#Instead of being upset about the “breakup” if you can call it that...

[wannabanauthor]

Tim Minear, here's a hint for you:

For BuckTommy, you don't even have to get them back together as a couple immediately.

You can bring Tommy back to give Buck some closure, and Buck can suggest they just be friends because he misses Tommy's company.

So they still hang out with each other and Eddie, and Buck finally feels ready to start dating again. He doesn't mention it to Tommy, but maybe one day someone lets something slip about Buck going on a great date with this amazing guy, and Tommy overhears it.

Since he broke up with Buck, he knows he can't really question Buck about it, but it still irks him for the very obvious reason that he's still in love with Buck but doesn't think it's fair to ask for a second chance after breaking Buck's heart.

But the slight twist is that Buck is genuine friends with the new guy he's dating, and they like to sleep together on occasion, but it's not an actual romantic relationship. Neither one of them are looking for something serious, but they enjoy each other's company. However, that's their own private business, so Buck hasn't told anyone else the details of his situation. He just allows everyone to believe he's dating.

He knows Tommy will find out eventually, but he doesn't want to tell him or bring it up because it'd be awkward.

Tommy is noticeably irritated and a little curt with Buck on the inside, but he maintains his mask perfectly so that Buck never catches on.

Until one night, they're about to leave for a movie, but Buck's "friend" calls and Buck has to cancel his plans with Tommy.

Tommy leaves, very upset and irritated, but he doesn't even make it to his car before he turns around goes back up to Buck's loft. He knows that nothing is official with Buck's friend, so he knocks on the door, and Buck answers it.

Tommy kisses him hard and closes the door behind him. Buck is in shock, much like the first time Tommy kissed Buck.

Tommy then just lets it all out. He tells Buck that he loves him and misses him, and he hates himself for ending things the way they did and for breaking both of their hearts. He says he thought he could handle Buck dating again, but he can't. He's still in love with him and wants him back. He's willing to do anything: seek counseling, starting over, even moving in with Buck on a trial run basis.

Buck starts crying and releases all the emotions/thoughts he's had/felt since Tommy broke up with him. He's angry, rightfully so, that Tommy hurt him and that it took seeing another man in Buck's life for Tommy to make a move. He asks why Tommy waited until now to really say anything. He talks extensively of all the ways Tommy hurt him when they broke up.

Then his final questions for Tommy are "Why now? Why are you willing to make an effort now and not months ago? Do you actually see a future with me? Or are you scared of being alone if I move on?"

Tommy confesses that he's always wanted a future with Buck, but he's scared of getting hurt again. But he acknowledges that Buck is not at fault for the way past partners have treated him, and he should have stayed and talked things over with Buck instead of ending things and walking away.

Buck kisses Tommy and says he misses him and loves him too. Tommy wipes away Buck's tears and kisses him again and again.

After a few smooches, Buck pulls back and clarifies that he's still angry and hurt over the breakup, but he wants to work through it. Tommy promises not to run away like that again, or at the very least tell Buck when he needs space to think something over before making a decision.

Then they work on their relationship until enough time has passed for them to be happily ever after.

Tim Minear, this storyline alone could last you a couple seasons since Tommy is a guest recurring character.

I'm throwing you a lifeline here, so take it and make something with it. Do what white men are known for and steal this idea and make it yours. Come on, you can do it. Prove to folks that you're not just a mediocre white man who skated by on privilege instead of talent.

Because the queer people of color in this fandom are doing a better job of explaining your mess than you are.

That is all.

[hinsaa-paramo-dharma]

Heyy dekho toh apne coffin se uthke kon apni dukhiyaari kahani sunane aaya hai :')

[killerlookz]

Heartbeat | Joost Klein

description: Joost Klein x f! reader- In the months following reader and Joost's breakup, neither of you seem to be able to get rid of each other, not even when you've supposedly "moved on" to other people. (heavily inspired by the narrative in Heartbeat by Childish Gambino)

content: 18+ NSFW, cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, angst, some comfort?cigarettes, alcohol, questionable morals, just some mess mess messy stuff, semi-public "suggestive" behavior, fingering, unprotected PiV. This work contains RPF, and has been tagged as such do not click forward if that upsets you and do not share my work to other sites.

word count: 7634

An unlit cigarette hangs from your sticky, freshly glossed lips, your hands racing to tie the slippery satin ties of your dressing robe. A knock at the door draws you from where you stand in front of your bathroom to the front door. You flip over the locks before carefully turning the doorknob to open it.

A tiny smile forms on your lips as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, staring down at you. Michael, a man nearly a decade your senior, eight and a half years older than you to be exact, a handsome business-type man who had moved to the Netherlands for work from the States, Boston specifically, though, he didn't have the accent. The pair of you had been casually dating for nearly four months now, though, you could sense that at any moment he'd ask to take things in a more serious direction.

You quickly remove the cigarette from your lips, balancing it between two fingers as you speak,

"Hi!" Your voice expressing greater enthusiasm than you were actually feeling, "You're early." You grit your teeth through the grin that spreads across your face, "I thought you weren't supposed to be coming for another hour."

"Good to see you too," He smiles back, but you can sense a hint of patronization in his words, "I figured, it was already getting kind of late, and I didn't see a problem with heading out a little early. I texted you anyways, but you never responded."

You nod, remembering that you had purposefully left your phone in the kitchen to rid yourself of any distractions while you were getting ready. While you suppose it was nice of him to let you know he'd becoming early, it would have been nicer if he asked first instead of just doing.

"Getting late," You force a fake chuckle, one that turns out more like a scoff, "The sun has barely set, who wants to go to the bar when it's still light outside?"

"Not everyone enjoys staying out until the crack of dawn." He raises his eyebrows, his voice serious in a way that makes you uneasy.

"It's Saturday!" You beam, "Come on, let loose a little." Michael wasn't exactly the party type- at least not now, it had taken a whole lot of convincing to even get him to go out with you and your friends tonight. "We're still going to have to wait anyways," you shrug, opening the door wider to allow him inside, "Julia won't be here for at least an hour, but you know her and being on time." You giggle awkwardly, unsure of what the two of you would do to fill the time while you finished getting ready.

"Right," He shakes his head before his brows furrow, "What's all over your face?"

Your facial expression contorts, confused, "Uh- makeup?"

"Oh pumpkin," He sighs, his voice like saccharin, exceptionally sweet and unimaginably fake. The pet name makes your stomach curdle, and you attempt to press a smile to your lips to hide the way you cringe, "I thought we talked about how I prefer to see you naturally."

You giggle, stunned at the fact he was bringing up this argument again, one you had had far too many times for how short of a while you had been seeing each other, "And I thought we talked about how much I hate it when you call me pumpkin."

"I just don't think you look any better with all that shit on your face, is it wrong of me to think that my girlfriend is beautiful?" There's an argumentative tone in the way he speaks, but you can't even focus on the potential fight that is brewing, not when the word girlfriend is ringing in your ears.

"No," You sigh, not wanting to argue not now, all the energy being knocked out of you with that simple word, "Do you want something to drink while I finish getting ready?"

"Yeah," He lets out a breath, slightly annoyed, "Yeah- sure what do you have?" He lets his tone return back to normal.

"Depends," You step backward, away from the man, towards the small kitchen of your apartment "Do you want something alcoholic or..." You trail off, stepping all the way into the kitchen.

Michael's eyes linger on you as he scratches at the back of his neck, "That's fine." He shakes his head, "Just get me a beer or something."

You nod, opening up the fridge, scowering around, unsure if you even had a beer in there. After pushing some things around, you'd found a singular bottle, you push your arm further into the cold to grab it.

You retreat back to the warmth of the rest of your kitchen, beer bottle in hand, as you kick it closed, both hands now preoccupied as the unlit cigarette still rests between your fingers. Wordlessly, you place the bottle on the kitchen counter in front of where Michael is now sitting before stepping back to search for a bottle opener.

From the corner of your eye you can see your phone light up, resting right where you had left it on the counter before you had begun to get ready. Thinking perhaps Julia was letting you know she was on her way or even worse that she was here now, you quickly shuffle over to it

Upon looking down at the screen you quickly realize it is not Julia who had texted you or any of your other friends who you had intended on seeing tonight.

Joost: It's been a while, what are you doing tonight? Come over?

The simple messages nearly make you choke on your breath as your eyes quickly flick up toward Michael. Joost was just about Michael's complete opposite- he was something exciting, the type of person where you could never guess their next move, no routine, no planning, no nothing- just go go go. Perhaps that discrepancy could be attributed to the fact that, unlike Michael, Joost had only been older than you by a year, his 24th birthday approaching in the fall. Still, even at Joost's age, you couldn't imagine Michael being much fun.

Unfortunately for you, you had let yourself indulge in the excitement that Joost brought to your life in entirely self-destructive ways. Joost had been one of the first people you had met when you moved to the Netherlands, and things moved quick between the two of you, from the moment you met it had felt like you had known him your whole life. Within a few months of living in a brand new country, you had already found yourself with a boyfriend, having rushed way too quickly into a relationship with Joost, and you quickly learned that no matter how much it had felt like you two had known each other your whole lives, the truth was you didn't really know him.

It was a true whirlwind romance, taking your life by storm, every moment consumed by each other. You both had fallen hard and fast. But for as hard as you had fallen, you crashed much harder. Joost was a perfect boyfriend in every area except for the ones that really mattered. It was obvious how completely in love with you he was, he was soft, and romantic, and fucked you in ways that made you feel things you didn't even know were possible.

But for all of his good, for all of his sweet gestures and affection, he couldn't seem to crack the communication thing. At first, you didn't mind when he skirted around the little issues that arose between the two of you, you knew he had things rough growing up and so you gave him grace, figuring opening up to people and dealing with certain emotions was probably difficult for him. But soon enough the "little issues" were not so little, turning into large, glaring problems in your relationship that no matter how hard you had pleaded for him to, Joost would refuse to discuss. Eventually, it had gotten too much, the two of you constantly at each other's throats, and with Joost icing you out whenever things got rough, you had had enough.

Still, you don't get rid of feelings like that so easily, and for the life of you, you could just not stay away from Joost. As hard as you tried to, you had never actually stopped seeing him despite the fact how much things had changed, things weren't quite so sweet and romantic anymore, but to be honest with yourself, if he fucked you good while the two of you were in love, he fucks you 10 times better when you hate each other's guts.

But maybe hate is too strong of a word, oddly enough feeling bad for Joost when you decide you're not going to respond to his text. At some point in the week, you had made the decision that with how imminent a serious relationship with Michael felt, it was probably high time for you to stop hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. It wasn't exactly a decision you were planning on alerting said ex-boyfriend of, no- that made it real, if you were to tell him you never wanted to see him again, it would become real, you were never going to see him again. Ghosting him seemed like the better option, simply leaving things open-ended, it at least allowed for you to change your mind- which you were deadset on not doing.

Michael's voice takes you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping away the message and turning your phone over.

"Hmm?" You hum, looking up, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"A bottle opener?" He points to the cap of the drink you had set down in front of him. You throw a smile onto your face, nodding incessantly,

"Right!" You search through a drawer for a bottle opener before pushing it across the counter towards Michael. You continue to ruffle through the crowded junk drawer, looking for a lighter with no such luck. Feeling far too lazy to go rifle through your purse to find one, with the cigarette still in hand you walk over to the stove, turning the burner to its lowest setting, just enough for a small flame to erupt. Carefully, pinching the cigarette by its very end, you quickly stick it in the small flame, allowing it to light.

You shut the burner off, placing the cigarette to your lips, inhaling, allowing your lungs to fill with the warm, prickly smoke.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" Michael asks, his face forming into a scowl, "Or at all."

You turn to the side to exhale, careful not to blow the smoke in Michael's direction no matter how bad you want to.

"Relax," You smile, "The windows are open."

"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?"

"What are you, my landlord?" You furrow your eyebrows, taking another drag, "One cigarette won't get me kicked out."

"Can't say I'm enjoying your little miss attitude act tonight."

You're not in the mood to argue, simply sighing and forcing an apologetic look on your face, though you had felt like there was nothing to apologize for.

"Sorry," You mumble, "Let me just go finish getting ready."

The area that surrounds you is noisy, alive with all that the city's nightlife has to offer, almost overwhelmingly so. You lean against a wall, observing the swarm of people that inhabit the bar.

"You know," Your friend, Julia, pipes up from beside you, "You really shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

You bite at the insides of your cheeks, replaying the conversation shared between you and Michael just before entering the bar.

Stepping out of the car, your skirt had gotten pulled up quite a bit from having been sitting, your underwear almost on display as you climbed out of the backseat.

"Jesus," Michael scolded as he followed you out of the car, "Who are you showing off for?"

"Huh?" You whipped your head around, trying to ascertain if you had actually heard him right.

Michael leans over, his voice rough as he speaks into your ear,

"Pull your fucking skirt down, you look like you should be standing in the windows in De Wallen."

You clench your jaw, eyes flicking to Julia who was walking around the other side of the car, she shakes her head disapprovingly.

"What's so wrong with that? I'm sure the women in De Wallen are lovely ladies."

"I don't care how lovely they might be, I don't want my girlfriend walking around looking like a hooker."

You sigh, you know Julia is right, Michael was out of line, as he usually was. You stare the man down from where he stands by the bar, looking to squeeze in amongst the crowd that surrounds it in to order some drinks. Your face involuntarily twists into a grimace as you watch him pathetically try and fail to get the attention of the bartender. You want to go home.

"I just don't know why you keep him around." She shrugs, "I mean, I know he's got money and all, but I don't think it makes up for the fact that he has got to be the most stuck-up, grumpy man I have ever met in my life- seriously he's thirty, not seventy-five."

"I don't know," You furrow your eyebrows, "I guess he's stable and stuff- or whatever, you know?"

"Michael? Stable? The man that not thirty minutes ago all but called you a prostitute because your skirt got pulled up."

"I mean stable like he has a good job and stuff, he's normal, regimented, life with him has a routine- I think I need that, maybe he'll mellow me out, I don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're far too young to be mellowed out," Julia pouts, "I mean, really, the party is just getting started for you." Julia's eyes suddenly widen, her lips parting as she speaks cautiously, "Speaking of party..."

"What?" Your eyes widen too, confused, you quickly whip your head around to look in the direction she's staring off in, "Shit." You mutter as your eyes meet the door, and there he is, Joost fucking Klein followed by a group of what looked to be about 5 of his friends. You barely manage to inhale, "I need a fucking cigarette."

Without looking back at Julia, you're making your way to the door, praying that neither Joost nor his friends see you on the way out.

The summer air hits you as you step through the exit onto the bustling city street. You wondered how mad everyone would be at you if you decided to leave right now- bail without a word, run home, and spend the night alone.

You grab at the purse that sits over your shoulder, pulling it down your arm so you can rummage through it, looking for your cigarettes and a lighter.

You flip open the cardboard box, removing a single cigarette, putting it between your lips before reaching back into your purse to fetch your lighter.

You flick the jagged metal of the lighter, the grooves digging into your thumb as you light the end of your cigarette. You toss the lighter back into your purse before slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

You're able to get a few drags in before you're interrupted by a voice, one that immediately makes your stomach sink.

"Ignoring me now, are we?" You don't even have to look, you already know- you'd recognize that voice anywhere, it's Joost.

You whip your head to the side, confirming your suspicions, seeing the slender frame of your ex-boyfriend hanging just outside the entrance of the bar.

"Stalking me now, are we?" You respond, hoping the snark in your voice masks everything else you are feeling.

"I'd hardly call showing up to the same bar stalking," He smirks, walking toward you, "But I mean- if you're into that sort of thing we can pretend I was."

You roll your eyes, taking a long drag of your cigarette, hoping for some sort of head rush from the nicotine.

Joost's features come better into focus as he nears closer to you, messy blonde hair spilling over his forehead, falling into his eyes, a piercing blue as he stares into you, a smirk lingering on his soft pink lips.

"Can I get a smoke?" He asks, innocently enough. You want to say no, so desperately you want to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, that you need to start a life without him.

"Oh-yeah, sure." A sheepish smile crosses your face, your words betraying you, unable to force out any sort of rejection towards him.

You let your already lit cigarette rest between your lips, taking your purse off your shoulders again, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter once more. You shove your hand, presenting the objects to Joost for him to take, his fingers carefully grazing the back of your hand as he does, his touch lingering on you for just a little too long as the two of you stare each other down. Shivers run down your spine, and your chest suddenly becomes tight, he was completely gorgeous- damn him.

"You okay?" He raises an eyebrow, a chuckle falling from his lips, he's not really asking sincerely. You can only hum in response, not wanting to say too much. Things were not usually this awkward between the two of you, and you could feel that you were the one causing it.

You watch intently as Joost lights his cigarette before pushing the pack into his pocket, and you make a mental note to yourself to get them back from him before you go back inside.

"So," He starts, exhaling a plume of grey smoke, "My place or yours tonight?"

"I'm going to my place, and you are going to yours." You respond, forcefully, annoyed at his insinuation that you would be sleeping with him tonight.

"Is that so?" He responds challengingly, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes." You nod, having none of his banter, "And-" You cut yourself off, debating if you even want to say what is about to come out of your mouth next. "I think we should stop this. Us, we need to stop."

"I've heard that one before," Joost chuckles.

"I'm being serious." You let your head fall to the side, "I can't keep seeing you."

Joost's face suddenly drops, understanding the weight of your words,

"What changed?" He scoffs, bewildered at your spontaneous proclamation, "Because if I recall correctly, just last week you were begging for me to come over."

"It's not fair to Michael," You shake your head, "I need to move on, we need to move on."

A grimace forms on Joost's face,

"You want to pull the good girlfriend act now?" His eyes widen, "As if cutting things off now will erase the past-what-four months?"

"I don't want to argue with you about this, Joost," You bite your lip, realizing just how unprepared you really were to cut things off with him, "I know I can't erase what happened, but I'd at least like to try to be better." Your lip quivers, and you clench your jaw, eyes fluttering as you fight back tears. You don't want to give him the chance to reply, you know with the right words he'd be able to talk you right back into bed with him, you can't let that happen.

You let your cigarette fall from your fingers, crushing it into the ground with the heel of your shoe.

"I'm sorry," You mutter, refusing to make eye contact with Joost as you brush past him, rushing back inside.

It was a miracle you had stayed out this late with everything that had occurred tonight, but there you were, still standing at the bar as the clock neared midnight, a feigned half-drunk smile pressed to your lips as you stared at Michael.

You tried to ignore the way Joost's eyes burned into you from across the room, but no matter what you did you could feel he was there, ever-present.

"What do you say to another round?" Julia smirks, leaning over the bar.

"Fine by me." You grin, anything to make tonight more bearable.

"Nuh-uh," Michael shakes his head, "You're cut off." He points directly at you, his finger almost in your face.

"What?" You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden controlling-ness

"You, you're cut off, you've had too much."

You furrow your eyebrows, you're not completely coherent, but you're absolutely nowhere near blackout.

"I had four drinks," You continue to giggle awkwardly, "Are you joking?"

His face stays stiff, he's serious.

"I don't think that's really your call to make." A smile lingers on your face as you attempt to keep the conversation light-hearted, but you can feel some sort of anger bubbling inside you.

"It is when I'm the one who's going to have to take care of you."

"It's one more drink, I think I'll be okay."

"Sure, one drink, which turns into two, and then three... you don't know how to control yourself, which is why I'm cutting you off." His voice begins to rise, and your eyes dart around the room anxiously, you hope the noise of the bar can drown out the argument that is brewing.

"I don't know how to control myself?" You scoff, "Is that really what you think of me?"

"You haven't exactly proven me any different, I've seen you, I know how you get on nights out, God forbid I don't want to have to deal with you sloppy and belligerent for the rest of the night." His words become harsher sounding, and more pointed as he continues to speak.

"What do you mean 'how I get'? I barely go out anymore because you don't like it, I would just like to let loose a little for once." You begin to match his tone, unable to hide your growing frustration.

"And you should thank me for that," His eyes narrow, "You don't need to be running around partying every weekend, acting like a complete fucking mess."

You clench your jaw, face forming a scowl, you can't believe the words leaving Michael's mouth right now,

"Don't curse at me." You mutter.

"No, I'll say whatever the fuck I want to, and maybe you should show me some respect for once, and listen."

"Oh!" You respond, a little too loud, drawing a few glances from the people who surround you, "You want to talk about respect? That's rich coming from the man who doesn't seem to respect any of my personal decisions, not the way I do my makeup, or how I dress, or when I want to go out, last time I checked, constantly berating your girlfriend isn't exactly respectful."

"Get a grip, y/n," He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, no shit I don't want my girlfriend parading herself around like some sort of fucking tramp."

It takes everything in you to not escalate things further, to not tell him what you had been doing behind his back, if he thought you were a tramp, oh you could show him tramp.

You inhale deeply, deciding to cut the conversation short before you say something you'll regret,

"I don't need this." You exhale, turn around, and head for the door.

The air is cooler than before when you step outside, now that it is later into the night. Immediately you're pulling your purse down your arm, desperately sifting around for your cigarettes, needing something anything to calm you down. Your mind races as your hand combs through your bag, unable to think straight, your mind foggy from all the arguing and the alcohol.

"Fuck," You mutter, Joost, he had your cigarettes. You run a hand through your hair, pulling at the strands, tonight had been a complete disaster.

"Looking for something." A teasing voice calls, resulting in a groan from you, it was like Joost had a sixth sense for when you thought about him, always showing up as soon as he crossed your mind.

"Can you just give them to me?" Exasperation heavy in your voice, wanting nothing more than to just have a smoke, and go home.

"What happened in there?" He asks, entirely ignoring your question.

"It's nothing," You shake your head, "Can I just have my cigarettes back so I can leave."

"Didn't look like nothing." He continues.

"Well, it was," You snap, your voice getting a little too loud for your own comfort, "I'm fine. Please, Joost just give me th-"

"You don't need to lie," He cuts you off, "You know you can tell me."

"It just," You pause, lifting your head to look Joost in the eyes, "It just doesn't concern you."

"But it concerns you," His voice suddenly much softer, "So I want to know."

A small smile tugs at your lips, despite everything you were feeling, your heart is slightly warmed at Joost's interest in what had happened.

"Stupid argument," You shake your head, looking back down at the ground, "That's all."

"Seems like every time you tell me about Michael it's about an argument you guys have had."

"Well, gloating about how great of a boyfriend I have doesn't exactly make for good conversation when I'm with the person I'm cheating on him with."

"Well, do you? Have a great boyfriend?" He pushes, but the two of you both know the answer. You bite the inside of your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to Joost, who seems to be standing much closer to you now.

Your breathing starts to tremble under his intense gaze, the smell of his cologne is suddenly strong in your nose, nearly choking you. He's expecting an answer. But you can't give him one, you can't tell Joost that you didn't have a great boyfriend mere hours after telling Joost you didn't want to see him anymore because of said not-great boyfriend.

"Look," He sighs, "I know I wasn't the best, so maybe I can't talk, but Michael is just a straight-up dick."

His bluntness earns a small chuckle from you, he wasn't wrong.

"Well, I haven't exactly been the world's best girlfriend either." You shrug, any problem with Michael seemed incomparable to the fact that at the end of the day, you were the one cheating.

"You were to me." His tone contained a romance that you hadn't heard from him in a long time.

"Joost-" You choke, your eyes widening, unsure of where he was heading with this now. How were you ever going to get over him when he constantly crossed all the wires in your brain.

You feel your body go numb as he slides his hand to your waist, you should stop him, keep your promise, and never see him again- but you can't, and most importantly, you don't want to.

"Look, I'm not insinuating anything, if you don't want to see me anymore, that's okay, you don't owe me anything not after what you put up with, with me, but what I am saying, is you do owe it to yourself, to find someone who treats you better." His words are genuine, heartfelt, and he almost feels like the Joost you once knew, the Joost from when you two had first met.

There's nothing you can say in response, instead, you push yourself up on your toes, letting your lips meet Joost's in a soft kiss. Joost wastes no time in kissing you back, his hand now gripping your waist. Something feels different with this kiss, no looming sense of guilt hovering over you, it feels right like it's what you should be doing.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, a small groan escaping you as you feel Joost's tongue brush past yours. Your movements become sloppy, lips lazily working against each other, each kiss filled with increasingly more passion.

Stunned, Joost pulls back from the kiss, a smile on his lips, now shiny from your lipgloss, "So," He breathes, "My place or yours?" It was exactly as you had thought, so easily, Joost was able to talk you back into bed with him.

"Mines closer." You shrug, your voice suddenly timid as you reach a thumb to Joost's lips, rubbing the traces of your lipliner off of them.

The car ride home feels like years, as the vehicle crawls down the city streets you figure you have probably gotten the slowest Uber driver in the entirety of Europe.

You sit in the middle seat, your arm brushing against Joost's, the proximity is comforting, but not quite enough, you want nothing more than to be all over him.

You trail a finger to the buckle of Joost's belt, lazily tracing over the letters engraved into the metal, Albino. The sudden remembrance of Joost's proximity to fame, even if only in the Netherlands, draws a smirk on your face as you think about all the horny fangirls who would probably die to be in your position now.

