we talked for a couple minutes. Cool lady with a cool name, like some Greek Goddess name. She gave me a dollar for the vending machine and let me in his room.”

“Are you okay?” Susan frowns, worry crossing her features as her lashes flutter.

“Yeah, Mom. Neil doesn’t scare me anymore.” Max leans in and presses another kiss to the crown of her Susan’s head. Billy’s never seen her more affectionate than this, so doting and tender with her injured mother. “It was actually good. To see Neil like that…to know I did that. It confirms it, I guess? I mean not that I didn’t know, because obviously I know I didn't dream or hallucinate what happened, but…”

“Seeing is believing, perhaps?” Susan tilts her head, mussy red tresses shifting over the pillowcase.

“Yeah, like that. Seeing is believing, I guess. I saw the neck brace and the handcuffs and now I’m…well I’m not gonna turn into a badger every time you want me to take a break.” Max’s mouth quirks, expression sobering when she glances to Billy. “Are you gonna see him?”

“I don’t know,” Billy answers. He keeps thinking about it.

Maybe he’d feel better like Max does. Maybe he’d feel worse. He thinks he’d hate himself if he wound up having some scrap of sympathy. He thinks maybe he’d rip the pillow out from under his father’s head and smother the rest of the life out of him. He thinks he would have the opportunity to say everything he’s ever wanted to say but worries that he would not have the words, worries they may dissolve on his tongue with that stern, steely stare that’s shackled him all his life.

“Not yet,” Billy decides at least.

“You look weird,” Max bluntly blurts, scrunching her nose.

“That’s not nice,” Susan protests in mild reproach.

“It’s not mean,” Max counters, shrugs a shoulder as she looks back to Billy. “You okay? Is it hard being in a hospital again?”

Susan too raises a brow.

Billy reflexively lifts a hand to his chest, curls his jacket in his fist until the button presses uncomfortably into his palm. Few things in his life had been more challenging than his hospital stay and it wasn’t even being in pain or sick or weak, then weaker, then stronger and still in pain— it was sterility. It was being cooped up. It was no privacy whatsoever and never the right noises. It was everything being terrible except Max and Susan even if Max and Susan being around constantly was sometimes terrible but never, ever because they were terrible because they genuinely weren’t and— and now they’re all here again with some of the details rearranged.

Billy realizes that’s the hardest part, maybe, that the details are rearranged. Discovers that maybe it is worse to see someone you care about hurt than hurt yourself. He cannot speak but maybe they know, maybe they can read it in his face because then Susan’s reaching up again, brushing gentle fingertips over his scabbed up knuckles until he relaxes the death grip on the jacket balled into his fist.

“If you decide you want to see Neil, I’ll walk you to the door,” Max offers.

“Thanks,” he manages, terse but sincere.

“And if you want to see him, Mom, I’ll—“

“I don’t,” Susan breaks in, vehement and almost nervous, hand retracting from Billy’s and clasping fast to the opposite above her chest, IV tube swinging again. “I don’t, Max, I really, really don’t.”

“Okay,” Max promises her immediately, gingerly draping an arm around her in a reassuring embrace. The closest to a hug she can manage. “You don’t have to. You never, ever have to see him again, Mom. If you don't want to, you don't have to and that's that. I won't let anyone make you.”

Susan’s eyes dart back and forth as she leans into Max as much as she can, releasing a shaky exhale. Billy’s taken his breaks. They finally got Max to take her break. He thinks maybe Susan needs a break too.

“You wanna see what’s on tv, Sue?” he suggests.

‘No news,’ Max mouths at him above her head. Billy blinks knowingly.

“Sure,” Susan agrees, relaxing and shifting a bit as Max lowers her arm. “Um...maybe the animal channel?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see what nature is up to.”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Chapter One: Moving In

This whole series contains trigger warnings such as: gun violence, blood, gore, some angst. (Probably a lot of angst it’s me😂)

She was Clay’s daughter, looking for a place to rent out in Tacoma, Washington near the Tacoma Community College where she was going for an Accounting degree. Her mother lives near Spokane, which was too far to commute and there was no on-campus housing. So she was stuck finding somewhere to rent in Tacoma.

She spent all day looking for anything to rent but she couldn’t find a single room. Her mother, in the passenger seat of her little 2002 Nissan, jabs her finger towards a sign stabbed into a tall patch of grass. At first she curls her nose, looking at the less-than-adequate housing when her eye spots the twinkling black Dyna in the driveway.

“Honey, looks can be deceiving.” She nudges your shoulder with hers and gives you a little wave towards the driveway. With a sigh, she pulls into the driveway and gives her mom one last look of concern. “Baby, if you don’t like the person you don’t have to do it, but it is for rent.” She raises her brows at her daughter and the young woman huff, giving a nod. She was right. But she was sure whoever was the Percy old man behind that door, you were gonna find any reason to—. A lawn mower motor whirs to life and she jumps, hitting her head on the ceiling.

“Great, and he’s a chainsaw murderer, I’m gonna die mom. I hope you’re happy.” She barks, getting out and promptly shutting the door. Walking towards the lawnmower running, and what she finds attached to the lawnmower makes her jaw drop. A tall blonde man, build strong and wide in the shoulder. His stance was a little intimidating, but she found a little confidence to approach him.

“I’m here for the room for rent sign?” She stammers, wringing her fingers together.

“Your name?” He asks, shutting off the mower and drawing a towel from his pocket and wiping his hands off.

“I’m Vanessa Halen Morrow.” She sticks a hand at him, her fingers quaking. His ringed hand grips hers in a firm, yet gentle shake.

“How old are you?” He asks, looking out to her car and giving her mom a wave. She glances just in time to see her mother give him a knowing smile and a nod.

“I’m twenty-two. I just got enough saved up for my first semester so I want to get an accounting degree and find a better job.” She stammers, glancing up at him once more to find captivating, smiling blue eyes looking down at her.

“Alright, that your mom?” He asks, pointing to the car. She nods, heading that way. “She saw my Dyna when you two pulled in.” He steps in front of her and gets to the car first, popping open her driver’s door and crouching down to see her mother.

“Nice bike, kid. You a Son?” She asks, nodding to him.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods. “You okay with her renting here?”

“You gonna protect her?” He glances over his shoulder at the young woman. “Sure.” He nods.

“Her father is SAMCRO president. Don’t fuck this up.” She raises an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“She’s a roommate.” He rolls his eyes and stands, swiping his hands on his pants to tower over her small frame. “If you need help moving stuff in, cool. You can have the room.” He nods, watching her grin with excitement.

