#but also like. she payed money to get a second number to prank text me with and sure the mystery was a bit fun but after I had completely

[nope-body]

.

[fluffymcu]

The U-turn

Inspired by the “he’s leaving now, you can come over” trend on tiktok

Bucky x sister!reader (Bucky and the reader don’t live at the compound here)

(and yes the wakandans have their own reality show bc I think that would be so hilarious and entertaining 💀

Also it’s 3am so I’m writing this with half a brain cell working overtime so sorry if it’s bad

You smiled at the tiktok you were watching of a girl texting her boyfriend “he’s leaving, you can come over now” as he was getting in his car. You watched him glance up at the apartment and funnily run his way back inside.

You immediately had the idea to do the same with your brother.

“Hey y/n/n I’m going over to the compound to pick up some papers for a mission.” Bucky said as he poked his head into your room. You perked up.

“Perfect!” You grinned. Bucky furrowed his brows at you and have you a weird look.

“Perfect?” He echoed. You widened your eyes just a bit.

“No. Nothing. I’m gonna take a nap don’t bother me!” You rushed out, engulfing yourself under the covers. Bucky stared at the lump on the bed for a second more before leaving.

“Okay... I’m be back in an hour.” He said hesitantly, suspiciously closing the door. You snickered to yourself once he left, running to your window and watching him until he left the driveway. You made a dramatic evil laugh to entertain yourself and skipped over to the living room to watch an episode of Keeping up with the Wakandans. You wanted to wait a bit until he was farther from home to make it that much miserable for him.

“Move. Or you will be moved.”

Okoye: Ayo asked me to move. I was so taken aback and offended. So offended in fact, that I had to restrain myself from reaching for my vibranium spear.

Ayo: Okoye was in my way. I asked her to get out of the way as politely as I could. I don’t know what else she could want from me. But if you don’t like the way I say it, don’t get in my way.

“

”

If you lay a little finger on me, I will make sure to wrap you up in a nice little package and send you as a snack to M’Baku’s children

Okoye: Clearly she is upset because we still haven’t opened a Starbucks in Wakanda. But we have more important things to take care of other than coffee. But I don’t see how she could be offended over my response. We wakandans are honorable people. We do not lie, nor belittle ourselves for the sake of other’s emotions. So as you can see, what I said to her was straight from the heart!

T’ challa: I don’t know where all this conflict started between them. That’s all I have to say. Can I go now?

Shuri: it’s great!! Okoye and Ayo keep acting out the scripts that I give them, you record them, and we get the money! It’s my most entertaining and innovative idea I’ve come up with so far. And I’ve come up with some incredible things!!

You were invested in the show that you almost forgot about the prank. Snapping out of it, you grabbed your phone and clicked on buck’s contact. After typing out the message, you hit send with a mischievous grin. You didn’t know what to expect but it was exciting sobre it’s been a while since you’ve really messed with your brother.

Bucky was halfway to the compound when he heard his phone bing. The notification sound let him know that it came from you, so he opened it to see what you needed, holding up the phone so he would still see the road.

He’s gone, you can come over now baby :)

His eyes comically widened in terror, not being able to take his eyes off that last word.

Baby.

In an instant, he slammed the brakes, eliciting a stream of honks from the cars behind him that almost slammed into him. He couldn’t even pay mind to them as he made a 3 point turn and quickly started driving the opposite way: home. While he drove, he dialed your number on speaker, bouncing his free leg anxiously. The call quickly went to voicemail which made him sit up in shock and anger. He called you again, going straight to voicemail. And again. And again!

You were giggling your head off seeing the screen constantly light up with Bucky’s name on it. You kept quickly hitting deny, just imagining his hilarious state. Soon you found yourself laughing out loud clutching your belly as the calls kept coming and he did not stop! You actually wanted to answer for a split second to hear his reaction personally but decided milk the prank a bit more.

Bucky had never driven so fast in his life. He was mentally thanking Tony for this car since it was able to reach high speeds. He couldn’t get the image out of his head if you having a boyfriend yet. Maybe at 40 years old, no, maybe 50. No- Just to be safe, 80 years old. But not now!! You were WAY too young to be with someone! He was the only man you needed in your life right now. The thought of a boy being in his house right now... alone... with his little sister who’s too innocent for this world?!?!? He was barely even paying attention to the road anymore. It was like he was being driven by a motor, automatically driving down the street, his head flooded with thoughts.

You were satisfied, munching on a bag of chips as you finished your show, when you heard the screech of tires pull up at your house. That’s when it cocked and your stomach dropped. He had come back.

You weren’t really expecting him to come back, let alone be back so fast. You jumped off the couch with a nervous squeal leaving your throat as you went to hide.

Not a second later, Bucky kicked his way in the house. “HEY! WHO’s IN HERE?” He boomer, putting on his intimidating voice. He stomped all over the house, searching for the boy. And you. “Y/N!”

“Y/N”

“Y/N!!”

You were in the closet upstairs, your eyes wide open in shock. He sounded serious. Maybe you should have picked a different prank. Still, you couldn’t help but find the situation hilarious.

“HEY! COME OUT! NOW. Y/N I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU HAVE A BOY IN HERE!!” You heard him from downstairs, throwing your head back as you laughed as quietly as you could. You heard him stomp his way upstairs and you quickly covered your mouth. “IF THERES A BOY IN HERE, HE BETTER COME OUT NOW. BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER MINUTE, I JUST MIGHT SWITCH!!” He growled. You gasped to yourself in surprise when he said that. You knew he wasn’t capable of switching another thanks to Shuri, but it was still so funny to hear him say that.

Having enough of this, Bucky stood perfectly still, closing his eyes and focusing on what he heard. He felt his superheating adjusting and zoning into all the sounds he could hear. Cars from outside. Wind blowing. A/C air circulating. Clock ticking. Light bulb hum. Giggles.

He opened his eyes and without moving a muscle his eyes followed to the closet door. He picked up light muffled giggling. Had to be you. He quickly rushed over and yanked the door open, making you scream. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up and out. “Where is he.” He huffed, letting you go and looking all around your room and you watched him with laughter.

“Where’s who?” You giggled, crossing your arms. He didn’t look at you, but you saw his eyes dulled in annoyance.

“Don’t play with me y/n. I got a message from you that was supposed to be for your little boyfriend. You sent it to me instead.” You growled.

“Whahat message?” You shrugged, playing dumb knowing it got on his nerves more. Finally he looked at you with an expression that told you he was done, and started to walk towards you. You burst into nervous giggles and ran across to the other side of the room to dodge him.

“Where is he.” He asked again. “I’m serious Y/n. Where’s the boy.” He began to look more hurt and sad than furious now. You decided that it was enough messing around and tell him the truth before he got sad.

“There’s no boy, Buck. I was just playing.” You said in a light voice, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes. His face stayed the same. He didn’t believe you. “Really!”

“I got the text, y/n.” He deadpanned.

“I know, I did it on purpose, dummy! It was a prank!” You laughed. Bucky’s jaw dropped as his eyes Dulles again.

“So you made me come alllll the way back home... all the way back!... for nothing?? After I needed to get some oh so very important papers from a place almost an hour away, you make me turn back after I was half way there... for a prank??!?” Bucky stressed, raising his brows at you. You had to bite back your giggles but it wasn’t working too good. You raised your hands in defense.

“Hehey, in my defense, I didn’t think you were gonna actually come back here!” You shrugged sheepishly.

“Well if you send a text like that then decline every call I send your way, YEAH IM GONNA COME BACK!” He exclaimed, making a beeline towards you. You run out the door with a squeal, giggling loudly as you ran from your brother who was hot on your heels. You couldn’t deny that as scared and nervous you were, you were having so much fun messing with Bucky.

You ran downstairs and tried getting to the kitchen island but before you could get there, Bucky caught you. He grabbed you from behind and lifted you up, wasting no time in mercilessly digging his fingers into the middle of your belly, ignoring your loud hysterical laughter. “NAHAHAHAHAHA!! BUHUCKY STAHAHAHAP!!” You arched your back against him but that only pushed your belly more into his hands, making you try to flop around like a fish. He carried You over to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap. You quickly tried to roll off from him but he grabbed your arm and lifted it over your head, blowing a big raspberry on your ribs. You yelped and flinched hardly at the ticklish feeling, kicking your legs out to distract you from it.

“I’m really enjoying my payback by the way. Very satisfying. And it’s almost making the trip back here worth it” He hummed, hooking his arm under your neck to nuzzle his stubble into it, making playful nomming noises. You screamed, trying to scrunch up your neck. He knew his stubble always killed you. “BUCKYHYHYHY!!” You pushed at his chest. You managed to slip out of his arms for a moment but only made it a couple of feet before he caught you again with a chortle. “Ohohoho! Where do you think you’re goin? We just started!” He smirked, grabbing you by your legs and holding you halfway upside down.

“NohohohooooOOO!” You cried, protesting as he was only holding you on one side while using his metal hand to tase his finger in your belly button, grinning at your hysterical cackles. It amused him how you’d try to “ab crunch” your way up to stop him but were too weak with laughter to sit up very long. “Awww, don’t like a wittle tickle? Hm?” He teased in a baby voice, bending over with you still in his arms and rubbing his face all over your belly and mumbling the same things.

“NAHAAAAHA!! SORRYYYY IM SOHOHORRY BUCKYHYHY!!” That drove you crazy, finally making your laughter turn silent as all you could do was silently slap at his head. Bucky giggled at your hysterical reaction.

“Oh, you’re not sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught!” He laughed, pausing to give you a minute to breathe. “And cause you want me to stop!” He sang with raised eyebrows, starting to dance his fingers at random places on your belly and sides to keep you guessing, eliciting a new stream of giggles out of you.

“NohohoHOOO PLEHEhease!! Buhucky dohohont! Ihihit tickles!!” You laughed, trying to block his fingers as best you could. Bucky chortled and shook his head, momentarily setting you on your feet before quickly lifting you by your sides and throwing you in the air, blowing a big raspberry on your belly each time he caught you. Butterflies swarmed your stomach at the feeling, lagging your heart out.

“Who’s the tickle monster??” He teased, throwing you up and tickling you again and again. “Huh?”

You could hardly even think anymore, the only thing going through your head was how much it tickled. All you could do was laugh and hiccup. Bucky could tell you were out of it, laughing along with you. With a few hiccups You about about to let out an exhausted “You!” before he finally stopped.

With a chuckle he carried you on his hip to your room before playfully throwing you into your bed from the doorway. You squeal as you landed on the mattress and giggled, getting under the covers for a nap while he walked to your bedside. “Jerk.” You mumbled sticking your tongue out at him.

Bucky quickly scratched under your chin to make you flinch and scrunch your neck up, effectively making you close your mouth. You whined in annoyance that you couldn’t get the last laugh and slapped his hand away. “Take a nap, Trouble. We’re going to Steve’s later to watch the game.” You gasped as you perked up. He immediately raised a finger. “Ah!! To watch the game. Not to play around with Steve. I wasn’t even gonna bring you cause I know you’d hog him all up trying to get him to entertain you. You spent all day with him yesterday. It’s game time now.” He said, watching as you pouted with narrowed eyes. “But I know if I don’t bring you, you’re gonna be a big baby about it.” He smiled sarcastically.

“Hmph. Fine.” You huffed. “But I get him during commercials and half time.” You smirked. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Sure.”

[tea-and-cardigans]

With miles and miles to go I guess it's nice to know That I can trust you Though the question still remains... What do you know about love?

What Would You Know

Read on Ao3

Bughead Secret Santa for @paperlesscrown

I hope you enjoy this interpretation of your prompt, (It has been a little daunting writing for such a talented writer, so eeek...)

Betty ran out to the street, her eyes scanning the walkways for her sister, Polly, letting out a groan of frustration as the masses of people blocked her vision. Then she sees a flash of blonde getting into a cab, her eyes scanning the number plate and committing it to memory before it speeds off into the city traffic.

She fumbles for her phone in her bag typing in the number plate into her notes before she forgets it. Before opening up her Uber app and selecting the nearest vehicle with a decent enough rating.

She texts Kevin next if there is anyone in this city with the right connections to track this cab down and find out where her sister is heading it’s Kevin. She stands on her tiptoes looking out for the plate of her driver. What she is not prepared for is the car that pulls up in front of her dressed up to look like a reindeer, a ‘nodding’ reindeer stuck to the dash and Christmas lights dangling from the inside front windscreen.

She does a double-take as the driver rolls down his window. A man about her age, wearing a beanie, leans out the window. His hands raised in question. She checks the number plate again and reads the name of the driver, Jughead. That should have been a warning, but she had been in such a hurry she hadn’t even noticed.

Betty began to question whether this was really happening. Whether this is the final straw and her mind has officially snapped and she is now imaging Uber drivers who drive cars that look like reindeers when the honk of a car horn, snaps her out of it.

“Betty?”

She manages a nod in response.

“Are you getting in?” He calls out from the wound down window, and Betty cautiously takes the back seat. Moving along the Christmas blanket that has been draped across the back seat. Pulling out her phone to see whether Kevin has anything for her yet.

When there is nothing from Kevin she sighs, trying to rack her brain for where her sister might have headed in such a hurry.

“Where to,” the driver asks, adjusting the rearview mirror so that he can catch her eyes, his thumb pointed back at the cars starting to pull up behind them in front of the hotel “they’re going to start beeping me soon.” He shot a look into the side view mirrors, “or give me a ticket.”

“Um, East, someone is texting me the exact address,” Betty offers, looking up from her phone. Polly will want to get out of the city. She knows how crowded the city can feel on nights like this and the need to escape.

She sees the look in his eyes as he shrugs his shoulders, pulling away from the curb.

The drive is largely silent. Betty alternated between playing with the edge of the blanket between her fingers, checking her phone for a message from Kevin and scanning her social media for any hint for where her sister might have gone.

“The car doesn’t usually look like this,” Jughead said to her from the front seat, as they continue to drive, the lights of the city soon becoming duller in the rearview mirror, replaced by quieter streets blanketed in the freshly fallen snow.