"What are you doing?" Joost asks, his words slow, teasing.

"Nothing," Feigned innocence in your voice as you let your palm rest just below the buckle of his belt. Joost clenches his jaw as you let your hand trail a little lower, pressing into the fabric of his jeans, his already-defined cheekbones poking out even farther with the way his muscles strain.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Joost's eyebrows raise, a smile pressed to his lips. He reaches a hand behind your head, first gripping at your hair before relaxing his fingers, soothingly scratching at the back of your head.

A hum of content vibrates through your lips, satisfied at what amount of power you had over him, even if it wasn't much.

You continue to press the heel of your palm against Joost's jeans, feeling the way they tighten as he begins to stiffen beneath you. Joost sucks in a breath, his free hand moving to rest on top of yours, he grips your fingers, pulling you off of him.

"You didn't like that?" You pout.

"Does it look like I didn't like it?" He grits his teeth. Your eyes wander down his figure, focusing on his lap, a now more prominent bulge in his jeans.

The car suddenly comes to a halt, forcing your gaze to the window- you were home, and now you're scrambling out of the car, unable to wait any longer to get your hands on Joost.

Joost pops his head back in the car for just a moment more,

"Dankje, fijne avond!" (Thanks, goodnight) He says quickly to the driver as you pull at his arm from outside the car, impatient. "God, woman," He chuckles, shutting the car door behind him, "I'm here!"

The climb up the three stories to get to your apartment is intermittent with sloppy kisses and lingering touches. As much as you desire to get to the privacy of your apartment, you can't keep yourself off of Joost, your hips pressed into his he has you pushed against a wall surrounding the staircase, his lips trailing down your neck, surely leaving little marks you wouldn't be able to explain away.

You card your hands through his hair, gripping at the messy blonde strands,

"Joost, please," A strained whisper crawls up your throat, your hips sputtering forward, begging for some friction, "My apartment."

Joost drops his hand from where it sits against your waist, grabbing your hand, and pulling you the rest of the way up the steps.

Anxious hands fumble with your keys as you try to push them into the lock of your door, a breath of relief as you hear the satisfying click of the correct key slotting perfectly into the small space.

Before you know it, you're pushed up against the back of the door, Joost's hands pinned on either side of you, caging you in with his body. Your own hands wander Joost's body, pulling at his shirt, gripping tightly to pull him closer as your lips collide. The way you kiss is rough, animalistic like you're completely starved for him.

Joost shoves a thigh between your legs, the rough denim of his jeans now brushing against the crotch of your panties. You can't help yourself, bucking your hips forward to push yourself further against his thigh. A small sigh leaves your lips as your cunt brushes against him, suddenly feeling your arousal, your movements made slippery.

Joost's hands make their way to your hips, his touch lingering as they slide to your thighs, grabbing at the hem of your skirt, and pulling it up. He drops his leg from where it's positioned between your thighs, his large, tattooed hand now cupping your heat. He presses the heel of his palm into your crotch, rubbing harshly through the flimsy fabric of your panties. His movements send jolts of electricity through your body, only making you crave him more as your arousal pools.

His fingertips push at your slit over what little clothes separate the two of you, teasing what you really want.

"Liefje," He smirks, pulling away from the kiss, "So wet for me I can feel it through your panties."

Your face grows hot, slightly ashamed at how quick you had become so aroused. Joost's fingers find themselves brushing at the seams of your underwear, hooking into the fabric ever-so-slightly. Your body grows tense as he teases you, his position making it seem like he's about to pull the delicate lace to the side, but he doesn't, his fingers, unmoving as he kisses at your jaw.

You can't take it, feeling so pent up that you might just explode, you knock Joost's hand from where it sits between your legs, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side yourself before pushing your fingers to your clit. You rub small circles to the delicate nerves, gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure rushes through you. You let your fingers dip lower, collecting your arousal on your fingers as they glide through your folds, towards your aching entrance.

Joost finally clocks what you're doing, his lips leaving your jaw, his hand reaching down to cover yours.

"So impatient," He purrs, his breath hot against your neck, reminding you of your proximity, "Here, let me help you."

With his own hand, Joost guides your fingers up and down your soaked pussy, before completely taking the work over himself, your hand now resting at your side as he continues.

With a single finger, he teases your hole, rubbing around it, threatening to dip his fingers in, you shove your hips forward, silently begging for it. He gets the memo, as much as he loves to feel you squirm below him, he loves pleasuring you so much more.

Before long he's pushing a second finger into you, a groan leaving your lips at the way you stretch around him. His thumb taps at your clit, sending extra pangs of pleasure through your body. You can do nothing but lean your head against the door behind you, lips parted with your jaw slack, in complete awe of how good Joost could make you feel with simply just his fingers. He knew his way around your body even better than you knew yourself, able to draw you to an orgasm much quicker than when you went solo. He knew just where to press, just where to rub to make you whine, and stutter filthy curses.

"What was that about never wanting to see me again?" He coos into your ear, and you pick up an almost wickedness in his voice.

"Fuck you," You sputter, voice strained from the magic his fingers are working against your cunt.

"Yeah," Joost sighs, "I'd bet you'd like to."

He's right, absolutely, completely right, and you're melting below him, turning to mush under his touch.

"Lucky for you, I'd love to fuck you too," He removes his fingers from your cunt, "And I don't think I can wait much longer."

Your pussy is left throbbing, feeling your heavy pulse between your thighs as you clench around nothing, aching from the lack of stimulation. Joost presses two fingers to his lips, shiny from your slick, enveloping them with his mouth, moaning slightly at the taste of you on his tongue.

"So good," He mumbles as he pops his fingers from his mouth, "Now, c'mon." He's grabbing you by your wrist, pulling you to your bedroom.

You nearly stumble onto your bed, leaning face first on the edge of the mattress while your feet still rest on the ground below you, ass up.

Joost stands behind you, his hips pressed into your ass. You whine as his stiff cock brushes against your exposed cunt through the thick denim of his jeans. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle press into you as he leans forward, hands trailing up your torso as he kisses your shoulder blades.

You arch your back farther, looking for some friction, desperately trying to grind your cunt against him. Joost's hands linger on your body as he lets you search for some relief, helping you just a little by bucking his hips ever so slightly. He gropes at your tits, hands crawling into your shirt to get a better feel. He pinches the pebbled surface of your hardened nipples, making you squeal, his breath tickles your neck as he chuckles at your reaction.

Soon enough he removes his hands from you, and his hips no longer press into your thighs. You're impatient as you hear the clinging of his belt buckle. your pussy instinctively clenching as the sound meets your ears like you've been trained to know what's next. You hear a small sigh leave Joost's mouth followed by what sounds like him pulling his pants down, the belt once again clinging as it hits the floor. You peek behind you, biting your lip as you marvel at the sight before your eyes, Joost, naked from the waist down, his cock hard, tip throbbing an angry shade of red. He's gripping the bottom of his shirt, exposing the trail of blonde hair that leads to his pubic area. His shirt comes all the way off, leaving him entirely undressed behind you.

"See something you like, hm?" He asks, teasingly, noticing the way you stare at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

You can't even respond, not as he walks closer to you, your brain dizzy with the knowledge of what is about to come next. You return your gaze forward as Joost's hands find their way to your hips, fingertips gripping your flesh. You gasp as you feel the tip of his cock brush against your folds. You have to fight the urge to instinctively push back against him.

Joost continues to grind the shaft of his cock against your cunt, collecting your slick around its length. He pulls back a little, letting the head tease your entrance, about to push in before he stops himself,

"Wait." He breathes, "Turn around."

Slowly, you flip over, back pressed into the mattress while your legs still dangle off the sides. Joost nods, content as he steps between your legs.

"Take your shirt off, let me see those pretty tits." You obey, pulling the top over your head, suddenly very exposed as you had decided to forego a bra tonight. Goosebumps litter your skin as Joost slowly lowers onto his knees, he's quick about his movements, not taking time to linger or tease as he pulls both your skirt and your panties down the length of your legs. You raise your back to help him a little, lowering back onto the mattress once you feel the fabric hit your ankles. You kick off the heels you had been wearing, the pooled fabric following, now leaving you entirely exposed under Joost's lustful gaze.

He stands back up, gripping the backs of your thighs as he does so, guiding your legs up. You wrap your legs around his thighs, and Joost moves closer, his arms pinned on either side of you as his body hovers over your own. The new position allows you to move your legs to be wrapped around his hips, digging your ankles into his back to push him closer to you.

He presses a rough kiss to your jaw, an indicator of how hungry he was for you now.

"Ready for me," He mumbles into your skin.

"Mhm," You hum, "Please."

You can feel him smirk as his lips linger on your skin,

"So polite, anything for you, liefje," He coos, removing one hand from the side of you, balancing the entirety of his upper body weight on one forearm now.

He grips the base of his cock with his now free hand, messily guiding the tip through your folds before lining up with your entrance. He waits a moment before finally pushing into you, he's slow, careful. The two of you share a gasp as he slips inside of you, the way you stretch around him is familiar, but it never gets any less mind-numbing no matter how many times you find yourself in this situation.

Your fingers grip into his bicep as he slowly pushes into you at a painfully slow pace. A strangled groan leaves your mouth as he finally bottoms out. You relinquish some of your grip on his arm, fingers loosening as he begins to build up a steady pace, thrusting inside of you.

You let your head tip, and back arch, completely relaxing your body, allowing yourself to be entirely consumed by the pleasure Joost brought you.

Neither of you speak for a while, the loud moans that escape both of you were doing more than enough talking. For a split moment you feel bad for the neighbors, and you hope they aren't awake to hear you through the thin apartment walls. But, your thoughts are swiftly taken away from your acute guilt as you feel Joost slam into you, harder than before. Your eyes shut tight, a pathetic whimper crawling from your throat as the tip of his cock hits deep inside you.

"Joost," You gasp as his thrusts become more pointed, the bed rocking beneath you.

"Feels good, right?" His voice is rich with cockiness, "No one fucks you as good as I do?"

"No," You exhale, "No one," Your vision begins to blur, as pleasure completely overtakes you.

"That's right," He groans, "No one knows your body like I do."

He's right, and you're sure no one will ever know you in the way he does,

"Fuck," You swallow, "We're never going to be able to stop this, are we?" Your heartbeat increases as you come to the realization of how badly the two of you need each other- no matter how much it disturbs the other facets of your life.

"No," His fingertips dig into the naked flesh of your hips, "We were made for each other." The way he speaks is barely romantic, his low growl rather implying that the two of you were doomed to forever be intertwined in this unfortunate circumstance, the far of you far too flawed to be with anyone but each other.

You can feel your body tensing up, a pressure burning in your abdomen, threatening to explode at any moment. You screw your eyes shut, your face twisting up, all of the emotion of the night smacking into you as your orgasm approaches.

"So close," You wince the hot coil in your lower stomach about to crack.

"Want to feel you make a mess on me," Joost begs from behind a clenched jaw, "Come on," He urges.

It takes a few more thrusts for your orgasm to overtake you, but as it does, it's strong. What could just be about considered a scream passing through your throat as your legs start to shake, your body tingling.

"Love you," You slur, your brain too fuzzy to even be cognisant of the words as they leave your mouth, your subconscious speaking for you.

"Yeah?" Joost asks, his thrusts becoming sporadic, losing pace, "Say it again, tell me how much you love me, schatje."

"I love you," You whine, your entire body twitching as you lose all control over your reflexes, your climax now in charge, "Love you, love you so much." Your words become slower, jaw slacking as your orgasm rolls over you, reaching its final stages, your cunt spasming around Joost.

"I know," He sighs, his lips returning to your jaw. He's able to slip in and out of you much faster now, his cock covered in your release, his thrusts forcing strangled cries from you, "I know," He repeats, "Fucking love you too,"

His hips stutter, and a string of curses are grunted into your neck as Joost's own orgasm approaches.

You inhale sharply as you feel him begin to finish inside you, his cock twitching in your poor overstimulated cunt as the warmth of his release fills you. It's messy, the way he continues to thrust with as much force as he can muster as he rides out his high, cum spilling onto your inner thighs which each thrust, lewd wet sounds filling the air.

Soon enough Joost is collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy as he tries to collect himself. Your legs drop from hs waist, your entire body lazy.

A certain sense of guilt creeps into you as you realize Michael is right, you have no self-control, unable to give up the feeling that Joost gives you for anything else in the world. You'll forever be chasing the high he gives you, because Joost was right too, you were made for each other.

[jenscx]

ATTENTION 54 — letting go (half-written)

minji rushed out of the van. after having spent hours late at night, thinking about you, it felt wrong to want to hurt you back. how could she even think about wanting to intentionally hurt you? maybe you were stupid but your intentions were at least still good. hers were simply selfish and immoral. she wanted you to be hurt as much as she had been. was she even thinking then? you had tried your best to mend the broken trust but she was downright demolishing any possibility of being together again.

hanni was right. she was a hypocrite. minji could only hope that you were at your dorm now and none of your overprotective members (eg. wonyoung or gaeul) were at home with you. there was no way she would be allowed to even see you if they were there.

rushing to your front door, minji knocked. she knocked once. then twice. then thrice before eventually being greeted by the face of ahn yujin. a raised eyebrow and minji already knew she was going to have to start begging.

“why are you here?” yujin asks, leaning on the door frame. hesitantly, minji answers, “to see y/n unnie.”

“do you still think you can call her unnie after all this?”

she swallows deeply, “no but i’m willing to change that. just let me see y/n unnie and if she asks me to go away, i will.”

minji could feel her heart beating out of her chest. unlike last time, it was due to nerves of being so close to her crush. this time, it was like meeting her partner’s parents. during the course of their relationship, there wasn’t any time for them to formally meet each other’s members, only brief glances and greetings.

“why would y/n want to see you now?” it was question after question and soon, minji knew she was being tested. you had told her about your leader; an energetic and playful puppy but she was very intimidating at times. minji could definitely see the intimidating side of her now.

“i need a chance to explain myself.”

“did you give her that chance before?” minji fell silent. of course, it wasn’t the same situation. she was deeply upset and angered with you at that time but it seems so trivial compared to now. you had never meant to hurt her. you were just careless.

“no i didn’t. but y/n’s a better person than i am.”

“why is that?”

“she…” minji trails off, “never intended to hurt me like i did. i need a chance to at least let her know how i feel.”

yujin sighs, finally moving off the doorframe, “fine, come in kid. if i hear y/n crying, i will drop kick you.”

minji nods, her heart now beating with excitement, “of course.”

“she’s in her room, probably crying to taylor swift again. i swear i’ve heard enchanted more times than my own songs,” yujin grumbles as she quickly ushers minji to your door. true to her word, there was the slight melody of enchanted playing through your phone. minji could hear it from under your door.

slowly, minji knocked on your door. a sniffled, “coming!” sounded through and minji was scared shitless. yujin had decided to move to the kitchen instead to give you two some privacy.

“ahn yujin, i’m in the middle of my breakup playlist—”

“hi unnie.”

you stare. all you can do is stare. because kim fucking minji is standing right outside your room’s door, a small grin on her face and you hate how you don’t want to punch her.

“minji. uhm,” you frown, “wha-what are you doing here? like… in my dorm? cause y’know…”

her face falls slightly, eyes darting to the ground instead of looking at you.

“can we talk?”

“uhm, sure? come in, i guess,” you make eye contact with the puppy standing outside, yujin giving a thumbs up before mouthing, ‘good luck’. you needed it.

once the door was closed, minji takes her time to recollect herself. it had been so long since she was in your room. probably a few months since the last time. was that long? maybe it was long for gay people?

“i don’t want to be mean but minji, you told me to not bother you anymore and now you’re visiting my dorm? what’s going on?” you ask, genuinely confused. after your last chat online and the whole ordeal with that boy group member, you’ve given up all hope in restoring things with minji. yet, she was here.

“unnie, i need to speak but i can’t do it if we’re looking at each other. so can we just sit… back to back?” she asks shyly. a weird request but you’ve never rejected anything when it came to minji.

you were both seated on the floor, back to back with minji taking deep sighs.

“that time, when you were asking me if i was dating him… i wanted to tell you no. but i also wanted to hurt you. hurt you like you hurt me. i want to say that i didn’t mean any of it but i did. i wanted you to feel what i felt— like you weren’t my priority anymore and i had someone else,” minji says. tears start forming when you think back on the incident. “and i didn’t know that you were going to bake a cake for me. i know how much you hate baking… i hate who i was that day. i lied to my members, i hurt you, i probably ruined things with the company. all of that, for what, exactly?”

she halts suddenly before sniffling. you resist the urge to turn around and pull her into your arms.

“i can’t say i never meant to hurt you, because i did mean to hurt you. i was just so childish and immature. even though i was ready to forgive you in a heartbeat, i just couldn’t. i wanted you to feel how i felt. aren’t i an asshole? to make my loved one suffer through that?” minji sighs, pulling her knees into her chest. she was such a fucking asshole. that you could agree with.

you nod along even though minji can’t see you. your heart clenches just thinking about how you felt when you saw the tweet. seeing the girl you loved with someone else was heartbreaking, even if you weren’t together anymore. she was your first everything. no one else could compare to her.

“i was lying when i said we were nothing to each other,” minji turns around, throwing her arms around your back and pulling you close, “you’re everything to me, and it’s okay if you don’t want me anymore but i need to let you know that i still want you, desperately.”

you breathe out shakily, your voice at the edge of cracking and tears about to fall. minji sighs as well, maybe out of relief that her words of longing and feelings of desperation have finally been said out loud. you had half a mind to let her continue chasing after you, but why would you prolong your happiness? to teach minji a lesson? that was lunacy.

“i’m sorry, unnie. i… love you. more than i can ever express.”

it’s a miracle you get through her confession without bawling. it’s a miracle she’s even here now. you feel relief that minji wants you as much as you want her. her blatant confession was all you needed to forgive her. even if she treated you like shit, even if she said hurtful words that made you turn your pillow into an ocean, even if your group mates would definitely kill you for going back to an ex… you still want her.

eyes brimming with tears, a red nose sniffling, minji gazes at you with those big, brown doe eyes that make your knees weak. her lips enclosed in a pout, glossy from the tears that cascaded down her face. when she stares at you, nothing else matters. it’s like everything else fades away. all the drama from you and minjeong’s fake relationship, all the shit minji had said to you, all the hate comments, asking you to jump off a cliff. it all disappears as long as you stare into her eyes. everything’s gone.

everything but kim minji.

but she’s your everything.

masterlist | next

TAGS ! @ky-yk @urmom2314 @nasyu-kookies @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @be0mluver @lesleepyyy @eunhhh @edamboon @sewiouslyz @haerinfangs @impossiblesharkcashrebel @mightymyo @dexthzone @pandafuriosa60 @dmndtears @awkwardtoafault @hyehae @haerinkisser @chaerybae @yukianism @urwyf3 @manooffline @yerisdumbass @jeindall777 @jiwoneiric @justme-idle @imthisclosetokms

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: A little more history of the Reader in this one - I honestly love her family's backstory

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw {You Are Here}

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

The hospital was quiet that evening. You were assigned to the long-term care floor and spent long hours updating patient files and making your rounds. Checking vitals, refilling water bottles, adjusting patients with bed sores, and administering medication at the right times.

It was the perfect distraction. You would be missing the lacrosse game that night, missing the first game with Scott being co-captain and Stiles being first line.

You’d be missing Andrew and his dimpled grin.

Instead of focusing on that the rest of the night, you call Lydia who had texted you an SOS.

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean, he sent me a pathetic text asking for his house key back. The loser is so down in the dumps that he doesn’t think he deserves me, which is right, of course.”

You hold the phone with your shoulder and start typing notes into a patient file, “I’m sorry, Lyds. Breakups suck.”

“He’s become such an asshole recently. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. But good riddance. I needed to climb the social food chain anyway. He’s been lacking in the lacrosse category.”

“Sounds like you’re handling it surprisingly well.”

“I’m completely over him. Only took a few minutes… seconds actually.”

You smile, “Yeah, you barely sound upset over it.”

She can hear your sarcasm, “Did you hear that Allison is still going to the game? Her dad and aunt are going too.”

“That’s weird,” you frown, “I wonder why.” With the Argents being hunters… you wonder how much they know about the number of werewolves in town.

“You’re still on shift tonight?”

“Yes, right where I want to be. The perfect excuse to miss the game.” You upload another patient file and wave to another night nurse leaving for her break. It was just you and one other nurse on the floor – a redhead named Jennifer.

“Anything exciting happening?” she asks in a huff, upset that the attention was no longer on her dilemma.

“Nope, I’m working the long-term floor. Everyone here is mostly in recovery or stuck in their beds. It’s usually pretty quiet at night, which is why there’s less staff.”

“Fascinating,” Lydia says quickly, “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m going to sit with Allison and scope out my next boyfriend.” She laughs before adding, “Don’t worry, Andrew is off the table.”

You scoff, “Yeah, thanks. Have fun.” And you slide your phone back into your scrubs pocket.

The next half hour was relatively quiet, just two call buttons going off. The rest of your time was spent making your rounds and completing chores. That is until a pair of sneakers comes walking down the hallway.

“Yeah, I said I can’t find her.”

You stand to confront the foreign male voice that was definitely intruding past visiting hours, only to find Stiles on the phone. He was getting snippy with whoever he was talking to, “Hey, listen here wolfman – the only reason I’m harboring your fugitive ass is because you saved (Y/N)’s life last full moon, got it? I don’t owe you any more favors.”

“What the hell?” you say, catching his attention, “Don’t you have a lacrosse game to get to, hotshot?”

In a few seconds you can see a range of emotions flickering through his face: confusion, happiness, worry, and something in the way he looks at your scrubs. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You walk around the nurses station and fold your arms, “Care to answer my question?”

He gives you a goofy side smile, “You’re talking to me.”

“Yes, Stiles,” you fight the immediate grin that wants to envelop your face. “What are you doing here?”

He leans into the phone for a second, “Uh… is there a Jennifer working here?”

“She’s the on call nurse tonight, why?” you pop a hip, arms still tightly crossed.

“What about Melissa?” he asks, walking down the hall and to a room. He speaks to the phone again, “Yeah, well, he’s not here either.”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask exasperatedly, “Stiles, you can’t be here past visiting hours. Would you please…”

“He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek.”

Your jaw drops, “The fugitive you’re harboring is Derek?”

He looks to you, “Yeah, the rest of the town doesn’t know he’s innocent because it’s actually a psycho Alpha werewolf that’s killing everyone,” he says to you. “You sure Melissa isn’t here?”

You hold your hands up, “I’m not answering anymore of your questions until you tell me what’s going on.”

Suddenly you can hear the frantic voice of Derek over the phone and Stiles has a look of instant terror. It sets you on edge when a mysterious man stands at the corner of the hall; it was as if he had appeared out of thin air.

Half his face is covered in burn scars and after a second thought you realize that it’s Peter Hale – the long-term resident of the floor. Your eyes widen at the sight of him standing without his wheelchair and Stiles takes a few steps in your direction.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter says in an eerily calm tone. He’s barely smiling as he nods in your direction, “Hello, (Y/N). It’s nice to finally be able to speak to you.”

Stiles drops his hand holding the phone, walking back until he feels you near him. He reaches behind him and takes hold of your arm. Your instinct is to press yourself closer into his back, “Is that…?”

“He’s the Alpha,” Stiles mutters, whipping his head to the side at the newcomer.

“Jennifer!” you say, “We have a situation with…”

The redheaded nurse holds her head high, “Shut up!”

Your mouth clamps shut – how many people are in on this? Stiles, in his usual fashion, can’t stay quiet for long.

“You and… him? You’re his… and he’s the…” Stiles is shielding you with his body at this point. “Oh my god, we’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.”

You jab a finger into his spine, silencing him. “This is not how I’m supposed to die.”

But with an elbow to the face, Jennifer falls to the floor and Derek takes her place. You forget momentarily how tall, dark, and handsome he is. Peter speaks again with that same calm, menacing tone.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.”

You start to pull Stiles against you, taking you both behind the nurses station.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.”

Peter makes his way over, “You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

A growl ripples from Derek’s throat, fangs appearing from his open mouth. Blue eyes glowing with strange power, he bounds for the attack. You’re paralyzed at seeing the action up close.

“Holy shi…”

Stiles drags you to the floor, doggy-paddling across the tile like a swimmer. You army crawl beside him as Peter and Derek start to throw each other against the hospital walls. Bits of plaster and plastic side railing break away easily.

“Okay,” you say, coughing as you breathe in some plaster dust, “I believe you now. I really believe you.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to me or Scott?” Stiles yells over the growling werewolves. “Scott could have easily proven werewolves existed if you just asked him to show himself.”

They continue their sliding movements across the station and to the next hall, the sound of breaking glass loud behind you. “No, I stopped talking to you because I needed a break after hearing the truth. It’s a lot to think about when you realize the whole freaking town has lore in supernatural entities that aren’t just make believe… they’re actual fucking werewolves!” You swipe an arm across the tile and shove his legs out of the way to reach his side. “I needed time to cope with the sudden shift in what I knew to be reality.”

