#the mallorca files au

[the-mallorca-files]

This au is brought to you by my current obsession with the new Matilda movie:

Miranda never really knew why or how she was able to move things with her mind

it had started when she was a kid, happening mostly when she became particularly overwhelmed by emotions and noise and light and everything else

(when she finally realises she’s autistic, she also realises that these overwhelming times were actually sensory overloads and autistic meltdowns)

(…this still does not explain the telekinesis)

her parents were completely freaked out by it, convinced that Miranda was possessed or something

the near-constant exorcisms soon began to annoy her, so she taught herself to control her physics-defying power

eventually it got to the point where she’d spent so long with it that it had just become normal to her

when she first became a cop, she was using her power all the time to disarm criminals, stop suspects escaping, pick up and inspect pieces of evidence without having to wear gloves, and other useful things like that

but this eventually meant that none of her superiors in the force actually wanted her to work in their various police stations

because although she got results (and plenty of them), her unorthodox methods meant that doing the paperwork afterwards was an absolute nightmare

(“Detective Blake diffused the situation by magically levitating the knife out of the suspect’s hand from twenty feet away” never went down well with the higher-ups)

so Miranda slowly stopped using her telekinesis at work, relying on it only when she felt it was absolutely 100% necessary

she hates that this means she’s not quite as good at her job now, but she knows it was either that or risk getting kicked off the force altogether

sometimes the power still shows itself when she’s consumed by particularly strong emotions and just can’t control it

(Wandsworth was an example of this: Miranda hadn’t so much tipped her food into her detective inspector’s lap as levitated it off the table and then made it fling itself directly at his crotch with alarming speed)

but other than these rare instances, she keeps her telekinesis hidden from everyone — even after the move to Mallorca, and becoming closer to Max

in fact, the closer she gets to Max, the more effort she puts into hiding her powers

because letting them show in the past has always led to her being moved to a different force, and she can’t bear the thought of losing her compañero

but then, a year and eight months after she moved out there, she slips up

she gets a call from what’s undoubtedly the estate agent who keeps badgering her about the apartment she wants to look at

but Max answers it before she can get to it

and he’s acting all smug about it

and Inés is watching

and Max is organising a meeting with the estate agent

and no

no no no

this was something she wanted control over

she didn’t want Max to get involved

and now Inés knows too

and—

and then suddenly the phone is snatched away from Max’s ear as if by an invisible hand

Max and Inés both stare in disbelief as the phone floats over to Miranda, who plucks it out of the air as if this is totally normal

she glares at Max

Max stares back at her

it’s only then that Miranda realises what she’s just done

her subsequent explanations are a jumbled mess as she rushes to get them out before her seemingly inevitable move to another force is announced

Inés quickly brings both detectives into her office, keen to get the clearly anxious Miranda away from the stares of the other officers

and Miranda’s promising it won’t happen again, trying desperately to get Inés to let her stay

Max and Inés are both confused beyond belief about this, because neither of them can really see why she’d want to stop herself using this power

they both start asking her a seemingly endless stream of questions about it — when it had first happened, how she does it, what it feels like, and any number of other things like that

Miranda gives a few short answers to these questions, getting more and more uncomfortable with each one because they’re just reminders of how weird she is

eventually she puts her foot down and tells them that she has to go to this meeting with the estate agent that Max has just set up

Max insists on going with her

when he brings up the levitating phone on the way there, Miranda just shuts him down immediately

she doesn’t want to talk about this anymore

she just wants to be normal, for god’s sake

but after a couple weeks of Max badgering her about it (and a few wines while sitting with him out on her new balcony), Miranda finally relents

she cautiously levitates the wine bottle, getting it to pour him a top-up

Max makes it very clear that he thinks it’s absolutely the coolest thing ever

and after that, slowly but surely, Miranda starts to use her telekinesis around other people again

she begins by alternately impressing and annoying Max with it when they’re on their own

long stakeouts are now livened up by flying sunglasses, and Miranda frequently amuses herself by floating Carmela’s pastries just beyond Max’s reach

then, as she becomes more confident, she starts using it when there’s other people there too

the other cops soon get used to walking into the office and finding things floating in midair