“It was my friend’s idea of a prank,” he continues as Betty nods, another glance of the phone.

“Dressing your car up as a reindeer?”

“He’s not that funny,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Right,” Betty answers pulling up the driver’s profile, 5 stars, which is exactly why she picked him in the first place. Jughead Jones. It sounds like a pseudonym, typical in this city. A struggling musician, an actor? No, a writer perhaps. Yes. That seemed much more likely.

“Any address yet, Betty?” he asks. He looks at her from the driver seat, and she looks down at her phone again, a feeling of elation washed over her as she sees she has a text from Kevin.

Hey Princess, Looks like the taxi has been booked to the Hamptons Villa, long trip, you heading there with someone? 😉 Saw your sister’s meltdown at the party. Good Luck, Keep in Touch 😊. Kevin.

Of course, she was heading there. It was so obvious she was angry with herself without being able to come up with it herself.

It was one of the few places where they had been happy. Before losing their mum and dad, before Polly started pulling away from her bit by bit. Maybe this was their chance to finally reconnect.

She’ll be able to make her sister see that she isn’t some little girl anymore who needs protecting from the world, that she can make her own decisions and her own life.

“I need to go to the Hamptons,” Betty spoke up, seeing the confusion cross Jughead’s eyes before he pulled over, putting the car into park before shifting around in his seat to face her.

“Where?”

“The Hamptons, my family has a villa there and-”

“That’s just over 2 hours away,” his voice managed to go up an octave at the suggestion that she wanted him to drive across the state to get to her sister. She imagined he probably thought she was crazy wanting to drive all that way on New Year's Eve as if on the spur of the moment.

“Look me and my sister had a fight, and she’s upset and I just need to see her.” The look on his face doesn’t shift.

“What did you have a fight over that she needs to go two hours away from you?”

“I got engaged.”

“Congratulations,” he deadpanned.

“Thanks, it’s just it was kind of sudden, and Polly, my sister, freaked out. Dropped this huge bombshell, and, now I need to find her.”

“How sudden?”

“How-”

“The engagement?”

Betty looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers as she mumbled under her breath, “tonight.”

“And you met?”

Betty shifts her gaze to outside the window, “tonight,” she whispers. “You are engaged to someone you just met.”

She can feel the urge to defend herself and her actions rising, she wasn’t going to let some stranger rain on her parade, “You can if it’s real. If it’s love.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her stare hard into the rearview mirror, meeting his eyes.

“You can’t marry someone you just met, this isn’t some kind of Disney movie. This is real life. I’m starting to side with your sister,” he said with a chuckle.

Betty let out a frustrated grunt and yanked open the door, making her way out to the snow. She couldn’t stand to be near him and his judgemental look.

Sure it was soon and sudden, but it was love. She was sure of it. She heard the car door slam behind her and he was stood next to her, his breath coming out in a mist, as he tugged down the beanie tighter over his head.

Betty ignored the way the cold wind bit through her thin dress, licked at her bare skin, she should have grabbed her coat before she chased her sister out of the hotel. She could feel him watching her before he shook his head and sighed, opening the car door again, reaching in.

The next thing she felt was the softness of the Christmas blanket around her shoulders and the warmth of the hands that smoother it over her arms, as she clasped it around her body.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Betty asked, her hands pulling the blanket tighter.

“What’s in it for me?” He asked calmly, as Betty willed the frustration not to show on her face, instead casually looking back at the city they had left behind and the lights in the far off distance.

“It’s a busy night in the city,” she tells him, ignoring the roll of his eyes at the obviousness of her statement.

“Which means lots of customers,” he replies, opening his driver side door before she puts her hand on it closing it again with her weight, as he goes to open the door again.

“I need to get to my sister. And I’m willing to pay you to drive across this island to get to her.”

“And ...”

“It’s New Year’s Eve in New York City. People will be drinking, almost definitely drunk,” she adds with a nod, “Some of these girls can’t hold their liquor, and the champagne will be flowing tonight,” as he screws up his face at the mere thought of some socialite in his back seat puking up the contents of her stomach all over his newly detailed car.

“Which would be such a shame,” she adds, looking into the back window as the well-kept interior, "but, hey, your choice, I'm sure I can find another driver. Who is willing to have their entire night’s fare in one trip."

She shrugs her shoulders and pulls out her phone, before glancing back at him again.

Jughead let out a groan, as he looked up at the sky in some kind of silent prayer, “Fine. I’ll do it. Partially because I need the money, and I just got this beautiful car detailed,” he muses as he runs his hand across its bonnet, as Betty eyed him warily at the slightly unnatural love this man has for his car.

“But also because I quite frankly am worried about your ability to make decisions,” he adds.

“What?!” Betty asks incredulously at this man she has just met having the gall to judge her decisions. The man who was driving around New York in a car that was dressed up to be some kind of Reindeer, Christmas on steroids monstrosity.

“Well you’re marrying a guy, you just met. Who your sister, someone you are prepared to drive to the other side of the city with a stranger, clearly has some reservations about. And no alarm bells are going off right now. Not one?”

Betty felt like she had been slapped across the face. She loved Archie. He loved her, he had told her. It made perfect sense on paper. He was the heir to the Andrews fortune, she was second in line to the New York Times. And they had so much in common.

It felt right, but there was a little nagging feeling that told her that she should be careful. But she had been locked away for so long, and Archie was good looking, charming and he liked those little sandwiches just as much as she did.

“What would you know about love anyway?” she bites back.

There is a sadness that clouds his eyes, and Betty almost immediately regrets asking the question.

He smiles at her, though there is little happiness in his eyes, “More than I’d like to.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Let’s go.”

She stood to the side as he pushed past her to open the front passenger door, and stepped aside for her to enter. As she was about to give him an earful about how she could open her own doors, her heel slipped on a patch of ice in hidden beneath the snow. A shriek leaving her lips as she lost her footing.

She felt a hand grab her elbow, stopping her fall as he then pulled her against his body until her feet found her place again and she could stand on her own two feet. She gripped onto his arm, his other arm coming to wrap around her as she was face to face with him.

Noticing just how blue his eyes were, and feeling a flush on the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” she managed as he loosened his grip, and she stood up, brushing down her dress as she regained her composure.

He may be frustrating, and may not agree with her but she had a feeling this little road trip was going to be anything but boring.

@bugheadsecretsanta

[danganronpa-tng]

EstrellAeja AU fic!

(Reminder; this is NOT CANON! This is a non killing game au where the parents still lived and had kids, but those kids weren't put in a killing game. I wrote this ages ago when we first made TNG so excuse the probably poor writing lol)

Enjoy!!

Aeja had been living with her girlfriend, Estrella, for around two years now, and everything was going well. Estrella was, quite honestly, chaotic, but she was fun to be around. Aeja was the opposite- calm and organised, but still able to take a laugh. Estrella had gotten Aeja a job at her Dad's detective agency, but as far as Aeja knew, Estrella's 'job' was her organisation. She didn't let much slide about her organisation, but she liked to brag to everyone about the amount of members she had and how she practically controlled the world from behind the scenes. Today, Aeja finally decided to ask Estrella what she did. "Hey, Estrella?" She sat at the table, placing a plate of toast down in front of her. "Mm?" Estrella was already eating when she sat. Estrella had the biggest appetite out of anyone she knew. "So, you run DICE now, right?" "Yep! I thought you knew this..?" Estrella raised an eyebrow at Aeja, her raising one back, in character as a copycat. This got a smirk out of them both. "Yeah, but I was just wondering... what do you actually do?" Aeja asked. "Well, we-" "Aside from manipulating governments, controlling the Black market and taking over the world." "...Ah. I see you've thought this through, miss detective-in-training!" She giggled, crossing her legs. "Well, if we're being honest, it's usually either petty pranks, petty crimes, or first degree murder." "Wh- first degree murder?!" Aeja asked, coughing slightly on her toast. "Well, if there's someone you need gone, there's only one good way to do it- yourself!" She explained nonchalantly. "Speaking of, anyone been bothering my girlfriend lately, huh~?" Estrella teased, but it sounded like there was a hint of sincerity behind it. "No, everything's been fine. There's this one criminal that your father is finding hard to catch, but other then tha-" "Name." "What?" She asked. "Do they have a name? Just wondering. Some criminals- heh, like my members- stay anonymous." Estrella explained. Aeja knew Estrella like the back of her hand, and she knew when her girlfriend was lying to her, but she decided to humor her. "Yasmeen Chance. Not much of a threat physically, but she's robbed a few places." She explained. "Huh. Well, as long as you're good, I couldn't give a shit about the places she's robbed." Estrella said with an air of finality. Aeja had to laugh at her reactions to things.

Aeja did find it odd, though, that a certain Yasmeen Chance was reported dead two days later. Suicide, they told her. Seemed mighty suspicious, but hey, she was out of Aeja's hair. She'll take it. "Hey, Estrella?" She called when she got home that day. "Welcome home, miss detective-in-training! How was your day?" Estrella came out of her room to greet her. "Mmm, not bad, but..." "Buuuut?" "Remember that girl I was telling you about?" "Yasmeen? Yeah, I remember her. What's up?" "She's dead. Got reported dead today." "Yeah, I know." Aeja froze at that. "You... know?" "Yeah?" "That information was confidential, only released to the family and the agency." Estrella just shrugged. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Aeja. Perks of running an organisation!" She smiled nonchalantly before walking into the kitchen. "Want me to get started on dinner while you get changed?" "...Sure. Sure, thanks." "Anytime, detective--" "Detective-in-training?" "Ahh, you know me so well!" Estrella giggled, before setting herself to work.

Later on, after dinner, Aeja had gone out to get some groceries. When she came back, she came in to Estrella on the phone. "...Yep, it all worked out. Everyone thinks it was a suicide. Even Dad and Aeja, and they're great at seeing through lies. I think Pops might have guessed what happened, but even if he did, he wouldn't tell." "...I just don't want Aeja to be having a hard time. She's dealt with enough in her life. Anything I can do to make things easier for her, I will. Even if it ends a life, I'll do it. For her, y'know?" "...Ah, sorry. Got a bit melodramatic there for a second!" "...Yeah, you did great. Thanks, 7. I'll pay you when I get in tomorrow." "...Yes, you're getting paid. When do I ever skip out on payment, especially for a murder this complex?" "...It's no problem. A boss needs to pay their employees, after all! Besides, everyone works really hard, it wouldn't be fair to underpay you guys." "Oh, actually, remind me to talk to you guys tomorrow about something. It's important... to me, anyways. I know I keep asking you guys for favors, but I'm really freakin' incompetent. Besides, y'all are really helpful when I need these favors." "...Thanks, 7. You're the best! "...You too, 7. Have a great night!" And then she hung up. That explained how Estrella knew that Yasmeen was dead- she orchestrated her death! But how did she get everyone to believe it was a suicide? They had everyone fooled, even her own dad. If Estrella was anyone else to her, Aeja would have to report this. But she did this for her, just to make things easier. It was a weird feeling. She'd never had someone aside from her parents care about her that much before. So maybe she'd just leave her be. "Hey, sweetie! I'm home." "Ah! Welcome back, miss detective-in-training~!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was the 28th of May. One day before Aeja's birthday. It had also been two days since Estrella had been home. She wasn't concerned; Estrella had been texting and calling her the whole time. Apparently she got roped into going on one of the longer heists a bit across the country, but she had kept in contact with Aeja, so she knew she was OK. It still got lonely being home alone, though. Especially when you're used to waking up each morning to a playful kiss on the cheek and a small song from your eccentric girlfriend every day, for two years. She was supposed to be home that day, in time for her birthday, but then Aeja got another call. "Hey, Aeja..?" "Hey, sweetie. What's up?" "Ah, nothing, I just wanted to talk to you..!" "...Uh huh. Now, what's really up?" Estrella sighed. "I just found out the heist got delayed a day..." "...oh." "I don't think I'll be home tomorrow. I'm really sorry, Aeja!" "It's... it's fine. Just call me before you do the heist, ok?" "Ok, honey. Sorry." "It's no problem. I'll see you in a few days." "See you, miss detective-in-training..!" Click. She had heard Estrella's words, but it took them a moment to sink in. And when they did, Aeja found a tear dripping down her face. Then another. Soon, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing into her hands. She had been so excited to spend her birthday with Estrella, and now all she'd get was a call. It could be worse, though. At least she'd still get to hear her voice. But that was all she was gonna get. Maybe she was being too selfish. Any money they made from the heist would help them pay rent and the likes. At least she wasn't off sleeping with other women. "M... maybe I can spend the day with Dad and Father..." She sniffled, before reaching for her phone and dialing her Dad's number. "Hey, Dad..." "Ah, Aeja! How are you?" "Ok, I guess. Hey, are you and Father free tomorrow? Y'know, 'cause-" "Ah, sorry honey. Me and your father are out of town tomorrow. I didn't think there was anything on. Sorry!" "Ah... No problem. Have a good time with Father." "We will. See you soon, honey!" "Bye." Click. Great. She was alone on her birthday. Totally alone. Could it get any worse?

"Well, hey. At least she bought it! I mean, sure, I could feel her heart breaking, but it'll all be ok! Hehehe... Aren't I such a great liar?"