“Understandable,” he pants, tongue sticking out, “I just wish we could’ve helped you cope instead of you just shutting us out.”

“Like I said… I wasn’t really thinking!”

“And of course it was the same night as Scott forcing a kiss on you and trying to kill you in your own home…”

“Shut the hell up, Stilinski! Bigger problems at hand!” The werewolves were moving to a different patient room to continue their fight. You gesture to the end of the hall, “The emergency exit is there. We just have to get there and down the stairs. We can call 911 when we’re outside.”

Stiles agrees, watching you with a different panic, “How’s your heart?”

“If anything happens we’re in a hospital,” you say frankly, “Come on.” You lead the way as the fighting becomes quieter.

Stiles admires you from behind, standing to run the last few feet. You slam into the door and guide the way down the many flights of stairs. Stiles is jumping whole steps and crashing into the walls.

Your lungs start to fight for breath by the time you reach the bottom, Stiles tripping over the last step and falling to his knees beside you.

“Does… Does the Alpha have control…” you pant, holding a stitch in your side, “… over Derek?”

Stiles breathes dramatically, his face scrunching up in a funny way. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He might be forcing Derek onto his side right now with some crazy alpha mind control.”

You stumble toward the exit, shoving it open to a gust of chilly night air. You lean against the hospital wall, hands on your hips. Stiles follows, pulling out his car keys.

“Can you make it to the jeep?”

“If I say no would you carry me?”

He shrugs, pulling a face, “No promises. I could probably swing a piggy-back ride.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say, bending down to put your head between your knees. It was routine when you were out of breath and starting to feel lightheaded. Your hands lay flat on the concrete, your mind focusing on how cold and gritty it feels under your fingers. You listen to the crickets and the wind whistling through trees. You smell the honey sweet rain from Stiles.

A large warm hand spreads against your back, rubbing up and down your spine.

You feel the air flood your lungs, “Have you called the police yet?”

“I told them there was a possible break-in and a nurse got knocked out,” he says, “They’ll be here soon.”

You take a few deep breaths, soothed by Stiles’ hand. “I have to wait for the police.” You sit up and Stiles retreats a few feet. The action makes you consider him for a few seconds. “I’m not mad at you or Scott. I just… I needed some distance while I tried to figure things out.”

There’s a bob in Stiles’ throat, “And… have you figured things out?”

You screw up your lips in thought, “I need to talk to Scott first.”

Stiles nods vigorously, hope lighting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah – for sure. Let’s go find him now, I’m sure the lacrosse game is almost over.”

A flash of pity is in your face, “You missed your first game.”

“Yeah, well…” he waves a hand, extending it to help you to your feet. “I had a couple more important things to tackle tonight.”

“Won’t your dad be disappointed?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, walking to the passenger side of the jeep, “But if the pinkeye epidemic continues then I’m still first line for the time being!”

You giggle, sliding into the jeep, “I’ll pray for the conjunctivitis.” With the heater still broken, you’re grateful you chose a long-sleeve undershirt for your scrubs. It took a few minutes for you to call your boss and explain the situation.

The police were on their way, and you were meant to stay to give a witness statement. It would also have been irresponsible to leave your patients in their time of need. Choosing to wait in the jeep was just common sense seeing as there were two werewolves having a row upstairs.

“Do you think Derek is okay?” you look out the window.

Stiles was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, “He’s fine. Peter will probably try to get him under his control.”

“Then what?”

“He’ll keep trying to get Scott into his pack.” Stiles leans more against the door to get a better look at you. “So we have some catching up to do.”

“Like what?” you smile.

He frowns, picking at his fingers, “I don’t know… like how Jackson broke up with Lydia.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, “Lydia only just told me about the breakup tonight.”

Stiles blows air between his lips, “Jackson always has another agenda. He’s been black mailing Scott because he wants the werewolf bite.”

“You’re kidding,” you say, “How did he find out about the supernatural?”

“I don’t know! He hasn’t been talking to anyone, not even Danny.”

You lean against the door to match Stiles’ stance, “Well, I know Lydia has said he’s never been the same since Scott outperformed him. He’s been slipping ever since.” You rub at your eyes, “He doesn’t talk to me much, and now it’s awkward between him and Lydia.”

“There’s also the news that the Argents know about a second beta werewolf.” At your look of confusion, he continues, “They know there’s an alpha and they know about Derek. They’ve realized that there’s a second werewolf and they’re trying to figure out who it is.”

“They being Allison’s dad and aunt?”

Stiles nods, “They have been scouting ever since – they think it might be a teenager.”

Your head perks up, “Lydia said Allison’s family was going to be at the game tonight. I bet they’re looking for clues as to who could be the other werewolf.”

“Let’s just hope they don’t suspect Scott.”

Stiles continues to pick at his nails, looking at them instead of you. “I’ve also heard that you might be going on a date with a certain potential lacrosse boyfriend…?”

You fight a smile, “Andrew asked me out.”

“And you said?”

“Yes!” you laugh, “I’ve been waiting for him to ask since I started working with Coach on the lacrosse field.” You miss the bitterness in Stiles’ face; he was trying to hide it with his downcast gaze.

A police siren could be heard down the highway. Stiles clears his throat, “Is he going to ask you to the winter formal?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, tickled at the thought, “But that’s still a couple weeks away.”

“Do you want him to?” Stiles finally looks at you, straining to keep the hurt he feels at bay. The tightness of his chest was smothered by the boiling jealousy in his stomach. He hates the way you sound doting on Andrew. And he hates himself for being jealous over something he shouldn’t be mad about.

You made your choice and Andrew is a good guy.

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t know about my heart and a formal dance would be prime time for it to give out.” You take a deep breath, “I’d rather not spoil an evening like that.”

Stiles nods and considers you, “I guess you just need to go with someone that knows how to calm you. That way you don’t need to worry.”

It was suddenly tense for a few seconds while the police cars come closer to the hospital. You put a hand on the door handle and say, “You should probably get out of here so your dad doesn’t overhear why you might not be at the game. Police radios, you know…”

“Right,” Stiles says, “Let me know if anything comes up. I’m going to find Scott and tell him about our newly identified alpha.”

~~~

The next few days felt a little less hostile as the friend group settles into a new norm. Jackson is still moseying up to Allison, who is still apologizing on behalf of Scott for the impromptu kissing. You console her in that Scott wasn’t himself that day.

Allison was also venturing into new hobbies to keep her mind off things. She had taken to practicing archery in the woods, sometimes taking you or Lydia with her.

Jackson was talking in angry whispers to Scott and Stiles more often. You know it has something to do with seeking the werewolf curse.

As for yourself, you were working on your science project implanting E.coli in varying meats and cooking them, swabbing each as you go and putting samples in petri dishes. They were currently incubating in the chemistry lab while you walk down the hall with Andrew.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” you say, eyeing the way Andrew held your books for you.

“Hey, now we’re going to state,” he says, “You can come to that game.”

You smile, almost to English, “I’ll bring my pom-poms and megaphone.”

Andrew laughs, handing back your books for class, “I won’t say no to a little cheerleading outfit.” He winks at you and a warm blush envelops both your faces.

“I’ll see you later,” you say.

Walking into class you’re quick to notice Scott and Stiles staring at you (Stiles with a little more of a frown). You choose to sit in front of Scott, taking any opportunity for Allison to be near him.

“(Y/N)…” he starts with hesitance, “Stiles told me you’re talking again.”

You don’t turn around at first, “And?”

He leans forward across the desk, and you can hear his whisper over your shoulder. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to apologize to you this last week and… nothing seems good enough. After you avoided me and everything, I thought I lost my chance.” He sighs and you can feel it in your hair. “(Y/N), I am so so sorry. I’m sorry for attacking you – I’m sorry for forcing a kiss on you – I’m sorry for scaring you – and I’m sorry for trying to kill you.”

Very slowly you pivot in your chair to look at him.

Those puppy-dog eyes were back full force. Those were Scott’s eyes – not the dark, menacing look they had on the full moon. You knew the difference was night and day. The real Scott McCall would never do those things if he was in full control.

“I feel terrible,” he continues, afraid at your persistent silence. “I’m an awful friend and I should have told you the truth sooner. Maybe you would have been more prepared for the full moon like Stiles.”

You blink, “Have you apologized to Allison?”

“Well, I tried…” he scratches at his shaggy head, adding to his puppy-dog look. “She was shooting arrows in the forest with Lydia yesterday… and I needed to return a necklace of hers.”

“You mean you were stalking her?”

“The details are a little foggy,” he says quickly, “I might’ve scared her and she tazed me.”

Stiles snorts from beside Scott and you have to stop yourself from losing your composure. “She’s picked up a few things since breaking up with you.”

“I noticed,” he says lowly. “Anyway, I tried to apologize, and I think it got to her a little. She’s still mad, but I think she might forgive me eventually.”

“I told you,” you say with a slight smile. It gives Scott hope.

“And what about you?” his dark brown eyes are wide with anxiety.

You share a look with Stiles, who shrugs. “I forgive you.”

Scott sighs, his head falling into his arms on the desk. “Thank god. I promise, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to do any of those things. The full moon had me wired and it was like something else was controlling my body.”

“It’s okay, Scott. I did a lot of thinking while taking a break.” You look between Scott and Stiles as the tardy bell rings. “And I don’t think I can be involved with all this werewolf stuff.”

Stiles is nearly out of his chair with how he reacts. “What do you mean?” his desk squeaks terribly against the tile floor.

“I mean, I’d like to still be friends with you guys…”

An awful needle like puncture was screwing its way through Stiles’ chest. Friends.

“… but I don’t really want to be included in any werewolf business or late night investigations or almost being killed – which has happened to me about three times now since starting school.”

“Werewolf business is a very regular part of my life,” Scott says with a disbelieving laugh.

You nod, “I get it, I just mean I’d love to hang out or go to a party sometime, but I can’t be involved with anything else related to the alpha situation.”

Stiles was having trouble swallowing as Scott continues, “Like it or not, (Y/N) – you’re kind of a part of my pack. The pack that the Alpha wants me to get rid of.”

“Then… I’m resigning from the pack,” you shrug half-heartedly.

Stiles’ jaw nearly hits the floor as the teacher snaps at the three of you for talking. There is about three minutes of quiet as the teacher explains the upcoming book report that you’ve already finished on Sense and Sensibility.

After that you receive a group text from both Scott and Stiles.

Stiles: You’re just unfriending the pack?!

(Y/N): Can’t I do that and still be friendly?

Stiles: No

Scott: Of course you can. We just don’t get why

You raise your hand and share what stance you took on the book report requirements. You wrote an analytical piece on the personalities of two sisters: Elenor being all sense and Marianne being all sensibility.

The teacher looks pleased and asks for more volunteers. You’re now covered to keep texting.

(Y/N): Tell you later

Scott: Ok

Stiles: Tell us now

You tuck your phone away and feel it buzz with a few more messages before going quiet. You don’t mean for it to be such a shock. You just knew that the more stress you had the more likely you’d have a fainting episode with your heart condition. That would lead to more heart damage and an end that you want to prolong as much as possible.

Being surrounded by high stress werewolf situations was going to be the death of you.

You are quick to leave the classroom at the bell and the boys weren’t far behind.

“Hey,” Stiles grabs your shoulder, slowing you down. “Explain.”

Scott holds his backpack straps, awkward but less demanding on hearing your explanation.

“It’s not a good idea for me to be around a lot of stress,” you sigh, “You know… because of my heart.”

Both boys purse their lips and share a look. Scott is quiet when he asks, “Because you have a tachee-heart?”

You and Stiles both say, “Tachycardia?” You laugh and continue, “Yes. My heartbeat is already irregular and if I do anything to add to it… it’s bad news bears.”

“Care to expand on what these bad news bears are?” Stiles asks irritably.

“That’s a talk for another day,” you say quickly, leading the way to your next class. “Just know that the more my heart struggles the worse off I’ll be.”

“But we can help you,” Stiles says, pressing into your shoulder as you all walk down the hallway. “We can calm you down if that happens.” I can calm you down.

You sigh, “Not always. It can be random and persistent.” You stop outside the door of your next class. “This isn’t me saying we can’t be friends, just… I want to avoid any werewolfy scenarios that might involve near death and/or general terror.”

You leave Scott and Stiles to contemplate out in the hallway. Shoulders sagging, Scott groans, “This werewolf thing is ruining my life.”

“Yeah, and mine.” Stiles broods at the classroom door, taking a second to realize what he said and turning to the mild anger on Scott’s face. “What? I’m the best friend – I am legally bound to whatever misery you experience.”

“All the new friends I’ve made are literally being pushed away because of this curse,” Scott rubs hard at his face, “And it’s ruined my love life, not to mention my lifespan. Hunters are basically knocking down my front door!”

“Yeah, it’s really putting a damper on my love life too.” Stiles mumbles to himself, “I really thought I had a shot with her.”

Scott shoves his friend, “Even after all her talk about Andrew?”

Stiles scowls, “That’s just a silly crush.”

“And what she feels for you is… what exactly?”

“Hidden feelings that I will unlock one day for her to realize that I am the perfect guy for her…” he licks his lips, wincing, “… despite the clumsiness, sarcasm, and general idiocy.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah, she’s really missing out.”

“Hey!” he rams into Scott as they walk towards their next class. “I really like her, Scott. Like… I like her, like her.”

“I know, Loverboy.”

“She’s all I can think about, and I know I’m just a pathetic friend of hers, but I’m hopeless, Scott! Completely hopeless.”

Scott gives him a look, “Are you sure you’re not stalking her?”

“In a broad sense of the term,” Stiles shrugs, “I’ve never felt this comfortable around a girl before. I’ve never felt this way about any girl.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Scott sighs, “I know the feeling well.”

~~~

You walk through the aisles of computers to sit near the back beside a hunched figure. He keeps his head down even as you watch his eyes dart to see who you are. If anything it makes him more shy, his shoulders drawing in as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible.

You sling your backpack onto the ground and ignore the random text Stiles sent you about the history of the male circumcision. He was always sending you the most out-of-pocket things.

“Hey,” you smile at the quiet boy, “My name’s (Y/N)…” He turns his head a little more and you instantly recognize him as one of the benchwarmers on the lacrosse team, “… and you’re Isaac, right?”

His blue eyes seem to warm at your recognition, “Yeah, Isaac Lahey,” he clears his throat, “I uh…”

“You play lacrosse!” your smile widens, “I didn’t realize we had computer science together.”

“Play is a strong word,” he says with a hint of a smile. “I sort of keep to myself.”

You lean on your elbow, considering him as he fidgets under your gaze. “I think the last time we talked was when I was passing out permission slips for that spring retreat Coach was talking about.”

Isaac nods his head, still bowing like he was trying to hide behind his computer screen. “I don’t talk much.”

“You didn’t bring back your permission slip if I remember correctly.”

“No,” he clears his throat again, finding it hard to swallow. “My dad needs me to stay home.”

“Even for just a weekend?” your brows knit.

He licks his lips, “He needs help at work and… I’m the only one around to do it.”

“Shame,” you mutter, “I’d like to have seen you there. Maybe we could’ve roasted marshmallows together and tossed Coach’s whistle in the lake.”

His lips upturn a little more, “You’re going on the retreat?”

“I don’t think the Coach can survive without me,” you stifle a laugh, “Besides I’m the only one who knows anything about the retreat. He probably couldn’t drive a single one of you up there.” You nudge your arm into his, “You should ask your dad again, see if he’ll change his mind.”

Isaac has an emotion you can’t gauge flash across his eyes. “Maybe.” He nods and hides that smile you’re trying to pull out of him. “I wouldn’t mind messing with Coach, though.”

“We could hide his energy drinks or put dye in his toothpaste,” you muse, “Make his teeth blue for a day.”

“Or we could put a squirrel in his cabin,” Isaac says with a little more enthusiasm, “Or maybe we could hide his shaving kit and see what kind of beard he can grow.”

You snort, “I bet it’s as white as an old mans.”

“It’s because all us kids give him gray hairs,” Isaac laughs, smiling wide.

You laugh along, suddenly struck with his change of demeanor. “You have a great smile, Isaac,” you say, “It looks good on you.”

A rush of red fills his cheeks, unable to stop smiling now. He isn’t hunched behind his computer anymore, “Thank you.”

The teacher was about ready to throttle you two for giggling over her talking. You nudge Isaac again with your arm, putting a finger to your lips.

~~~

The next day you’re being dropped off at the Argent residence for a ‘family dinner.’ Allison has been complaining about how often her dad talks about meeting you. It was odd not having met them – almost every parent in town knew who you were.

That was the consequence of a small town with two working parents in the emergency fields. Most adults knew that they had to leave at the drop of a dime if your heart was ever in trouble.

Hence the anxiety making your fingers pull on your sleeves.

“(Y/N)!” Allison greets, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry for this,” she whispers.

You whisper back, “Don’t be.” But a flash of fear crosses your face when the door widens to reveal a blue-eyed, middle-aged man. “Mr. Argent?”

“(Y/N),” he extends a hand, eyes never blinking as he probes you, “We finally meet.” He shakes your hand firmly, “My wife and daughter have only had good things to say.”

And my friends have told me about your penchant for shooting arrows at teenage boys. “Nice to meet you.” You follow the family inside and to the dining room. “I hope you don’t mind…”

In your free hand was a small container of peanut butter brownies you had made earlier that day. Chris Argent looks pleased when he inspects the contents, “How wonderful – you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you say, handing the dessert to Allison to plate. The Argents were able to provide for themselves, plus extra.

Living on the other side of town, the Argent residence was much more lavish than what you were used to. It created a very unfortunate divide between the teenagers. An invisible line that was rarely mentioned, but nonetheless present.

Over in these neighborhoods, Lydia, Allison, and Jackson lived with rich crown moldings, nice cars, high ceilings, and antique furniture. More in the valley, you, Stiles, and Scott lived in modest homes with hand-me-down items and a small growing pile of bills.

With one check you bet the Argents could take away your family’s medical debt.

“Your home is lovely as always,” you say, admiring the chandelier in the dining room. “And dinner smells amazing.”

“Not my doing,” a dirty blonde says with a crisp laugh. A near forced laugh as her less piercing blue eyes meet yours. She assesses you with something a little colder than Chris. “Hello, I’m Kate, and I have no talent for cooking.”

You give a wave across the table, instantly wary of her. Allison pops up beside you, “That’s my aunt I told you about.” She looks to Kate as she sits, “(Y/N) is an amazing cook.”

Kate nods, still scrutinizing you with her gaze. “What else are you good at, (Y/N)?”

“Reading,” you say instantly, sharing a laugh with Allison. “I keep to myself mostly.”

With the table set, the Argent family sits to enjoy the meal. Victoria Argent, whom you’ve met the few times you’ve been out with Allison, sat with her husband.

“So, (Y/N), tell us a little more about yourself,” Chris says, spearing asparagus with his fork. “You’re close with our daughter but we know almost nothing about you.”

You try to swallow your roast chicken quickly as Allison scolds her father. “I told you not to interrogate her,” she leans closer to you, “He doesn’t really have a ‘pleasant conversation’ option in his vernacular.”

“It’s alright,” you say with a wave, grabbing a nice cloth napkin to dab at your mouth. “My parents like to know who I’m friends with too.”

“You know Scott and Jackson, correct?” Kate digs into her chicken with a knife.

“Yes, we’re all friends. I also am a teacher assistant for Coach Finstock, so I see them at lacrosse a lot.”

Chris considers you, “But you weren’t at the last lacrosse game?”

“No, I work at the hospital as a medical assistant and I picked up a shift that night,” you take a sip of your water. How much information was too much information to give?

Kate tilts her head in your direction, “Wasn’t there a break-in at the hospital that night?”

You nod slowly, “Yeah, someone got into an altercation past visiting hours. I don’t know who but when I went to investigate the noise, there was a lot of broken glass and cracks in the walls. Thank goodness none of the patients were harmed.”

Chris takes his time cutting his meal into pieces, “That sounds terrible. What did you do?”

“I called the police, checked on my residents, and ran outside to meet the cops.” You take a small bite of food, “They didn’t find anything besides the damage.”

“Cameras?” Kate questions.

You shake your head, “My co-workers said that they had been damaged as well. Wiped clean or lost… I don’t know exactly.”

Chris seems satisfied for the time being, “Well, I’m glad you got out safely, whatever it was.”

Kate, on the other hand, seems to perk with interest, “I hear you’ve had a run-in with danger a couple times this year.” At your look of confusion, she nods toward your collar. “The attack on the video store, I mean.” She barely moves a centimeter as she stares you down, “Allison told me you had gotten clawed pretty bad.”

You spot the wince in Allison’s brow. “I did get attacked that night,” you wipe at your mouth again. “It was pretty bad for a while, infected and everything. But I’m okay now.”

Kate was persistent, “Must have left a pretty gnarly scar.” Her eyebrows lift as if expecting you to reveal your shoulder. She was scolded by her niece.

“It’s still a little pink, but that’ll go away with time,” you say as nonchalantly as possible. “I’d say it makes me look a little cooler than I am.” You shift the collar of your shirt an inch to reveal the tail end of three massive claw marks, another curling around your arm. It was your turn to gauge the reaction of the Argents.

Chris and Kate share a look and you clear your throat in response. Are you making yourself a possible werewolf suspect?

“And what do you guys do for work?” you say, steering the conversation off yourself. “Allison says that you’re a weapons dealer?”

Chris pours himself more water, “That’s right. We have quite the collection if you’re interested.”

You shake your head quickly, “I’m not really built for that. I enjoy my books and my lazy cat sleeping in my lap as I read.”

He nods, hopefully in a sign of respect. “That’s why Kate is here. She deals in weaponry as well – a very skilled hunter.”

She raises her glass, “The art of the kill. I needed my brother’s expertise on a few pieces for my latest hunt.”

“What do you hunt?” you say innocently.

“Big game predators,” she says, cold eyes locked on you. “Cougars, bears, wolves.”

You almost smirk. These people are hiding in plain sight.

“My mom is a buyer for a store in San Fransico,” Allison steers the conversation even more. “Right, mom?”

Victoria, already done with her meal and leaning back in her chair, replies, “Yes, it’s a charming little boutique. I also teach math at a boarding school for boys on the side.”

You nod, “Why math?”

“Strategy,” she says flatly. “Equations and probabilities. I enjoy the art of stratagem.”

That was slightly off putting as well. Did these people know how to be subtle? How had Allison gone this long without knowing her family history?

“And your parents are…?” Victoria continues.

You smile, “My mom works behind the desk at the police station – taking and directing calls. My dad works at the firehouse.”

“You must hear everything that goes on around here,” Chris smirks.

“Only when I ask,” you say, “And that’s considering nothing wild has happened in Beacon Hills for years…”

Kate leans back in her chair as well, crossing her arms in contemplation. “Have you lived here your whole life?”

“Yes,” you say, pushing your plate away, “Almost since birth.”

“Where did you live before?” Chris asks.

He might be intimidating, but you enjoy talking to him much more than Kate. “My parents lived in Palo Alto when I was born. We had a nice house and my mom worked security at Stanford University. My dad actually met her at the San Francisco Bay. He was a lifeguard before he was a firefighter, and he watched the swimmers at Keller Beach and Berkeley Marina.” You smile a sweet smile, “She kept coming back to those places to see him… even pretended to drown once for a kiss.”

“Must be a fan of The Sandlot,” Allison snickers, enjoying hearing you talk more than her family.

 “So why make the move to Beacon Hills?” Kate asks, arms still tightly wound.

Your smile falls a little, “I was born with a congenital heart defect. The medical bills and surgeries became too much… and we had to downgrade.”

Allison puts a hand on your leg beneath the table. Chris sends a piercing look to his sister and mutters, “I’m sorry, (Y/N) – I didn’t know you were sick.”

“Still am,” you say with mock cheerfulness, holding your water glass with two hands to give yourself something to focus on. “Heart problems are persistent. We try to keep it as discreet as possible.”

He nods, looking at you with a different air of likeness. “It sounds like you have a wonderful family.”

“I do,” you say fast, “Thank you.”

They move on to the brownies you brought as a means to change the subject. Victoria hums her appreciation, “These are delicious, did you put caramel in here too?”

“Caramel is one of the greatest inventions of all time and deserves to be incorporated into as many sweets as possible,” you laugh, “Of course I put caramel in them.”

The table laughs as you eat, feeling a little stripped bare after revealing so much about yourself. As Allison said, it did feel more like an interrogation rather than a pleasant family meal. You were quick to text the boys as you leave the residence.

“My place in ten minutes. I have an Argent update.” You smile as you add, “… and leftover brownies.”

Allison was kind enough to drive you home, apologizing the entire way. “My dad wasn’t as brazen as usual, but my aunt Kate?” she rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe how much she was grilling you.”

“You have a protective family,” you shrug, “So do I.”

“Your parents have a good reason to be extra protective of you,” she retorts, “My family is just nosy and suspicious and… I don’t know, my aunt and dad have been a little tense with each other this visit. They usually get along so well.”

“How much longer is your aunt staying here?” you ask, holding your container of leftover brownies.

Allison knits her brow in thought, “I’m not sure. She says she’s getting ready for another big hunt and just needs supplies and my dad’s advice. But I don’t know… sometimes I feel like she isn’t telling me everything.”

You thank Allison for the ride and the invitation to dinner. You promise to give her an update on your date with Andrew that weekend, and she drives off. Entering your house was a breath of fresh air.

Oliver trots to your side, his furry underbelly swaying side to side before you scoop him up and kiss his head. He purrs instantly.

“How was dinner?” your mom asks, sitting at the dining table with little potted plants in front of her. She was trying to grow herbs from seeds and the lavender was not doing so well.

“It was fine,” you kick off your shoes, “Her family is a little interrogative.”

Tom walks in with his usual cola, no doubt with a few ounces of whiskey poured in. “I knew they were a little tense, especially after that Chris guy shot the mountain lion at parent teacher conferences.”

You scratch under Ollie’s chin, “It was still nice, but I would watch out for that Kate Argent. She scares me a little.” You sit at the table and watch your mom preen the little sprouts of eucalyptus and rosemary. “Oh, I also invited Scott and Stiles over, if that’s okay.”

Tom folds his arms, making them look massive beneath his firehouse flannel. “I thought you liked that Andrew guy.”

“I can like a guy and be friends with other guys, dad,” you snicker, “I’m just going to take my medicine real quick, will you send them up when they get here?”

Your mom waves you off, adding some water to her seedlings, “Leave me one of those brownies, would you?”

A minute later, and having taken all your prescription meds, there’s a howling laugh coming from downstairs. You move to the foot of the stairs to see Stiles beaming and your dad wiping his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tom says, “Stilinski here was just telling me about a police fiasco with a red tricycle and a klepto.”

You look puzzled as Stiles scratches at the back of his head, “Yeah, I might’ve stolen some already stolen items from evidence when I was a kid. I was the prime suspect for about three days with all the stuff in my possession.”

“And at five years old,” your dad laughs, downing his drink.

“I really wanted the tricycle!” Stiles retorts, “It was my first bike.”

Tom shakes his head, “Learning to pedal on stolen property.”

Scott pulls on his friend, “It was nice talking to you guys.”

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom says, “Now not too late, you still have school tomorrow.”

Walking up the stairs (Stiles tripping over at least two of the steps) you lead the boys into your room, Oliver already on your bed.

“Hey, buddy…” Stiles gets on his knees and crawls to the edge of the bed, “How’s the fuzz ball?”

Ollie perks his ears and blinks slowly at Stiles, bowing his head for a pet. Though upon Scott’s arrival, the cat sets his ears back and hisses.

“What the…” you mutter, watching your cat growl low in his throat and dart to leave the bedroom. “He’s never acted like that before.���

Scott looks guilty, “Well, I am part dog and… I did break into your house as a werewolf not too long ago.”

Your lips make a thin line, “Right. Cats and dogs don’t always get along.” You walk to your bed, flicking at Stiles’ head as you sit down, “Do you guys want a brownie? They’re leftover from my dinner with the Argents.”

Stiles’ greedy fingers dive for the plastic container while Scott shoves his hands in his pockets. “You had dinner at their house?”

You relay some of the conversation you had. The mysterious penchant for weapons and hunting big game predators. The interrogative questions on the hospital break-in and your involvement with Scott and Jackson. The request to see the claw marks on your shoulder.

“Do they think you might be the second beta too?” Scott asks with a tense line between his eyebrows. Stiles was too busy eating his third brownie.

“Maybe… do they think a scratch could turn you?”

“That’s what Derek said,” Scott swallows hard, “He told us a deep enough alpha scratch might give you the curse. The Argents might have the same theory.” He smacks his forehead, “Which is why they’re suspicious of Jackson. He has those claw marks in his neck from Derek.”

You frown, “And they don’t know they’re from Derek and not the Alpha.”

“But they do know your scars are from the Alpha,” Scott mutters worriedly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they do a follow-up on you.”

“But after I told them about my heart condition, they seemed to back off. At least Chris did.”

You relay the conversation that you had about your parents meeting in Palo Alto and the move to Beacon Hills because of your heart. You remember the likeness Chris Argent had in his voice as he expressed his apologies for your sickness.

“If you’re sick then you couldn’t have the curse,” Scott mumbles, picking at his chin. “Werewolves heal really fast unless the wound is supernatural too.”

Stiles is licking his fingers when he suddenly blurts, “Do you think if you were a werewolf your heart would be cured?”

You shrug, finding the amount of brownie left on Stiles’ face amusing. “I don’t really want to find out. Anyway, I knew you guys would probably want to know.”

“Still not keen on all this werewolf business?” Stiles asks.

“I’m just trying to protect myself.” You sit on the bed, Stiles on the ground and leaning against the mattress. He’s looking up at you with his brown eyes, fizzing with warmth like cola and whiskey. “It’s not that I don’t want to investigate with you guys. I just worry what it’ll do to my heart.”

You laugh and point at your own face, “You’ve got chocolate all over your mouth.”

Stiles is quick to rub his mouth across his shirt sleeves, “Those brownies were just too damn good.” There was still a smudge at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe if you swallowed between bites…” you move your fingers to his face, lifting his chin to look up at you. He’s frozen as you move your thumb to the corner of his mouth and wipe down and under his bottom lip.

Eyes wide and imploring as they look up at you. He’s all sweet innocence and deeply adoring as you touch his mouth. The brown of his eyes was melting into the sticky sweet sap color, like warm honey in the sunlight.

You pull your hand away and suck the chocolate off the pad of your thumb, “… but thank you for the compliment. I’m not as much of a baker.”

Scott was trying to keep a smile off his face as his hand hovered near his crinkled nose. He was smelling something that was flying off Stiles like a firework set aflame. The poor boy was squirming in his spot on the ground, crossing his legs and keeping his hands over his lap.

“How was Allison?” Scott changes the subject.

You look up, now ignoring the sappy eyes gazing from below. “She was fine – maybe a little embarrassed about her family. It was strange knowing the motive behind her family’s questions but seeing none of it register with her.”

“I have a feeling she’ll find out soon enough.”

“Me too,” you stand, “For now she’s releasing a lot of her stress through archery and training with her aunt.”

Scott shivers, “Scary.”

You nod, walking to the door and hearing Stiles scramble to his feet. “I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow?”

Getting into the jeep was uncomfortable, Stiles pulling at his jeans. Scott was laughing at him before too long, “Dude, you should have seen your face. You really are hopeless.”

Stiles groans, slamming his forehead into the steering wheel, “She touched me and every thought just flew out of my head.”

“I could smell it off you,” Scott grimaces, “Just awful lovey-dovey sex hormones, even without the full moon I could smell it.”

Stiles sat straight, making the jeep wiggle side to side. He had a ruddy red mark on his forehead. “Did you smell anything from (Y/N)?”

Scott clamps his mouth shut before shaking his head. “I could hear her uneven heartbeat, but that’s nothing new.”

In a dramatic turn of events, Stiles slumps in his seat and puts the car in drive. “I need to figure out a way to tell her.”

“Tell her your feelings?” Scott gaps, “What about the possibility of utterly crushing humiliation? Not to mention ruining what friendships we still have.”

“Thanks for adding to the anxiety, Scott,” he grumbles, “I just… I can’t help thinking about how I am with her. I have never been able to just talk about my mom to anyone… but with her it’s easy. I’ve never brought a girl over to my house before… but with (Y/N) it was a no brainer. I’ve never been so equally terrified and comfortable with a girl. And with her heart…”

“You’re like an anchor for her,” Scott says quietly, all teasing aside. “You can calm her.”

Stiles puts one hand over his cropped hair, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

“You know the difference between you and Andrew Wickstrom, Stiles?”

He snorts, “He’s maybe four inches taller than me, has perfect curly hair, and is way better at lacrosse than I am.”

“He asked (Y/N) out,” Scott says, “You just need to ask her out.”