“Thank you! You’re amazing!” She squeals, gripping him in a tight hug. When she lets go, she finds him looking at her with a half-concerned expression. “What is your name?” She asks. A tiny smirk curves the corner of his lips.

“Kozik.”

It’s move in day, and she’s more excited than anything. As she heads to Kozik’s, she grabs two monsters and a granola bar before making the four hours drive to Tacoma. Just as she pulls in, she finds the Tacoma man standing on the porch on the phone. His leather kutte hugged to his shoulders, her heart pounding as she makes her way up the steps with her bag.

“Yeah, I know. Yeah. Hey. I got a roommate moving in right now. I’ll call you back.” He claps the phone shut and drops it into his pocket before facing her with a smile. Grabbing the couple of bags from her arms and hauling them inside, he waves the cute girl into the kitchen. “Hey, I gotta head out, but uh. Here’s your key. I need you to sign this lease. And if you don’t mind, I already paid rent this month, so don’t worry, but next month its two-hundred for the room and we split the bills. I’ll go over the rest when I get back. Uh, so.. I guess get comfy, don’t worry about that big stuff outside I’ll have a few guys come over and move it in for ya. There’s a couple pocket knives in this drawer, and a pistol.” He pulls open a drawer to expose his little arsenal. “Where do you work at?” He asks, shutting the drawer.

“I’m still finding a job in Tacoma. I had one lined up but they gave the position to someone else.” She finds concern in his eyes, but he quickly hides it with a smile.

“Alrighty then. Just make sure you got the two hundred, okay? And get comfy. Like I said, I’ll have a couple prospects come over and move your stuff in.” He smiles, giving her a wave before he disappears out the door, leaving her there alone. She wasn’t one to be scared, but she found it uncomfortable in a new place that she didn’t know, to be left alone without the brute of a roommate she’d acquired. Though, if she were being honest, she had a feeling being alone here would be pretty normal for her.

While stuffing her clothes into her dresser that Kozik had moved in for her, she hears a ding at door and head for the sound. When she pulls open the door she finds two thin, gangly looking bikers standing before her with awkward smiles on their similarly long faces.

“Kozik sent us, to move furniture?” One finally speaks, sticking out a hand to her in peace.

“Yeah! Uh, everything is in that trailer. It just needs to be moved into the bedroom on the left. Do you want help?” She asks, pulling on a ball cap to shade her eyes from the burning sun and going for her shoes.

“Nah, Kozik said you should stay in the house and be comfy. I’m Lugnut, by the way. That’s what they call me. This is Chip, he’s pretty quiet. And don’t yell real loud, he jumps when women yell.” She looks up to the tall bigger man with black shoulder length hair and a crooked nose to find his cheeks tinted a light dusty pink, and he scowled at his friend before looking to the ground embarrassed.

“Don’t you worry, Chip, I won’t yell and yet ya.” She grins, patting his shoulder and a bright grin fills his face with glee and he gives a soft huff in content.

“Well, alrighty then. Chip let’s get this shit unloaded.” The shorter of the two heads out towards the trailer, Chip following closely behind.

She’s in the kitchen finding them something to eat when she hears Lugnut heave a sigh and she looks over her shoulder at the two. They looked pretty tired. She fixed them each a cold ham sandwich and a glass of iced tea, all things she’d found.

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose—“

“Impose? You two carried in all my things I can at least thank you. Sit down.” She smiles, patting the bar stools against the bar before scampering off to the kitchen to make herself something.

“Why do they call you Chip anyway?” She asks, munching on a dorito.

“Cause of this b-big scar.” He lowers his head, pushing back his black curly hair to expose a huge darker red mark on his forehead. “And cause when I get a bout of Tourette’s I say ‘Chip chip’.” He shyly goes back to his sandwich.

“You have Tourette’s huh?” She asks, smiling at him. He just nods, the embarrassment filling his cheeks. “What’s the matter?” She coos, reaching and grasping his shoulder.

“You prolly wanna laugh, huh? chip chip.” He mutters, his shoulders raising with each ‘chip’.

“No, hunny. Of course not!” She gently squeezes his shoulder. “You’re a great guy, Chip. I don’t see why you’d think I’d laugh at you, you’re too adorable.” She giggles, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Shoot. A pretty lady like you, you ought to not flatter a big dummy like me. Chip chip.” He shakes his head as Lugnut claps his shoulder. She takes a chance, pulling Chip into a big hug, which he gladly returns, with big warm arms.

“See you two later, yeah?” She calls as they make it out the door.

“Bye!” Chip calls, giving her a big grin and a sweet wave.

“Hey!” Kozik calls, hearing nothing in return. Weird. He peeks around the corner to find her standing in the kitchen in shorts and a tee shirt, scrubbing the dishes in the sink while her hips bop to the music she’s playing on her phone. “You sure like Chip, huh?” He chuckles, catching her attention.

“I do, he’s a real sweetheart.” She chuckles, fondly recalling the earlier events. His big happy grin.

“Well, I’m gonna find something to eat. You’re more than welcome to hang out in the living room. I’m gonna watch Ace Ventura or something.” He chuckles, disappearing to the living room.

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (two)

Summary: After being ghosted by YN, a girl he turned out really liking, Steve goes to her door to find out just what he did wrong.

Warnings: pregnancy test stress, gross food cravings, NatBucky fluff, stressed!Steve

Songs: “Archer”- Taylor Swift

Masterlist

____________________________

November 14th / 2nd Week

YN YLN felt like someone came down from heaven and took a shit on her face. She had felt wonderful since Steve had been over up until now, and she groaned, burying her face into her pillow and trying t find any lingering scents of Steve on her pillow. She made a noise in the back of her throat when she found nothing but the scent of her own shampoo. She reached over to her phone under her pillow and looked at it, a thrill shooting through her body when she saw that she had a text from none other than the Retired Captain America. 

From: Grandpa

Morning, pretty thing :)

The dork hadn’t sent her one single emoji, and she doubted that if he even knew what they were that he would like them. ‘too kiddish’, she could hear him say and she kicked her feet like a teenager. 

To: Grandpa

Morning, handsome! How was ur morning so far??

She locked her phone and checked the date on the lockscreen, squinting at the number suspiciously. There was something supposed to be happening right now. Today was a Thursday, so she had it off, but there was something else personally. 

Her eyes widened, and every nerve in her body felt as if it had been dipped in ice water. 

She was supposed to have gotten her period eight whole days ago. 

She ripped her blankets off of her, and pulled her pants down, groaning when there was no blood to be found and cursing to herself. She had always been regular with her cycle. She tracked it, and took vitamins and magnesium and iron supplements and even went sustainable with it— got a diva cup and everything. Sure, her period sucked but it was usually one thing that she could count on to be on time. 