It was the next day, the 29th. Aeja, not having anything better to do with Estrella and her parents being out of town, decided to go into work. She had the day booked off, but she figured she may as well earn some extra cash. Besides, working on cases takes her mind off things. When she got to the detective agency, Saihara wasn't there, but Ouma was. "Ah, good morning Mr. Ouma. Is Mr. Sahara out?" "Oh, Aeja? No, my dear Shumai died. Isn't it tragic?" Ouma lied, placing a hand across his forehead for dramatic effect. "Yes, truly so." She took that as a yes. "Hmmmm... Say, isn't it your birthday? Why are you here? Got nothing better to do on your day off then work? Lame." Ouma questioned. "Well, no actually. My parents are out of town, and Estrella's been off on a heist for days, so-" "A heist? No way. If it's a big important one that takes up days, I go to watch. I would've heard something." Ouma waved his hand around a bit, grabbing a bottle of Panta off the table beside him. "...what?" Was all Aeja could say. Estrella had been gone for days on something that didn't even exist? Estrella was a good liar, but not this good. "Yep. Sounds like she pulled a fast one on ya, kiddo! Nishishishishishi~" He giggled playfully. "...Well, then." "Welly welly well well well! Kinda proud of my own daughter pulling off such an elaborate lie. Anyways, no harm, no foul. It sucks watching this dump alone. Wanna stick around? You don't hafta work, if you don't wanna. I have a deck of cards handy, so, uh..?" "Do you know how to play Texas Hold 'Em?" "Who doesn't?! No guarantees I won't cheat though, nishishishi!" "Estrella does too, I'm used to it. Sure, let's play." Estrella. Even saying her name right now hurt. She decided to try and drown her feelings of anger and confusion and sadness by keeping a grown man from cheating against her. Keeping an eye on his every move kind of distracted her a bit.

(I don't know how poker works, bear with me)

Eventually, Saihara came back, just at the end of a round. "Ah, good evening Mr. Saihara. How was your evening?" "Remember we talked about first names? You're practically my daughter too. Same with Kokichi!" "Yeah, she's been calling me Mr. Ouma all evening. Although, I suppose it'll be Mr Saihara-Chan too soon~" "Oh you two are engaged? Congratulations." "Well, yes. Although we don't know who's taking which name yet, we are engaged! Anyways, back to the topic, my evening was very pleasant, thank you. How was your d- wait, isn't it your birthday?" "Yes." "And she spent it playing poker against me, and losing!" "You've only beat me once." "Still!" Ouma pouted, taking another drink out of his second bottle of Panta. "If I remember correctly, you had today booked off, right? Aren't you supposed to be at home with Estrella?" "She was... Out of town today, I guess." "Huh, weird. Anyways, you can head home, if you'd like. I'll still pay you for coming in. Think of it as your birthday gift!" "Thanks, Mr. Sai- Shuichi. Have a good day. You too, Kokichi." "See ya, kid!" "Have a good day, Aeja!" As Aeja put on her coat and walked out the door, she heard Saihara mutter 'Do you think I kept her too long! She'll be waiting...' If 'she' was Estrella, she'd sure as hell be waiting for an angry phone call from her as soon as she got home. But when she got home, she noticed the door cracked open. She always locked the door before leaving. Someone had broken in. Aeja sprinted in the house to check what had happened. Whoever broke in obviously hadn't taken much, but they'd left a trail to the kitchen. A small trail of blood. She followed it quickly, before stopping abrubtly at seeing the kitchen. A few plates were smashed, the tablecloth was on the floor, the vase of roses she had gotten Estrella a few weeks ago was smashed, the water in a puddle and the roses missing, and, most suspiciously, a note on the table, a small bloodstain in the corner. 'If you want to know what happened here, go to this address. I know you love a good mystery. And I'd say your girlfriend may be happy to see you!' The address of a small restaurant her and Etrella frequented was scribbled on the sheet, underneath the message. It wasn't Estrella's handwriting, which made this worse. At least if it was her, she could relax. But now someone had broken in to her house on her birthday, which would just add more to her workload the next day, and kidnapped her girlfriend. Estrella must have gotten home while she was out. She quickly rang Saihara to explain what happened, in tears the whole time, then rushed back out to find the restaurant. Usually Estrella directed her, so finding it was a small challenge. Estrella. Earlier she could barely say the name for hatred, now she couldn't even think of her without sobbing. She eventually found it, noticing quite quickly it was empty. She thought the door would be locked, but it opened without a hitch. Rushing in and up the stairs (you never keep a hostage on the ground floor) she expected to see the captor, or at least Estrella tied up so she could free her. What she did see was... Something else.

Rose petals were scattered across the floor, all of the tables and chairs moved to the side, candles burning in the corners of the room, a soft instrumental to a song Aeja loved, the bunch of roses that went missing, and Estrella. In a dress Aeja had never seen before, a clown mask covering everywhere above her mouth and nose, and her hair down. "Hey, miss detective-in-training." Aeja was speechless. She didn't understand what was going on. "Wh... But... You- the note... there was blood... A-are you-?" "Oh, right. I should probably make sure you know I'm who I say I am." She took off her mask and held her hair beside her head, making her look kind of how she normally looked. "Happy Birthday, honey!" And the next thing Estrella knew, she was wrapped in a sobbing Aeja's embrace. "Don't... *hic* don't ever do that to me again! I thought... I thought I'd lost you..." "Awww, Aeja... You could never lose me. I'm too good to die." Some laughter came between the sobs, making it hard to tell if she was shaking from laughter or sadness. "Anyways, I won't need to do this again. Not if you say what I hope you'll say, anyways." "Wh... What..?" Estrella pulled away from the embrace, fiddling around in a pocket as she spoke, her eyes always on Aeja. "Aeja Hinata Komaeda." "Oh g-god, you used my full name, eheheh- *hic*" "Yeah. Anyways, Aeja Hinata Komaeda. We have been together for two years, and it has been the best two years of my life. You are the best, most smartest-" "Most smartest..?" "Shut up- person I have ever met and I don't deserve someone as good as you. You help cheer me up when I'm sad, make me keep trying even when I feel like quitting, and hell, you give me a reason to get out of bed in the morning! I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you by my side, because like I said, I don't deserve you. But in case you, for some reason, think I do..." She got down on her knees, then adjusted so she was on one knee. She pulled a box out of the pocket she was fiddling with, opening it. Aeja gasped. "Oh... Oh my goodness..." Estrella took a deep breath. "Aeja Hinata Komaeda. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?" And for a moment, aside from the soft music playing, all was silent. After a moment of wiping her tears and fixing her composure... "Yes. Yes! Oh my goodness, yes!" "Oh... Oh my fuckin- thank God..!" And Estrella was up on her feet, and they were in each others arms again, laughing through the tears of happiness they couldn't hold back. "You... You have no idea how long this took to plan... I had DICE in on it, and my dads, and your dads-" "Wait, Dad and Father?! I thought they were out of town..?" "Nah, I just asked them to lie if you called, which I'm guessing you did, huh? And not to mention the days away from you. God, that was torture!" "You're telling me..! It was so lonely without you at home!" "I know, I know..." Estrella said softly, running her fingers through Aeja's hair. It usually comforted them both when she did that. "It'll never happen again, I promise..." "...I missed you..." "I missed you too. I'm sorry if I made you upset." "It's ok... *hic* it was all worth it, just for this..." "Well, phew. If not, that was alot of time and effort gone to waste." They were just laughing now, feeling comfort in each other's presence. Once the ring was on Aeja's finger, they just swayed to the slow music playing. They were happy with eachother. And that's all they needed right now. Eachother.

"Your parents are engaged now, by the way." "Wait, WHAT?! When the FUCK did that happen?!"

-End-

[pumpiniron]

Headcanon: Misto, a coffee shop assistant, and Tugger, a rock star. Then Misto fell in love with the singer, who ordered an extra cake every time he came

Thanks so much! Im planning on writing a second part but I have this for now! It’s not the best but Im trying lol! It is here on ao3 or keep reading below!

“Decaf iced coffee for Jerrie!” Yelled a small boy with black hair. 

“Thanks!” said an upbeat redhead, “What’s that there?” He gestures to a slice of cake with a note on the counter.

“Someone keeps leaving them for me. I don't know who. Probably someone from my last shift, but no one will tell me.”

“MistooOOo!!” a female voice squeaked, “Oh hey Jerrie!”

“What do you need Teazer?”

“I have something tomorrow and can’t work my earlier shift. Do ya mind covering for me?” she says sticking out her bottom lip making a pouty face.

“Fine.” He says as she walks out, “But you owe me something!”

He didn’t mind as he was usually up already and he didn't have anything better to do. This job was just to make some extra money on the side, being a dancer doesn’t exactly pay as well as he would like.

Clocking out, he walks to his small apartment and goes inside. His day goes on like usual, some dance practice and school work. Afterward he talks with Victoria,

“Sooo,” she says with a smirk, “Anyone caught your eye recently?”

“No.”

“No?! Mistoffelees you could get any man and yet your still single!”

“Im single because I want to be single.” he says.

“Yea sure.” She sighs.

That wasn't true, and he knew it. He wanted to be in a relationship, but no one had shown any interest in him. Other than the cake, but that was probably a prank.

The next day he gets up a bit earlier than his usual time and gets ready for work. He clocks in and sits at the counter. It wasn’t that busy, nothing he couldn’t handle by himself. A couple people populated the tables , but no one was in line. The bell on the door rings and he looks up.

“Hi! Welcome!” He smiles and greets the customer.

“Hello!” he smirks back.

He was tall. Taller than Mistoffelees. If he had to guess, he would say around 6’1” or 6’2”. He had long brown hair and an edgy vibe. His outfit consisted of tight black jeans that were ripped at the knees, an acid washed t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

“Can I get a pumpkin spice latte with a slice of cake?”

“Is that it?” Misto asks.

“Can I also get your number?” He says smoothly.

Not knowing what to do, Mistofelees replied “Maybe. That'll be $7.85.”

He extends his hand with a ten dollar bill “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” he says sarcastically, “Can I have a name for you order?”

“Tugger.”

Misto makes his drink and contemplates whether to give him his number. Yea Tugger seemed cool, but was he ready for a relationship. What if he’s a murderer and trying to kill him!? I mean he did buy him cakes which was sweet. What’s the worst that can happen?

He gives him his drink and cake with a napkin that had his number on it.

“Tugger!” He calls out.

He grabs his food, looks at the napkin, and says “I'll text you!”

Later that day Misto is hanging out with his sister when his phone pings. 

“Who’s that?” she asks.

“No one, Vic.”

He looks at his phone and sees a message from an unknown number. “Hey it’s Tugger! You wanna grab lunch tomorrow?”

“Say yes!” 

“Don’t look over my shoulder!”

“Just say yes! You need this Misto.” she says with a pleading tone.

She was right. “Sure!” he texts back.

Victoria squealed as they worked out a place and time for their meetup tomorrow.

The next day Misto gets up and takes a shower. He choses a casual outfit and brushes his hair. Looking in the mirror he fixed himself up. He was skinny and pale, almost sickly looking if it wasn’t for his dark black hair and bright blue eyes.

He grabs his phone and wallet and walks out the door. 

When he arrives at the restaurant Tugger is already there.

“Hey!” he says sitting down.

“Hi,” responds the taller boy, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! You?”

“Good.”

Their small talk continues and Misto learns that Tugger is a singer. He has two brothers, although he couldn’t get much information about the oldest. At the end of the date they had really gotten to know each other.

“I’ll see you around!” Tugger says.

“Yeah! We’ll have to do this again!”

“Yea!! Bye!”

“Bye!”

[brownangel07]

Stray kids- You surprising him reaction

(Part 1)

Chan-

All the boys knew you were at their dorm, waiting to surprise Chan.

He had been upset for numerous things that seemed to be going wrong, so you decided to book a flight to see him.

Upon arriving, you ordered his favourite food, because you couldn’t cook to save your life and also lit up a few scented candles.

You were currently on the phone with him, hiding in his bedroom.

“Take a rest when you get back, I’m worried about you love” you say

He smiles, liking when you still tried to take care of him even if your aren’t physically there.

“I will baby, stop worrying, or you’ll make me worry about you” he laughs, light heartedly.

Opening the front door, he wondered why it smelt so good. The boys were out, so it wasn’t them, maybe someone came over and he forgot.

Chan instantly goes to his bedroom ready to take your advise to lie down, missing the food on the table.

Something was off. He didn’t know what but he was too tired to find out.

When he opened the door to his room, his eyes quickly pass your figure, then goes back to you.

Eyes now opened widely in shock.

“Y/n?” He asks unsure, seeing you lying down on his bed.

“Yes baby boy?” You smile at him once he starts to laugh, tears forming slightly.

In seconds his arms wrap around your figure, lifting you up from the bed into his comforting embrace.

“I missed you” he cries out to the side of your shoulder.

“We were just talking on the phone though” you laugh, hugging him back just as tight.

Woojin-

You were going to fly out his parents to one of his performances.

Well kind of, you weren’t paying for the whole thing but you did put in a lot of money, since he’s being missing them.

Backstage, he was getting his makeup done, not prepared for the ultimate surprise you had for him.

“Where’s y/n.. she might be lost again” he mutters to himself, getting ready to text you.

You ushered his parents quietly, backstage into a vacant room.

Texting him your whereabouts, you ask if he could come into the room.

We need to talk..it’s important..come into the room with the number 7 on it.

He doesn’t wait till his makeup is finished, standing up he worries all the way to the room you wanted to meet him in.

He knocks on the door before coming in.

“Is everything okay?” He questions whilst walking in.

Before you could even answer his mother rushes to his side, placing kisses all over his face.

Overwhelmed he starts to cry.

“What are you doing here?” He chokes up hugging his mother.

“Y/n wanted it to be a surprise, so she helped us book the tickets to see you” his mother says, hands against his now tear stained cheeks.

He glances over to you with glossy eyes, stepping back from her embrace he gives you a tight bear hug.

Whispering how grateful he was to have you in his life.

“I love you” he finally utters out.

Minho-

Food.

That was the way to Minho’s heart.

After cooking up a buffet of food for the poor, sleep deprived boy, you hoped it tasted as good as it smelled.

Waiting on his arrival you decided to turn on his favourite movie for the both of you two watch, even though you didn’t necessarily like it, today was about him.

Time seemed to tick by slowly, eventually he came back, the scent of food was the first thing that caught him off guard.

You could practically see the drool at the side of his mouth, mouth slightly opened.

“Do you like?” You ask, standing up to greet him.

He wasn’t sure what it was that set him off.

The food.

The fact that you were probably cooking for more then two hours for him.

Or the way you were currently staring at him.

As if he was the only person that mattered in your amazing life.

A few strides towards you, his soft lips crashed into yours in a overwhelming kiss.