~~~

Friday night was all excitement and butterflies as you walk around a strip mall with Andrew. The white fairy lights turn on when the sun sets, and you’re left walking on cobblestones and eating ice cream.

You were laughing at the ridiculous training regime that Coach was making the boys do in preparation for the state game.

“What is the benefit of running laps to the classroom and out to the field?”

“Coach makes us carry his stuff too and from his office,” Andrew mocks, “He makes it sound like an exercise, but really he just wants us to fetch his granola bars and energy drinks.”

You laugh again, “That sounds about right. How do you feel about the game?”

“Since switching to goalie it’s been hard figuring the plays out. But I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” He offers to throw away your empty ice cream cup and spoon.

The night so far had entailed a dinner at a little café outside the mall before looking in some of the stores for new summertime clothes. Andrew bought an outfit for you, shorts with little revealing tears in them and a strappy top that shows your scars way more than you’re used to.

You love that Andrew doesn’t question you about them.

Next was a stop at an ice cream parlor, taste testing different flavors before picking your favorites. The pair of you now walking around as the moon comes out, the trees adorned with white fairy lights.

You were walking so close to each other that you kept bumping arms. “Next time I want to show you my favorite antique shop downtown. It has some of the coolest things from every time period, and it’s connected to an old bookshop – one of the ones with tall ladders and a second floor just like in…”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Andrew says, sounding a little giddy. He was looking at you with pink dusting his cheeks.

You blush, “Is that alright?”

In reply, Andrew locks your fingers between his. “Very alright.” You stroll down the next street of cool fairy light, squeezing each other’s hands. “What were you saying about the old bookstore before I rudely interrupted you?”

You brush hair behind your ears, “Oh, just that it reminds me of the old bookstore from Beauty and the Beast… the one from her town.”

“You’re a fan of Disney?”

“Always,” you laugh, “With movies like The Princess and the Frog and The Emperor’s New Groove… how could you not be?”

Andrew snickers, “It’s because of Naveen, isn’t it?”

“Ah, Prince Naveen,” you groan, “You got me there.”

“Got to be honest though… Treasure Planet might be the best one yet.”

You pull on his arm, “I haven’t watched that in ages!”

Andrew side eyes you as his dimples come out, “So old antique shop and then movie night?”

You’re giddy at the thought of another date, “Sounds perfect.” You wander the streets just talking and laughing for another half hour before he offers to drive you home.

He holds your hand atop your lap the whole way.

Walking to your door, porchlight on as your parents wait for your return, you thank Andrew for a lovely evening.

“It’s nice after all the chaos the town’s been in the last month.”

He nods, “I had a really nice time with you, (Y/N).” He hands you the shopping bag with your new summer outfit, “I’ll text you a time for the next one.”

You smile wide as he takes a step closer, “I had fun too.” He was leaning down to your height, your chin rising to meet him.

In a quick mind-boggling moment, Andrew presses his lips to yours. He pulls away just an inch to see your reaction before moving further.

At your slight smile he leans in for more, kissing you more firmly and cupping your cheek. A sudden warmth blooms up your chest and into your face – and a beeping comes from your watch.

You break away suddenly, “God, sorry…” you cover the watch face with your hand. “Parents are waiting.”

Andrew licks his lips, all smiles as he says goodbye, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You slip inside and find your mom pruning a more successful chamomile plant at the dining table, no doubt planning to make tea with it. “Hello, honey…” she smirks, “Had a nice time?”

Checking your watch, you take a deep breath, your chest tight from something a little more than your racing heart. “The best.”

You had no idea that Stiles was burrowed beneath his blankets in bed, his phone lighting up his face is somber blue light. He watches the alert of your heart rate die down and knows in his gut that you probably had an exciting goodnight kiss on your date.

It sticks him with an ache he can’t shake for the rest of the night.

~~~

The weekend came with an invitation from Stiles in the most untoward manner. You were working on term projects for history and math when there was a sharp rapping on the window. Turning around you see Stiles waving on the roof.

Already smiling, you go to unlock the window and help him open it, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you something.”

“And your phone is…?”

He shrugs, “More of a boring gesture than this.”

“And not coming to the door…?”

He screws his face up in a comical expression, “Again, this is a more interesting entrance.” And with a graceful slip of the hand, he falls forward through the window and crashes to the ground, “Ow!”

You grimace, hearing the floorboards squeak in the hall, “Shit, Stiles my parents will kill me if they knew you were sneaking up our roof!” In a frantic waving of your hands you shove him under your bed.

He does his now famous doggy-paddling across the hardwood floor.

“(Y/N), sweetie?” your mom calls as she enters your bedroom, “Oh – what was that noise? I thought you must’ve fainted and fell.”

You put your hands behind your back, looking around and finding Ollie still snoozing on the history textbook on your desk. He was so unbothered and not at all helpful. “Um… I dropped my math workbook,” you say quickly, “It’s pretty thick.”

Your mom looks to your hands to see the workbook and raises her eyebrows in question.

Choking on your words you look around and find the evidence on your bed covers, “See! I just picked it up when you walked in.”

Angela shakes her head, “Studying must be getting to you. Maybe you should take a break.”

You nod vigorously and thank your mother, closing your door and finding Stiles already trying to pull himself out from under your bed. His tongue was sticking out as he struggles.

“That was close,” you laugh, sitting on the floor with him, “Who knew you’d be such mischief.”

Stiles snaps his eyes to yours and flounders in his words, “I… you – did you…”

Your knees are inches away as you give him a quizzical look, “What?”

“My m-, my mom used to call me mischief.” His voice was quiet and wondering as he says it. He looks at you with a kind of awe; a freckle of sadness making his eyes glassy.

You suddenly feel warm, maybe from embarrassment – maybe from empathy. You couldn���t imagine a life without your mother. “A very fitting name for someone so mischievous.”

He chuckles, his smile subconscious, “That’s not the only reason she called me that. Um… I uh – my name isn’t actually Stiles.”

“I knew it,” you smirk.

“I actually have a polish name – my grandpa’s name. And it’s really hard to pronounce, so I’d pretty much stop at saying mischief cause that was as close as I could get.”

You raise your eyebrows, all curiosity, “And this name is…?”

He looks shy as he mumbles, “Mieczyslaw.”

“Mitchy-slav?”

He becomes shier as he repeats, “Yeah, Mieczyslaw. You can imagine why a young impressionable child would choose to go by something a little easier.”

You look at him fondly, “I like it. I like learning things about you.” You stand, taking his hand to pull him up, “Now what was the thing you wanted to ask me?”

“I wanted to know if you’d come hangout at my place tonight and meet my dad.”

“I already know your dad, Stiles.”

“Yeah, on a professional basis,” he mocks, “But… but you’ve never seen him without the badge on.”

You agree to come over that night and say you’ll bring a treat, which immediately strikes interest in Stiles. You plan accordingly, cooking all Saturday evening and dishing it in traveling containers. Placing them in a large take-out bag, you drive with your dad to the Stilinski bachelor pad.

You hope your gesture is kindly met.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles says with as much enthusiasm as one seeing someone for the first time in weeks. He’s awkward as he thinks of another way to greet you and is grateful when you go in for a hug. “Something smells delicious.”

You lift the large bag, “I told you I’d bring something.”

He leads you to the kitchen and you see Noah Stilinski looking over case files at the dining table. He looks stressed and wary until he spots you in the doorway.

“Ah, hello (Y/N). It’s nice to see you outside of the station…” he stands up, “… and outside of an ambulance.”

You laugh, going in for a hug that he wasn’t expecting, but loving it nonetheless. He holds you for a second longer as you say, “It’s about time.” He smells of whiskey. You gesture to the food in your bag, “I brought us dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Noah deadpans, “You spoil us.” He frantically tries to shuffle his case files into an orderly fashion, “I’m sorry it’s such a mess.” He moves his full whiskey glass and goes to put the decanter away.

“It’s okay,” you start to help, catching words like ‘murder’ and ‘Hale House.’ Stiles ran for some plates and forks. “There’s not always warning when Stiles makes plans.” You wonder how drunk the sheriff already is – the case must really be getting to him.

Noah chuckles, “You really know my son, then.” He seems awkward without the authority of his badge – like any other suburban dad. “He didn’t tell me you were bringing anything. Wait… did you cook that?” he points to your bag of containers.

“Yeah,” you say, helping Stiles set the table, “My specialty.”

Noah shakes his head, “I haven’t had a homecooked meal in…”

“Years,” Stiles snorts, “(Y/N) is the real deal, dad. Whatever she made will change your life.”

“He eats some chicken and rice and suddenly I’m a three-star Michelin chef.”

Stiles chortles, “Don’t forget those brownies. I’ll never be the same.”

You laugh as the boys sit down and you reveal the dinner you brought. A bowl of spicy Italian sausage, a plate of sliced garlic bread, and a dish of homemade mac and cheese topped with chopped parsley and green onion.

It was very quiet for the first few minutes, you placing a slice of garlic bread on each plate and ladling the cheesy noodles on top like an open-faced slider. You end with placing a few pieces of sausage on the side and passing the plates to the boys.

Stiles still can’t find the words as his dad says, “Did um…” he clears his throat. “Did Stiles tell you…”

You nod, feeling a presence there like nothing you had ever experienced before. “He said it was one of her signature dishes – a favorite of his.” You look to Stiles beside you and notice something glistening in his eyes.

You let them soak in the thoughtfulness of the gesture – what it actually signifies for them – and you start to eat on your own. Though it didn’t bring up any childhood memories of motherly love that it would for Stiles… it was still delicious.

“You’re right,” you say softly, “Like a fancy kids meal.”

Noah starts to chuckle, sniffing as he clears the emotion from his throat. He’s next to start eating his meal and the way he savors each bite is compliment enough. You wait for Stiles to start, very conscious of his quietness.

Stiles was never quiet.

He picks up the garlic bread laden with mac and cheese and takes a bite. He giggles like a schoolboy, “Wow.” He closes his eyes and you feel inclined to put your hand on his. Beneath the table, you wrap your fingers around his against his leg.

You rub your thumb in circles around his knuckles, watching him open his eyes and see tears there. “How is it?”

He sniffs, looking at you with wet eyes, “Like I remember.” He wipes at his face as you smile.

The rest of the meal continues with small talk and fond memories bringing up laughter. The sheriff finishes his whiskey and seems full and tired. Stiles keeps eating until there were no leftovers in sight.

He was now staring at the files of paperwork on the current Derek Hale case. You catch his eye and stand to wash dishes, “You finished, sheriff?”

“Oh no, I’ve got it,” Stiles slips out of his chair and takes the plates from your hands, “You just sit down, I’ll clean up.”

You smile to yourself as the sheriff looks more work wary, leaning on his hand and rubbing at his temples. “You bring out the best in him,” he says quietly, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him willingly wash a dish before.”

“He’s sweet,” you say. Realizing too late that that was another thing Mrs. Stilinski used to say all the time.

Noah nods, a little red in the cheeks from the alcohol, “He is. She always said so.”

You had a feeling the sheriff didn’t talk about his wife very much. “You seem a little put out.”

“It’s just this case,” he rubs hard at his face, “I’ve been staring at it for weeks and I know they’re all connected, but there’s something missing.”

“What are all connected?” you ask.

He points a finger at you, “I shouldn’t be telling you.”

“You know I’m not going to say anything, sheriff,” you say candidly, “I’m a hermit that makes very good mac and cheese in my spare time.”

He chuckles deep in his throat, quieter the drunker he is. “The thing is… the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.” He pulls on a paper with his fingertips, sliding it across the table.

You read it sideways as it moves. “’Terminated under suspicion of fraud.’”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed, he’s a convicted felon, history of arson. Two others in the woods… they had priors all over their records, including…”

“Arson…” you say to yourself. The true crime fan within you was a little tickled. It sounds like all the victims had something to do with the house fire six years ago. You look over your shoulder to see Stiles standing in the doorway. He had soapy water soaking the front of his shirt.

He puts a finger to his lips and listens.

“There’s just so many questions…” You don’t stop him for fear that he’ll register all that he’s telling you. “If Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. And why make it look like some kind of animal did it?”

You shake your head. It must be killing Stiles to know the real reason behind some of these things and not being able to share. He was protecting his dad from the supernatural. Just like how he was trying to protect you from it.

“You know the instances of wild animal reports were up 70% over the past few months? It’s like they’re going crazy and running out of the woods. I don’t know.” He hand a palm to his forehead, already dozing off.

You feel a little guilty as you lean in your chair.

“Hey, sheriff, can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart…”

You smile warmly as Stiles leans his head against the archway. “Would you be willing to call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night? It’s late and I don’t want to worry them. Stiles and I have some work to catch up on… our chemistry project and stuff. Now would be a really good time to get it done.”

The sheriff had a dopey smile on his face as he looks at you. He considers you while Stiles is having a heart attack in the kitchen.

“Sure thing,” he says, fumbling for his phone, “I know your parents worry about you.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you,” you say kindly, “Thank you, sheriff. And thank you for letting me stay.”

He scratches at his head as you stand, already dialing your mom’s number, “Hey, Angela. No, no – she’s fine. We’re taking good care of her… hey, listen. The kids want to work on some projects, and I wanted to offer to let her stay the night.” He rubs at his tired eyes, “Sure, sure… of course. It’s just late and I know Tom is at the firehouse tonight so… yeah, sure thing. We’ve got plenty of room. Yep, thanks Angela. Sure, bye bye.”

You’re walking towards Stiles with a stupid grin on your face, “Let’s go talk.”

“Night dad!” Stiles yells instantly, still in awe that you were able to pull that off.

Noah waves them off, “Don’t stay up too late.”

You pull Stiles’ hand and go upstairs. “I can’t believe that worked.” You find the bathroom but wait for Stiles to show you his room.

“Um… one second,” he holds up a finger and tells you to stay put. He rummages like a madman in his bedroom, knocking things over and slamming things shut. You picture mounds of clothes and old plates of food being shoved into the closet.

He’s breathing heavy when he opens the door again, “Okay, you can come in.” He holds open the door and you walk in to find a queen bed with ruffled blue sheets, a desk on the other side with bulletin boards hanging on the wall. One of the smaller ones had a blanket thrown over it.

You wonder how much decluttering Stiles did because it was still very messy. Papers, sticky notes, and red string were everywhere. “Cozy.”

He looks nervous, playing with his fingers and watching your expression, “I don’t… ha…” he fidgets with his soapy shirt, “I’ve never had a girl in my room before.”

You take a bow, “I’m honored.” You sit on the edge of his bed, “What your dad is investigating…”

“Derek… I know,” he sits at his desk chair. “He’s so close to figuring it all out. He just doesn’t know about the Alpha.”

“Was it bad of me to egg him on while he’s so clearly drunk?”

“No, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Exactly,” you deadpan, smiling. “If the Alpha is killing people responsible for the fire, then Derek siding with him at the hospital…”

“… is probably because he wants people to pay for the fire as well.”

You rub your legs down to your knees, “And the Alpha just wants to become powerful again in his revenge.”

Stiles was tapping his fingers against the desk, “So was there any other reason why you wanted to stay the night? Because I know for a fact you already finished our chemistry project and it’s incubating in the lab right now.”

“Well, there have been a couple things I wanted to talk to you about.” You sit cross legged on the mattress and say, “Coach has been talking to me about Scott failing his classes.”

“Big surprise,” Stiles scoffs, “The guy thinks he can be some werewolf savior and graduate high school at the same time.”

You wince, “Finstock made a deal with the office. Scott can’t go to the winter formal.”

“Because he’s failing?” Stiles gawks.

“They wanted to kick him off the team, but Coach said… some strange things… and made the dance agreement.” You tilt your head to the side, “Are you still planning on going?”

Stiles spins around in his chair, fumbling over his words, “Um, er – yeah, technically. I was s-still planning on it. Why… might I ask?”

You sigh, “Allison will need someone to ask her out.”

He was caught off guard, “I’m sorry, what? Me ask Allison to the dance.”

“It makes sense!” you say, “With Scott’s savior complex he’s going to want everyone under supervision in case the Alpha decides to take us out one at a time.”

There was a hesitance in the way Stiles kept spinning around in the chair. He seems grumpy, “Why can’t Jackson ask her?”

“You don’t want to go with Allison?’

“Well, I…” he was biting his lips, “I don’t know. Are you going?”

“I think Andrew is going to ask me on our next date.”

Stiles bangs a foot against the desk and nearly slips out of the chair, “A second date? Already?”

You smile, going a little red, “We had a good time and… we may or may not have kissed.”

A horrible sinking feeling enters Stiles’ stomach. His heart clenches painfully and the sudden desire to hurt Wickstrom came on hard and fast. “And… you liked it.”

“It was a nice change of pace from my usual,” you try to hide your smile, “I haven’t been kissed in a while.”

Stiles waves his hands around, “Woah, woah, woah… you’ve been kissed before? I thought you were a hermit that made mac and cheese.”

“And I have the occasional neighbor boy kiss me,” you laugh, “There was Easton from down the street when I was thirteen and then Adam who was visiting from San Fransico over the summer when I was fifteen. Not to mention, nimrod, that Scott kissed me just the other week.”

“Oh my god,” he wipes a hand across his face, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get people to kiss you?”

You squint your eyes, folding your arms, “Are you telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Stiles squirms in his chair, swinging it back and forth. “Maybe.”

“Ah, Stiles!” you bounce on his bed, “That’s so sweet.”

He groans, “Don’t tell me it’s sweet. It freaking sucks. All of my friends are getting their jollies off and I am left here in the dust with the driest lips this side of the valley.” His arms hang limp at his sides, “Is it nice?”

You giggle, “It can be. I think it only ever is when you kiss someone you like. It’s just… god, it’s hard to explain.” But Stiles was leaning in like the most attentive student. “There’s something really vulnerable about it, which leaves you wide open to feel anything and everything. You’re scared to death of course, especially with someone you like. But the bliss you feel after doing it is like nothing else.”

Stiles purses his lips, “Is that how the Andrew kiss went?”

“Almost.”

That raises his eyebrows, “I thought you really liked him.”

“I do, but I kind of have this new rule since the summer with Adam from San Fransico,” you hold up a hand, “I can’t date seriously. I can’t get too involved with any guy. So I’ll have to tell Andrew to stop eventually if this keeps going well.”

Stiles frowns, a punch to the gut, “Why can’t you date seriously?”

“Personal choice.”

“Because of what?” You smile and he groans, “Let me guess, it’s another story for another day.”

You use a finger gun on him, “Precisely, you’re catching on.” But the smile starts to dip from your face as you look at him. You lick your lips and say, “How about this. If you don’t have your first kiss by junior year… I’ll kiss you.”

The chair creaks as Stiles nearly falls from it, feet kicking out, “What!?”

“I’ll kiss you. We’ll make a kiss pact. I don’t want you getting too far into high school without having been kissed. The first one is always nerve-wracking anyway. It probably won’t be as meaningful as getting surprised with it by someone you really like, but it might be the next best thing.”

Stiles was losing his marbles, little fireworks exploding behind his eyes and falling like sparklers into his chest. “Okay.”

You smile at his goofy expression, “Now, can I borrow those sweats again? And maybe a t-shirt?”

He was still looking at you with sparklers in his eyes, “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” He went to rummage through his dresser.

A few minutes later you were both in pajamas, having taken turns to use the bathroom to brush your teeth – you just using toothpaste and your finger – and standing in Stiles’ bedroom. You had dark sweats and an oversized shirt. With how broad Stiles’ shoulders were, the shirt hung low on your frame.

His throat was bobbing when he saw you standing there, pillows and blankets on the ground. “You good?”

You yawn, “Yep.” You meet him at the makeshift nest on the ground and nudge him, “Move please.”

“Oh, no this is for me,” he says, “You get the bed.” Standing so close to each other, you have to look up at him.

“I’m the guest, Stiles. You use your bed and I’ll count the dust bunnies under the bed.” You smile at the deep frown on his face.

He shakes his head, “Not gonna happen.”

“Fine,” you say, crawling onto his bed, “We can share.”

He chokes on his spit and starts coughing, “Share the bed?”

“Is that okay?” you look at him innocently.

That look combined with you wearing his clothes was sending him over the edge. His stomach was full of butterflies tickling the tightness in his ribcage. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. In one night he had a girl in his room, said girl promised to kiss him, and now wanted to share a bed with him.

“Um… I kind of sleep in the middle of the mattress. I don’t want you to wake up to me invading your personal space.”

You laugh, “That’s fine, I can just shove you away.”

He nods, but is lost for words, going to turn off the light while you get comfortable. He’s back in the darkness and hesitates, “Are you su…”

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already buried in his woodsy honey scented sheets. You feel the mattress dip as he finds his pillow. His knee knocks into your leg, and he apologizes. He shuffles down further and pulls up the blanket, rubbing his arm against yours, and he apologizes again.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling as you cuddle further into your pillow, blanket tucked under your chin. “Goodnight,” you mumble.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).” In the dark of his bedroom and the warm, calm presence of you beside him, it gave him a sense of ease. He takes a deep breath and says, “Thank you for the dinner today. It… meant a lot.”

You hum in reply, “You’re welcome.”

The last thing he remembers is turning on his side to face you already asleep. Your mouth was a little open and the pillow was squashing your cheek. Your hair was wild behind you and the shirt you borrowed was low enough that he could see the scar above your heart. You look more beautiful than ever laying there.

He wanted to know what you were holding back. He wanted to know what he had to do to give you the same feelings he was having.

And with thoughts of you looking beautiful in his bed, he fell asleep too.