She rushed to the bathroom to splash water on her face and wracked her brain to try to remember if she and Steve had used protection. They had in the morning, she knew— she made sure to roll the condom on herself and everything but the night before was so quick and hurried and oh, God. No. No they had not used protection. 

Fuck. 

“MICHAELA!” She screamed, walking quickly out to the kitchen where her best friend and roommate was, hunched over some law books and eating her smoothie bowl breakfast. YN didn’t even bother teasing her about it and met Michaela’s surprised eyes with her own very, very scared ones. 

“What? Are you bleeding out? What the fuck?” She yelled back, clutching her heart while moving to mop up the glass of water she spilled across the island. 

“No I’m— okay, so you know the guy I had over on Halloween that I told you about?” She started and Michaela nodded nervously. 

“Magic Dick Steve? I remember.”

“Well I don’t think— I don’t think we used protection? The first time? We were both pretty drunk and—“ YN had started to shake. “And I might be reading into it too much but I’ve been really tired lately and my boobs are really, really sore and I’ve been really nauseous? Maybe It’s the flu but I’ve— my period it late.” She finished, and watched as Michaela’s eyes widened. 

“You’re never late.” She whispered, and YN felt tears well up in her eyes. 

“I know.” She mumbled and Michaela stood, walking around the counter and pulling her to her. She hugged her tightly and pulled away, dragging YN down the hallway and back to the bathroom. 

“I didn’t tell you this, but a few months ago when you were in Peru with that Anthropology dig, me and Charlie had a scare and I got a whole bunch of these guys.” She held up a box of thin, paper pregnancy tests from the bottom cabinet. 

“Isn’t that when you went off your pill?” She asked, taking the box. Michaela nodded. 

“Yeah, turns out my body freaked out hugely and said ‘fuck you’ to my period that month.” She shrugged. “Take a few, and we’ll take it from here, okay?”

________________________

So, YN peed in a disposable mouthwash cup (and on her hand a little bit, but we won’t talk about that) and dipped three tests into it, laying it out on the edge of the tub and sliding down he closed door after setting a timer on her phone. Time seemed to become impossibly slow for three whole minutes and she jolted violently when her phone went off. She checked it, and tears welled up in her eyes when she saw that she had gotten a text from Steve. 

From: Grandpa

I’m pretty good. miss you though.

She put her phone back down and stood, opening the door and calling shakily from Michaela. She showed up seconds later, and wiped YN’s tears from her face. 

“I can’t— I can’t look.” She whimpered and Michaela shushed her softly. 

“You can.” Her voice acted as an anchor for which YN could ground herself with and she tried to move her feet towards the tests. 

“What do I do with Steve? I can’t— it would trap him. I don’t even know the guy. I can’t just drop a bomb like that on him when we haven’t even gone on a date yet.” She cried and Michaela frowned, her heart breaking for her friend. 

“From what you’ve told me, he’ll be there for you. He seems like a good guy. Now, let’s look, okay?”

YN nodded and with the help of Michaela, walked across the bathroom and ducked down to see if there was anything other than the first red line. She squinted, and let out a huge breath when there was no line on the first two tests. She checked the last one, and every organ in YN’s body burst into flames when she thought she could see a second, very faint line. 

“Michaela.”

“What.”

“Is that a second line? On the last test.” She whispered, as if raising her voice any louder was going to make the line darker. Michaela leaned in close and squinted, freezing when she did, in fact, see the second line. 

“I think so. I think it is.” She confirmed, and YN’s knees gave out. Her hand absently fell to her lower stomach and she lower lip trembled. 

“This may not be it, though okay? Let’s go to Planned Parenthood and get a real test, okay? Then we can spend thirty dollars on a really good test and we’ll make a plan from there, okay?” Michaela sunk other knees and held YN’s face, wiping more tears away and offering her a small smile. 

“Okay.”

_______________________

There was no way that all ten tests in front of her were wrong. There was no way the printed diagnosis from Planned Parenthood and a pamphlet reading ‘Plans For The Single Parent’ were telling her that her uterus was empty. There was no way the Clearblue test reading ‘Pregnant: 2-3 weeks’ was wrong— it better not be, considering it was a whole thirty dollars. 

YN sat staring at them, bouncing her leg and glancing at her phone every few seconds, half expecting for Steve to already know despite his three unresponded-to-texts still on her lock screen. She could hear Michaela talking to her boyfriend, Charlie in the other room and YN felt truly and utterly alone.

However, her hand had yet to leave her stomach during the whole day, as if the idea of a baby being in there (despite it being no more than a bunch of cells at this point) was a point fo focus for her. Despite the overwhelming elements fo her situation, there was a flutter of excitement in her chest. She had never wanted kids, and then the snap happened, and she was gone and then she was back, and her dad, who was in a plane during the snap had fallen from 5 miles in sky and landed belly first in the ocean. But now that it was a very real possibility, she couldn’t help but get a little excited. 

There was one one person she truly wanted to talk to, right now. The urge to hear their voice overpowered any other feeling and YN reached for her phone, choosing the first contact she recently texted and waited as the phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“Mom? I need your help.”

_______________________

November 31st, 4th Week

“This is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why are you making this monstrosity in my house?” Michaela groaned, pulling the neck of her turtleneck sweater over her nose as she walked into the kitchen. YN rolled her eyes and shook her head, bouncing lightly to the music playing from her laptop. 

“Just because you’re the pickiest human in the world doesn’t mean other people can’t eat fun foods,” YN replied, lifting the lid on the stove and sniffing deeply. 

“Canned crab with sauerkraut on crackers is not a fun food.” Michaela grumbled and sat at the counter. YN rolled her eyes and stirred the pot, shrugging her shoulders. 

“What baby wants baby gets.” She replied simply and closed the lid, leaning against the counter beside the stove and cocking her head. “Would you prefer boiled clams in hot sauce  or crushed up Doritos dipped in a Starbucks Frappuccino to this or—?” YN trailed off and Michaela gagged openly, covering her mouth. 

“Maybe a salad. With nutrients that the baby needs.” She replied and YN rolled her eyes, opening the cabinet beside the fridge and turning around to stare at Michaela. Her eyes raked over the prenatal supplements and vitamins marked for different days of the weeks and then to the daily pill organizer in YN’s hand. 

“I’ve also cut my coffee from five cups to half a cup because I’m paranoid and I’m not eating dairy, which is hard because you know how much I loved pineapple and cottage cheese together. And this is the only meal I’ve been able to eat this week without getting nauseous and throwing up.” She commented, turning back and turning off the stove. Michaela walked over and leaned over the pot, wrinkling her nose but grabbing a spoon nonetheless. 