Slow and sentimental, it almost pulled at his heart strings having you so close to him.

He was so deep in love with you he afraid it could all be a dream.

“Thank you” he mumbles out, pecking both of your cheeks.

Changbin-

You were sure he was going to love it.

It took a couple of weeks to come up with the plan but Minho and Felix helped you out a lot.

Changbin wouldn’t tell you, but he was finding it suspicious how you suddenly were spending way too much time with his members for his liking.

It’s almost like you were forgetting about your relationship with him, which wasn’t the fact at all.

“I have a surprise for you” smiling at him, you intertwine your hands with his to pull him towards the studio.

Changbin followed you hesitantly, not sure what to expect but once the video started on the screen he was more then happy.

“I know you think I’ve been ignoring you for the longest time but that wasn’t my intention, anyways since I’m like deeply in love with you I ended up doing this for you....I hope you like it because it literally took weeks to prepare” you say towards the camera that was facing you.

A few seconds later the music starts pouring out the speakers.

It was a playlist you made for him, songs that the boys helped you write.

The last one dedicated to him, the boys didn’t help since it was a bit more dark and sexual.

As if his smile couldn’t widen more, his eyes shine with a certain happiness to see how much work you put in.

“We should collab” grabbing your arm, he pulls you into his chest, smothering you with small kisses.

“Maybe make a video for the last song” winking at your now embarrassed face, trying to hide from his view.

Hyunjin-

You were panicking, his birthday was around the corner and you still didn’t know what to get him.

The boys had stole your few first ideas know you were left with nothing and running out of money.

Walking through the large mall, you finally find something that he would like.

A ring.

Not a engagement ring but maybe you could get it custom made, with the date you guys met for the first time.

Smiling at your brilliant idea, you go into the shop, requesting for the custom ring to be made before his birthday.

After the ring arrives and you find a good enough place to hide it in, you carry on with the rest of your day pretending to forget it was his birthday.

(I know I’m evil)

A small frown presented itself on his face but he was too shy to bring up the fact you forget his birthday.

Loosing his energy he cancels his plans making you feel guilty for the little prank.

Stepping into his room, you knock on the door softly not sure if he was sleeping or not. Hopefully not because he’s the hardest person ever to wake up.

Luckily, he was scrolling on his phone, chilling on the bed.

“Hyunjinnnnnn” you drag out his name.

Not sparing you a glance, he carries on playing whatever game was on his phone.

You giggle softly at his pouty mood, moving to sit on his lap, you give him a quick peck on his lips finally having his attention.

“I didn’t forget your birthday stupid boy” you grin once his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

“Open it” you encouraged him after handing over the small navy blue box.

Not needing to be told twice, he opens up the box to see the ring with a date wrote in cursives.

“It’s when we first met” you explain to him, watching his expression turn sad.

“Do you....not like it?” You ask unsure whether you should of got it.

Before he could answer you started to ramble.

“I wasn’t sure if you would like it but if you don’t that’s fine anyways like I can take it back...” cutting you off his lips meet yours.

“I-love-it” he says between kisses

**********************************

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Clever Little Things — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey guys so this one’s based off an awesome ask! I’m writing my asks a little slower at this time (and taking sometime away from Datalie until inspo comes back) to ensure better quality. I’m also turning this one into a series. Lemme know if you have any ideas of where you want this story to go. Anywho, thanks for taking the time to read, love ya!!

Masterlist

Summary: You don’t like David, and he plans on changing that.

Anon Asked: Hey !! Love you're writing, nobody ever does my requests so hopefully u can break that pattern :-), can u do a david x reader where it's an enemies to lovers sort of thing, where he's really charming and smug to her and like a huge flirt and she kinda just rolls her eyes and tells him to fuck off (maybe it could be a series??) Thanks !!

——

David fucking Dobrik.

Fuck that guy.

Yeah, you said it. Repeatedly and sometimes out loud. You couldn’t give a fuck about YouTube’s resident golden boy. You have lived in California far too long to be impressed with young, ridiculously wealthy men and their expensive cars. David seemed like a guy who fell face first into a vat of luck and wore humbleness like a cloak, hiding who he was underneath.

You were bound to run into him around Hollywood, your job as a freelance editor had you working with a ton of people in the industry he dominated. You had once preferred working in TV and film, but when a girl named Gabbie reached out to you, getting your info from a colleague, you were yanked into the YouTube world. Gabbie loved your work and had given your name out to all her influencer friends. The calls came rolling in.

Hey, it was a paycheck. These viral sensations actually made bank, and you were getting a more steady source of income from them than you did at any other job you’d worked in the city of angels. It even led to a pretty long contract job at a decent media group. Where you had to attend events and mingle and really learn about the world you were working in. It was mostly good.

But David, he fucking annoyed you. Whether it was hanging all over Instagram models for clout, or holding up the entrance line at a club to take paparazzi around his car, laughing and playing it up to an extreme, he fucking irked you. You had made the mistake of following him on Snapchat, one of his stories accidentally rolling over from a friends; he had two bleach blondes screaming about merch and then the camera flips around to his smug face telling you to swipe up. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

In your mind there were the Paul’s, Ricegum and David Dobrik: the premier fuckboys of YouTube.

So, there is no way you’re actually going to call Jason Nash about becoming his steady editor. You tell Gabbie as much over coffee.

“But, it’s a job, like long term and well paying... and he asked me about editors I knew the last time I saw him. Plus, if you last for a while, you can put that shit on your resume. And he’s great, like the coolest, chillest dude ever,” she’s explaining, trying to win you over. She had told you all about his kids and ex wife, how stressed he was. And that he could pay big money because he was racking in the revenue from his relationship with Trisha Paytas. Still, working for one of the vlog squad basically meant working for David, and you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, no. I’m sure he is, but the vlog squad? C’mon. Why would I do that to myself when you noped the fuck outta that mess years ago,” you tell her, sipping on your latte.

“Because I’m not an editor, (Y/N). It’s not like you have to hang out with them. You just hang around Jason and edit his shit. It’s not that complicated,” Gabbie says, looking at you like you’re dumb. You roll your eyes at her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be associated with David Dobrik and his loyal servants when their party comes crashing to the ground. You know it’s coming. He’s the next Shane Dawson expose for sure,” you ramble, “Like, Dobrik is the next Jake Paul. At least that’s what I get from his Snapchat’s, does he do anything but try to sell his shitty hoodies? And prank people until they cry?”

“Yeah. He gives people cars all the time.”

“PR move!” You yell, a little too loudly for nine in the morning at a coffee shop. Gabbie jumps a little and brings her hand to her mouth, shushing you. Ignoring her, you continue, “Yeah, it’s sooo genuine, Gabs. ‘Hey guys, I sent my friend to the hospital last week for a poorly thought out, unfunny stunt. This week I’m buying my assistant a car! No motive, no PR team screaming at me from the sidelines. Nope, I’m just a super awesome, humble guy who appreciates the people who obediently follow me around like a puppy so I can make content that’ll have 16 year olds everywhere buying my shitty merch!’ Gimme a break.”

“Holy fuck, I know you’re a cynic, but you have gone full pessimist lately,” Gabbie laughs at your impression, shaking her head. “They aren’t bad people, (Y/N). David isn’t either, he’s just young and rich and a little dumb. And Jason is probably the most down to earth one of them. Just think about it.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, just no more talk about it. How’s your book coming?”

You change the subject, firm that the phone number she programmed into your phone will never get any use.

——

Then Defy Media goes under and Clevver, the main source of your rent lately, is done. You are out a decent paying job and next months check, you are royally fucked. Staring at the number in your phone, bent over on your couch, your thumb hovers.

You need the job. You want work, being at home with nothing to do all day makes you stir crazy. But all your points listed out about this still stand.

Fuck it.

You type out a quick message to Jason about Gabbie and his need for an editor with a link to your reel. You press send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then, it’s a waiting game. You’re scouring the internet for job postings when you get a message in return.

Hey! I’m so glad you hit me up. I desperately need help and would love to have you as my editor. Your reel is great! Can you meet for coffee in like 2 hours? I’m behind already and we can talk logistics.

You’re shocked. He must be desperate if he’s hiring you sight unseen and already getting you to work. But it’s a saving grace and more than you could of wished for. You’ll get a paycheck sooner and not have to worry about eviction. You let him know that’s fine and arrange a place.

The meeting goes well, Jason is a cool dude who doesn’t seem as wound up as your usual content creators were. You agreed on a wage (like 35% higher than your last gig, fuck yeah) and got to understand Jason’s edit style and post dates.

What didn’t shock you about the job, but you were hoping you could circumvent, was that you would be working closely with Trisha and David, as Jason often traded footage with both of them. And unlike Jason, they both edited their own vlogs because they had either, fewer responsibilities in their lives (Trisha), or were anal about their edit and wanted to do them personally (David). Great, great, great.

A jobs, a job though. You’ve survived working with some shitty people in your time and honestly didn’t think you’d have any problem on your hands.

——

There are problems though.

Yeah... there are a couple.

——

The first is Trisha. Well, she wasn’t a huge problem, but an obstacle. She was super insecure (you knew this going in) and the first time she came over to Jason’s and you were chilling on the couch, finishing up a vlog, things got tense. She knew you were hired, but she hadn’t met you before. You’d introduced yourself and shook the woman’s hands, wearing your usual editor getup of jeans and a giant hoodie, no makeup, hair not really done up but presentable enough for the public and giant headphones, to tune out the world around you.

You think that helped you because Trisha made a comment about how you were at least not trying to look good for Jason. You laughed at that, and looked her straight in the eyes with meaning behind them, and maybe a little intimidating,

“You couldn’t pay me into retirement to sleep with Jason.”

She’s taken a back for a second and you both look over to the man. You say no offense softly as the man shrugs, but don’t apologize or try to take it back. Trisha just snorts and says she likes you, claws retracting and a calmness returning to the room. Jason looks like a bomb’s been defused and ever grateful for you.

Bullet dodged... hopefully.

——

The next problem is David...

He’s actually the rest of the problems you have with your new job.

See, Trisha got over her bullshit pretty quickly and began texting you once a week for specific footage with Jason. She would describe them well and stay on the phone while you found and verified the clip, and then you’d send them to her. No muss, no fuss. She was an editor’s literal dream.

But, David fucking Dobrik was a nightmare.

Constantly texting you about clips from things that weren’t recorded, but he’s “sure they were because Jason was holding his camera like it was recording”, or waking you up in the middle of night to make sure you weren’t using a certain song for a montage or outro because he was going to use it in the next week.

And that was besides the ridiculous amount of times David was reminding you not to post certain things that were gonna premiere on his channel first. Like, yes, it’s fine to tell you. If it makes David feel better that you’re hearing it from him and not Jason, FINE. But to text you every post day, over a dozen times? It was a fucking joke and has been going on through week four of your new job. And you’d had enough. You’d mentioned it to Jason, but he’d just shrugged it off as David being David.

Well, fuck David.

You’d never even met the man in person at this point in time, but he was living up to every one of your terrible expectations. That’s when the 14th text comes in, as you’re exporting Jason’s latest vlog and just leaning back to relax on the older mans couch. That’s also when you snap, hitting the call button on the text and calling the douchebag.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Why are you callin-,” he starts after a few seconds of waiting for it to connect.

“Hey David! Nice talking to you finally and not just reading your utterly demeaning and demanding text messages!” You start in, just letting loose all the irritation he’s caused you over the last month. “Super appreciate the literally DOZENS of messages you leave me on post day, not to mention in the middle of the god damn night the rest of the week. I’m glad you understand what an invalid I am and how the constant texts actually do help me! It’s absolutely not a slight to my four year education and years of experience in my profession. Or the fact that I do heed your words the FIRST time I hear them, because it’s my literal job. A job I have that actually doesn’t revolve around you. Crazy, I know!” Your voice is just dripping with sarcasm at this point. In your brief pause you can hear a soft, amused breath from his end of the call. It doesn’t stop you at all.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know how productive you’re making me, and thank you! I really don’t know how I would function in my chosen career without your undying, unrelenting, un-asked for guidance. Hope the vlog that just posted meets your standards! Leave a comment if it doesn’t. Just please, please don’t text me about it.”

And you’re slamming the end button before he can respond. You look up and Jason is standing in the entrance way to his living room, jaw dropped. And all he can say after lifting it off the ground is,

“I didn’t know he was texting you in the middle of the night! Yeah... fuck him.”

You’re glad this ends with you both laughing and not you being fired.

——

“Your editor’s got some mega fucking attitude, dude,” is the first thing David says to Jason, picking him up in the Tesla the next day. Jason just starts cackling at that.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t text her in the middle of the night. Most people’s work schedule doesn’t extend to 3am, Dave. And I thought she had quite a few points. Like, she works for me. And she does in fact know how to skillfully edit my shitty vlogs,” Jason’s laughing this out and is glad to find David just as amused.

“I wasn’t expecting to get ripped a new asshole is all. I was in an Uber to some event and Natalie heard the whole thing,” David replied, kinda sheepishly.

“You’re just butt hurt that there’s someone in this world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are and is willing to talk shit to your face. And that now Natalie and I know someone put you in your place,” the older man retorts, pointing at him accusingly before going on, “I’m not reprimanding her for having enough of you. She’s doing great AND Trisha likes her. Fuck off dude. Just text her less.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t give a fuck who I am?” Of course this is the part of what Jason was saying that David focuses on.

Shaking his head, he explains, “Well, she knows who you are and is absolutely comfortable enough to basically call you a dick within the first month of being my editor. Also, Gabbie told me the first time we talked about her that (Y/N) hates working for the bigger creators on the platform, and that she thinks they’re all materialistic and out of touch assholes. So, you know, I thought she would be a perfect fit for me. I’m basically nobody. But you? There’s no love lost there from the beginning, but she’s obviously professional enough to keep from snapping on your ass for like a month. I don’t know, Dave. What? You want me to force her to care who you are?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I guess I just figured-“

“Sorry, dude. Not everyone loves our golden boy. But she’s not a mean person. She’s never even mentioned it. This is what Gabs told me forever ago. Either way, she doesn’t have to be blown over by you to be my editor. Right?”