~~~

Hours later you wake groggily to a still dark room. Stiles was standing and pulling his shoes on, phone in his hand. You groan and shift the covers closer to your body.

“Where are you going?” you ask half-asleep.

Stiles freezes at your words, “Uh… werewolf business. You can just stay here…” he walks over to your nearly asleep figure, “I’ll come back later.”

You don’t reply and he thinks you’re already back to sleep. It makes him smile. He bends down to tuck the covers a little tighter around you and… he hesitates, looking at your face. He swallows hard and leans down to place a kiss to your head.

“Sweet dreams.”

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies

[glisten-inthedark]

No but the way Mike IMMEDIATELY softens with an “shit, shit” look on his face the second he sees Will’s expression after “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” like he would not do that with Lucas or Dustin

(for one thing he wouldn’t have even said that to either of them—if either of them was single he would’ve said “it’s not my fault you can’t get a girlfriend”)

but softening like that? Mike only does that with Will. Even right when Will first got upset and turned off the music, Mike immediately went “no wait let’s continue the campaign it’s super cool what happens next” with no hint of sarcasm or frustration, he genuinely was gonna continue the campaign if Will hadn’t left

And let’s not forget him biking out in the rain (and Lucas too, tho I suspect Mike was the one pioneering this effort bc only Mike followed Will outside) and going all the way to Will’s house to apologize and calls himself an asshole and says he wants to talk, something Max said he’d do for El after the breakup but he instead does for Will

Poetic cinema

Hello!

Oh point number 1: Mike always softens whenever he's talking to Will (I love how the fandom coined it as his Will voice) and you could see the instant regret on his face as soon as he said it.

Point number 2: He absolutely would not have anything like that to Dustin or Lucas and I wonder why.

Point number 3: That's why I think people can be a little bit harsh to Mike. Did he hurt Will? Absolutely! He should not have said that, but he did drag himself and Lucas to Will's house in the middle of the pouring rain to apologize.

And can we talk about how that went? Like Mike runs downstairs, and it's like:

"We gotta go!"

"Go where?"

"After Will, Lucas! Where else?"

"Why? What happened?!"

"I– he just ran off and we have to find because if something – If he – let's just fucking go!"

And Lucas dead ass must have been like "God dammit 😤 Mike, fine!"

Honestly Lucas deserves a fucking award for being a good ass friend. Justice for Lucas Sinclair

[stvharrngton]

closer

a/n: part 2 to fuck about it is here! it’s inspired by another parx song and one of my favourites at that :^)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, exes/fwb to lovers, soft dom!steve vibes, angst at the start

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @variant-lokitty @kennedy-brooke

I got my space but what I’d pay, for you

The red numbers on the clock read 04:37. You weren’t sure what sleep you had managed to get, if any. Steve’s soft snores next to you now are too much of a distraction.

You were in his bed, in his bedroom, but you didn’t feel present. It felt like groundhog day, same old shit different day. You and Steve would hook up after a party or a random phone call at 1AM, you’d sleep over, go back to acting like you hated each other and do it all over again a couple days later.

You went from spending every waking minute together to only seeing each other in mutual friend spaces, to only being close in secret. And man, what you wouldn’t give to go right back to the start.

It all felt too much. Too much being here, next to him, when you didn’t belong here. Not really. You had to get out.

You gently rose from the bed, fearful of waking Steve, tiptoeing your way out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. You sighed before pouring yourself a glass of water. You contemplated if you could get back to your place in just your panties and one of Steve’s old t-shirts without raising any suspicion.

I need you closer or I need it over

“Couldn’t sleep?” A low raspy voice asked from behind you.

It would have startled you if you didn’t go through this exact routine every other week.

“Something like that.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool water.

You felt his eyes on you, raking up and down your body. You couldn’t bear to return the favour, his big brown eyes eager to draw you in. The chest hair decorating his pecs, the boxers hanging low on his hips all too dangerous.

“You wanna head back to bed?” Steve asked, tone calm and quiet, “It’s way too early.” He stretched his arm around your back. A simple gesture yet one you couldn’t stand.

“I’m just gonna go home, Steve.” You shrugged his arm off you, spinning on your heel to start up the stairs again.

“What? Are you crazy?!” Steve started, quick to follow you, “It’s like five in the morning, you’re not going anywhere. Just come back to bed.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Steve.”

The boy had the nerve to roll his eyes, scoffing at your statement under his breath. “Come on, this again?” He was flailing his hands about now, “This was supposed to be fun, remember? No strings attached, no feelings.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You said no feelings, Steve. You said no strings attached. You barely gave me five minutes to process our breakup which you never gave me a real reason for, by the way.”

The tears began to well in your eyes, purely out of anger and frustration. You felt awful inside, full of regret and nausea. Except you didn’t really regret entering this agreement with Steve, not in the beginning at least, longing to get those intimate moments with him whenever you could.

“But my feelings are still very much here, Steve. And it’s just, fuck–, it’s just too much. So, I’m ending it.”

‘Cause you’re the holiday I celebrate too late, you’re the eyes that I gave up trying to captivate

Steve stood there in the middle of his kitchen dumbfounded. Lips moving but no words were coming out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that would make you crawl back into bed with him at least. Instead, he let you get angrier, get more upset, he let you keep talking.

“You’re so selfish, Steve. We always hookup when you want to, on your terms. You’re saying you never once considered how I felt?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry, huh?” Steve asked, his tone a little harsh and condescending. He was tugging at his hair now, frustration evident in the tinge of red on the top of his ears.

“I want to know why.” You said, wet eyes blinking up at the boy, your lips downturned into a frown.

“Why, what?” Steve shot back with.

“I want to know why you broke up with me, Steve.” You sighed, shoulders slumped, “I deserve that much from you.”

He sighed, the angry, frustrated look on his face became one of sadness and despair. Tongue poking the side of his cheek, his eyes not able to meet your own. Instead his gaze was focused on his feet, a guilty feeling churning in his stomach.

“Cause I didn’t deserve you, okay?” He began, voice shaky, “So I sabotaged us, broke my own heart before you could, you know? Before you found someone better.”

You thought he was ridiculous, that the reason was some sort of cop out. The typical ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ schtick. But you knew Steve, and you knew when he was being serious or telling the truth and unfortunately, this was one of those times.

He grabbed your arm, wrapped his fingers around your wrist as you rolled your eyes, urging you to stay and listen. “I know it sounds crazy and really stupid but it was easier that way. It was too late before I realised I made a massive mistake.”

‘Cause I love you, or I want to, but I don’t know how

The kitchen was silent, save for the dripping tap in the kitchen sink, the ticking clock on the wall. The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it comfortable. You were appreciative of his honesty, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Knowing that Steve threw your relationship down the toilet because of his self esteem was upsetting, especially when you thought Steve was nothing but the perfect boyfriend.

“Steve–,” your features softened, your pent up frustration faltering.

“No, let me finish, please?” Steve asked, eyes pleading, “It’s the least I owe you.”

You nodded reluctantly, stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen at five-thirty AM. He started with a sigh, fingers running through his messy bed hair.

“I was stupid,” he started, taking your hands in his much larger ones now, “you know, I overthought everything. I acted crazy, because you– you were perfect and I loved you but I just didn’t know how to.”

His speech was heartfelt and sincere, a real tug at your heartstrings. In your time apart your feelings for Steve never once faltered, you still loved him, adored him. You felt bitterness towards him because he seemed fine, no heartbreak, no tears. What you didn’t know was that Steve’s head was still filled with thoughts of you, thoughts and dreams that kept him awake at night with a chest full of regret.

“Loved?” you breathed, doe eyes blinking up at the boy. You knew you had no right, but it hurt thinking that Steve had ever stopped loving you. Made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach, your brain was telling you to leave, to not stick around long enough to hear the end of the tragic song but your legs simply wouldn’t move.

Steve tried his luck, long fingers reaching up to stroke at your soft cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, missing the soft intimacy you craved so much from your ex-boyfriend.

“Love.” He whispered matter of factly, a soft smile creeping on his lips. “I love you. Never stopped.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, a glint of hope, a glimmer of longing. You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach, tried to ignore Steve’s soft lips and the sprinkling of freckles and moles across his skin.

“Why wouldn’t you say something, Steve?” You spoke softly this time, a total 180 of your prior tone. So badly you wanted to wrap your arms around him, to pull him in closer but your head was fuzzy, unsure where you stood.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed jokingly, “I thought you’d never want to speak to me again, let alone have a serious conversation where I begged you to take me back ‘cause I’m a giant idiot.”

“You’re right,” you chuckled, “you are a giant idiot, Harrington.”

“You can say that again.” Steve sighed, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks now, thumbs stroking over your skin, “I know you probably have loads of questions which I will definitely answer, but right now all I can think about is kissing you.”

“Are you asking if you can kiss me?” You asked, a subtle teasing lacing your tone. Voice playful and hopeful. Steve was right, you did have questions and you had no idea where you stood but all that could wait. All you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Can I?” Steve whispered, voice all saccharine sweet, low and sultry. Lips inching in closer to yours.

You let your actions speak for you, hands climbing up his chest, dainty fingers finding their way to Steve’s neck. You saw a glimpse of his smirk before your lips were brushing against his own.

You let yourself melt into the kiss, Steve’s soft lips sucking you right in. The kiss felt different than usual, rather than hot and messy, rushed and horny, it was sweet, passionate. Slow and soft. It felt like Steve, your Steve.

It felt like a lifetime that you were stood in Steve’s kitchen, lips melding together perfectly. His large hands began to wander your body, fists bunching his old t-shirt that swamped your body. You pulled away from one another, foreheads resting against one another, the tip of Steve’s nose brushing along the slope of yours, chests heaving as you both took a breath.

The pair of you both sported wide grins as Steve mumbled out, “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You replied, voice all sing-songy, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip playfully, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Steve chirped, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “How ‘bout right now?”

You squealed when he wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him, heels crossed at his tailbone. His lips were back on yours in an instant as he carried you through to the lounge, falling back onto the couch with you in tow.

Steve’s hands wandered down your back as you were perched in his lap, your fingers curling through the strands of soft brown hair atop his head. Steve hummed at the feeling, the vibrations rumbling in his chest as he kissed you a little harder, a little deeper. You were no stranger to makeout sessions with Steve, even post breakup, but this felt right. This felt normal, like you knew you wouldn’t ever have to skip out at seven AM again before anyone saw you.

The boy pulled away from you, lips pressing short, quick kisses to the column of your throat, mumbling between pecks, “You’re perfect, my beautiful girl.” Steve cooed.

You whimpered at both the feeling of his lips on your neck and the words that left his mouth. You couldn’t help but let it hit you right in your lower stomach, pressure building with every kiss of Steve’s lips, every squeeze of your ass with his large hands.

“Your girl?” You asked innocently, eyelashes fluttering as you felt the heat rise up your body, goose pimples simultaneously covering your skin.

“That’s right, honey,” Steve breathed, “my girl.”

Your hips began to move absentmindedly. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your skin, his hands all over your body, his words an aphrodisiac and the more he kept talking, the more needy, desperate you became.

“And what does my sweet girl want, hm?” Steve asked softly, one of his hands skimming underneath your t-shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, thumb circling over one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you whined, arching your back and pressing your chest further into Steve’s touch, “you, Steve. I want you. Please?”

He chuckled at how fragile you sounded, your whines and whimpers only serving as music to his ears. “I’m all yours, baby.” The boy responded, hand sneaking lower, fingers circling over your clit over the material of your panties.

You let out a strangled moan at the almost-there contact, feeling the arousal poole at your core. You bucked your hips into Steve’s hand, hands bracings themselves on his shoulders as you began to grind your heat over his meaty thigh, his fingers rubbing at your clit with every movement.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, “there you go. That feel good, huh?”

Steve’s voice was syrupy sweet as he whispered in your ear, urging you to chase your high, to make yourself feel good at his expense. You could only respond to his question with a high pitched whine, a sound that had Steve all giddy, grinning from ear to ear.

“God, look at you, sweetheart,” Steve mused, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with lust, “making a mess of yourself all over my thigh. Fuck.”

Your hips began to move faster, desperately trying to get yourself to your climax along with Steve’s fingers on your throbbing clit. You whimpered the boy’s name into the early morning sunrise, eyes heavy and heart longing for him.

Steve coaxed you to your first orgasm with his skilful fingers, soft words of praise and encouragement whispered under his breath. You came undone with a shrill cry, a sweet groan of curse words and pretty noises tumbled from your lips as you shook against Steve’s thigh.

He hushed you with his lips, kisses swallowing up your moans and whines. He hummed against your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you let the tension leave your body.

The boy had a subtle smirk on his face when you pulled away, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip settled firmly between his teeth. You giggled as you tried to hide your face away in the crook of his neck, the smell of sleep still evident on his skin.

“Ah, ah,” he teased, “let me see you.” He spoke quietly, pulling you back gently as he cupped your cheek with one hand. “Beautiful,” he cooed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

You felt the heat creep up your cheeks at his admission, the feeling of Steve’s hands on you and his hard cock pressing into your core through the cotton of his boxers ever present in the front of your mind. You felt him tense as you moved over the bulge gently, the sound music to your ears.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, his large hands moving to your thighs, his fingers digging into the doughy flesh. It only spurred you on, the noises leaving his pretty lips, the way his head was rolled back against the back of the couch.

“Baby,” he whined, “fuck. I gotta feel you. Please?” Steve’s eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated and dark. His cock was aching and begging to be touched, desperate to be swallowed by your pillowy walls.

You nodded with intent, standing up to rid yourself of your shorts and underwear as Steve did with his boxers. You watched with a slack jaw as Steve’s cock sprang to attention, hard and thick against the thick trail of hair that decorated his lower stomach.

Breath hitching in your throat, Steve lathered up his cock with his own saliva, fingers wrapping around his length as he ushered you back onto his lap. You held onto Steve’s shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning at the stretch.

You sunk down inch by inch until Steve was buried in your pussy to the hilt. The stretch was a sweet pain, sinful and worth every wince. The boy cursed as you began to move, gentle and slow as you gave him a nod, a hint to pull you along his length. Steve could only abide as he moved his hands to your ass, palms squeezing the flesh as he pulled you back and forth in his lap.

“Jesus,” he groaned, throaty and raspy, eyes trained on your face, how your features were twisted in pleasure, “you feel so fucking good.”

You could only whine in response, mind too busy to focus on anything else except for how the tip of Steve’s cock was brushing that sweet spot deep inside you. You began to move your hips faster, fingernails leaving pretty marks in his freckled skin, your wetness dripping down Steve’s cock, a sticky mess trickling down his heavy balls.

Steve was losing his mind, the sound of skin slapping against skin, your ass coming down against his thighs as you rode him, the poor boy was in a tiz. He didn’t know where he wanted his hands most; your hips or your waist, your ass or your tits, on your face or in your hair. The decision was impossible.

Closer. Steve needed you closer. Sure, your bodies were entwined, his cock buried inside you, your hands all over each other. But it wasn’t enough. He shifted you both forward on the couch, his arms wrapped around the small of your back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his own.

You were sat chest to chest in his lap, his hand shoving your, his, t-shirt up your chest, your nipples free to brush up against the coarse hair of his chest. You both moaned out loud at the close contact, his hands on your back urging you to grind on his length.

“Fucking hell,” Steve moaned, plump lips engulfing one of your nipples, tongue licking over the bud, “you’re amazing. Can’t believe I let this pussy go.”

Word vomit of praise and lustful ramblings was Steve’s tell tale sign that he was close to his own climax, his orgasm right around the corner. Your fingers were stuck in the boy’s hair, your lips flying to his, kissing him like your life depended on it.

“Steve,” you moaned between kisses, noses knocking against one another. Your hips seemed to pick up the pace with every roll, your clit throbbing and aching.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, forehead resting against yours, his big brown eyes wide and enticing. His lips brushed against your own with every word he spoke, “You making yourself feel good on my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried, eyes squeezed closed as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “please, I’m gonna cum, Stevie, shit—.”

“Yeah? Fuck,” Steve groaned, hand snaking between your clammy bodies so he could rub at your delicate clit. “gonna cum f’me, pretty? Make a mess all over my cock, yeah? That’s a good girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm rock your body. Your hips rocked faster, harder, desperately chasing your climax.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, “gonna let me cum inside you? Fill up this pretty little pussy like she deserves.”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body as you came undone. Steve wasn’t far behind you, two more rolls of your hips and he was painting your insides with his seed.

He cried out your name like a song, face buried in your neck as his fingers dug in the skin of your waist. His toes curled in the plush carpet as he whined and whimpered into your soft flesh.

The orange-y pink glow of the sunrise over the horizon basked you both in a golden gleam. The rays covered Steve in a pretty radiance, one you hadn’t seen in a while. A weight off his shoulders, perhaps, or an old flame in his lap.

Neither of you spoke for a while, too busy taking in the comfortable silence. You hadn’t moved a muscle, cept to rest your head on the boy’s chest, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on your bare skin.

You didn’t know what this meant for you, both of you were pretty clueless where this left you, where Steve’s confession would take your relationship. But you didn’t care. Not one bit.

You only had tomorrow to look forward to now.

[cameronspecial]

Assisting In Deception (Part 10)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Jokes

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.1K 

Summary: Can Rafe do whatever he can to get his happily ever after with Y/N?

A/N: This is the final part and I hope you enjoy it! I am going to miss writing for these two because I love their dynamic.

Masterlist

The news had gotten out, not only about Y/N and Rafe’s break up but also about their relationship being only for the media and wedding. A lower-level lawyer at Cameron Development had found their contract and after the breakup was made public by someone at the company, she thought it was a good time for a payday. In true media fashion, Y/N was crucified for being a whore and materialistic, while Rafe was praised for being such a great boyfriend to her even when the relationship was fake. The double standard bothers Rafe way more than it did Y/N. She has finally learned not to take anything to heart. Rafe on the other hand knows how much those labels sunk into her skin, especially since he called her those exact same things. He has done every single possible interview he could to clear her name, but no outlet would really listen to his words. 

Not to mention, his father’s anger just adds to his feeling of guilt. Ward screamed about how Rafe could treat her that way and he should’ve made the relationship real as soon as he knew he was falling for her. Ward wasn’t upset at the lie; instead, his feelings were more focused on the fact that his son had let love go.

Rafe is going to get her back though and this is the only thing he has ever been a hundred percent sure about in his entire life. The long days without the refreshing smell of strawberry shampoo and the long nights without the soft whispers from her sleeping lips are driving him insane. Every morning and night he reaches out to pull her into his warmth, always being left empty-handed. 

He thinks of a thousand ways to make it up to her, but he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to go to the one person who he knows could help him with her. “Juni, please talk to me. I need your help,” he begs, wedging his foot between the door and its frame to stop it from shutting in his face. The shorter girl shakes her head, “She is very angry at you. I don’t know what I can do for you. We both know she doesn’t mess around and that’s exactly what you did, Big C” His eyes flicker to the carpeted floors of the hallway, dragging his left foot back and forth across it. “You don’t need to think about anything. I just need you to send her food every week. I’ll give you my card number so you can charge it to me because I know she won’t take it if I put my name on it,” he states. His hand reaches into his pocket to pull out his card. Her head tilts and her eyebrows frow together to become one.

“If this is about getting her back, then what’s the point of sending her the food without your name?” 

“It’s not about her forgiving me or taking me back. I just want to make sure that she can still eat out. I know she’ll get frugal about her money while she is figuring out a new budget with her new income and she won’t factor in getting take-out into her budget until everything else is taken care of. Her accountant degree will definitely kick in.” 

“That’s really sweet. And I know what you mean, she’s already started cutting her own expenses on groceries. I’ve never seen her go more than a day without having coffee from the shop downstairs. It’s weird.” 

“Exactly, so do it for me, please. I just want her to be happy and cared for.”

“Fine, you are lucky that I was rooting for you guys.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Let me know if you guys need anything else, okay? Nothing is too big.” 

“I know Y/N needs a trip to Cabo, but under my name.” 

He gives her a playful smile with the tilt of his head. She shrugs, “I tried. Let me know if you need any help with your plan.” Rafe nods at her offer. “I will. Thank you again,” he says, walking away from the apartment after their goodbyes. 

——

Y/N sits at her desk looking at the number on her screen. They start to merge together and she wants to bang her head against the wall. She got a job as an accountant’s assistant and she is not exactly thrilled with it, but it made the most sense because of her degree. She needed a job and she didn’t have the time to try to figure out what is the right career for her. Her boss has gone to lunch but needed her to stay behind to finish up this budget. 

The noise from the door draws her focus to Lydia, the secretary for the office. Nutmeg and parsley fill the room with its aroma. Her mouth salivates as it smells exactly like her favourite creamy mushroom gnocchi. The brown bag with a familiar logo sits in Lydia’s hand. “A delivery guy brought this over. Said it was from Juni,” she explains, placing it on her desk before exiting. Y/N grins at the bag and her hands draw together near her chest. Her shoulders sway from side to side in a little dance. She opens the bag, letting the food overwhelm her senses. With her phone in hand, she takes a selfie of herself hovering over the food and sends it to Juni with a thank you. The food hits her taste buds and she wants to melt as the creamy goodness settles in. 