“I’m going to try it. Not because I’m curious but because I’m supporting my single-pregnant best friend.” She said, saying a little prayer and shoving the goopy mess into her mouth. She froze, chewed once and gagged, grabbing YN’s hand and spitting the mouthful of food into her hand. 

“I hate you.” She grumbled and stuck her head under the sink, rinsing her mouth and making her laugh loudly, clutching her chest. It was only seconds after that there was a knock on their door which YN made to get. She turned to her friend and pointed. 

“I made you do nothing. That was fully consensual on your part.” She laughed, spinning and opening the door with a smile. 

It was Steve. Holding a bouquet of her second favourite flowers. Smiling nervously with those blue eyes and big muscles and beard and short, carefully styled hair. She remembered in flashes the sound he made when he moaned. The sound he made when she made him laugh. The way he looked sucking whipped cream off her finger. The way his voice sounded that one time when they talked until five in the morning. 

So, she did what any sensible person did and slammed the door in his face. 

At the sound, Michaela walked around the corner, peeking behind YN to see that the door was still closed. There was a knock and Steve’s voice saying something YN couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in her ears. 

“Who is it?” Michaela whispered, seeing the fear in her eyes. 

“Steve.” YN replied, her mouth feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton. Michaela pushed past her and looked through the peep hole, ducking immediately and turning to her with wide eyes. 

“That’s Steve?! You fucked Captain America on our kitchen counter and then hand fed him waffles?” Michaela whisper-yelled. 

“First off, he’s not Captain America anymore. Sam Wilson is, and second yes. Steve isn’t really an uncommon name so..” YN trailed off uselessly and Michaela looked to YN’s stomach. 

“Well I mean it makes sense,” Michaela said quickly. “All of your symptoms are stronger and you only had sex once without protection so it makes sense he has super sperm.” He said and YN shushed her as if Steve was on the other side with his ear to the door. 

“What do I do.” YN deadpanned and Michaela bit her lip. 

“You know what I think you should do. I think it’s time to tell him.” She said and YN nodded, wiping her hands on her pants and walking to the door, hesitating briefly before turning the doorknob and opening it. 

“YN. Hi.” He seemed breathless, and he looked at her softly. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I should have texted, but you weren’t responding and I got worried.”

YN shook her head and opened the door wider. “Steve, I think you should come in. We need to talk.” She whispered, and his shoulders fell as if he was expecting her to say something like this. 

“I figured.” He mumbled, handing Michaela the flowers and following YN to the living room where she pulled a shoe box from the shelf under the table and placed it on the top. 

“What’s going on, YN? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, turning towards her. She sat straight, not taking her eyes off the box in front of her and shaking her head. 

“You’ve been perfect Steve, and none of this is your fault, I should have been more responsible.” She whispered, her throat thick. She could hear Michaela eavesdropping from the kitchen. 

“Then what—?” He trailed off and went to touch her, but pulled away at the last second, not wanting to upset her further. 

“Something happened and I don’t— I don’t know what to do.” She said, finally looking at him with shining eyes. His face crumpled at the sight of her tears and h scooted closer to her, grabbing her hand gently. 

“I can help, YN. Whatever it is I can help you.” He said softly, holding her hand in both of his own. 

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Steve. Not with this— we hardly know each other.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She noticed briefly how good Steve looked in his brown coat and jeans and scarf and boots but shook her head when her periphery caught sight of the box on the table. 

“YN.” He said sternly and she melted slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“I’m pregnant, Steve. The baby is yours— it has to be. There hasn’t been anyone since the snap except for you.” She finally said in one quick breath, she looked up at him to gauge his reaction. His face was a flat of marble, no expression or emotion in his eye. She half expected him to stand up and walk out until she remembered that this was, in fact, Steve Rogers and walking away from a challenge was unheard of. That’s what the textbooks said, anyways. She lifted the cover on the box and he peered in, eyes widening when he saw all the tests and pamphlets she had been reading and collecting. 

“Okay.” He said finally and he seems to be wracking his brain for something to say. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Were you just going to wait until you had him to tell me and collect money or something?” He asked. YN raised her eyebrows and shook her head fervently. 

“No, no, no, no, Steve. I would never. I just didn’t— I don’t— know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, reassuring her by his tightened grip on her hand. 

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you and what you would want to do with her.” She said and he raised his eyebrows. 

“It’s a girl?” He whispered, looking down to her stomach. She shook her head. 

“No, she’s nothing more than a bunch of cells, but ‘she’ just comes naturally to me? You said she was a ‘he’ earlier, so.” She smiled softly and he returned it, not looking away from her stomach. 

“Well, what are the options?” He asked, looking up at her and she shook her head. 

“One, I keep her and you leave.” She started and he looked genuinely affronted. 

“Not a chance. Next.”

“I go to Planned Parenthood—“

“No. Next.”

“I keep her, and you stay.” She whispered, looking up at him nervously. He froze, but nodded surely and cleared his throat. When he spoke he sounded rather choked and it made tears return o her eyes. 

“That’s an option for you?” He whispered and she nodded. 

“It’s my ideal option, Steve. This is your baby too.” She replied, equally quiet. He looked up and pulled her closer to him and she let it happen. Now, their thighs were pressed against the other and their heads were closer together. 

“You move into my place, though. I’ll get rid of my office so we can make it into a nursery and I keep work at work and family at home. I’d like to know you’re both safe.” He said, jumping to what he wanted to happen. She nodded. 

“That’s petty reasonable.” She commented. “I don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.” 

“Your turn. Name a demand.” He returned and she wracked her brain. 

“I want to go part-time at work, but I won’t if we can’t afford it.” She said. Thinking about the cost of things came naturally to her since she had grown up in the Bronx.

“Babe.” He whispered, amused and smiling. 

“What?” She whispered back, smiling as well. 

“I have about 100 years of government compensation in my bank account. Plus I was a Stark Employee and an Avenger for twelve years. Money isn’t an issue, I promise.” He explained, and she nodded. The relief that had washed over her then was overwhelming and she coughed into her fist, a sob building in her throat. 

“Sorry,” She choked, rubbing her eyes. “This happens a lot.” 

“It does!” They heard a voice from the kitchen and YN glared a the door. 

“Fuck you, Michaela!”

“Promise?” She called back and Steve smiled, chuckling lowly. 

“Your turn.” She said, nudging him. He sucked in a breath and thought hard. 