“No, yeah, right. I guess I didn’t think I was bothering her. I’d always hit you up the same amount.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. She works for me. It’s different,” Jason’s explaining as David nods along, eyes on the road, thinking.

(Y/N) doesn’t like him? Everyone likes him! YouTube world or not, David was charming as shit. It perplexed him, stirring uneasiness in his chest. This was just going to be a challenge in his eyes now.

She doesn’t like him? That’s fine. She will though.

David guar-an-fucking-tees it.

——

David Dobrik sends you an apology Edible Arrangement. The good kind, all chocolate covered fruit.

There’s a card attached that says,

Jason’s last vlog def met my standards, so you obvy don’t need my help. I’ll stop being such a dick.

(See? I didn’t text you.)

-D

It makes you laugh fucking hard.

You find it a little endearing but also, yeah, you deserve an unhealthy Edible Arrangement. He probably has a contact at the fruit company for appeasing all the people he steps on to run his empire. You’re not special, but the thought is at least there. Whatever. He had stopped bombarding you with texts and had been much more polite in general, so you were more than fine with the whole situation now.

You had hoped this was the end of it.

——

It wasn’t.

——

[7aiguanlin]

florist!au jinyoung.

disclaimer: my friend and i made this a year ago under a read more because this is so long

your brother (kang dongho) owns a tattoo shop across the street from jinyoung’s flower shop and you work there too, you two live on the second floor of the tattoo shop and it’s great living w your brother

while your tattoo shop is run by you and your brother, jinyoung applied at the flower shop with his best friend daehwi for extra money

both jinyoung and daehwi have been intimidated by you and your brother for the longest time because once they saw you and your brother deadass just boot out an overly rowdy and rude group of drunk men from your tattoo shop

meanwhile jinyoung stutters every time he has to handle an order or a request, whether it’s directly or on the phone

but jinyoung’s also intimidated by you because you exude confidence and you’re just really pretty, like how could he not be

the most expressive facial expression jinyoung has seen from you is you glaring at dongho whenever dongho teases you

he stutters every time he says your name and daehwi’s like “mmm”

whereas daehwi is more terrified of dongho, jinyoung’s more terrified of you because at least he’s seen dongho laugh but you???? no you’re either tattooing some guy who’s at least three years older than you or glaring at your brother (playfully, but he doesn’t know that)

so anyway you have a boyfriend

at least you did until his sorry ass cheated on you

you had to physically stop dongho from whooping your ex boyfriend’s sorry ass

but right after you stop dongho from storming your boyfriend’s house you storm into the florist shop

daehwi screams and drops the bouquet he’s arranging 

(rip flowers, i’m sorry you had to be sacrificed for this scenario)

and jinyoung literally drops the cash and coins he’s sorting into cash register and the coins scatter everywhere

you just slam a twenty dollar bill on the counter

“how do i say ‘fuck you’ in flower language”

“weLL JINYOUNG LOOKS LIKE YOUR SPECIALTY I NEED TO GET BACK TO THE BOUQUET I DROPPED”

it’s more daehwi’s specialty since jinyoung usually handles the register and filters the requests through to daehwi but daehwi’s terrified and he shoves the dibs onto jinyoung quicker than jinyoung does to him

(then dongho follows you in, still heated about your boyfriend cheating on you and cracking his knuckles with a vein popping out of his neck and daehwi runs into the back room instead)

“d-dAEHWI????” jinyoung stammers out in utter nervousness

you’re clicking your nails against the counter, slightly impatient as you tap your foot because you just want to slap a ‘fuck you’ bouquet in your soon-to-be ex’s face

“u-u-uhm, l-let me g-get that f-for you” jinyoung scurries off to start arranging the most malicious bouquet he’s ever arranged

dongho: i think you scared the poor boy to death

you: oh shove it the blonde one literally dashed at the sight of you

dongho: *wistful sigh* oh, kids

you: they’re my age–

dongho: i wasn’t excluding you lmao

jinyoung hands you the bouquet with shaking hands and you’re pretty endeared but still in a rush to bitch slap your ex with the bouquet so you quickly thank him and zoom out of there without taking your change

dongho kinda just sighs apologetically and tells jinyoung to keep the change before chasing you so he can record the fiasco

daehwi peeks his head out of the backroom: are they gone

jinyoung, whispering and slightly dazed: yes

daehwi kinda just looks off after you: she’s something

jinyoung: sh-she’s pretty

daehwi: ... what did u say

jinyoung: n-n-nothING THE PHONE IS RINGING I GTG

the next day when you’ve calmed down, you stride into the flower shop again, this time to apologize for... basically scaring the wits out of them like you had no idea you had such effects 

jinyoung happens to be off shift today so daehwi takes the reigns

daehwi: you could apologize to jinyoung through text! i can give u his number

needless to say jinyoung doesn’t know whether to strangle or thank daehwi when he receives a text from you

“hey, i’m really sorry about yesterday! i didn’t mean to freak you guys out, i promise i’m not that scary, aaa”

he stares at the preview for a really long time before mustering the courage to reply, “it’s okay! don’t worry about it”

you guys end up texting and you tell him about all the horrible tattoos you’ve given people in all the worst areas 

and he just listens and sends the occasional grossed out emoji until you ask him to tell you more about him

at first it’s just the basics– school, family, interests– but he eventually ends up telling you about that one time daehwi plucked rose petals and scattered them around the shop and just strutted like it was a fashion runway with the fan blowing in his face

the next day jinyoung is sneaking peeks at his phone on the shift and softly smiling and daehwi deadpans at jinyoung and goes “i gave her ur number so she could apologize not for u to slack on the job”

in reality daehwi supports this 100% he loves seeing his best friend smile because it’s so cute but so rare

you and jinyoung continue to get to know each other and jinyoung realizes that you’re actually really laid back and you have a soft spot for the softest things....... quite the paradox given your exterior

sometimes during your break you head to the florist shop to hang out with jinyoung and daehwi 

dongho’s really proud that you finally have friends your age rather than you exposing all of his shit to aron whenever he gets his tattoos done or to minhyun, jonghyun, and minki whenever you get the chance

jinyoung arranges bouquets for the tattoo shop to add some color to the minimalistic black and white aesthetic the shop has going on

so one day instead of the usual multicolored bouquets jinyoung has for you, there’s a vase of red roses waiting

dongho, wiggling his eyebrows: well those definitely aren’t for me

later on you pay a visit to the flower shop and you pluck a blue peony from the bouquet of blue peonies before making your way to the counter

daehwi: did she just–

jinyoung: dude literally shut up

you stroll up to the counter and you look at daehwi and daehwi’s like ^ _______ ^ as he leaves you two alone (not really he just hides behind a flower arrangement)

you: i don’t know what flowers mean but i know what red roses mean and i remember your favorite flower is the blue peony so here

daehwi, whispering very loudly: the blue peony means good fortune and a happy marriage

you: th-that’s not what i meant

daehwi: little do you know, a good ten years from now–

jinyoung’s face literally resembles a red lollipop (bc his face is as small and red as one) as he stammers at daehwi for him to shut up and daehwi takes a picture and uses the “it’s getting harder to spot the difference” meme on jinyoung ALL THE TIME

anyway now the bouquets jinyoung makes for the tattoo shop always have a meaning for you and he writes down the meanings of each flower in each bouquet very carefully on a card

one time daehwi wins a dare and jinyoung has to get a surprise tattoo from you

you were sweet enough to simply tattoo and small blue peony on the back of his right shoulder

daehwi wanted you to prank jinyoung and give him a temporary one month tattoo of your face on his bicep but even you were mortified by that idea

jinyoung sighs in relief when he sees the tattoo

daehwi: i get it you wanna get married 

dongho: what is this i hear about marriage mY LITTLE SISTER IS SEVENTEEN

daehwi: eEK I GTG

one day dongho shows jinyoung the video he recorded of you bitch slapping you ex with the bouquet

“remind me neverto make her mad”

dongho: :-) she’s not the only one you have to worry about if you make her mad

also you’re baejin’s number one hypewoman now like you cheer him on for everything and it’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t stutter when he takes phone calls 

your next goal is to make it so that he doesn’t stutter during face-to-face orders

anyway sunflowers have nothing on bae jinyoung’s smile so u really better keep that smile on that boy’s face now that u’ve got him

[bibliosexxual]

the valentine’s day showdown

Alternately titled: “A Mistake of Epic Proportions (With a Happy Ending)”

Sterek high school Valentine’s Day AU, a little over 4k words, rated T. :)   

So Stiles and Erica have this competitive flirting/wooing thing going. This totally-mutually-agreed-upon-to-be-platonic competitive flirting/wooing thing. Every Valentine’s Day Eve, Erica gets him good, and every Valentine’s Day, Stiles gets her back, thoroughly.

It started out pretty tame back in middle school, but with every passing year it's gotten gradually more explicit and cheesy as they try to out-embarrass each other. It's kind of like gay chicken, except hetero and strictly no-touching, and without any of the UST...

Okay, so maybe it's not that much like gay chicken, but it's definitely something. Something Stiles always relishes.

He's pretty sure he and Erica have a better time every Valentine's Day than a lot of the actual couples at their school.

It probably only works as well as it does because he and Erica have known each other since they were little kids, so they've grown up pranking and teasing each other at every opportunity and seeing each other in a bunch of decidedly unsexy moments. Like that time they were kicking around a soccer ball in Erica’s backyard and Stiles face-planted in the mud and chipped a tooth. Or that memorable afternoon when Erica's pyromaniac phase after watching Avatar: The Last Airbender culminated in her accidentally setting her hair on fire. (She had to get a buzz cut shorter than Stiles'.)

It also works out pretty well because at this point they really have no boundaries and no shame.

Oh, and because Erica is very, very gay.

(Stiles, meanwhile, is bi. However, he's never even for a moment thought of Erica romantically, which is fortunate because he's pretty sure that would be extremely awkward, not to mention unreciprocated.)

They got the idea for the competition around the hundredth time someone around town asked them, in all seriousness, if they were dating and when the wedding was going to be. (They were thirteen years old. Thirteen. Stiles wasn't thinking about romance at all at thirteen. He was thinking about Star Wars, and curly fries, and whether his and Scott's latest unintentionally disastrous science experiment was going to get them grounded and, if so, how to get out of it.)

He and Erica still get asked if they're dating on a regular basis, by the way, even though Erica has been very publicly out ever since she kissed Heather on the playground back in elementary school.

In short, the temptation to play off people's heteronormative assumptions is overwhelming.

This year, Stiles opens his locker the morning of February 13th with absolute wariness. It's a good instinct to have, because when he does, a cloud of pink and red glitter explodes outward all over him as a singing card buried deep within his locker starts belting out "Careless Whisper" by George Michael. All down the hallway, everyone bursts into mingled laughing and clapping and cheering.

Covered head-to-sneakers in glitter and probably being recorded by several phones, Stiles turns to face his audience and grandly takes a bow.

Mentally, he promises Erica that he's going to get her back so hard for this tomorrow.

That's not the end of it, though. Of course not.

He opens his pencil case in Econ and a generous handful of XXL condoms spills out all over his desk. There's a chorus of whoops and wolf-whistles from around the room, and Stiles is never, ever going to be able to look any of these people in the eye again.

He goes out to his Jeep that afternoon to find it practically buried under red streamers and balloons and heart-shaped graffiti in pink paint. It's completely garish, and if Stiles were actually dating someone who pulled something like this, he'd probably be scrambling for a restraining order.

Stiles loves it.

After Stiles cleans off the windshield (gathering a bit of an audience of curious students in the process), he heads straight to the Hallmark aisle of the drugstore, where he spends close to half an hour reading every single Valentine's card in stock. Let it never be said that Stiles is not thorough.

The one he settles on is museum-worthy levels of terrible, in Stiles' opinion.

"You've been on my mind a lot lately," the outside reads, innocent enough. The inside finishes, "And you wouldn't believe what you've been doing up there. ;)"

Stiles buys it on the spot.

Back at his house, he puts on some Stevie Wonder and smooth jazz for inspiration and gets down to work, filling in practically every blank space in the card with flower doodles and cartoon hearts and the kind of lurid, overflowing love letter that would make poets weep.

(In horror, that is.)

He makes sure to mention the XXL condoms, too.

On the back, just under the card-maker's logo, he leaves a generous square of blank space, then goes back and fills it in with the pièce de résistance: huge bubble letters in pink highlighter that spell out: "PROM?"

At the bottom, he signs it in shaky cursive with, "Lots of <3 from your not-so-secret admirer, Stiles."

Then he texts Scott, Kira, Boyd, and Isaac: dudes, I will literally pay you if you serenade Erica tomorrow at lunch for me. I'll bring the boombox.

He specifies “at lunch” because he figures that's when there'll be the biggest audience. Public humiliation, or at least public lighthearted embarrassment, is after all a cornerstone of this tradition.

Extra money if you dress up as cupids, he adds on impulse. Extra EXTRA money if your costumes are so ugly/cheesy that people can barely stand to look at you with a straight face.

There's a bit of haggling, but it turns out all of them except Boyd can be bought. (Boyd was a long shot anyway, but he had to try. That would have been comedy gold.)

As for the song, Stiles picks Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On."

What can he say, he likes the classics.

Okay, so he was sorely tempted to choose Boyz 2 Men's "I'll Make Love to You," which in his opinion is one of the most cringeworthy love songs ever recorded in the history of time and therefore perfect for this, but he didn't want to run the risk of any teachers cutting his singing troupe off mid-serenade for inappropriate lyrics. Erica isn't going to get out of this that easily.

So Marvin Gaye it is.

No rehearsal necessary, he makes sure to specify. The more off-key the better!

You're so weird, Isaac texts back.

Stiles elects to take it as a compliment.

*

Valentine's Day dawns bright and full of promise. Stiles gets to school a whole thirty minutes early (it's a personal best), hands off the boombox to an amused Kira, and then heads straight for Erica's locker.