——

“Sir, all of your meetings, appointments and business dinners are on your calendar. I took the liberty of decolour-coding the calendar and rearranged it in a manner that each happens in the same time frame every day. It makes more sense like that. All your meetings are arranged in the afternoon. Appointments in the mornings. And obviously the business dinners in the evening,” Ricardo debriefs, showing Rafe with his tablet what he meant. Rafe isn’t too pleased that Ricardo changed Y/N’s system, but he knows it’s because he is holding on to any piece of her he can. It isn’t Ricardo’s fault that she left. Rafe acknowledges he heard his assistant, “Okay, sounds good. Thank you. You may go back to your desk now.” 

Ricardo does as he is told and heads to his desk. The ding from Rafe’s phone immediately attracts his attention. He scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and opens the text from Juni. The screenshot she sent makes the clock stop spinning for just a second. The smile on Y/N’s face is enchanting and he wishes he saw the little dance he knew she did after taking the food out. He sends a thank you back and practically begs her to send him the actual photo so that he can save it to his camera roll. Once she does, he lets out a sigh of happiness. This is who he is trying to fight to get back. 

——

How do you make up for pushing your not-real girlfriend, but the girl you are totally in love with, away is not a Google search that has a lot of results. Something big and grand would scare her away. Something small and intimate doesn’t feel like enough. And there really isn’t a middle ground when it comes to gestures. He always defaults to food, so he wants to do something different from his norm. The sounds of his socked feet dragging against the hardwood floor bounce off of the walls as he paces the room. His head darts to the space over his bed and he stops. He takes in the painting he bought from Nancy. Each stroke comes together to show the emotions he felt at that moment and he knows the perfect way to prove to Y/N what he feels for her. 

——

When she opens the door, Nancy isn’t expecting to see her sister’s fake ex-boyfriend standing behind it. “What do you want?” she growls, crossing her arms. It is clear that her crush on him is gone with the way he upset Y/N. He looks at her with pleading eyes, “Hey Little Artist, I need your help. Please.” Her cheeks start to redden, but he can tell that it isn’t because of embarrassment or her small crush. 

“Why should I help you? You called my sister a gold digger. Do you know how much she is hurting right now? If anything I should be trying to figure out how to hide your body.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I hurt her and I want to tell her this too. I just need your help with how I execute this apology.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Little Artist, please. I love your sister so much and I can’t handle knowing that I’ve made her feel bad about herself. I just want to apologize and show her her worth again. If she tells me to get lost after I do, then I promise she will never hear or see me again. I just want her to be happy.”

Nancy looks him in the eyes and her anger lessens at what she sees. Rafe is practically in tears at the thought of what he has done. His words have really hit home for her. “Fine, I’ll help you. But you are buying me food.” 

“Wow, you really do take after your sister.” 

——

Nancy watches over his shoulder as he sketches onto the canvas. The look she makes at the outline causes him to turn towards him. “What did I do wrong?” he asks, immediately erasing the mark he just made. Her hand stops his movement, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that this is great and all, but you aren’t capturing anything deep. I don’t feel the emotion you are trying to convey right now. Just make sure when you are painting to try to bring what you are trying to say to life. But don’t worry about it for now.” He takes in her advice and keeps doing what he is told. 

The next day he starts painting. He is a lot more nervous about making the first mark than he thought he would be. “Would you stop being a big baby and just start?” Nancy complains, trying to push the paintbrush in his hand onto the canvas. His strength halts her attempt, “No, I can’t. I have to make this perfect, Little Artist. I need to show your sister how sorry I am.” “Trying to make it perfect isn’t going to work. The raw emotion you put into it is what is going to make it perfect. So turn your brain off and start,” she commands. She goes over to her own canvas to do some work. He takes a deep breath and takes a leap of fate in himself by completing the first stroke. 

——

For weeks, Juni has been sending Y/N food every single day at the office. Y/N has tried to tell her that leftovers are okay to eat for lunch, but she doesn’t appear to listen. Y/N questioned how Juni could’ve gotten the money and was met with the promise that her work has added a lunch plan for two in her contract. This doesn’t sound any bit true to Y/N, but she goes along with the lie. The headphones over her ears make her oblivious to the world around her. She opens the door to the dark apartment, grooving to the music. The routine she moves through when she gets home goes smoothly until she gets to her bedroom. 

The thin large square package leaning against her bed is not a part of that routine. She approaches the gift, looking for any indication of who sent it or how it got into her room. Her first thought is to ask Juni if she knows anything and is met with the answer to her question. You got a package this morning when you left. I brought it into your room, Sweetie. This eases her worry that someone has broken into her room. She puts her purse away and starts tearing into the wrapping paper. The painting she finds brings tears to her eyes. Years of living with Nancy means Y/N knows a little bit about painting, so she knows the technique is nowhere near perfect. Yet, the meaning it is trying to convey is clear to the woman. She can feel the emotion he felt while he painted it. There could only be one person who made this for her. 

The subject of the painting: her, specifically from a picture of her when they went to Greece. They had found a little cafe near the beach and she was completely in love with the saragli and baklava he bought her. She was too occupied enjoying the nutty and sticky pastry to notice him taking her picture. The painting isn’t a good likeness to her. Her nose is a little too close to her lips and her eyes are wider apart than in actuality, but the lighting tells her everything she needs to know. She remembers the picture vividly and knows that it isn’t accurate to the day. Instead, the light paints her in a golden light that makes her look ethereal. The love he feels for her comes across with every golden stroke on the canvas. Her anger starts to vanish. 

She doesn’t know how she knows, but she heads to the front door. Y/N opens the door to find Rafe waiting with bubble tea in his hand. “The painting was amazing. It doesn’t make up for what you said though,” she comments, moving out of the way for him to come in. He does and sets the drinks on the kitchen island, “I know. I was hoping the bubble tea would make up for the rest of it.” 

“You and I both know that’s not what I am waiting for, Boss.”

“I know… I’m sorry, Butterfly. I have never thought that you were a gold digger. I was hurting because I didn’t like seeing you with another guy.”

“Just because you are hurting, it doesn’t mean you get to hurt me.” 

“That’s true. And I want to prove to you that I don’t truly think those things. But I’m going to have to be around you for that to happen. So if you feel the same way about me as I think you do, then please let me back into your life. I missed your excited squeals about food or watching you play with Dax. He misses you too you know.” 

“I miss him too. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you.” 

He steps toward her, reaching for her hand. His fingertips graze hers before she lets his large hand envelop hers. His lips brush the shell of her ear, “I am prepared to wait for eternity to get you back.” Her eyebrows form a caterpillar as she gives him a trying look. “What if it takes an eternity and one day?” she pushes. His other arm pulls her flush against his chest by the waist, “I’d beg on my knees an eternity and a hundred days if you want.” “On your knees, huh? How about on your knees between my thighs?” Y/N whispers, lips ghosting his. She can basically feel his lips on hers. “I thought I was apologizing to you? But I’ll be on my knees between wherever you want. So, are we going to give me another chance?” 

“I think I have to think about it.” 

He chuckles at her playful tone, “Well, I hope you don’t mind me doing this.” She takes the lead and brings his lips to hers. Their lips move in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Her hands twist in his hair and he plays with the bottom of hers. This is where they are meant to be. She is who he is meant to be with. 

——

A year. A year of bliss as her official boyfriend. Although Rafe likes to count the time they spent faking dating as the start of their relationship, he knows Y/N likes the beginning of their relationship to be the day she found his painting in her room. She believes it’s more romantic that way. Now, she’s spent the last six months living in his apartment with him. He gets to wake up every day with her and go to sleep beside her every night. 

After they got together, Y/N didn’t go back to work for him and he completely understood why. She wanted to find someplace for herself in the world, which she did. Her love of food turned into an Instagram account reviewing different places around the city. It’s grown quite the following, but nothing so great that she would quit her job as an assistant accountant. Rafe insisted that he would take care of her while she pursued this passion, but ever the planner she is, she said that she wants a steady income to make some savings for herself first. Plus, accounting is a little more bearable when she can devour delicious food for money after work. 

Y/N is away at a work conference for the week and the empty house makes Rafe feel a little lonely. Dax keeps him company, but waking up the first day she is away is normally the hardest for him. Over the last six months of living together, they have grown into a well-synced routine with each other that is currently broken. Rafe would normally wake up earlier than needed so they could get ready for work together and he could drive her to her office before he gets to work himself. He tried offering to buy her a car, but she is very keen on saving up for one herself and he is not about to take away her independence. He sadly walks to the bathroom, getting ready to brush his teeth by himself. His hand reaches for the toothbrush and is met with the sound of paper rustling against his finger. He looks down to see a Post-it note on his toothbrush: I’m sorry I had to go away for work, but I love you, always, Boss. He smiles at the little note and feels his mood start to lift immediately. 

The next note he finds is in his car. The sun was in his eyes while he was getting ready to pull out of the parking spot, so he put down the sun visor, only for a small paper square to float down onto his lap. Did you know that 90% of drivers sing behind the wheel? So sing your heart out to Call Me Maybe, Boss. He loves it when she gives him random facts. He opens his phone case so he can keep it safe to put it with all the others. He’s kept every single Post-it note she has ever written for him, even the ones she wrote when she started as his assistant. 

By the third note, he guesses that the rest of the time that Y/N is away he is just going to be finding them everywhere. Ricardo walks in like he normally does every morning to give him a detailed rundown of his day. “The last thing of note is that Ms. Y/L/N has ordered me to give you this today,” Ricardo finishes, handing Rafe a blue piece of paper. He waits for Ricardo to leave before reading it. What do you call a butterfly that can fly faster than any other butterfly? A betterfly. He laughs at the horrible joke and texts her the laughing emoji. He knows she’ll know why without any context. He waits for a response and receives the kissy face emoji. 

He gets home from work and is getting ready to feed Dax when he finds the next one. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the note sticking to the jar when he fed Dax this morning but he shrugs it off. Confusion crosses his face when he reads it though. Hi Daddy, Mommy wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be an only child soon. Love, Dax. Why in the world would Dax not be an only child soon? Is this her way of telling him she is adopting another dog? Dax whines for the food and snaps him out of his thoughts. He’ll just have to call her later to ask. 

The phone call he plans to make gets quickly forgotten and he is watching TV at the moment. However, Dax’s scratching at one of the guest bedroom doors removes Rafe from the couch. He goes upstairs to see what is going on, opening the door to see what Dax wants. The dog immediately enters the room and hops on the bed to his favourite chew toy that has somehow got in there. He heads over to take the toy into the living room so he can keep an eye on Dax. He stops at the contrast of the bright pink sticky notes against the light gray sheets. “Huh, why would mommy leave a note here? We never go in here,” he asks the occupied dog. Rafe takes a second and remembers the last time this room was used. It was the first-night Y/N had ever stayed over at his house. His hand hesitantly picks up the note and this time he isn’t met with words but a drawing.

The drawing is of a woman without a clear view of her face because her hair is blocking it. She is looking down at her round belly with her hands placed lovingly on it. Rafe’s first thought is that there is no way Y/N drew this because she can barely draw stick figures this well. Then the dots start to connect. The note before this one. The complaints that her favourite foods are repulsing her. The crying at every animal commercial. The little belly weight she gained that he just chalked up to being because he read in one article that the extra weight gained at the beginning of a new relationship means they are happy and he isn’t displeased by that fact. His happiness quickly turns to upset that she isn’t here to celebrate the news with her.

His hands clumsily fish for his phone in his pocket and he goes to dial her number. When the ringing comes from behind, he freezes all movement. He slowly turns around to see her standing with a massive grin on her face. His phone drops to the floor and he doesn’t care that a massive crack noise sounds throughout the room. He runs to her, taking her into his arms. He lifts her up from the ground and spins her in excitement. Her giggles send pure joy through him. “We are having a baby!” he exclaims, finally letting her two feet find the ground again. She takes his chin into her hand so she can look into his eyes, “We are.” 

“I can’t believe it. We have so much to do. I have to go to the store so we can repaint this room. Actually, we should hire someone to paint a mural. And we have to pick out the crib, a new dresser, a diaper gen-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Boss. Slow down a little. The baby isn’t coming for another nine months. And I thought I was supposed to be the planner.”

“You are right. I’m just really excited. I literally just found out about them and they are just the size of like a pea, but I already love them as much as I love their mommy. I can’t help it.” 

“I love you too and I can’t wait to meet them too.” 

The couple takes a moment to just look at each other in their eyes, conveying all their emotions and thoughts. The baby was not planned, but it is clear to both of them that the baby is still very much wanted. They smile at this communication and kiss each other for the first time since she got home. For once in her life, Y/N Y/L/N took a chance on love and look where she is now. She never looked back on that decision to let go of her fear of commitment because it led her to not only her first love of her life but to her second one as well. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza @h34rtsformilli @ijustwanttoreadlols @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @bellbottombaby @jaydaaasworld

[dreamscapesofimagination]

A/N: For Anon! thanks for my first ask💛 i'm sorry it took so long!

TW: Angst, fluff, Breakup (Lucifers part, but not w Lucifer), slut shaming, the demons have feelings for you, the only one who is not fooling himself is Beel (i just feel like he'd be very accepting of it?)

Summary: How Lucifer, Mammon, and Beelzebub would react to finding you listening to breakup music in your room after being dumped by another demon.

------

Lucifer

Break My Heart- Bella White

Lucifer had sent you a message hours ago, and had received no response. If it were anyone else, he would have called them and ordered them to come to his office, and if they ignored him (like Mammon often did), then they would be punished.

Admittedly, the Avatar of Pride had grown rather fond of you- though he was loathe to admit it. Instead he was pretending that he was going to your room to speak with you as a break from his office- that he would go crazy if he had to stare at the desk any longer.

It wasn't completely false- you often told him he worked too much and you were not entirely wrong.

He paused at the faint sound of music that krept beneath your door- sad, mournful notes of loss and longing.

Frowning, he knocked.

"One second!" your voice stammered from inside, tone nearly lifeless.

He heard the music shut off and shuffling as you padded to the door.

You swung it open to reveal your face- eyes rimmed red and drying tears still on your cheeks.

"What?" you asked, frowning at him.

Confusion crossed Lucifers mind as he tried to figure out what had happened. He had seen you angry, scared, happy- he had even seen you sad.

But he had never seen you like this.

"Can I come in?" He watched you step aside, allowing him to enter the room.

You crossed your arms as you shut the door, glaring at him.

"So?"

In any other scenario, he would have been miffed at the tone of your voice, but considering the circumstances he was overlooking it.

He swore, if one of his brothers- particularly a certain white-haired one- had upset you to this degree he would flay them alive.

"I was seeing if you got my message, but now I want you to tell me what happened."

He watched your lower lip tremble and you looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Fresh tears wet your cheeks.

"I just want to be left alone." you sniffed, arms wrapping around yourself.

Lucifer stepped closer, gently pulling you into him. As much as he wasn't accustomed to physical affection, he knew right now you just needed to be held.

As he enjoyed holding you in his arms, he vowed that whomever made you this upset would face his wrath.

After a moment, you spoke, "the demon I had been seeing dumped me. He said it was a red flag that I was living with seven other demons, and that I was so close to them." you sniffled, "he called me a demon whore."

His heart seized in his chest.

Oh, he would have some words with that demon. He had known you were seeing another demon- he didn't approve but knew that interfering would reveal his own feelings for you.

While his hesrt soared knowing you were no longer seeing that no-good, uncivilized, embarrassment of a demon, he knew that all you needed right now was comfort.

He held you close, allowing you to cry into his shirt, gently rubbing your back.

Lucifer would hold you as long as you needed, and then he would hunt down that demon and show him exactly why messing with you was a poor decision.

Mammon:

Stick Season- Noah Kahan

Mammon flounced down the hall, excited to tell you about his new money-making scheme.

In reality, he was well aware the scheme was worthless, but it gave him the chance to spend time with you- and his antics seemed to always make you smile.

And there was nothing he was more greedy for than your smile.

To him, it was worth more than all the Grimm in the Devildom- and since he had just been ripped off again, he needed to see your smile.

He burst through your door like an over excited puppy, causing you to start as you ripped your headphones off.

"Mammon, what the hell happened to knocking?" you glared at him- and he tried to ignore the way your sharp gaze caused his heart to flutter.

As much as he would never admit it out loud, he was completely wrapped around your finger.

"Whatcha listenin' to?" he completely ignored your question, snatching your headphones and flopping beside you.

The music that reached his ears threw him off- it was about a breakup?

He frowned, "Why are you listening to this?"

You pulled the headphones away from him.

"The singer is one of my favorites, I was listening while I drew, but someone doesn't know how to knock and had to come bursting in," you scolded him.

He zoned out, completely focused on your face and voice, not even hearing your words.

"Hello? Mammon?" you waving your hand in front of his face pulled his attention back.

He blinked at you.

"Can I listen with you?" he asked, all thoughts of his earlier scheme leaving his head.

If this was your favorite artist, then he wanted to listen- if no other reason than to make you happy.

You raised an eyebrow. "You want to listen with me?"

Mammon felt his cheeks heat up as he quickly added, "obviously it's not as good as anything here in the Devildom, but maybe there's a market for his music here."

A small smile curled your lips as you watched him flounder.

You unplugged the headphones, allowing the music to fill the room.

Mammon watched closely as you returned to drawing, unable to take his gaze from your face.

He already considered you his- you were his human, and as far as he was concerned, he was your number 1. And he would do anything for you.

Beelzebub

Run Away to Mars- TALK

You were laying on the roof when Beel found you, staring up at the stars in the Devildom sky.

He held a plate of cookies in his hands- he had just made them and wanted to share with you. It was a recipe you had shown him, and you had been down the past few days.

He wasn't sure why you were so withdrawn, but knew he should do something to cheer you up.

The music coming from your D.D was something he had not heard before- and it was sad.

"Hey, I made some cookies."

You sat up, turning at the sound of the ravenous demons voice, and he felt his cheeks turn pink at the slight smile you gave him.

"Thanks, Beel. Wanna sit with me?" You shut the music off.

Why were you listening to something so sad? Was it something to do with why you had been so down the past few days?

He sat beside you, and for a bit you both sat in silence, enjoying the cookies. They weren't as good as when you made them, but he noticed how you had perked up.

After a while, he spoke, "You've seemed sad the past few days."

Beel watched you chew your lip as you contemplated your response.

"Just a bit homesick- today was my grandmothers birthday and its the first one I haven't been around to celebrate. She passed a few years ago but I would always bring fresh flowers to her grave." his heart twisted at your words, and he frowned as he watched some tears fall from your eyes.

He understood missing family, he missed Lilith every day.

"Do you want to visit her?" his question was carefully considered- he was sure both Diavolo and Lucifer would grant permission for a trip such as this.

You looked at him, frowning, "do you think we could?"

Beel couldn't diminish the hope in your eyes. He wasn't always the best with his words- he was well aware he was not as eloquent as Satan or Lucifer, and was not nearly as smooth as Asmo was. It was part of why he had not managed to confess his feelings for you.

What he could do was show through actions how he cared.

"I'd have to get permission from Lucifer and Diavolo, but I don't think that is a problem."

The smile that spread across your face was one he wished to never forget, and you quickly jumped forward, wrapping your arms around him.

He hugged you back, feeling his face burn as he took in the sweet scent of your shampoo.

He would raise Hell if they denied his request- anything he could do to make you happy.

[razorblade180-heated]

Can you write about the first time Weiss cheated on Neptune with Jaune? How did that happen? Did she expect it to happen? Was flirting involved? You mentioned it but haven't really talked about it.

Could just be headcanon if you don't want to write the scene.

I don’t know if I can call this setting the scene or a “brief” synopsis but…

It all starts at a coffee shop with Weiss and Ruby catching up a bit and hanging out. There’s a little talk about each other’s relationships which leads to showing certain potential faults or cracks in Weiss’s relationship. Nothing damning or serious. Earnest disgruntlement.

As her and Ruby talked, they suddenly hear a worker call Jaune’s name for an order. Sure enough it’s him and he’s also surprised to see them. He had moved after the breakup but was in town for a mission and visiting his sister. After a very short and awkward talk he leaves, making Weiss remember some sad memories.

Fast forward a little bit to a club night Weiss was excited about. At the last minute, Neptune calls and tells her he won’t be able to fly in and go on their date. She tells him it’s alright but it really disheartened because they don’t spend too much time together. Upset and refusing to waste an outfit she just put on, Weiss goes to the party by herself. She’s never been one for alcohol but today was pretty shitty and being sad at a party is the last thing she wanted so she has a couple drinks.

An idiot tries flirting with her and before Weiss could murder the somewhat pushy dude, Jaune shows up out of nowhere pretending to be her date which gets the guy to leave in peace.

✨And now the drama begins ✨

Weiss thanks him despite not really needing the help and Jaune casually accepts. There’s a little more awkward talking before Jaune goes on about his business but Weiss musters the will to ask him to stay so they can properly catch up and because she doesn’t want to be alone. So they start talking, and drinking. The more they drink, the easier talking gets. Eventually the party ends and they’re more than a bit tipsy but not hammered. Still, Jaune wasn’t going to let her walk home alone drunk. It’s not like he didn’t know where she lived. It used to be his apartment too.

Eventually they make it there. Weiss still wants to talk and would feel shitty making him walk home sooooo she invites him in. Instead of getting sober, they might have had a couple more drinks as they discussed life, shared a few compliments and frustrations which inevitably lead to Neptune for a moment. Some stumbling and catching happened which really tipped Weiss over the edge and Jaune by extension after she kissed him. It was like if a strong craving for something was finally being given or rediscovered which lead to a very intense and down right sinful night. That’s how it all starts.

If I were to write a story on all of it the journey would essentially be Weiss trying to put that night behind her but multiple other “meetings” build up to eventually reach that same intensity again. And just to be clear, after the first night she very much has the “oh I fucked up moment and tries to be better, but after that night Jaune 1000% committed to getting Weiss to admit she still wants him just as badly as he wants her. I know on my other blog there’s a post that has him talking about how his mom basically telling him “She’s not married. Fight for it.”

Is it morally correct? No. Do they feel guilty? Absolutely. Jaune mentions breaking up with Neptune a couple times and Weiss is honest with about it. Is it hot? Up to you lol. There’s something marginally attractive about Jaune clearly being a little jealous and Weiss knowing damn well she never stopped loving him but denying it.

And for anyone asking, Neptune is okay by the end of this. He did nothing wrong legitimately. Life happens.

[pinkandpurple360]

the reason I suspect that leak is true unless Viv has seen sense and changed like with Ghostfuckers (though it's not a storyboard leak so it didn't nearly the reach and didn't get to attract the same amount of backlash) it is that it's just the sort of hacky writing s2 has had all the way through. if true then it's trying to kill two birds with one stone, right? first give Blitzo a love epiphany, second find a way to make Blitzo completely let Stolas off the hook. it's just the sort of thing a writer who made Stella cartoonishly abusive would do

of course it will suck if it is true, it'll be the worst moment of the show

but on the other hand I sort of want it to happen because if we do end up getting Owl in a Cage then I don't think the fandom can cope their way out of this one. the people still insisting 'Stolas will get his own Stolas Sucks party!' will struggle to deny Viv's intentions any longer

if it is true, it basically means Viv thinks the answer to Blitzo conquering his issues with intimacy and fear of losing people and Blitzo deciding Stolas never meant to hurt him when he coerced sex out of him is... Stolas is being abused. Just like Stolas is being abused was her answer to why Stolas' cheating suddenly wasn't cheating, because he said so.

not only is that a cartoonishly embarassing solution when it shouldn't be so hard just to have Stolas self reflect and apologize like an actual person would do and have Blitzo find something he likes about him

but it's just sad. it's admitting the only thing getting these two together and making it so Stolas never has to take accountability is the fact that he's pitiable. there is nothing good to be said about him, he's just a sad void that the world has dumped on so it's fine that he mistreated everyone around him in turn even when they're much younger and in his care or haven't had a fraction of the advantages he's had

and the tide is already starting to turn. Conversations on the Reddit revolving around whether Stolas is seeing any consequences soon are increasingly including comments like the following:

We've had 'oh this thing that is actually both sides being kinda wrong but we're all going to dump on one guy while the other is easily forgiven and babied' depressingly often. There is a subset of people, of which i am one, that responses to this 'trust me bro' talk with. 'No. I will not trust you. Either put up or shut up.'

and they're not being downvoted to oblivion any more. for a community that used to aggressively police negative sentiment, that's a real turnaround

Everyone has a limit and honestly I think this will be the last straw for the remaining critical thinking or should I say free thinking people. On Twitter the take is “i don’t care about the story or the criticism or the characters! I’m not listening!! My ship is sailing and it’s my community’s moment I don’t care!” But it isn’t, vivzie is dragging this out until the end of the show guys, making merch and teasing breakups to squeeze money and engagement. Lets wake up already.