“I’m at all the appointments. I’m at all the classes. We don’t announce it to the public, but we don’t hide the fact that you’re pregnant. I’ll have to talk to Pepper soon, but only when you’re ready. I want to be in this with you. The whole ride.” He said and YN blinked more tears out of her eyes. He pulled his jacket off and pulled his sweater sleeve over his fist and wiped them from her face gently. She sucked in a breath and leaned into his touch slightly, not fighting it when he pulled away from her. 

“Good.” There was a pause of silence before he shifted nervously, a new idea popping into his head. “What?” She asked. 

“This is gonna be a little extreme, actually.” He sounded afraid, but she nodded for him to continue despite her own nerves rising. “I’ve been learning that it’s okay to have kids with your boyfriend or girlfriend now, and that’s really great and cool but it doesn’t work for me.” He said and she looked up at him, alarmed. 

“What?”

“We don’t have to, but my Ma would roll in her grave if she found out I had a kid with someone that I wasn’t uh— legally bound to.” He winced at the formality of his own words. 

“I don’t think I understand,” She said. She did, she just didn’t quite believe what exactly he was asking her. 

“I would like to marry you. It’s really important for me that my kid is uh— mine. And was born into a marriage, you know?” Steve’s voice seemed far away as he continued to speak, and YN swayed in her seat. 

“YN?” He asked, watching her eyes become unfocussed and falling for Michaela. She heard nothing more before her eyes closed and she slumped back on the couch, unconscious. 

________________________

The first thing YN remembered when she woke up was a cool cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed at the sensation, rolling her head away from the glaring light from the window and opened her eyes, smiling as Michaela looked down at her. 

“Hey, Mich. I had the weirdest dream.” She started, groaning a the pounding headache in her brain and sitting up slowly. “Remember Steve? Magic Dick Steve? Yeah. That’s Steve Rogers. Anyways, I had a dream that I was pregnant with his kid and he asked me to marry him. He was wearing his suit, though which as weird because I couldn’t see his face behind his helmet-hat-thing.” She mumbled, rubbing her forehead. 

“That wasn’t a dream, YN.” Said a low voice from the kitchen. YN looked over and her eyes widened when she saw Steve Rogers walk through the door, a plate of crackers and crab and sauerkraut in his hands. There was also a reusable mouthwash cup filled with her medication and a bottle of water in his other hand. 

“Holy Moses, baby Jesus in the garden be with me.” YN prayed briefly and accepted the plate of food from him, piling it into her mouth much to the amusement of Steve and the disgust of Michaela. 

“It’s the same thing my ma used to crave, actually.” Steve shrugged. “I tried to make it one time back in the day for mothers day but the only fish I could afford was the crawdaddies from the pond down the street and the crackers I stole from Bucky’s house. I couldn’t even use the stove, yet so everything was raw.” He smiled when she laughed loudly at his story. “Yeah, she wasn’t too big of a fan but she appreciated it all the same.” 

“That’s really cute, Rogers.” She smiled.

“I’m sorry for dropping that request on you, I never meant to hurt you.” He muttered eventually and she shook her head.

“I’ve actually fainted twice already so it isn’t too much of a big deal, but yeah. That was a good request.” She scratched her nose and took all the pills at once, gulping down half the bottle with it and leaning on her elbows. 

“I’m sorry again.” He whispered and she shook her head. 

“It’s your kid, Steve. It only makes sense you would want that for her.”

“Him.” He teased and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll do it.” She said finally and his head whipped over to her as fast as lightning. She was half worried that she would need to take him to the hospital incase he tore something. 

“What?”

“I’ll marry you. I think you’re a pretty great guy, Steve and I’m not getting any younger, anyways.” She shrugged and Michaela gaped at them like a fish. 

“You’re 24, YN.” She scolded and she looked at her friend. 

“And my baby daddy wants to stick around and support us. It’s only fair I do this for him.” She shrugged, looking between their stunned faces.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, aghast and shocked but looking sedately overjoyed. 

“As sure as I’ll ever be, Rogers.” She stuck out her hand and he looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “You take care of me and your kid and I marry you? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” She commented and he took her hand in his. 

“It’s a deal, then.” He smiled softly and tried his damned best to not jump across the couch and kiss her. This was never how he wanted to propose to someone, but hey, he was 106. Never a time like the present, right?

“Damn it.” Michaela swore. The newly-engaged couple looked over at her and she shook her head at both of them. “I’m gonna have to find a craigslist roommate aren’t I?”

_____________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema

[domesticated-feral]

Steo Week 2020, Day 1

Title: Sorry about the puking, but where are my jeans?

Prompt: “So, we meet again,” Rating: Teen Warnings: Drinking, almost getting drugged, vomiting. WC: 3036

You can also read it on my AO3

Summary:

“You seriously don’t remember?” He asks. “I don’t remember anything from last night,” Stiles said. The man turns around and Stiles gawks as he realizes that it was Theo Raeken. “You had that same face when you saw me last night,” Theo said.

or

Stiles drinks one too many drinks and Theo is just a bartender whose shift ended early.

~

Stiles was back in Beacon Hills for summer break. Usually, he’d be psyched to be back, but the summer started with his boyfriend of 2 years breaking up with him. He still had the mood of crawling in bed and downing a whole season of the Office along with a pint of vanilla ice cream, yet he took the grueling 26-hour drive back on his jeep.

This summer break, the rest of the pack was mostly staying back instead of coming back to Beacon Hills, they wanted to explore more of the surrounding area where they were studying. Being alone was alright, but the evening was going on forever. He was idly scrolling on his phone when his best friend, Scott called.

“Hey, Scotty, what’s up?” Stiles asks.

‘Just calling to check up on my best friend who’s going through a break-up. How are you doing?’

“I’m doing great-” Stiles dryly chuckles-“Yeah, life’s just peaches at the moment.”

‘If I were back in Beacon Hills, I’d get you drunk, just like you tried to get me drunk back when we were 16.’

Stiles laughs remembering that night, “yeah, and you couldn’t get drunk cause you’re a werewolf.”

‘Yep, speaking of, why don’t you go to a bar, get a few drinks tonight, celebrate being a bachelor again, maybe find someone new?’

“Eh, I got nothin’ better to do, so maybe.”

‘Alright, anyways, Malia’s calling me, so talk to you later?’

“Sure, sure, bye Scott,” Stiles said, ending the call.

Stiles takes Scott’s idea of celebrating his new-found freedom with a couple of drinks. He takes his jacket and keys which were on the dining table and he heads out.

It was 6 in the evening and the clubs would be open, but mainly empty as the night hadn’t started yet.