The thing is, Stiles knows in general where Erica's locker is: down the hall from Mr. Harris' classroom on the second floor. But he always relies on the "Save the Wolves" magnet on the locker to the left of Erica's to guide him to the exact spot, and today that magnet is gone. Probably stolen. Or maybe Erica temporarily stole it to throw him off his game? If so, it's definitely working. Erica's locker is lost in a sea of bland sameness. He knows it's somewhere towards the middle of the row, but... Crap.

Stiles closes his eyes. Think.

The number was definitely in the late teens; Stiles would bet his Jeep on it. He thinks a little more. He's getting an 8 kind of vibe from his subconscious. Boom. 118. Yeah. 118 it is. Totally. Crisis averted.

He shoves the card through the vent in the locker and heads off to his first period class, whistling.

*

Stiles waits and waits through one class after another for Erica to text him about the card. There's nothing. Either she hasn't been by her locker yet or she's been rendered speechless by the card's sheer perfection. That would be a historic moment. Usually Stiles hears about it at length the instant a prank goes off. Stiles is getting kind of antsy, to be honest.

Stiles means to tease her about it in Chem, which they have together right before lunch (and, his brain adds gleefully, right before the serenade). Before he's even fully sat down, though, and definitely before he's had time to say anything, she's smirking at him and saying, "What, did my public displays of affection yesterday leave you speechless? I thought for sure you'd retaliate."

"Uh, but I did." That's about when the foreboding really kicks in. "Haven't you been by your locker today?"

"Yeah, several times. Nothing amiss," Erica says, with apparent total sincerity. “I was kind of disappointed in you, to be honest.”

"But..."

There's a panicked moment of silence just as Harris is starting class, and then Stiles hisses, "What is your locker number?"

Erica says, "117," and Stiles feels all the blood in his body turn to ice in an instant. Oh god.

"Who the fuck has 118, then?"

Instead of answering, Erica doubles up laughing so obnoxiously that Harris kicks her out of class.

Not good.

***

“I swear people get ten times more predatory than usual on Valentine’s Day,” Derek mutters to Cora as they near a group of freshmen girls in the hallway.

A hush falls over the group, and every single head turns in their direction. Most of them seem to be watching Derek, but he suspects a few of them are eyeing Cora, too. They’re like piranhas, Derek thinks uncharitably.

“Tell me about it,” Cora agrees. She shoots a withering glare at the freshmen, and they hastily scatter and regroup and move away as a pack down the hallway. “It makes me just want to punch something, you know?”

Cora is the only person Derek knows who hates Valentine’s Day as much as Derek does. (She subtly protests it every year by wearing her PIZZA IS MY VALENTINE t-shirt.) But they hate it for admittedly very different reasons.

Derek hates it primarily because it stirs up all his usually-repressed hopeless romantic feelings. Especially his hopeless romantic feelings about Stiles. That’s inevitably a bad idea.

Every single year, Derek gets assigned the locker next to Erica Reyes’. That means that practically every day of Derek’s high school life, he’s had to endure watching his crush hang around in Derek’s general vicinity while completely failing to notice Derek’s existence. It stings. Derek gets asked out all the time, so he knows it’s not like there’s something inherently uninteresting or unappealing about him, but it doesn’t do any good when the one person he wants to be asked by just... doesn’t care.

Derek has mostly accepted that Stiles isn’t into him, or at least he’s trying very hard to accept it, but every Valentine’s Day he can’t help the little flutter of hope that follows him around all day until it’s inevitably crushed for another year. Fuck any holiday that makes him feel like that.

Cora, on the other hand, does not have a Stiles of her own, at least not that Derek knows of. She hates Valentine’s Day for the simple reason that she’s exasperated by everything to do with romance. She can’t even watch people kissing in movies without rolling her eyes and making barfing noises.

(Her favorite holiday is Halloween because it’s “the least touchy-feely” and it centers around scaring the bejeezus out of the neighborhood kids.)

They stop off at Derek’s locker, and Derek sighs because someone has stolen his magnet again. The people at this school have no boundaries.

Speaking of no boundaries... There's an unmarked red envelope sitting atop his pile of textbooks when he finally jimmies his locker open. Did someone break into his locker? Do people not understand the concept of locks existing on lockers to keep people out?

“Ooh,” Cora says, filled with apparent schadenfreude. “Looks like somebody got a valentine.”

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles, tearing it open. A shimmery cloud of pink and gold glitter falls out of the envelope and all over his hands. Great. He yanks the card out, ignoring Cora’s amused snort.

It’s a Hallmark card. Derek reads aloud incredulously, “You've been on my mind a lot lately, and you wouldn't believe what you've been doing up there… winky face.”

Behind him, Cora laughs so hard it sounds like she’s in danger of spraining something. “Oh my god,” she wheezes, “that’s so awful.”

Derek skims the rest of the card. It’s covered from top to bottom in tiny scrawl bordered by meticulously hand-drawn hearts and roses, and on the back the word “PROM?” stretches boldly across the page in an eyesore of vivid pink.

It’s signed… it’s signed from Stiles, holy shit.

“Stiles? Who is Stiles?” Cora asks, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “Is that a girl or a boy?”

“Boy. I thought maybe you would know him. He’s in your grade.”

“Nope. How do you know him?”

“I don’t,” Derek answers absently, because now he’s actually gone back and started reading what Stiles wrote, and “holy shit” doesn’t even come close.

It’s kind of rambling. There’s a lot about the unparalleled beauty of Derek’s eyes and his “stunning physique” and how many years Stiles has longed to kiss him, which is kind of mindblowing considering that Derek has never so much as seen Stiles glance at him before. There’s also a flattering little limerick about Derek’s intellect and good humor to balance out the physical stuff. Under the part where Stiles asks him to prom, the note ends with a detailed list of all the places they could make out around school and—Derek blushes—then there’s a “P.S.” mentioning that Stiles will “bring the XXL condoms” if Derek will “bring the love.”

“Ew,” Cora says. “Whose dick are those condoms supposed to be for, anyway? Yours or his? No, wait, I don’t want to know. Please tell me he’s just making some kind of joke.”

“Probably,” Derek says. He finally manages to tear his eyes away and shut the card. “I mean, it’s probably some kind of pop culture reference. Stiles is always making pop culture references.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him?”

Derek winces. “I, uh,” he fumbles. “I don’t? But I see him around a lot. I overhear him talking to Erica.” He opens the card again, just to confirm to himself that this really exists. It’s almost too over-the-top to believe.

Maybe that’s because it’s both a valentine and a prom invitation? Derek knows prom invites can be pretty elaborate sometimes. Still… “Do you think this is a prank? I mean, who writes this kind of stuff to someone they’ve never even talked to?”

Cora looks doubtful. “Why bother pranking someone you don’t even know? Half the fun is seeing your friend’s reaction to being pranked.”

That sounds reasonable enough. There’s no reason for Stiles to target him specifically for this kind of prank, if it is a prank. Unless, that is, he’s somehow found out about Derek’s crush. But Derek can’t see how he would. Derek’s been careful. He hasn’t told anybody about it or written anything down. He’s just pondered it in private. Extensively.

“Besides,” Cora goes on, “if it is a prank, then it’s a little mean, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” If it is a prank, Derek is probably going to spend all weekend in bed, morosely eating peanut butter cups and rewatching the entire Star Wars series, even the prequels, from within a blanket burrito.

If it’s not a prank, though…

As a declaration, it’s definitely more than a little weird, but he’ll take it. Fuck, some of the things Stiles says about him, and says to him, in this letter… It’s so outrageous it almost comes back around to charming. It’s like Stiles is flirting with him through the words.

The more Derek thinks about it, the more sense it makes. As far as Derek has seen, Stiles is playful and never does anything by half measures. This note just represents the kind of person Stiles is—attentive to detail, funny, sweet, unique, creative, the kind of guy who goes all out for someone he likes…

Maybe someone else would be turned off by a card like this, but it just makes Derek like him that much more. Most people, in Derek’s experience, would never have the guts to do something like this to ask Derek out. They’d never take the risk. They’d never try to make Derek blush or laugh like this.

The bell for first period rings, interrupting his thoughts. Cora shoulders her bag and says, “Gotta go, but tell me how this works out. I’m intrigued now.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and focuses on carefully stowing away Stiles’ card in his homework folder so it won’t get bent before he heads off to Spanish class.

***

So Locker 118 is Derek.

And not Derek Greenberg, either. That might’ve been survivable. Derek Greenberg is the lacrosse team waterboy as well as one of the stupidest and most irritating, but also least threatening, people Stiles has ever met. Stiles could probably just stride up to him, snatch the card right out of his slack, sweaty grip, and walk off with his head still attached to his body, no sweat.

But nooo, it had to go and be Derek Hale’s locker.

Derek Hale as in, one of the gorgeous yet aloof Hale siblings who all give off practically identical back-off-or-I’ll-eat-you vibes.

In the past, Stiles has adopted an avoidance strategy with the Hales, and it’s worked out pretty well for him; his high school experience so far has been happily free of any maiming or marring or good old-fashioned terror. That’s all going to end today. The worst part is that Stiles has no one but himself to blame.

Stiles can’t even fully appreciate the gloriousness of Erica’s serenade at lunch, or the fact that the cafeteria ladies have scattered handfuls of Valentine’s candy over the lunchroom tables in an attempt to be festive. He’s too busy scouring his brain for every shred of knowledge he has about the Hales and about Derek in particular.

It’s not much.

He knows Derek is on the lacrosse team, and by lacrosse standards (which Stiles knows very little about), he’s really good.

He’s pretty sure Derek is a senior.

He knows Derek is a whole other level of attractive and owns a lot of leather jackets.

He’s seen him and his sisters driving around in a black Camaro that looks like it would be a better fit in an action hero movie than in a high school parking lot.

And according to Erica, Derek has a bit of a reputation for turning down every girl who asks him out, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. In fact, in a bizarre twist of logic, it seems to encourage them to keep trying.

That’s about where Stiles’ knowledge runs out. He doesn’t know, for example, if Derek is into guys. That suddenly seems like a very important thing to find out. Giving a horrendous romantic declaration—a horrendous, signed romantic declaration—to one of the scariest-looking people at Beacon Hills High is bad enough; Stiles is willing to bet it’ll be even worse if it turns out he’s given it to a straight guy.

*

Stiles doesn't manage to catch up to Derek. Instead, Derek catches up to him.

It happens like this: Stiles is headed to his Jeep after a truly harrowing day of quietly freaking out when Derek suddenly appears in front of him from between two cars and corners him against his Jeep. It's pretty terrifying.

"Derek!" Stiles squeaks, flailing and whacking his hand on the side mirror of his Jeep. It's not his most dignified moment.

Derek takes a step closer, looming right up into Stiles' space, and softly (dangerously softly, Stiles thinks) says, "Hey, Stiles. I got your card. Happy Valentine's Day to you, too."

Stiles whimpers.

He'd kind of been hoping that if he didn't manage to get the card back from Derek, then Derek at least wouldn't know who "Stiles" was and wouldn't be curious enough to find out. A lot of people don't know who Stiles is. It's great. But of course Stiles isn't that lucky.

Derek is actually smiling now, which is a facial expression Stiles didn't know Derek was even capable of. It's admittedly a small smile, but it's there. He smiles at Stiles and says, "My answer is yes."

"Your answer... to..."

"Prom?" Derek prompts, raising an expectant eyebrow. "My answer is yes. I'll go with you." He ducks his head, then glances up at Stiles through his eyelashes almost shyly, which is the weirdest thing yet. "You know, I thought your card was really bold and creative..."

As Derek talks, Stiles tries to subtly glance around to see if he's being punk'd, but he can't see any cameras or even any onlookers anywhere. There's just the occasional student hurrying past while shooting them a confused look—probably wondering why Derek Hale, Lacrosse God and Gorgeous Human Being, is talking to some nerd nobody.

As far as Stiles can tell, Derek is serious.

Which doesn't explain anything, really. Why the hell would Derek say yes? That's, like, social suicide.

"Okay, look," Stiles interrupts, "I think you might've gotten the wrong idea here. I wasn't actually, you know, um..."

He expects Derek to look relieved, maybe. Instead, Derek's face goes startlingly blank, and his whole body visibly tenses up. He suddenly looks a lot more like the familiar, menacing version of Derek that Stiles sees in the hallways, complete with the signature Derek Hale Death Glare(TM). Crap.

"It was a prank, then," Derek says flatly.

"Yes!" Stiles says, glad Derek gets it. "It was a prank. But not for you. For my friend Erica. I made a slight mistake. She has the locker next to yours? Blonde hair, brown eyes, wears a lot of corsets and lipstick—"

"I know who Erica is," Derek snaps.

"Oh. Okay. Cool. Very cool."

Derek turns away, scowling. "I should've known it was too good to be true," he mutters, so low Stiles barely catches it, and oh. Wait. What?

"You wanted it to be from me to you?" Stiles blurts, incredulous. "You wanted me to say all that creepy stuff and ask you to prom? Seriously?"

Derek doesn't say anything, but his jaw clenches and his Death Glare(TM), which is currently aimed at the asphalt by Stiles' feet, intensifies.

"But—but why?"

Derek rolls his eyes with his entire head. It's pretty impressively sassy. "Why do you think?"

"Wait." Stiles holds up a hand, trying extremely hard not to burst into shocked, inappropriate laughter. He feels like that wouldn't go over too well. "You're saying you—you, Derek Hale—have a crush on me."

Derek hunches his shoulders. "Why are you acting like that's so funny?"

"How about, because people like you don't get crushes on people like me."

"Says who?"

"Uh, the laws of the universe? The laws of society? The laws of the high school pecking order? Take your pick."

"That's stupid."

"Did you even know my name before today?"

"Yes," Derek says.

"Oh."

Derek looks uncertain, and maybe a little hurt. "Did you... did you not know my name?"

That's the moment it really sinks in. Derek likes him. Derek has feelings for him. Derek Hale like-likes Stiles Stilinski and wants to take him to prom. And, against all odds, it actually matters to Derek whether Stiles of all people knew who he was.