Blitz isn’t to blame for what Stella does. Stolas shouldn’t be mad at blitz for not saving him from striker, he shouldn’t be solely mad at striker for taking the job, he should be mad at the woman who called the hit. And he should be mad at the man who forced him to marry this woman, and be upset at the fact he, his father, never loved him, his son.

But that would require departing from infantile romance cliches to satisfy your 14 year old and stunted 30 year old viewers, and instead actually confront class issues in your story.

he's just a sad void that the world has dumped on so it's fine that he mistreated everyone around him in turn even when they're much younger and in his care or haven't had a fraction of the advantages he's had.

Oh anon you cooked well here. Stolas is pitiable and pity is the same as innocent in vivzies eyes. Even his malicious moments are hand waved as one would do a four year old child who doesn’t know any better. I mean think about it, this may be the biggest stolas pity party yet, stolas sings is a self pity song, blitz sings is another pity stolas song. It proves this writers bias is terminal, and that she’ll say any lie to shut you up and keep you quiet or watching. But most importantly, purchasing.

She really thought making him as wimpy and pathetic as possible as a PR move would stick. But it really didn’t. You just can’t slap on a poorly thought out abuse story to brush everything aside.

But no she’s having them cuddle for the Christmas card beside their child counterparts who only spoke to each for a few hours under duress and false pretences…..She’s fully endorsing the idea that Paimon did a good thing there and that they were in love as children.

And they get together at a child’s expense and see her as a bitch for getting in the way of their triumphant story. Gross. May this all go up in flames, amen.

[zweiginator]

art so devastated when patrick leaves. but tells himself he haassss to be the strong one. can’t let you know how torn up about it he really is. it’s just so hard when you’re sobbing in bed, ben & jerry’s by your side. when you’re screaming dumb girly breakup songs in the car. when you cling onto him at night and he can hear your little sniffles…………. sigh…. he only lets himself be upset and cry when you finally fall asleep against his chest. poor artie :(

art feeling like everything is so monotonous when patrick leaves. he wakes up, goes to class, goes to tennis practice and comes home to you upset. and he doesn’t fault you for being upset, he loves you to fucking death. but he resents patrick for it. resents himself for being the kindling to the throuple. he just wants you to be happy again. to see your eyes sparkle instead of dulled by redness and the puffiness from your dried tears. you used to be so much more independent, and now you latch onto art and don’t let him go. he coos into your hair and tries to make jokes while you’re sitting on his lap but you just can’t stop ruminating about everything.

you share ice cream and sit in uncomfortable silence because all you wanna talk about is patrick, reminisce on what went wrong. but art knows that will only make your bottom lip wobble and it makes his throat dry and achey when you cry.

it’s not until you finally, finally fall asleep at night that he takes a shower and sobs, wondering what he could do to be truly happy again. for you to truly be happy again.

he calls him, but immediately hangs up. hearing his voice would hurt too much. him not answering would twist the knife even further into his hallow chest. :(

[aikuse]

-> “i’m right in front of you.” (x) — 1,842 words. gn!reader, smoking (w33d), reader wears cherry lip gloss, jewelry, has slight cleavage and tattoos.

Kakucho's jaw aches.

He's been staring at your cherry gloss lips for almost this entire lunch. You'd been yammering on about your recent breakup, talking about how they never put the dishes in the dishwasher and instead chose to place them in the sink, their consistent refusal to cook dinner, their lack of empathy and willingness to do absolutely anything that didn't directly benefit them...honestly, it was a surprise you had lasted this long with them.

The worst part is that, even with all of those things that bothered you, you were still terribly upset about it. Kakucho doesn't miss those nights of you crying into his shirt, wailing about how they didn't care for you at all, about how you knew you were better off without them but why did it have to hurt so much. He almost went through your phone to find the fucker's address and give them a piece of his mind; seeing you so hurt enraged him to the point where he'd see red whenever he left your apartment. It was a fucking miracle he didn't get arrested by doing something stupid to take his mind off of it.

Kakucho didn't answer. He didn't think he had to, and now he has to watch you act completely oblivious to the connection you two clearly had, him being the first person you'd called up after the breakup to take care of you. He'd have done it a hundred times over for you, without ever needing to be asked—

"Kaku."

He jerks up, looking over at you. There's an expression in your eyes that he's never seen before; it's close to worry, or anxiety, but it's mixed with something unidentifiable, before it's gone in a flash. "Huh?" he responds, not knowing what else to say, and you scoff, taking a sip from your matcha latte. "You know," you say to him, a laugh on your lips, "if I'm boring you that much, you can just go back to work. I know I keep going on about it, it's my fault—"

"It wasn't."

"What?"

Kakucho's nails are digging into his palms as he rises, his fists practically shaking as he rests them on the pretty glass table in front of you, looming over you. His shadow engulfs you, and for a moment, his brain goes to a dark, dark place before he wafts the thoughts away as quickly as he possibly can.

"You know it wasn't your fault. Why do you keep saying it is? Why the fuck do you still care so much about this bastard?"

His voice is beginning to rise in volume, but you don't flinch away from him. In fact, you sit there, looking at him with a face of defiance, just like when you were kids and he'd steal your toys to see if he could get a rise out of you. You never gave in to him, digging your heels into the sand of forward progression, taking the toys back when he was finished with them. You never yelled at him, or fought, or got angry at him. You simply took it right on the nose, standing tall and fierce.

It's the one thing he loves the most about you.

You don't respond to him at first, before sighing and looking down at your latte, your fingers tight around the plastic. You give him a nod, before returning to look at him, and you look tired. Your tone is defeated as you respond to him, and it breaks him just a little.

"I know. I know, I know. You're right; you've always been right, Kaku. I know."

He almost loses it right there, hearing you tell him that he's right. Yeah, just not right enough to be with you, I guess, the sinister voice in his head whispers at him. He shudders.

"I'm going back to work," he says shortly, grabbing his phone and his things. "We can smoke later if you want, though. Maybe that'll help."

He's left with your laugh as he walks away, doing his best not to look back. If he looks back, he'll lose it for sure.

The rest of the workday really sucks. He's plagued with thoughts of you, in all aspects; thinking about your childhood together, thinking about how your ex treated you, all of the thoughts are colliding together into a horrible kaleidoscope that only stokes his fire. He's worried for tonight; he always is, as he rolls the joint on his dish after getting the text that you're heading over. You're very pliant when you're high, and he can't lose you tonight in a shitty mistake. He can't.

You show up in comfortable clothes; baggy sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a cute beanie over your hair as you wander in, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. Because, naturally, you'd spend the night; Kakucho has two bedrooms for a reason (unfortunately), and he won't even allow you to consider taking an Uber or driving home under the influence, even if you argue with him that you're fine. He hates thinking that you won't make it home and it'll be his fault.

You make yourself at home on the couch, putting on some gentle lo-fi music, pulling off your sweatshirt and revealing the tank top you have on underneath. Tattoos spiral up your shoulders, dragons and roses and koi fish lineart loud against your skin, and his breath hitches at the necklace you're wearing.

There's a long-standing joke that Kakucho would always get you jewelry; he didn't really know what else to get you for special days or your birthday, but he did know you loved jewelry. This particular necklace was probably the most thought he'd put into a gift; it was a thin silver chain, with your birth flower pressed into an incredibly small circle of glass, rimmed with silver.

That, and it's resting dangerously close to your neckline, your cleavage just enough to be suggestive.

He shakes his head as he watches you reach for the joint, choosing instead to chuckle as he joins you on the couch. "Gettin' ahead of yourself, yeah?" he rumbles, and you look at him with surprise, mischief bright in your eyes. "Sorry," you say, not sorry at all as you hand the joint to him to light, "forgot my place, I guess."

As he lights it, he shakes his head, blowing the smoke into the space between you two, watching it change colors with the LEDs behind his TV screen. Pink, purple, red, yellow...

"Never. Jus' messin' with ya, promise."

You both relax into the couch after a few hits, and eventually, your head lands on his shoulder as you both watch some sci-fi animation that you'd been into for the last few weeks. It's trippy, interesting; it's a bunch of short animated videos, some lasting a few minutes with others going up to ten to fifteen minutes. It's cool, but Kakucho's barely paying attention to what's on his screen in favor of what you're doing next to him.

Your head is resting on his shoulder, yes, but your hand has moved to his thigh. It's dangerous, the movement; your touch alone almost makes him jump as his jaw sets once again. Someday, he's going to grind his teeth into dust from making sure he doesn't overstep his boundaries with you, not wanting to risk what you two have. And besides, it's too soon after your breakup to even consider dating, even Kakucho knows that—

And then you sit up, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as you look at him. He tightens up, mostly due to the fact that the way you're looking at him is so, so similar to the way you looked at your ex. Similar, but not the same. There's something else there, something that's close to passion, or maybe obsession. "What?" he croaks out, his hand accidentally coming to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing against your exposed skin. There's a shiver from you then, from his calloused hands touching you, so softly and gently, and the threads that are holding Kakucho together feel like they're snapping with every second that passes.

"Can I kiss you?"

The request is innocent, your big doe eyes looking at him so hungrily that he can't help but breathe a gentle yes, and your lips are on his own so quickly that he almost doesn't register the movement at all, only the emotions that flood his body after, the aforementioned strings all snapping apart. The line has been crossed, but...

...he doesn't mind.

Kissing you was like nothing he'd ever felt before; he feels like he's floating on clouds, weightless. All his worries and stress and tightness has smoothened out. It was like he'd been wandering in a desert, hoping and praying for relief and receiving none, and finally he stumbles upon a beautiful oasis. That's you; you are the oasis to him, so beautiful and sweet and tasting like cherries and all the things he loves the most about you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you moan into his mouth, and he almost forgets how to breathe.

"Fuck, you taste good," he whispers against you as he maneuvers you on the couch deftly, resting your back against the comfortable fabric of the couch as he hovers above you, his lips just centimeters from your own. You hum, a giggle escaping your lips, and it's the sweetest sound he's heard in a long time; longer than he'd like to admit.

Somehow, someone out there has blessed him with an angel in his presence. The one thing he's wanted for so long is stretched out in front of him, but he's hesitant.

"Are you sure you want this?" he says softly, moving a little further back so he can look directly at you. Where he expects rejection, there's something much softer when both of your hands move to hold his face within them, your palms pressing against his cheeks as you nod your head. "Yes," you say simply, and when he raises an eyebrow, you sigh.

"It was always you, Kaku. I should've seen it, I should've noticed. You were always right in front of me. Whenever I needed someone, you always made time for me. You always wanted me to be happy, and I—"

"I can make you happy if you'll have me," he blurts out, before blush flushes his face, his cheeks hot as he attempts to look away, "b-but it's fine if you don't, I'll be fine—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Kaku." Your tone is exasperated, but there's a pretty twinkle in your eyes as you smile at him. Like an angel.

He dives down into you again, his heart swelling. For now, it's just you and him. Maybe this will come up tomorrow, maybe this will be a mistake that you'll regret, and if that's the case, Kakucho will live. But if you'll have him, he thinks to himself as he moves down to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your whines filling his ears and only spurring on his movements...he'd be able to die a happy man.

divider credit: benkeibear for the gradient divider!

networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: please do not copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© jousk4s 2023-2024

[canonicallyobserving911]

100% agree with not wanting buck to talk to temu about The Will! 📢📢📢

It would give temu and bommy relationship a significance and focus that is unearned and undeserved and I simply don't want him to have! Same reason i wouldn't want temu to get killed off, and i don't want them to break up over the issue of wanting/not wanting to have kids 🙄 i don't want bommy to be anywhere near having that kind of conversation

Ajfjgkdksk i swear, if they confirmed in canon that temu was trying to date eddie and just settled for buck 😂😂😂 i would never ask for anything more in life lol so unfortunately it's not going to happen. But OH it would be so satisfying!

As it seems they're not going to address temu's past, I'd be happy if they broke up for some really superficial shallow reason, which would just underscore how insignificant and tenuous the relationship actually is.

Good day @blutterlie and thank you for the ask.

[Link to my original post here.]

You're correct and I agree with your assessment because Buck and Temu talking about Eddie's will and it being a reason for them breaking up would give the "Bummy" relationship too much of everything. It would be like you said, both undeserved and unearned and IMO, T*mmy isn't a significant enough side character to be included in that intimate part of Eddie's and Buck's relationship.

Case and point, Eddie's NEVER told anyone on screen other than Buck that he added him to his will as Chris' legal guardian but he didn't tell either of his two on screen love interests. He never told Ana and he never told Marisol. Also, Buck never told Taylor or Natalia so why would he tell T-Rex? He shouldn't because he doesn't deserve to know. T*mmy's a plot device just like all the others which makes him that much more insignificant.

Furthermore, Buck hasn't told Maddie, his own sister and he hasn't told Bobby either. I know a lot of fanfic writers indulge and include Eddie telling Bobby in their fics for emergency purposes but that's not CANON, it's FANON. Do I suspect the 118 knows how important Chris is to Buck? YES! The shooting is evident of that since no one, not even Bobby questioned Buck being the one to tell Chris what happened even though Eddie was dating Ana at the time. But I don't think they know Buck's in Eddie's will and I don't think the Diaz parents know either. Isabel might know and I believe that's because Eddie's close to his abuela but I don't think anyone else does. Also, KR stating Chris knows about "the will" doesn't make narrative sense because if he did, he would have called Buck when he was upset with Eddie instead of his grandparents like he did in season 4. Actually, he ordered an Uber with Eddie's phone and ran away to Buck's loft and that was before Eddie was shot.

As far as the breakup of Buck and Tonsilitis is concerned, I WANT T*MMY TO ADMIT HE TRIED TO DATE EDDIE FIRST TOO! It's my villain origin story because it would highlight how ridiculous the writing was handled last season. I know it won't happen either but it would be so fantastic. I wrote a fanfic about it, it felt great and I also let Eddie tell Buck he deserved better than a dismissive asshat who doesn't listen to him and who only wants him for his body.

I'm sure the writers won't go there because they don't want to defame Tonka Toy's character but they sure didn't have a problem letting him be complicit when Gerrard's 100-year-old ass was saying racist and bigoted comments to Hen and Chimney.

At this point, I don't care how and why they break up, I just want T.K. 2.0 GONE ASAP and I don't want Buck getting advice from someone telling him to stick it out🙄. It's time for Buck to be single so he can figure out he was trying to get Eddie's attention this whole time and not T-Rex's. There's no more time for doubling down on the ridiculousness of these one dimensional and lackluster relationships for Buck or Eddie.

As always, thank you for the ask and have a great day.

[barbwritesstuff]

1/?

Ashdhdhsg ok if you don’t mind my Chris obsession in your inbox, here’s some more!

Some disclaimers:

1) this is going to get. um. pretty granular.

2) I'm code diving for the sake of optimizing my Comparative Chris Studies.

3) My analysis going to be filtered through the lens of my own playthroughs and emotional reactions.

4) I will be asking lots of questions, mostly rhetorical - I am simply enchanted by the possibilities of the text. Please don’t answer any of them unless you really feel like it - I don’t want to bombard you!!

5) This is already pretty lengthy and I'm far from done -_-; I'm numbering these asks to avoid confusion.

Beginning from the beginning: Chris suing for everything is sooo awful I love them. The later reveal that they’re a lawyer is insane context for the first divorcee scene:

“there is no going back once there are lawyers involved. There is no hope for a reunion, or even an amiable end. Lawyers mean two things. Pain and paper. That's the only way this can end now. Pain and fucking paper.”

Jesus Christ mc, tell me how you really feel. The way this frames their perception of the entire relationship as doomed from the beginning, even if it's just subconscious? The way it frames their perception of Chris as a person? ouch.

Early Chris is so interesting from meta perspective. In these early scenes, your reading of their character changes pretty drastically with your assumptions about the relationship and the character/personality of your own mc. You can totally play as an mc who justifies this kind of treatment and is as uncommunicative, unreliable, and unable to let things go as Chris later accuses them of being and has imploded the relationship on the strength of their own bad behaviour, but if you interpret the relationship as ending more from mutually terrible communication skills and regular stressful life stuff? Going scorched earth like this can’t be seen as self protective in the same way - it’s so extreme. It's fun to ponder on Chris containing all of these messy and intricate possibilities regardless of worldstate. This is the kind of thing I love about interactive fiction as a medium, and you handle it so precisely and delicately here, leaving so much room for the player to build their own character while remaining grounded in the story.

The line that’s been stuck in my head since the first time I read it was this one:

“You got Spaghetti before you even met that lying arsehole.”

The mc is either accusing Chris of being a liar in general (which strikes me unlikely from the sense of the character that we get later) or of being a liar within this specific scenario, the divorce. So what did they lie about? Are they not honouring a prenup? or was there no prenup, only a verbal agreement to split things fairly and lovingly in the impossibly unlikely event of a divorce? Is the mc upset specifically about the breaking of marriage vows? Chris clearly has gotten their ducks in order before serving the mc with the divorce papers (another revealing fragment of character that I obsess over. what was up with that). Is it the fact that they must have been planning to break up for a while and instead of navigating it mutually decided instead to blindside the mc? How do you go from wanting to raise a child with someone to coming right out of the gate with a litigious divorce within a few months?

I want to live inside their walls. who said that.

Copy + Paste:

2/?

Side note 1: that waitress seems really sweet cool and genuinely concerned over the mc :(

Side note 2: vampires flush when sated 👀

Side note 3: 911 calls are generally recorded and can often be accessed after the fact with freedom of information requests. Could Chris have unearthed it during their later search for mc? How creepy, if they did. Heavy, panicked breathing, the crunch of broken glass, the call just disconnects. Confirmation of something awful but beyond understanding.

They way you get me immediately into full breakup mode with one line:

"Come back in the morning," Chris says in that slow, specific way, as if speaking to a very young, very stupid child.

IRL that would be an instant blind rage button for me lmao. How dare you speak to me that way. And again! From Chris’s perspective this is a pretty reasonable boundary! but they way they lay it out is so. IDK. Unbecoming. Unworthy of them. plain mean.

There’s this real sense I get from both sides of the relationship of “I’m not sure I ever even really knew this person” the love WAS there and it was real but in the fog of bitterness and anger they both lose sight of it and each other. There's a through line in this part of the game of the way high emotion can mess with your perception of reality and rational decision making.

“It wasn't all bad, was it? There were times you were happy together. Not that anyone would believe it, reading this.”

I interpret this line as the MC doubting Chris's fundamental intentions and affections. Coupled with Chris's lack of concern over the mc's disappearance (put a pin in it) it's just so INTERESTING to be the way that these two have come to see each other almost as strangers, which is really scary and alienating! Neither can give the other an inch of grace or benefit of the doubt. the cognitive dissonance is so compelling to me.

You've had all of these intimate moments, potentially a CHILD (a grandchild, a whole lifetime), with a person you now cannot recognize, who's actions you cannot understand. Of course Chris isn't going to let mc into their house, they could have been anywhere, doing anything, for two months now! the thought that it might not have been by anything but MC's own volition is anathema.

----------------------------------------------

I'm living for this Chris deep dive that landed in my inbox.

However, I really don't know if i can say anything without spoiling the game... so I'm sharing without comment. 💙

[ilyasorokinn]

second times the charm , juraj slafkovsky

note, thank you to @antoineroussel for yet another amazing fic exchange! you rock! this fic is for bestie maleeha (@lam-ila). i decided to do grumpy-sunshine (inspired by keeley and roy from ted lasso) and second chance romance. grumpy-sunshine is also one of my fav tropes so i really hope you enjoy this! :) another note, breaking my own rule of not writing for players under 20, but i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write for my favorite slovak. last note, this fic is part of "the lover series", my series about 25 different kinds of relationships. this relationship falls under "second time around". check out this masterlist for more. pair, juraj slafkovsky x reader summary, juraj and y/n were... something some years ago. but that was done and over with. so when y/n comes back as a medical team member, juraj knows there's only so much time to avoid all his problems. warnings, juraj gets injured and i'm not trying to romanticize it. this is my best attempt at grumpy-sunshine, and idk how much of this it really is, but i tried. i tried to leave out as much angst as i could, but with a second-chance romance, there is bound to be some angst, but i promise it'll all lead to a happy ending, i promise! word count, 6869 words (literally the longest thing i’ve ever written on here)

(gif not mine)

You and Juraj had something. You weren't officially dating but you were more than friends. It didn't last too long but lasted long enough to leave an imprint on you. After a while, you started to think about him and it didn't hurt and you moved on with your life.

Juraj had done the same, but his moving on wasn't as progressive as yours. He was almost a shell of who he was before. He was once smiley but that all changed after your breakup.

You knew Juraj played hockey and knew he wanted to play in pro in the big leagues, you just didn't expect the big leagues to be in the same city as you.

You had been hired by the Canadiens a little before the season ended, so you had heard the rumors about Wright being drafted first, but when you watched the draft and watched Juraj, instead, walk across that stage first, you were just as shocked as everyone else was that arena.

On the first day of work, you had given yourself pep talk after pep talk in the mirror, while you were getting ready, in case you would run into Juraj.

For the majority of the day, you were in the clear. You had yet to run into him, but towards the afternoon was when more players started coming in for help.

Juraj was one of those players.

When he saw you, he froze. He stopped walking and just stared at you, like a creep. You turned around and stopped the conversation you were having when you locked eyes with him.

"Y/N?" Your coworker, Lorelei called your name, "You okay?" She followed your line of sight and saw you and Juraj having a staring contest.

"Uh, yeah." You blinked, turning back to Lorelei, "Can you excuse me?" She nodded, watching you walk away, over to Juraj, "...Hi." You let out a breath.

"Hi." He nodded, his voice curt and short, but then again, he was only saying one word.

"Can we talk?"

"Don't think there's anything to talk about." He shrugged.

"Come on, don't be like that."

"Be like what?"

"Can we just talk, Juraj?"

"We really don't have anything to talk about, Y/N." He told you, his tone so sharp it felt like it was stabbing you in the chest.

You picked up how much he really really did not want to talk to you, so you took it as your cue to not push him, "Right." You nodded, "Yeah, right." You walked past him, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt.

Right as you walk out, Arber walked up to him, "Who's she?"

"Ex," Juraj responded gruffly.

"Huh," Arber nodded, "Guessing you didn't end on the best terms?"

"You would be right."

"I gotta say, she looked pretty upset when she was leaving." Juraj simply ignored him.

-

"... and I gotta tell you, I was this close to just punching him in the face." Your date, Milo, laughed as he explained yet another story.

This date, so far, was not going very well.

Milo wasn't a bad guy, it was all you. You subconsciously kept comparing Milo to Juraj, and in that sense, they were both very different guys.

You listened to Milo talk for almost the entire night, and for that entire time, you spent it comparing two guys to each other.

"You okay? You've hardly touched your pasta." Milo pointed out.

"Yeah, I'm great." You plastered on a smile, pushing down the internal battle you were having, "Just really tired. Work." You shrugged.

"Work, right." He nodded, looking like he was ready to ask more questions, "You work where again?"

"I work for a hockey team." You answered, not wanting to start by saying you worked for one of the biggest hockey teams in Canada.

"The Canadiens?" He asked.

"Yeah, medical staff." You nodded.

"Wow." His eyes went wide as h sat back. in his seat. You could practically feel the questions he was gonna ask next, "Do you get free tickets?"

You deflated. It was always 'Do you get free tickets?' and 'Do you know so and so?'.

"I don't get free tickets." You shook your head, leaving out the discounted part.

"Have you met Caufield and Suzuki? Ooh, and the new draft? The Slovak?" He asked excitedly.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know them all."

"Wow, that is so cool!" He exclaimed, "I have like a million different questions to ask those guys."

The rest of your date was spent with you answering all of Milo's questions about your work, and usually, you would happy to answer questions about work but in this case, Milo didn't care about what you did for the team, he only cared about the team.

-

Walking on the treadmill was something you found relaxing. Exercise wasn't relaxing to you, but something about walking on the treadmill and just listening to music gave you peace.

You were so in your head, you didn't even realize that someone had started walking on the treadmill beside you and started talking to you. You only realized Arber was talking to you when he tapped you on the shoulder.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt him tap you, "Whoa!"

"Sorry, didn't realize you couldn't hear me."

"Yeah, I listen to my music really loud." You took out your earbuds, "So, can I help you with something? Any injuries?"

"No, I just had some questions." He looked almost shy.

"Can't promise I'll have all the answers." You turned to him.

"You and Juraj..." You sighed, "Didn't expect that reaction." He chuckled.

"I don't know what Juraj told you,"

"Said you were exes and that was it."

"And that's all there is." You shrugged.

"No, come on, I saw your face when you walked out of the locker room the other day, and it was not a happy one."

"The end of our relationship wasn't the best." You furrowed your brows together, trying to find the words, "He wasn't there for me when I needed him. I was putting more effort into the relationship than he was."

"That doesn't sound like Juraj."

"And how long have you known him exactly?" You raised a brow. When he didn't respond, you nodded, "Exactly." Arber watched you and waited for you to continue, "He was a good guy at the beginning, really. He was great. But something changed." You explained.

"I'm sorry." He offered a sympathetic smile.

"Well, if that's all the questions you have..."

Arber got the message and took his leave. He stopped the treadmill, "Thanks."