Driving up to Nine Lives Nightclub, a newly opened gay bar in Beacon Hills, he parks his jeep close to the bar, that he wouldn’t have been able to do if he came an hour later. He decided to head to the nearby park to waste time there until sundown.

He sits down on a bench and takes his phone out. He had received 30 text messages from his ex, after 2 weeks of breaking up, he wants to apologize and to get back together.

‘I miss you, I was wrong, can we get back together? It was a huge mistake, I did the wrong thing, blah blah blah,’ Stiles read in his mind.

He wasn’t completely over the breakup, but he was at a point where he wanted to get himself together and forget about it all. Stiles already gave him a chance, it was his fault that he ruined it by running off to someone else.

He turns his phone off and stuffs it in his jacket pocket. He can deal with it later. Or never, actually. The evening sun glowed as it inched closer to the horizon, the clouds ranging from yellow to red to a deep purple. In a while, the sun will set, and the night will begin. A night to celebrate his status of being a bachelor, of how he can meet the love of his life any second now.

‘Hell Yeah!’ he thought as he psyched himself up for the night.

With the sun setting, people were going to line up and Stiles wanted to get in before the line got too long, so he walked out of the park and up to the club entrance.

“I.D, please,” the bouncer asks, holding his hand out.

“Nice of you to think of me as underage,” Stiles sarcastically mutters whilst taking his I.D out of his wallet.

He hands it to the bouncer who looks at it for a few and gives it back as he nods. Stiles smiles and walks in the club, putting his I.D back in his wallet. The club had a few people, the DJ was playing some slow chill beats and Stiles headed to the bar to get a starting drink.

“What can I get you for tonight?” the bartender asks.

“Beer, whatever brand is on tap,” Stiles ordered, sitting down.

The bartender nods and pours a pint glass of beer. He puts it on a counter and slides it over to Stiles.

“3 dollars, 50 cents,” the bartenders told Stiles.

“Put it on my tab,” Stiles said.

He drinks it, mainly chugging through the whole pint. “Another pint, please,” he said, sliding the glass to the bartender.

They refill the glass and slide it back over at Stiles. He drinks it, and doesn’t order another one, he turns around to face the dancefloor and seatings. People were coming in and the disco lights were on, creating patterns that were almost hypnotizing if anyone paid attention to them.

He looks at his watch, about 15 minutes to 8. The club was getting packed by the minute. People were mostly getting their drinks, but to dance thy must be drunk.

“A beer, please,” He tells the bartender who nods and goes to get a glass.

After a while, they come and give Stiles the beer which he chugs down. ‘Why just stop at beer, let’s do some shots!’ Stiles tells himself.

“5 shots of whiskey,” He tells the bartender.

Five shot glasses full of whiskey are placed in front of him a while later. Without any hesitance, Stiles downs shot after shot.

It was 8 now, and the club was raring, music blasting through the speakers, people getting drunk and dancing, some people kissing away at either a loved one or drunk stranger.

Stiles stands up, stumbling as his leg is asleep. He shakes it and goes to sit at one of the empty couch seats on the side of the club.

He finds one in a nice area where he can see the bar and the dancefloor. As he sits alone, two hands come from behind and touch his shoulders. They move and sit down close to Stiles.

“Hey,” The girl said, pushing her chest forward as she leaned towards Stiles.

“Oh, hey, oh wow,” Stiles said, and boy was he trying real hard not to look down.

“You want to do some shots? With me?” she asks, inching closer to Stiles.

“S-sure!” He stuttered.

She calls up a waitress and asks for 10 Jager bombs. She brings it up and puts them in front of Stiles and the girl.

Stiles quickly drinks shot after shot after shot, he was getting fired up and quite tipsy.

“Fuck Yeah!” He yells excitedly.

“Here, drink some more, handsome,” She said as she had ordered tequila shots whilst he was downing the Jager bombs.

Stiles takes a shot and empties 5 shots of tequila in 10 seconds. He suddenly feels the need to go to the toilet.

“I will be right back, gotta take a pisss,” he drunkenly said, elongating the ‘s’.

He stumbles his way to the toilet, slightly dancing to the music. He walks in and does his business trying his hardest not to aim outside the toilet. He flushes the toilet and washes his hands.

Sitting back down at the seating, the woman hands him a drink. It looked fizzy, probably sprite with vodka or something.

“I ordered a vodka sprite for you while you were gone,” she said, as he took the glass from her hand.

“Oh, nice, thanks!” Stiles said.

He was about to drink the whole drink when someone quickly comes up and grips on his wrist.

“What the hell?!” Stiles yells at the man since the man’s surprise iron grip made the glass tilt and spill the drink on his jeans.

“Hey! Why’d you do that?” the girl said.

Stiles takes a closer look at who was holding his wrist and recognizes him as a familiar face.

“Theodore Raeken?!” Stiles said to the man.

“Can you leave us alone?” the girl asks Theo.

“Sorry, hon, security is on their way to you,” Theo said to the girl.

“Am I- hic- arrested?” Stiles asks.

“Not you,” Theo said, taking the glass Stiles was holding.

“But I did nothing wrong!” the girl whined.

“I saw you drugging the vodka sprite, so did the cameras,” Theo said.

Two big bouncers came and took her away. She tried to fight, but they easily picked her up and took her out of the club.

“C’mon, get up,” Theo said, pulling him to his feet.

Stiles was too drunk to walk in a straight line so Theo had to lead and somewhat carry Stiles out to the back alley where the employee’s entrance and parking were.

Theo lets him sit down on the concrete, leaning against the dumpster.

“Stiles, how drunk are you?” Theo asks.

“I’m drunk- hic- like a skunk,” Stiles said.

“Stay right there, you need water and something to eat,” Theo said, walking back in the club.

Stiles looked around, his vision was doubled and blurry. He laughed at how distorted everything around him looked.

Theo walks back out and hands him a water bottle and a packet of Doritos. “Let’s just hope you sober up enough to drive home,” he said.

Stiles tried to open up the chip packet but his blurred vision and trembling hands didn’t help at all.

“Damn you, Dori- hic- tos chip packet!” Stiles said, chucking it to the floor.

Theo sighs, “I’ll have to help you, don’t I?”

He squats down near Stiles and opens the chip packet for Stiles. He opens the water bottle as well, knowing that Stiles won’t be able to open it.

“Try not to spill everywhere,” Theo said, handing the water bottle.

Stiles tried to drink water, but he missed his aim and spilled water on himself.

“You are definitely not going to sober up tonight without sleep,” Theo remarks.

Stiles finishes the Doritos packet and drinks water, spilling most of it as he tried to. Theo pulls Stiles up and walks him to his car. He puts Stiles in the passenger seat and puts the seatbelt on him.