Wow.

This has never happened to Stiles before.

"Of course I knew who you were," Stiles says, and Derek's shoulders relax minutely.

"Oh," he says. "Okay."

They just look at each other for a minute then. It's kind of awkward but also kind of... not, somehow. Stiles has never really looked at Derek up close before. He has beautiful hazel-green-blue eyes and beautiful cheekbones and beautiful everything, really, but he also has kind of cutely small stick-out ears and a cowlick and kind of adorably buckish front teeth, and he's blushing harder than Stiles has ever seen outside of cartoons. He's gripping the straps of his backpack so hard it looks painful, like it might be cutting off the circulation to his fingers. He looks nervous, and unsure, and out of nowhere Stiles gets hit with a wave of... something. Tentative affection, maybe. Derek suddenly doesn't seem so unapproachable.

"Do you want to go on a date with me?" Stiles blurts.

Derek eyes him warily. "I thought this was all just a prank for Erica?"

"Well, yeah, it was, but... Listen, I don't know you that well, but I'd like to try. I mean, I'm game if you are." And he's pretty sure Derek is.

"When would this date be?"

"Well," Stiles grins, "are you doing anything right now? It is Valentine's Day. Perfect time for a date. I know for a fact the diner has a special on strawberry milkshakes."

"That sounds good," Derek says cautiously. He relaxes his grip on the straps of his backpack. He smiles.

Something fluttery starts up in Stiles' stomach at the sight, and, well. That's new. "Okay, then. Let's go."

"One thing first," Derek says, stopping him with a hand on his chest. "I think we need to clarify a certain claim you made in your letter."

Oh no.

Derek grins evilly. "Do you really need to wear XXL-sized condoms?"

"Oh god."

"Because I'm going to be very disappointed if that part wasn't true, Stiles."

Stiles groans and hides his face in his hands. Derek is never going to let him live that down, Stiles can already tell.

*

The day after Valentine's Day, Derek's wolf magnet mysteriously reappears on his locker.

(end)

[salamoonder]

Dark Side | [ch. 6]

Sometimes Patton feels like he’s nothing but a pile of emotions.

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: implied eating disorder

A/N: I am...so sorry...my upload schedule is absolutely fucked. College is hard, y’all. Anyway. I’m posting it now so that’s what counts. Masterpost/links to other chapters to come!

| Read on AO3 |

The moment Remy slips off Patton is instantly lost in the crowd. The voices and laughter mingle in his head into a mess of colors. He feels like levitating. He’s here. Finally. He’s off on his own and--and he can go anywhere he wants, talk to anyone--an older guy bumps into him and Patton turns his most brilliant smile on him, jolting a surprised grin onto the other guy’s face.

The air smells amazing. Patton can identify barbecue of some kind, of course, but he can also smell what he thinks is fresh brownies and cherry blossoms. It’s like trekking through heaven. He doesn’t even mind that it’s so hot. No way is he going back to his room now just to put on shorts. He hasn’t even unpacked, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind. There are people out here. People. And food and games and--Patton almost stops dead. And music? Is that live music? There’s no way he’s leaving now.

It takes him a while but he eventually tracks the singing to a large gazebo. A few upperclassmen are standing up there with guitars and mics and amplifiers, singing a slightly off key (but nevertheless enjoyable) rendition of Don’t Stop Believing. Students are scattered all over the steps, talking and singing along and eating.

That’s when Patton’s reminded how long it’s been since he and Virgil had breakfast, and he sets off in search of food. Music’s fun, but it’s not gonna fill his stomach.

His eyes light up when he finally spots the food tables, which seem to be about a mile long stacked end to end--then his face immediately falls when he sees how long the line is.

Oh, well. It’s probably best to get in line now rather than later. Patton’s sure if he waits any longer all the food will be gone. He treks to the back of the line and settles in for a long, hot wait, then texts Remy.

How is he?

Not answering the door, Remy texts back.

Patton frowns. He’s about to respond when another text pops up. He’ll be fine. He’s probably just mad, he’ll cool down. You guys are like best friends right?

Right, Patton texts back, biting his lip. Then he adds: Are you gonna come get food? I’m saving you a spot in line.

On my way already. Then, a second later, Can you wave?

Patton waves a hand over his head and a second later Remy comes bounding over to him. She’s changed into a tiny sundress vibrant enough to match her eyeshadow, and her sunglasses have still not come off. “Hiya!” she chirps. “Enjoying yourself? Met anyone new?”

“Oh, definitely,” says Patton, grinning. “Haven’t met anyone yet, though. I’ve been too...excited, I guess. So many people to start a conversation with, it’s hard to know where to start.” In truth he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement. He’s shaky with the movement of it all, of being on the road, on campus, in the res hall, out here. Shaky with the  heat and weight of Virgil’s frustration and what that means for him. Before he can think about it anymore, however, he’s interrupted.

“Here, I gotchu,” says Remy, and taps the shoulder of the girl ahead of them in line. She turns to look at them, vaguely curious, and Patton’s somewhat stunned by how obviously and boldly attractive she is. That’s not usually the kind of thing he notices. She’s got dark brown hair waterfalling down her shoulders, reaching nearly to her waist. It curls in tight corkscrews and the flyaways make a bright halo around her head in the light. Freckles are flung haphazardly across her nose, partially obscured by the oddly patterned gold makeup she’s wearing. She’s drawn swirls and solid blocks of gold all around her eyes. It looks like she’s wearing a gold leaf mask. Her features are clear and sharp, and she holds herself like a dancer, as though every movement is a choreographed step.

“Hi!” Remy smiles. “Patton’s trying to meet new people. You’re a new person. Meet each other.”

“Oh,” says the girl softly, and giggles. “Hi, Patton.” She holds out a hand for him to shake, and he takes it. Despite the heat her skin is cool and delicate; Patton feels like he’s holding a baby bird. “Are you a freshman too?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah.” He can’t think of anything to say after that, so he just keeps smiling.

“And this is…?” the girl asks, indicating Remy.

“Oh, I’m Remy.” says Remy, shifting her weight from hip to hip, watching the interaction between them and grinning. “We’re roommates.”

The girl raises one eyebrow. “Wow, they let you live with your girlfriend?” she asks. “That must’ve taken some fighting. How’d you do it?”

Patton chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, we’re not-”

“Patton’s single,” Remy says helpfully. “Very single,” she adds, eyes sparkling. Patton looks at her, a what-are-you-doing kind of look, but Remy doesn’t seem to take the hint and anyway...Patton’s not sure he minds all that much that this girl knows he’s single.

“So, Patton,” the girl asks, “where you from?”

“Ah, little town in the middle of nowhere. Victoria. You probably wouldn’t know it.”

The girl’s eyes light up. “Actually, I have a cousin in Victoria.”

“Oh, really? That’s cool. I wonder if I know her.”

They fall to talking about Victoria and the girl’s glamorous cousin (who evidently moved there because she had eloped with a boy that her parents, the girl’s aunt and uncle, had thoroughly disapproved of).

Remy stands by and smirks at the whole thing, swirling the seemingly unmeltable ice in her coffee. Patton’s not sure he’s entirely comfortable with that, but he really likes this girl, and with the way they’re talking it feels like it’s taken about five minutes to get the food table instead of the twenty that it probably is. The array of food is impressive: fruit bowls, a number of cold salads including potato, macaroni, and tuna, Indian rice, black beans, baked beans, tortilla chips, guacamole, and of course barbecue. Barbecued chicken, barbecued ribs, brisket...Patton can’t believe the school has the money to pay for all of this. Then again, he reasons, that’s probably where ridiculous tuition costs come in.

Patton takes what is probably way too much food and follows Remy and the girl they’d met in line to a clear spot on the grass.

“In the summer,” the girl tells him as they sit, “they bring a huge projector out here and show movies. It happens every weekend until it gets too cold.”

“Really?” asks Patton. “That’s so cool! Where did you learn that?”

“My sister used to go here,” the girl says breezily. She then proceeds to tell Patton everything she knows about the school: secret passages under the theater building, hauntings in the residence halls, scandals and epic senior pranks and legendary students. Patton doesn’t even feel like talking; he just wants to bask in the light coming off her.

About an hour later when the line’s died down he goes up to get more food even though he’s full; he’s not going to pass up an opportunity to eat barbecue, especially barbecue this good. The girl doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not contributing much to the conversation; instead, she seems to smile bigger or lean closer at his little “mhm”s and “gosh, what happened then?”s. Remy gets up and leaves and comes back and he hardly notices.

Finally his plate is emptied for a second time and the sun’s actually started to sink. Patton can’t believe how much time has passed. They’d been talking for ages. The lawn was still buzzing, of course, but people were starting to wander off to do other things--looking for freebies and checking out the halls. He suddenly remembers that his room still isn’t unpacked, and he hasn’t heard one word from Virgil. Not a single solitary “I’m okay” text.

He starts to get up with the intention of telling Remy that they should probably go unpack the room and falls back with a half groan instead. “Ugh, I don’t ever want to look at a piece of food again in my life.”

The girl giggles. “Should’ve slowed down, maybe?”

He smiles and shrugs. “Maybe.” He turns to Remy. “You wanna start unpacking?”

The girl brings a napkin delicately to her mouth. “You guys haven’t even started yet?”

“I was having too much fun,” says Patton sheepishly.

The girl tosses a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “Well, you two should probably go do that. I don’t mind, I’ve got other people to talk to.”

Maybe she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but the tiniest cold shiver runs down Patton’s spine. “Hey, wait,” he says. “You’ve gotta at least give me your number, after all that.”

He swallows hard. He’s used to approaching people, used to being what most people would call ridiculously outgoing, but he’s never asked for someone’s number so blatantly before.

She gives him a coquettish smile. “I suppose.” She holds out a hand. “Unlock your phone?”

He does, and hands it over. She takes it, eyes flickering mischievously between his eyes and the screen, and a moment later hands it back to him, flicking it off before she does so. Then she gets up and leaves, disappearing into the crowd so fast that Patton doesn’t even have the time to process and call out a goodbye until it’s too late. He looks up at Remy, who arches an eyebrow at him high enough that he can see it over her sunglasses.

“Well,” she says. “That was eventful.”

“Do you like her?” Patton asks anxiously as they start to clear away the plates and napkins.

“Too quick for any kind of judgement,” Remy says evenly. “She is interesting, I’ll give her that. Hey, did she ever say what her name is?”

“Shoot,” says Patton. “I can’t believe I completely forgot to ask.”

“Check your phone, maybe?” Remy says.

Patton pulls out his phone and brings up contacts. She hasn’t exactly hidden herself; she’s the very first contact on the list. Or, at least, he assumes that that’s her. He’s not sure he knows any other “snake emoji you’ll see winking face”es.

But he has been known to make mistakes.

He shoots off a quick text to Virgil-- How ya doing, buddy?-- and leaves it at that. Of course he’s worried, but it never does any good to push at Virgil. He doesn’t know how to push back and inevitably the whole thing just gets messy and sad and more often than not it ends in tears for one or both of them.

Walking back to his room already seems the tiniest bit familiar, and Patton is hoping that by the end of the semester this path will be seared into his brain. He wants it to feel like home. He can already imagine walking back from a class or lunch or coffee with Remy wearing matching scarves and cardigans in the fall, talking and laughing.

Somehow he can’t see Virgil in a scarf or cardigan.

When he and Remy make it back to the room, just the sight of all the boxes stacked on the floor makes him want to collapse and never move again. But then Remy bumps him from behind and says “get moving, slowpoke, or we’ll miss movie night,” and he gets a surge of energy.

“There’s movie night?” he says, perking up.

“Uhuh. Snake emoji girl was right, they sometimes do them on the lawn, but I think tonight it’ll be in the drama building, in the theater. In case it rains.”

“What’re we watching?” he asks.

Remy shrugs. “No idea. But a movie’s a movie, right?”

Patton’s not entirely sure he agrees, so he just shrugs back and changes the subject. “Are you really going to call her snake emoji girl now?”

“Yup,” says Remy, grinning. “It’s stuck in my head and won’t get out. She’s going to forever be snake emoji girl so get used to it. Unless you’d prefer eye makeup sorceress, Rapunzel of curls, or little miss talkative.”

“Um…” Patton can’t really say that any of those are appealing.

“Great. Snake emoji girl it is.”

“If you say so.”

“...We should probably be unpacking instead of sitting on the beds and talking.”

Patton groans and stands up, but continues talking. It becomes rather quickly apparent that the two of them aren’t really able to be in the same room without talking, but they do manage to get all the boxes opened and their contents dumped out on the floor. This is very satisfying at first, but then Patton looks at the huge mess they’ve made of the floor and kind of wants to pull his hair out.

“No worries!” says Remy. “We just...uh...we need music.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, runs to the kitchen and comes back with a red solo cup, and puts on Pandora before placing the phone carefully in the cup. The music echoes out, a little tinny and artificial but definitely louder. Remy’s selected some song with sugary sweet pop tunes that all sound like they were played on the bus on the way to school in 2012-- Party in the USA, Girlfriend, Call Me Maybe, et cetera.

Honestly it’s not too far off from what Patton usually listens to.

“So where’d you meet Virgil? What’s his deal?” Remy asks as they start dividing up dresser and closet spaces, refolding the clothes that got jostled in the moving process or in being tossed to the floor (which is pretty much all of them).

“We grew up together,” Patton tells her. “We were in the same kindergarten class and...I dunno, I just kinda gravitated to him. The kid just looked so lonely, y’know?”

Remy glances over at him. “You remember thinking that all the way back then?”

Patton frowns. “I’m not sure. It’s just kind of a….feeling from a memory, that I remembered.” he shrugs. “And anyway, just look at him. Kid’s always had kind of a...lonely demeanor.”

Patton had always sort of hated that. Hated that his friendship wasn’t enough to lift the moodiness that seemed to settle around Virgil like dark clouds.