"Glad I could help." You slipped your earbuds back in and continued your walk.

-

You were watching the game from the medical room. You were lying on the bed in the medbay with Lorelei, eating snacks and enjoying the game.

Everything happened so quickly. One minute Juraj was on the ice and the next he was slammed into the boards by one of the other guys.

The play kept going but Juraj wasn't getting up. You were on your feet, trying to get a better look at what was going on, but when everyone noticed he wasn't getting up, the while was blown and the main medic, your boss Matt, rushed onto the ice.

Matt bent down next to Juraj and was talking to him and you so wished you could've been out there, talking to him. After a lot of waiting, Juraj was helped to his feet, his arms slung over Matt's and a couple other players.

He was shuffled down the tunnel and you could hear the commotion as they got closer and closer to the med room.

They carried him into the room and set him on the bed. You tried to figure out what was going on, "What's wrong?" You asked Matt, fiddling with your necklace nervously.

"I don't know yet. He says his entire left leg hurts, so we're trying. to narrow down where it hurts first." Matt snapped on a pair of gloves as he pushed through the crowd of people surrounding the bed.

Matt started pushing down his leg to find the spot that hurt. He eventually got to Juraj's knee, and when he did, Juraj let out the most pained noise you'd ever heard him make.

They pulled all the padding away and saw that his knee was very dislocated, "Okay, there's our culprit." Matt sighed, running a gloved wrist across his sweaty forehead.

"All right, we're gonna pop it back into place, but it's gonna hurt, I'm not gonna lie." The paramedic in the room told him.

His eyes frantically searched the room and when he found yours, it was almost like he was begging you to hold his hand. And you couldn't deny him of that, so you made your way over and hand his hand.

"Okay, are you ready?" Juraj looked anything but ready, "All right, on the count of three." The paramedic nodded.

You looked over at Juraj and saw the nervous look written all over his face, "You're gonna be okay." You reassured, "Just... think of something else. Think of what you're gonna eat after this or your favorite candy."

"I can't." He shook his head, eyes watering at the pain.

"It's gonna be okay. I promise." You squeezed his hand, "My favorite is Milkyway." He was barely paying attention to as he gritted his teeth in pain. You were tempted to kiss his forehead or something, but that wasn't your job anymore. The most you could offer was your hand.

"One, two, three." Once she hit 3, she snapped his knee back into place. He cried out in pain, "All right, you're all done, Juraj." She announced, "Now we're going to take you to the hospital so you can get further accessed and we'll put a splint on there."

"When will I get to play?" Even with tears on his face, all he was worried about was playing hockey.

"Let's just worry about your getting your knee accessed then we'll worry about playing." The paramedic smiled, pulling up the rails on the gurney.

Your hand slipped from his and you watched them wheel him away, "He's gonna be okay." Lorelei told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let Lorelei hug you.

-

After dislocating his knee, Juraj was out for almost 7 weeks, you didn't see much of him, but after he was cleared, it almost seemed like you were seeing him everywhere.

And it was intentional, on Juraj's part. After the accident, it was almost like a wake-up call.

Even though you weren't together, you showed up and were there for him in the medbay, holding his hand and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay.

During practice, you just so happen to be hanging by the bench with Lorelei, talking about your plans, "You sure you don't want to come out with us?" Juraj heard Lorelei ask as he made his way over to the bench to get some water.

"I'm fine, really." You insisted.

"All right, but next time, you're coming out with us."

"All right." You smiled. She walked back down the tunnel, but you sat down on the bench, watching practice.

"You should go out with them." Juraj voiced. As the words escape him, he wanted to hit himself. You turned to him, brows furrowed together, "Sorry, that was wrong."

"It was." You nodded, "But I want to know why you think that?"

"Because I know you, Y/N. You probably don't have many friends right now,"

"Okay, rude." You crossed your arms.

"But am I wrong?"

You hesitated, "No."

"See? So, go. Hang out with them. You'll have fun." He insisted.

"Why are you pushing this so hard? We don't like each other."

"Who said I didn't like you?" Juraj asked in a tone that made him sound offended.

"You did when you brushed me off the other day." You reminded him. You raised a brow when he stayed quiet, "I'll see you around, Juraj." You followed in Lorelei's footsteps and made your way back down the tunnel.

-

With Matt's secondhand medic being out with a cold, you were taking his place behind the bench. So, during the game, you were standing towards the entrance of the tunnel where the second medic usually would be.

"This your first time on the bench?" Cole Caufield asked.

"That obvious?"

"If your good at your job, you've got nothing to be worried about." He offered you a smile.

"Thanks." You nodded.

Juraj, who was sitting further down the bench, saw Cole talk to you. He saw you laugh at a joke Cole made, a total cliche. He looked away, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Not your girl." He muttered to himself in Slovakian so the guys sitting next to him assumed he was just giving himself a pep talk.

-

A couple of days later at practice, you were carrying some supplies to the medbay. Your headphones were in and you were in work mode. You happened to walk past the hallway where the locker room was and happened to make eye contact with Juraj.

He was entering the locker room post-practice. You were prepared to just ignore him and walk past him but he offered you a smile, and when you returned it, confused, he stopped in his tracks and made his way over to you instead.

You furrowed your brows together and set the boxes in your hands on the ground, taking out your earbuds, "Juraj." You greeted, "Hope you aren't injured."

"Nope, all good." He shook his head.

"Good." You nodded.

You stood in silence, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited for him to say something, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I just... I wanted to say I had no right for talking to you like I did the other day." You were surprised and your face probably showed it, "So, I'm sorry."

You smiled softly, "Thanks. I appreciate it." He smiled in response before turning and heading back over to the locker room. You watched him, a smile on your face and for the first time in a while, Juraj was the cause of it.

-

Somehow you ended up working the medical staff booth at the Habs event. You were standing behind the table, watching as everyone passed by, seemingly having no interest in the medical staff.

You sighed for the umpteenth time, "Excuse me?" You heard a familiar voice and looked up, "Have you ever stitched up Suzuki?" Juraj joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Not yet, but I have stitched up a few of the other guys, ya know, the nobodies." You joked. He nodded along, "Some rookie, Slav-Slafkovsky I think his name was." You laughed when his jaw dropped.

"A nobody? Really?"

"I'm just kidding. You aren't a nobody. You're somebody." You punched him softly in the shoulder from across the table.

"So, where are all the people? Why is your booth so empty?"

"Since you asked so kindly," You joked, "Captain Suzuki and Cole are doing a signing so everyone's probably over there. I'm surprised you aren't over there."

"Why would I be over there?"

"'Cause all your friends are over there and you'd get to take pictures and sign autographs." You shrugged.

"Well, I'm hanging out with a friend right now and I can sign autographs and take pictures from here."

"That's not really what this booth is for, but it's the thought that counts." He shrugged, "Also, we're friends?"

"Are we not?"

"I don't know it's just we don't really talk and on the off chance that we did talk, you were either brushing me off or apologizing."

"I thought we were friends."

"I don't know, I guess we can try to be."

You smiled. He smiled back.

-

Juraj had been replaying your conversation over and over in his head for almost 2 weeks before he finally gathered up the courage to talk to you again.

You and Lorelei were talking in the little dining hall in the arena. He approached your table and when Lorelei saw him approaching, she smirked before pushing her chair out and walking to the fridge, pretending to be busy.

You smiled at Juraj when he sat down next to you, "Hi."

"Hi." He looked nervous.

"Can I help you with something this fine afternoon, friend?" You asked, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"I've been thinking about our conversations for the past 2 weeks." He took a breath, "And I don't want our first conversation as real friends to be an apology, but I need to apologize to you for how our relationship ended." You nodded along cautiously.

"I was a horrible partner to you, and I can't go back in time and change things or stop what happened, but I can offer an apology."

You smiled softly, "I appreciate that. It means a lot." You reached over and grabbed his hand, "But now I think it's time for us to stop apologizing. Well, unless you do something crappy again."

He laughed, "All right, no more apologizing, unless I'm a jerk again."

"Starting now." You held out your hand.

"Now." He nodded, shaking your hand with a laugh.

-

"So, Juraj is doing his first post-practice media since his injury." Lorelei brought it up to you as you were cleaning the medbay.

"Is he?"

"Yeah, he is." She smirked, "Just wanted to let you know, ya know, just in case you want to skip out on me."

"I'm not gonna ditch you." You laughed, but paused, "Hypothetically..."

"Go." She didn't even let you finish.

You smiled before running out of the room and rushing to find the media room where Juraj would be. You stopped in the doorway, surprised that you found the space practically empty save for one reporter sitting in the back row.

Juraj had yet to come in, so you took a seat in the front row. When he did walk into the room, he froze briefly before making his way up to the table.

He locked eyes with you as you flashed him a smile, "Don't all raise your hands at once." He joked.

The man in the back raised his hand, and Juraj called on him, seeing as he was the only guy in the room. He asked his question, and Juraj gave a very "hockey player" response.

Then an awkward silence fell over the room, and Juraj waited for the reporter to ask a question. When he didn't, you quickly raised your hand. He looked surprised when he saw your hand shoot up.

Your arms were moving faster than your brain as you quickly tried to come up with a question, "Yes, in the front." He pointed to you, attempting to hide his shock.

"Yes, Juraj." You nodded, "Y/N Y/L/N with Canadiens Today." He smiled, "My question is what's your pregame meal?"

Juraj laughed, "I'm pretty basic. Pasta guy, maybe throw in some veggies if I'm feeling fun."

You got up from your seat and ran around to the row behind you and took a seat again, raising your hand again. He broke into a smile when he caught onto what you were doing, "Yes, you." He pointed to you.

This went on for a couple more questions. You switching sets and asking him a question. You knew this probably wouldn't get published out into the world, but the room was empty you were there, so you might as well ask the questions.

After media was over, the reporter walked out of the room, but you stayed. Juraj smiled at you, "Thank you for that. It was embarrassing as it was to walk into an empty room."

"We're friends. It's what friends are for." You shrugged, sending him a smile.

-

The Canadiens charity dinner/gala was an event you were looking forward to. Kirby had asked you to go, purely as a friend. He didn't have a date and you were friends.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure, thanks." You smiled.

Kirby headed over to the bar while you took in the decorations around the room, "You look nice." Juraj complimented as he approached you.

"Thanks." You smiled, looking back at the large lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling.

"So, you came with Dach?"

"He asked, I accepted." You shrugged.

"We could've gone together."

"You didn't ask." You raised a brow at him, "If you had asked, I would have said yes."

Juraj didn't respond, instead, he took in your words as Kirby made his way back over with your drinks in hand, "Hey, good to see you." Kirby greeted, handing you your drink.

"Yeah, you too." Juraj nodded his head, "I'm gonna go find my seat." Juraj turned and walked towards the tables, trying to find his name card.

You and Kirby followed in his footsteps and made your way over to the tables to find your own name tags. To your luck, you were seated at the same table as Juraj and a few of the other guys.

"What a fun coincidence." You laughed, taking your seat, Juraj on your left and Kirby on your right.

"Yeah." Juraj managed a laugh, one that didn't quite reach his eyes but you and everyone else at the table failed to realize.

Once everyone else got situated and seated at their tables, the event organizers gave a speech and a few other higher-up team members.

Eventually, the appetizer came out, and when you got a chance to look at what was on your plate, you stared at it, "Everything okay?" Kirby asked, noticing your intense staring competition with the olives and cherry tomatoes mixed in with the salad on the plate.

"Oh, yeah, all good." You nodded, "Not the biggest fan of olives and tomatoes." Juraj knew it was the understatement of the year. You absolutely hated both of them.

You pushed the olives and tomatoes to the side of your plate, trying not to make a scene. Juraj, without even thinking, reached over and scooped the two things off your plate and onto his.

You stared at him, watching him eat the olives and tomatoes from his own salad, "What're you doing?"

"You hate them." He shrugged as if it was nothing.

"Juraj..." You sighed.

"What? Were you gonna eat them?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why waste food?" He shrugged again. You laughed, shaking your head and reaching for your drink, rejoining the conversation.

Juraj felt almost like he had won. He made you smile and that was a win in his book.

-

You were slipping a shirt over your head when you heard a knock on your hotel room door. This was one of the first roadies you and Lorelei were given the "okay" from Matt to come.

You assumed it was Lorelei but when you opened it, you were surprised to find Juraj instead, "Oh." You halted in your steps.

"Hi." He stood in the doorway nervously.

"Hi." You smiled, "Gosh, you're shaking like a leaf. Are you okay? Are you cold?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He nodded, "I was just-I came to ask you-I was wondering-"

"Juraj, geez, it's just me. Calm down, take a breath." You chuckled, watching him stutter over his words.

"Do you want to hang out with me today?" He finally spat out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I already have plans." Everyone was given the day off so you and Lorelei were planning on checking out the city and being tourists.

"I talk to Lorelei already. She's spending the day with a few of the other guys."

"Wow, you really thought this through." You laughed, "What did you have planned?"

"Well, I've never been to Seattle before, so maybe we can start there?"

"Well, you're in luck, I've been before and I know all the best places."

"Great." You grabbed your bag, a jacket and your room key then stepped out into the hallway together.

You did all the touristy things with Juraj. You visited the Space Needle, visited Pike Place Market, and even got coffee from the first Starbucks.

You tried to convince him it was just overpriced Starbucks that you would have to wait in an hour-long line for, but he wanted the experience and who were you to deny him of that?

After spending the entire day exploring the city, you and Juraj sat down for dinner at a little lowkey restaurant, nothing fancy, "So, did you enjoy the Y/N Tour today?"

"I did. I'd give you 5 stars."

"Ah, thanks." You laughed, "What was your favorite part of today?"

"The Needle was fun."

"I figured it would be."

"Why is that?"

"'Cause it was my favorite too, and we like a lot of the same things." You answered, taking a bite of your sandwich.

He watched you while you watched the people outside the window. He smiled, taking a bite of his own sandwich as he followed your eyes and people-watched along with you.

Later that night, you and Juraj were walking back down the hallway toward your hotel room, "I'm glad you asked me to be your tour guide today."

"Yeah, well it was either you or Wifi, and don't tell him I told you this, but I think you're prettier than him." You laughed as you slid your room key into the lock.

"Well, goodnight, Juraj. I'll see you tomorrow." You smiled.

"See you tomorrow." He repeated, sending you a smile.

You closed the door and shucked off your jacket and bag. Right as you kicked off your shoes, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed together as you made your way back over to the door.

"Did you forget something?"

"Yeah, I did." He nodded, "Can I kiss you?" You blinked like a fish, trying to comprehend what he said, "I would've just gone for it without asking, but you always tell me consent is important."

Your brain started working again, and you smiled, "Yeah, you can kiss me." You nodded. He leaned forward, cupping your cheek and kissing you. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

As you pulled away, you could see something in his eyes. It wasn't regret nor was it joy, he looked conflicted, "Are you okay?" You asked.

Instead of responding, he pushed your arms away and turned in the opposite direction, walking towards his hotel room. He left you standing there, confused.

-

The morning after the kiss, you tried to confront him during breakfast, but by the time you made it down for breakfast, he had already left for practice.

"So he kissed you and bailed?" Lorelei asked.

"Just walked away." You nodded.

"That's strange." She commented, "I'm not a betting woman, Y/N, but if I were, I would bet a whole paycheck that Juraj is still in love with you."

You shook your head with a roll of your eyes, "That's not true."

"Oh, it absolutely is. and your denying it is silly. I know you still like him, maybe even love him."

"I don't love him." You denied once again.

"All right, you don't." She shrugged.

-

Juraj had been avoiding you. He didn't know how to confront you. He kissed you. It had been a good kiss, great even. But for some reason, he ran off.

He knew he had to confront you and admit how he really felt, but the one thing he was scared of more than anything was being rejected. He could handle you hating him and not talking to him and being upset with him, but he could not physically handle you rejecting him.

He had tried on numerous occasions to approach you. He approached you but when opened his mouth, nothing came out. Another time, he, once again, opened his mouth to say something, but someone else called your name and before you noticed him, you were being pulled in another direction.

When he saw you walking down the hall, he knew he had to say something, "Y/N." He called out.

You looked up from your phone and when you saw it was him, you were ready to turn around and walk in the opposite direction, "No, wait, please." He begged.

You slowly turned around to face him, and slid your hands into your pockets, "Can I talk to you?"

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" He winced at the way the sentence had come out, but he knew he deserved it. After all, he kissed you and then ran off.

"Right, I just wanted to clarify something." You nodded, "I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to run off like that, I swear. I just, I think my legs moved faster than my brain." You were confused and your face must've shown it.

"What I'm trying to say is I wanted to kiss you, and I had it all planned out in my head. I was gonna kiss you, and I was gonna confess my feelings for you, but then I ran because I was scared you wouldn't feel the same way. Still am, by the way. Scared you won't feel the same."

"Juraj..."

"I like you, Y/N, and boy does it feel good to say that. Because I've been holding that in for so long. Longer than I'd like to admit." You simply stared at him, eyes wide.

"Say something." He begged. But you couldn't. You were shocked. He actually liked you. He frowned when you didn't respond, only stare at him. He took your silence as his answer and once again, turned and left you alone again.

-

You sat by yourself in the arena, trying to understand what just happened. You were an artist, but you could draw the look on Juraj's face when you didn't say anything, and it hurt that your brain didn't move fast enough to say anything.

No one was in the arena except for the Zamboni which was going over the ice, but you were sitting in the nosebleeds section so you would be left alone by anyone on the ice.

"What're you doing up here by yourself?" You turned around to see Arber standing a few seats away.

"Thinking."

"Hmm." He hummed, "You and Juraj look the same. You're both moping, which means something happened, so spill."

"I messed up." You told him in a tone that let Arber know that it was more than a little mistake. He sat down in the chair next to you. You filled him in on what happened and he sat there and listened, he didn't interrupt you.

"You know what you have to do?" You looked over at him, "You gotta tell him how you feel. You're both hurting. It's so clear you both still have feelings for each other, and the only way to stop the hurting is to admit the truth. Tell him how you feel, Y/N. What's stopping you?"

"You didn't see his face. He was heartbroken."

"Then go." He told you.

-

You stared at his door, hesitating. After a few mental pep talks, you finally raised your hand to knock on his door. You heard someone making their way to the door, and when it opened, instead of Juraj, you were met with his roommate.

"Are you here for Juraj?"

"Yeah." You nodded. His roommate moved out of the way just enough for you to enter. When you walked in, you looked around.

"He's in his room." He pointed down the hall to Juraj's room. You knocked on his door and waited for a response.

"Come in." You opened the door and saw him laying in his bed, looking just as miserable as you, "What're you doing here?"

"You didn't let me say anything."

"I did. I waited."

"Then that's my fault. I was trying to figure out what to say, but I couldn't get it out."

He stared at you, trying to decipher what was happening, "Are you here to reject me again?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you about something else." You stepped into his room, shutting the door behind you, "I talked with Arber, who gave me some good advice."

"Did he now?"

"Juraj," You took a breath, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier. But I'm here now, and I want to say I feel the same way about you." He raised a brow, "I like you, too. Maybe even love you, but I'm not sure about that yet."

He stared at you the same way you had stared at him when he proclaimed his feelings for you, "I probably always have and always will. Somewhere along the way, I forgot about that because I was blinded by the hurt and pain you caused, but seeing you again and spending time with you, it was like all those feelings came rushing back like a waterfall."

He smiled as he listened to you. He could tell you meant it as he watched you, "You don't have to love me right now 'cause I'll love enough for the both of us."

He jumped out of bed and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly, "I do love you." He spoke into your hair before kissing your head. You smiled, letting out a happy and relieved sigh as you hugged him back, relishing the feeling of having his arms back around you.

-

"Special delivery!" Lorelei announced walking into the medbay with a package in her hands, "Special delivery for one Mrs. Y/N Slafkovsky." She joked.

"Okay, you can stop with the wedding jokes. We aren't married, we're just dating. We're taking things slow."

"I know, but it's still funny." She set the box down on the table. You looked over at her, "What? Are you gonna open it?"

You laughed, grabbing a pair of scissors and opening the box. You smiled happily when you pulled out all the bubble wrap, revealing heaps and heaps of Milkyway bars.

"What is it?" Lorelei asked.

"Milkyway." You pulled out a bar and unwrapped it, taking a bite.

-

"Come on, as my girlfriend you have to wear my jersey."

"I already have a jersey."

"Yeah, with some other guy's name on it."

"I'll be sure to tell your captain he's just another guy." You joked.

"Please?" He begged.

"I'm kidding. Of course, I'll wear it." You grabbed it from him and set it aside. You wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him, "Be great."

"Always am." He wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

"Score a goal for me."

"Who do you think I am? That would make me the worst boyfriend in the world. With you in the crowd? Now I've gotta do it."

"I'm in the crowd more often than you'd think." You reminded him, "Behind the bench and all."

"But this is different." He pointed out.

"All right, whatever you say." You smiled, pushing yourself up. He got the picture and leaned down, kissing you.

During warm-ups, he skated past multiple times, slammed into the glass a few times, and right before he skated off the ice, he tossed a puck over the glass to you and winked.

You smiled, slipping into your pocket, "You're making me feel really lonely." Lorelei joked.

"Sorry." You laughed.

"Don't you dare apologize." She nudged you softly.

-

Halfway through the 3rd period, the Habs were up by 2 and things looked like they were only going up from there. You watched as Jake Evans passed it to Anderson who passed it back to Jake. He skated down the ice, looking for someone to pass to.

Juraj hopped off the bench after switching with another player. Jake passed it over to Juraj, who skated around the Yotes player and tricked the goalie.

He looked like he was going left, but instead shot from the right. You jumped out of your seat and hugged Lorelei as the goal horn sounded.

Juraj was pulled into hugs by his teammates as he celebrate. Before he skated over to the bench, he pointed over to you. When you locked eyes, he blew you a kiss, dedicating his goal to you.

You laughed as you felt eyes from everywhere on you. The celly replayed as he skated past you and pointed to you and blew you a kiss.

"I'm calling that the Y/N goal." Lorelei joked, nudging you with her arm softly.

-

When you woke up that morning, you felt like everything was wrong. That could have partly been because you woke up late and accidentally pressed stop instead of snooze. And when you got to work, it felt like things were only going worse.

So, during your lunch break, you found yourself on the treadmill, trying to not cry as the stress of your day got to you. You walked at the slowest speed as you closed your eyes and tried to breathe.

"Hey, I've been looking for you all day." Juraj joined you on the treadmill next to you. He was walking at a faster pace as he talked about his day.

He was telling you a funny story about how practice was going when he looked over and noticed you weren't paying attention, "Hey, you okay?"

You opened your eyes, "No, everything is bad."

"What do you mean?"

"Today has not been good, and I've been trying to turn it around, but it's not working."

"Do you want to keep talking about it?" You shook your head, "Are you gonna cry?" You nodded, "All right." He stopped his treadmill and turned yours off.

You stood at the end of the treadmill as he wrapped you in a hug, letting you cry out all the emotions from the day. He didn't say anything, he only rubbed your back and let you cry, and placed a few kisses on your head.

-

About a month after your first game, you were sitting in a different spot in the arena, but it was still out of your price range if you were to buy your own ticket.

You watched Juraj get into a fight then watched him get ejected. The fight wasn't anything bad and it wasn't any different than any other fight, but something was wrong with him, you could see it.

You gathered your stuff up and made your way down to the locker room. You peeked into the locker room and saw him sitting in his stall, looking as dejected as ever.

He heard your footsteps walking into the room, then looked down, "You aren't supposed to be in here during the game." You ignored him and approached him, "Did you hear me? You aren't supposed to be here."

You sat down next to him and reached for his hand. You didn't say anything, but when you slipped your hand into his, his body deflated. and he melted into you.

You didn't say anything as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned down and leaned his head on your shoulder as his body molded into yours.

And that was that. Neither of you said anything. You only sat in the locker room, Juraj clinging to you in silence.

-

You and Juraj were sitting in different rooms in your apartment. He came over after practice and the two of you kind of just stayed in separate rooms doing your own thing.

You made your way out of your bedroom and into the kitchen but as you passed the living room, you saw Juraj sprawled out on your couch. His eyes were closed but you could tell he wasn't asleep.

You set your mug down on the table next to the couch and sat down next to him. You ran your hands up his arm, then leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"You finally done?"

"Almost. One more paragraph then I'm all yours for the rest of the night." He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to lay on his chest, "One more paragraph, come on." You laughed.

"That's too much." He whined, closing his eyes as if he were going to fall asleep.

"No, come on. I'm almost done!" You begged. He only pretended to snore. You sighed, laying your head on his chest as you gave in to your fate.

You both eventually fell asleep and when you. woke up, it was much late. You woke up before him and looked up at him tiredly, smiling.

"Creep." He muttered as he opened his eyes and saw you staring at him. You rolled your eyes.

He yawned as he began waking up, "Don't you think it's crazy that almost a year ago you couldn't even be in the same room as me."

"Crazy." He hummed.

"Sometimes good things really do take time." You smiled.

"Well, then I'm glad I waited." He leaned down, kissing you softly.

-

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