“We going to Mcdonalds?” Stiles mumbles.

Theo gets in the car and drives them up to Stiles’ house.

“Isn’t that my house? I thought we were going to Mcdonalds,” Stiles whines.

“You are going to get a horrible hangover tomorrow, but first you need to sleep,” Theo said getting out of the car and letting Stiles out as well.

Stiles takes his keys out but passes out before he stuck the house key in the keyhole. Theo sighs and tries knocking on the door, hoping the Sheriff would open.

It was late, either the sheriff was asleep or not at home. This is not how Theo planned to spend the only night he ended his shift early. He wanted to leave Stiles’ passed out self on the porch, but he also didn’t want to.

He drags Stiles back to the car and drives to his small apartment. He carries Stiles to the couch and lies him down. Stiles coughs in his sleep and turns over, leaning his head out the couch, he does the ultimate worst. He pukes every single drink he drank before out in the middle of Theo’s apartment.

“Fuck,” Theo mutters as Stiles goes back to sleep.

He cleans it, spraying a ton of Febreze on the floor. He had enough, tonight and went to his room to sleep.

-

It was morning, Stiles knows that because he got woken up by the sun shining on his face, blinding his eyes the moment he opened them. His head pounded and his stomach felt like it was tied into a Gordian Knot.

He hears the curtains close shut, and the sizzle of an egg being poured on to a frying pan. He slowly opened his eyes and this was not his room at all.

“Where am I?” Stiles mumbles to himself, trying to get up.

“Yeah, don’t stand up, just yet,” A familiar voice said whilst he was sat up.

The movement of sitting up sent a huge pang of pain through his head. It was like he was getting pounded by a jackhammer. He holds his head as he grunts in pain.

After a while, the pain goes away and he looks over at the man who was making eggs.

“Who are you?” Stiles asks.

“You seriously don’t remember?” He asks.

“I don’t remember anything from last night,” Stiles said.

The man turns around and Stiles gawks as he realizes that it was Theo Raeken.

“You had that same face when you saw me last night,” Theo said.

Theo was shirtless, wearing a pair of basketball shorts while Stiles was only wearing his shirt and boxers. His jacket was on the floor and his jeans were nowhere to be found.

“Did we fuck last night?” Stiles asks.

“No, last night, you got drunk as hell and you were almost drugged and I took you home but then your home was locked and you passed out before you put the key in the keyhole so I brought you here where you puked on my apartment floor,” Theo recaps the night’s events for Stiles.

“Sorry about the puking, but where are my jeans?” Stiles asks.

“Well, when I tried stopping you from drinking the drugged vodka sprite, it spilled on to your jeans and I’m trying to clean the stain out of it, it’s drying in the bathroom,” Theo said, turning around to tend to his omelet.

“You usually wouldn’t do that, or so I assume,” Stiles said, “do you have a painkiller around here?”

“Painkillers can temporarily help the hangover but don’t really help with getting rid of a hangover, here eat an omelet, I might have some apples or bananas in the fridge,” Theo said, sliding the omelet onto a plate.

“So what were you doing at a gay bar?” Stiles asked slowly getting up and walking to the dining table.

“I work there as a bartender,” Theo said, putting a plate with an omelet and a banana in front of Stiles.

“I thought Nine Lives has a full LGBT+ staff?” Stiles asked.

“Well, I’m asexual, so I think I qualify,” Theo said.

“Huh, you sort of always had that vibe,” Stiles mumbled, eating a piece of the omelet.

“Now, eat up, I’ll drive you to the club so you can drive your jeep back. I’m going to get changed.” Theo said, walking into his room and closing the door.

Stiles finishes his omelet and banana, putting the plate in the sink and the banana peel in the dustbin. He felt naked and vulnerable without any jeans, so he had to wait until Theo came out of the room so he could get his jeans.

Stiles being Stiles feels the strong urge to rummage through Theo’s stuff. He might still be doing something sketchy.

‘After all these years? Stiles, you’ve changed and probably Theo did too,’ He scolded himself.

He sits back down on the couch and looks around the small apartment. The living room was mostly empty, with only a couch, a desk, and a chair. It was connected to the kitchen which was also quite petite and had a two-person dining table.

“Your jeans are not dry, so here’s a pair of mine to wear and your jeans are in this plastic bag,” he said, throwing his jeans at Stiles.

Stiles was slightly taken aback by Theo, but he quickly wears the jeans he gave.

Theo was already outside waiting for Stiles to walk out so he could lock the door. They walk down the hallways and Stiles feels awkward walking since he was wearing jeans that were a size smaller.

“The jeans bring out your ass,” Theo remarks.

“I guess I should start wearing jeans a size smaller,” Stiles said tying his jacket sleeves around his waist covering his behind.

“So, why were you at the bar, drinking drink after a drink?” Theo asks as they both get in the car.

“Recently my boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me, so I wanted to forget about it for one night by drinking, then I got carried away with the drinks,” Stiles said.

“I’m sorry that you two got broken up, I probably won’t ever relate, being an ace and all,” Theo mutters, “but, if it makes you feel any better, I tried my hand at flirting and got a glass of water splashed on me once.”

Stiles laughs, but the laughing was cut short because of the headache.

“Well, with me, you won’t have to flirt, assume I’m already attracted to you. Until denied that is.” Stiles said.

“Are you?” Theo asks.

“Am I what?” Stiles asks.

“Attracted to me?” Theo elaborates.

“How can I not? First of all, you look hot as hell, and secondly, I’m a raging bisexual who loves hot bods.” Stiles said.

“Oh, wow, okay, thanks?” Theo says.

“You’re very welcome, Theodore,” Stiles said.

Theo rolls his eyes as he pulls up the Stilinski house driveway. He turns to face Stiles and is met with a surprise collision of lips. Stiles quickly pulls back with eyes as wide as an owl.

“Theo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Stiles said but was cut off by Theo.

“No, it’s fine, you’re a ‘raging bisexual’ who is attracted to me,” Theo said, “I’m flattered by the way.”

Stiles blushes and nervously laughed as he gathered himself.

Stiles gets out of the car and before he shuts the door, he looks at Theo one more time. “Thanks for saving me from being drugged, the ride back, and for letting me stay the night. For everything,” Stiles said.

“You’re welcome, I couldn’t let someone drug you and unfold the worst series of events that could happen to anyone,” Theo said.

“I, uh, should probably head inside, when’s your shift starting tonight so I can give you your jeans back?” Stiles asked.

“I clock in at 7 pm, use the back alley door instead of the front,” Theo said.