“Anyway,” he says, “We were friends in kindergarten, and just...never stopped. He had a whole lot of stuff going on in middle school, and it only got worse in high school….and I just...I wanted to be there for him, y’know?” He stares down at his tie dyed green tee shirt. “He’s like my brother. Heh, even my siblings just seem to think that he’s part of the family.”

Remy nods from her seat on the floor, going through a pile of sundresses. “I think that’s really great,” she says softly. “That you guys have been friends for so long.”

Patton smiles at her. “Well, hopefully we’ll be friends for just as long.”

Remy giggles. “That’s mathematically impossible, you dork. You’ll never know me for longer or as long as you’ve known him, because you’ll always have known him for whatever the number of years between kindergarten and freshman year of high school is longer than you’ve known me.”

Patton giggles at her. “All the same,” he says. “We’ll be close, right?”

“Definitely,” says Remy, shaking out a sundress patterned with red poppies. “Speaking of,” she says, suddenly sharp, “You never told me your thoughts on snake emoji girl.”

“That’s gonna get awkward to say real quick,” Patton mutters.

“Snemojirl, then,” says Remy, making Patton snort. “What’s the deal?”

“Aw, geez, I don’t know, Remy!” he says. “This is literally our first day on campus. We haven’t even had classes start yet.”

“Buuuut…” Remy prompts, wiggling her eyebrows. Patton sighs. “No ‘buts’ yet. No matter how good they look,” he adds cheekily.

Remy pouts. “But you’ll talk to me like we’re best friends and this is the first day we’re even meeting in person.”

Patton holds up a hand. “Actually- can we maybe limit talking about that?”

Remy looks puzzled. “Limit talking about what.?”

“About...us knowing each other before this.”

Remy only looks more confused. “But Patton, literally every set of roommates knows who the other roommate is going to be before they get to campus. Can you imagine meeting your roommate for the first time as soon as you get to campus? On the day you’re literally supposed to start living together?”

Patton chuckles uncomfortably, but he’s sure it sounds more like he’s choking. “Um, Remy-?”

“What?”

Remy looks up from her pile of sundresses and seems to catch his meaning. “Oh. Ohhh. Wait. Not oh. I’m confused. Explain. Why did Virgil just meet his roommate today?”

“He...he thought his roommate was going to be me.”

“Yeah? And you guys had some kind of problem with administration, right?”

“Uh...not exactly, no.” Patton buries his face in the shirt he’s holding. It smells like it’s been drying in the sun, like heat and dregs of laundry detergent and dryer sheets and his cologne. “Virge and I requested a room together. Well. We were supposed to. He requested a room with me. I….” Patton lets out a soft snort. “I was really, really stupid, Remy.”

“What’d you do?” Remy asks softly, and Patton can hear the concern in her voice.

“I withdrew my request to room with Virgil and put in preferences for a random roommate, and that’s how I ended up with you. That’s why I actually had to use the gender neutral opt in, because I was looking for people that were...not...Virgil.” Patton unburies his face from the tee shirt. It sounds awful when he puts it that way.

“Oh my god, why?” Remy asks. “Did you tell Virgil?”

Patton picks up the next tee shirt, tossing the first one into a drawer. “Did you see how upset he was? Of course I didn’t tell him.”

“But why’d you do it?” Remy repeats.

Patton balls up the next shirt he’s holding almost angrily, picks up the next one. “Because I really, really really want him to be able to survive on his own. He’s been clinging to me his whole life, and it’s not like I don’t mind….heck, if I could I’d never have him leave my side for the rest of our lives...but…” Patton bites his lower lip. “He’s dependent on me, I think.”

“Ohhh,” says Remy softly.

“I didn’t want him to just...y’know, keep on being the exact same all through college. And I feel like if I didn’t...fling him into the deep end, so to speak, he’d never learn to swim.

Remy stands up and lays a hand on his arm. “You’re not his dad, y’know.” Her tone is still gentle. “It’s not your responsibility to make him grow.”

Patton half pulls away, frustrated. “But no one else is going to do it! His parents treat him like some kind of ornamental goldfish! And like, not even like they know about and care about the proper treatment of ornamental goldfish! Just like...bad goldfish owners!”

“Still,” says Remy, “that doesn’t mean it should be your job.”

Patton groans and flops onto his bed. “I guess.”

Remy mirrors him, flopping onto her bed. “You wanna ask housing if we can do bunk beds?”

“Huh?”

“Enough serious talk, Pats, we’re gonna make our room look awesome.”

“Okay,” says Patton quietly.

“It’ll be fun,” Remy presses.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any hobbies, Patton?”

“Uh...keeping Virgil out of trouble?” Patton tries to joke.

“Ha, ha. I mean fun stuff.”

“Before we talk about that, Remy, do you promise not to tell Virgil that I withdrew my request?”

Remy props herself up on her elbow and frowns at him from across the room. “Hm. I suppose so. But I honestly think you should tell him at some point. It’s not good to keep stuff like that from your friends. Especially if it’s eating away at you like this is for you.”

“Okay,” says Patton in a half groan. “I’ll tell him. At some point. I promise. But I’ll tell him after he discovers that he actually really likes his new roommate, and they’re super close friends, and their dorm looks so awesome he won’t wanna move, and he’s decided he likes all his classes, and-”

“Okay, okay,” says Remy, waving a hand at him. “But hobbies?”

Patton rolls over so he can look at her. “Well...I really like astronomy. So I do a lot of stargazing.”

Remy perks up. “Have you seen the observatory yet?”

“Yeah!” says Patton, lighting up like a glowstick. “Isn’t it awesome? I can’t wait to be there at night.”

“Me neither.”

They manage to unpack the room fairly quickly, outdated pop playing in the background and making Patton feel like he’s in a slightly lame but weirdly motivating music video for a teen summer blockbuster. The montage of unpacking at the awesome new school.

Two hours later, everything is put away and Remy is leaning over Patton’s shoulder as they check the internet for which constellations will be visible that night. Patton’s almost put Virgil out of his mind, determined to give him some space, when he gets a long overdue text back.

Patton. Can we meet somewhere that’s not my room? I’m not okay.

Patton’s heart sinks but he stands up from the computer, fingers already flying over the keypad. Sure, what’s up? Where do you want to meet?

By the river, maybe? I don’t know. I’ll tell you when we get there.

“What’s up?” Remy asks when Patton stands up. Patton must be frowning pretty hard at his phone.

“Uh...Virgil needs me. I’m not sure what’s wrong. I’ll be back later for movie night.” He gives her a halfhearted smile and pushes out the door before she can ask questions.

The river is almost right behind their hall. Patton has to walk along it for a while before he finds Virgil. Almost no one is around; Patton figures they’re all still at the barbecue or exploring the actual buildings on the grounds. Whatever it is, the nearest person is at least a quarter mile away on the other side of campus.

He’s perched on the guardrail of the bridge, hunched together, earbuds in. He looks like the album cover of a depressing band that died out in 2007. But then again, that’s how Virgil usually looks. It’s just striking Patton in particular right now.

“Virgil, buddy, what’s up?” he calls before he’s fully there.

Virgil looks up and Patton immediately goes still. His eyeliner is running all over his face; he hasn’t even attempted to wipe it away. He looks like he just got done sobbing.

As soon as Patton walks onto the bridge, Virgil hops off the railing, throws himself into Patton’s arms.

“P-patton, I h-hate my roommate. S-so much.”

“Aw, Virge,” says Patton, recovering from his shock enough to trail a hand over Virgil’s back. “Are you sure he’s that bad? I mean, you’ve known him, what, a few hours?”

“I d-don’t care. I w-wanna kill him.”

“Whoa there kiddo, that’s a bit of a leap, don’t you think?”

Virgil makes a vaguely disgruntled noise and wipes a hand under his eyes, smearing the eyeliner across his cheeks.

“I wanna go home, Pat. Just wanna go home.”

“This...this’ll feel like home soon enough, Virgil,” says Patton, hunting around for words. “Look, maybe this’ll be a really good experience for you! You got real good classes, didn’t you? Philosophy and biology and…” Patton can’t remember what else Virgil’s taking, so he just expands on those. “And you love philosophy, right? I can barely keep up with you. And you’re always drawing animals, and you have all those plants in your room.”

“It’s not the same,” Virgil mumbles. “Pat. I had a really bad panic attack just now. I think...I think they might be getting worse.”

Patton’s frown deepens. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says. “Why didn’t you call? Or walk over to my room? It’s only a few rooms down.”

“Couldn’t,” says Virgil. “I froze up again. Patton, what if I start having panic attacks in class? People are gonna think I’m a freak.”

“No, they’re not,” Patton sighs. “Plenty of adults have panic attacks. Especially, I’m sure, adults in college.”

Virgil whimpers.

“And,” Patton continues, “If you get a panic attack in class, you’ll just do what you did in high school. Wait it out if you can’t move, or go get a drink of water if you can. You don’t even have to ask anymore.” Patton tries to smile at him, but Virgil resists his attempt to pull his head away from Patton’s shoulder.

“If you want to, if it’s really bad, you can even walk out and not come back. Just go to your room to calm down, email the professor, take the rest of the day off. This is college, Virgil. We’re adults. People care way less what we do now.”

“Still,” Virgil wails. “I’m going to have to go back to my room with my awful roommate.”

Patton sighs. “Virge, really, you gotta give him a chance. For me?”

Patton can practically feel the frown emanating from Virgil. “I guess. For you.”

There’s another unexpected pulse of guilt. Patton squeezes Virgil, trying to make the feeling go away. “You coming to movie night tonight?”

“Um...I..uh...I might. Will there be food?”

Patton tries to hide his grin. He has a feeling Virgil’s just going to get away from his roommate, but still. “Probably. I’ll ask Remy.”

Virgil pulls away then, hops back onto the railing of the bridge, and stares off into the water as he attempts to (and fails miserably at) scrubbing the eyeliner off his face. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Patton tries not to feel offended. Virgil often shuts down after an emotional event or recovering from a panic attack. He feels like he should probably be used to it by now, but he’s not. But he respects Virgil’s space.

When he gets back to the room, Remy’s asleep. It looks like such a good idea that he curls up and goes to sleep on his own bed, clothes and all.

[theexistentialistexpressionist]

Text Bomber- How To Text Bomb Any Body.

These days, there are over 6 billion text messages delivered daily in the nations, and 8.6 trillion globally annually.  With a lot of text messages flying around, you're certain to get overwhelmed at any stage by someone a little more enthusiastic with their very own horn.The message doesn't have to be extended or comprise some actual words; the main intention is to maximize nuisance by firing.I immediately exploited anything letters I can and struck boat instantly.  

I wound up sending approximately 26 messages in about half an hour.  My roommate's phone vibrated non-stop until all those messages were not.  Obviously, he had been somewhat peeved.

However, as he had iMessage enabled (as you may see from the blue text bubbles), then that the texts flowed in, as opposed to popping up into a lot of private messages.  To prevent this from occurring, go to Settings -> Emails and then disable iMessage.  Your texts will ship as a normal (green text message.But, after several complaints filed against these app makers, both companies made a concerted effort to eliminate as a range of those programs as possible.  

Despite the fact that you might encounter a few after some time searching, they exceptionally more expensive and have very poor reviews.I scoured hunted and forums online but nobody can provide me a legitimate (non-jailbroken) alternative.  

I did find one Cydia app that really does the trick.  Sorry guys, but jailbreakers have more entertaining, though using a whole lot of fun with this can land you in an actual prison.In Cydia, you're likely to have to bring another source (Records): cydia.xsellize.com.To test it, begin Cydia, click on the Manage icon and then proceed to Resources.   Once done, hit add and wait for Cydia to download all of the necessary files.  

Adhering to the xsellize Shop is contained, you can now search Cydia to acquire Text Bomber.  Note: you will also need SBSettings to your program to find the task finished.Now select SBSettings and tape on the Text Bomber app, which should be tagged Orange SBS.  

Now enter the number of messages that you need to send to some sufferer ( the first column be instantaneous) and reunite into Emails and hit send.Take a peek at this movie to discover how it works out.You might even download SMSFlooder in the Cydia shop.  It's located in precisely the specific same xsellize repo, hence no need to attract the second origin.Only, search Cydia to find SMSFlooder and install on your iPhone.

 You will also need BiteSMS from Cydia in the event that you don't have it.  The moment you have got both of those programs installed and configured with your own contacts that the fun can begin.Open SMSFlooder and enter a phone number or choose from your own contacts by tapping on the blue arrow with the Sender field.  Now enter a number of messages you want to send together with the delay between each.   

Everything happens in 1 place.However, Nelson, nevertheless, it had been just too easy.  Take a peek at the film walkthrough below.If you want to bypass the pitfalls of messaging rates and fees, you have the ability to email bomb your victims instead.  Using SMSFlooder through Bite SMS you may send an absurd amount of emails to your contacts email address.  

Texting Bombing OnlineIf you search "SMS Bomber" or "The very best way to send many texts into one person?"  You will locate a few of outcomes.  I analyzed some of them outside, and lots of request registration or money, which I was not likely to execute.  If you don't care, then you'll see a good deal of internet offerings to aid you SMS bomb a bit.   Be sure that you get your Adblocker on, as this site is obnoxious.   You may pick any volume you require, but be reasonable. 

 I chose ten and killed myself.I attempted it, but only got the next second.  

Tread Carefully...I strongly advise that you to chose your own victims carefully.  SMS bombing that your ex-girlfriend likely isn't the ideal choice.  While SMS bombing isn't necessarily illegal, a victim could argue harassment and need you to civil court.  

If she/he may establish an example of harassing behavior from you, you may be liable to pay damages and are going to have the fee indefinitely on your criminal record.  This person would seriously have to be dreadful in life, but whatever else is possible.   And for the sufferers without an infinite text app, the cost of your little prank could possibly be absurd.

Obviously, that probably wouldn't be appreciated, and kind of destroys the delight of a nicely thought prank.  And also be certain that you have unlimited texting also.  

May seem like a no-brainer, but I am simply saying...You might even prevent all this by utilizing SMSFlooder and sending mass emails instead.