Stiles nods and closes the door and walks back away from the car. Theo drives his car back out to the road and begins to drive off. He waves at the car before heading inside his house.

~

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Destroyed on the Outside, Cold on the Inside (Sriracha, Part 33.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: The time went by really slow. You didn't feel like you. Hawkins didn't feel like Hawkins. And you were sure that it won't ever feel the same again since you were left all alone.

A/N: I am in physical pain bcs of this. My poor baby Jim. And Eleven. And everyone. 😭 Inspired by Fine on the Outside by Priscilla Ahn and Deep by Peter Sandberg.

Word count: 1.5 K

Tagging:  @nemodoren​, @creedslove​, @missdictatorme,

Master list: H E R E 

Numb. The feeling of being numb. You don't know what does that even mean until you go through that phase. It feels like you can't see anything around you. Every sound is blurry, the world is black and white, the sun doesn't shine anymore. There's no such thing as happiness or laughter in your world. You can't see more places than your bed, sometimes your bathroom when you need to pee - and when your mom was persistent, you even visited the kitchen, where you were staring into the plate, barely touching the food on it. Aiden wasn't there to brighten your mood, Eleven was in Maine and Joyce was there with her. You didn't allow Steve or Julia to visit you; you wanted to be alone.

Numbness feels like you can't grasp the idea of reality or the idea of having to meet other human beings to talk with them, to think about the answers... It doesn't feel right. Your heart is telling you that something is wrong all the time.

And for an unclear reason, you often have panic attacks. You just start crying, shaking and for a while, the emptiness gets changed by pain. By immersive pain that slowly eats you alive and makes the best of you disappear. It usually ended up crying yourself to sleep.

Your mother was destroyed to see you like that. You were in your bed almost every day of November, dressed in his old shirts and nothing more, with your curtains closed watching marathons of Cheers and Magnum P.I. while kissing your engagement ring which you haven't taken off at all. Only your mom made you eat something and drink something every once in a while - that didn't change the fact that even before December came by, you dropped a lot of weight, your skin was not looking healthy and these bags under your eyes... Oh, baby.

"Darling, come on, it can't go like this until... I don't know when." - Your mom mumbled to your door, but you didn't answer; you just hid under the blanket a bit deeper.

Your room was still looking as it did when you left home for Jim... But your essence wasn't there anymore. The room seemed to be without any emotion, faded, without any light shining in. Your clothes were all over the floor, you didn't even bother to throw out the Doritos and Eggos packagings that were all over the place. There were plates, glasses, forks, and knives... It didn't feel like you anymore. The room was empty just like you were. Which was depressing.

"I haven't seen you in days... You haven't spoken to anyone since Eleven called for the last time... And it's okay to feel pain and grief. Especially for a man as great as Jim was. But you have a life to live." - Your mom continued, but you knew she didn't end just with that. - "University professors and Marty are fine with it... For now. But you can't stay hidden in this room forever. I love you, baby."

At that, you sighed. Your mom was probably right... And to be honest, you took a shower for the first time in weeks after that. And for the first time, you came out of safety. You felt like a hurt animal in distress when you met your dad in the living room. And you also felt uncomfortable with wearing pants.

Your mom specifically instructed your dad that he shouldn't say anything about what was going on with. She didn't want him to comment on your weight, on your overall appearance, on your behavior... She just wanted him to embrace you. And so he did.

For a moment, you looked at your dad opening up his arms for you before you slowly slipped in. It was weird to feel human touch, the warmth slipping on your body, hearing someone else's heartbeat. But you just closed your eyes and brought your dad even closer. For a small moment, you felt safe. You felt like anything could hurt you - because it was your dad and you were his small girl.

"It snowed earlier this morning." - He whispered to your ear, smoothing the back of your head. You knew how many words was he expressing with that. Without a word said, he told you that it's alright not to feel alright. He told you that he loves you nonetheless and that if you would want to know it ask anything, you could simply come and ask him.

"I see." - You answered simply, which took your dad away for a second. Anyone heard you talking in weeks probably. - "It looks lovely." - You grinned and went to let Lady laying in front of the fireplace. You sat down next to her, still petting her, looking at the fire. She lazily put her head on your thigh, making you sure that she enjoys your presence.

With all your willpower, you made yourself visit the classes you needed to and you made yourself work the shifts at the bistro. You spoke with your classmates, made careful jokes, but everyone you spoke to could see that you're not quite fine as you put too much effort into every thought.

Julia and Steve from biology asked you out a hundred times - to go to the movies with them or to visit bistro for a dinner, but every time they spoke about that, they could see how uncomfortable you got. That would be too much human contact for you at once. Small steps at a time, you promised yourself again, if I'd go slow, maybe I'd get better by the time.

It was a pretty lazy promise, but it was made nonetheless. Late evening calls with Eleven, telling you all about her daily life in Maine and school, that was all you were about those days, though you couldn't exactly share her excitement. Sometimes your mom spoke to her, sometimes you wrote her a letter, packing in a photo of some random Hawkins spot you found and liked, just to remind her of home.

Oh, what sparked joy inside of you was her planned trip to Hawkins to spend Christmas with you. For a while after a long time, you were seemingly happy and acted like yourself. For the first time in a long time, you were greeting your friends with smiles and waving, as you were simply joyful.

But that didn't mean you'd be hanging out with the people around - even Steve Harrington joined the club and tried to make you go out for a dinner with him, no romance intended. But you politely declined time after time he tried it.

There was a worry in your mom's head - what happens when Eleven leaves Hawkins with Joyce again? Your mom was pumped to have her granddaughter in the household for Christmas, that was for sure. But you won't be OK once she’ll be gone again and you'd have to do is to call her. First, she was afraid that Hopper would fuck you over when he’d stay by your side - now she was worried that this has fucked you up even more. There was always a bit of hope that once, you'd find another guy to make you happy and with whom you'd start a normal family from a scratch.

But that process could take years, maybe even decades. First, you needed to build your courage and to make yourself perceive the reality around again. Then, you needed to build enough trust and will for trying to give a piece of you to a different human being, again. They will be some missed you'd have to go through; men, who would hurt you and leave you all alone, aching once again. You were so young, yet you had some wild experience behind you.

Like loving someone sure that is incapable of falling in love again, making them turn their point of world total 180 degrees. You started an unconventional family life when you were still studying university, making it your priority number once. You felt the loss - such a terrible loss that it made you close yourself from the outside world for two months almost. You had the experience someone was not even lucky to get in the whole lifetime.

How many people your age could say the same? Was there even anyone your age who could say the same?

That was what your mother didn't know - but she hoped so. She just wanted to see you happy again.