(one of them had made a comment in the beginning about how weird it was. The subsequent talking-to Inés had given them had ensured this did not happen again)

many months later, when Miranda finally feels able to use her power for actual work things again, Inés discovers the joys of trying not to sound completely insane when she writes up things for Max and Miranda’s cases

but unlike all of Miranda’s previous bosses she perseveres with it anyway, taking the time to come up with normal explanations for all of her detective’s telekinetic interventions

it’s a headache, but Inés wouldn’t have it any other way

[f1-stuff]

Thanks for the tag @f1amboyant ! ❤️

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I've done these a few times and shared a lot from past WIPs, so I'm only gonna list ones I haven't shared too much from already/ones that have significantly more written! (I'm also gonna list the Carlos!girldad fic even tho I haven't written more of it -> maybe this will get me to write...)

Mallorca AU

Victorian AU

Kid Fic

Regency AU

Daemon AU

Royal Harem AU

Aaaaand I'm gonna tag @vicsbasement @nottiinrosso @steviethenarwhal @starzzach @effervescentdragon and @7msc if you have any WIPs/haven't done this/care to do this 😂

[cha-melodius]

hi! ⭐️ for love is a losing game pretty please?

HELLO I didn't mean to leave this for an entire day lol, but I've barely had a moment to breathe today and I wanted to be able to sit and think about this one.

Ok, Love is a Losing Game! So as I mention in the fic notes, I decided to write this fic after @eavos posted something in the tmfu discord server about The Queen's Gambit and how it'd make a good setting for a napollya AU. At first I didn't really think that much of it, but then I WATCHED The Queen's Gambit and the idea took hold of me like woah. Before this fic I'd written one long-form AU, and I certainly didn't expect this to become my longest ever fic, nor how MUCH I'd end up putting into it.

I've never done more research for a fic than I did for this fic. I planned it out using actual chess tournaments in the 1960s (whereupon I quickly learned just how fictional The Queen's Gambit was lol), getting into the nitty gritty of how many players and from what countries actually played them. Most of the chess games in the fic are real—I read an absurd number of tournament recaps in old archived issues of Chess Life magazine. I also got some information about grandmasters' lives and careers from various articles in there, as well as other stories online.

Illya's career wasn't really patterned off of any one player, but Napoleon's is roughly based on that of Bobby Fischer (this is one of the big reasons why, every time I think about 'filing off the serial numbers' of this fic, I reject the idea—I fear it would be written off as 'what if Bobby Fischer was gay', even when there's nothing of Fischer's personality in this). And don't get me started on the research/planning I did for the World Chess Championship at the end; I had spreadsheets to figure out the points and how to make it work out like I wanted it to.

Since this was the early days of me planning fics, I didn't have a great sense of chapters, nor did I have a very detailed outline. I'll post it here, in fact (behind a cut for spoilers, just in case).

Before I drop the rest, if anyone who's not a TMFU fan ends up reading this far, here's my tiny plea: If you love my fics, give this one a chance. You don't need to know anything about the fandom, I promise; consider it an original novel lol. But I still think this is among my best works, and it deserves to be read more than it is.

Ok, the outline. This was it—the championship, the date, very brief note about what was happening, and who won the tournament (tournaments in parentheses happened offscreen). I do not now recall what the asterisks mean lmao.

(US National Championship & Zonal, New York 1965 – Napoleon)

Hastings International Chess Congress 1966 (Jan) – Meet for the first time (Illya, Ch)*

Mar del Plata, Argentina 1966 (March) – Begin off-book games (draw, Co)

(World Chess Championship, Moscow 1966 – Illya)

Piatigorsky Cup, Santa Monica 1966 (July) – Affair begins (1–1, Illya Ch)*

Chess Olympiad, Havana 1966 (Oct) – Discovery (Soviets)

Palma de Mallorca, Spain 1966 (Nov) – Napoleon absent (Illya loses)

US Championship, New York 1966 (Dec) – Illya shows up looking for Napoleon*

Monte Carlo Tournament, Monaco 1967 (March) – Napoleon returns (Napoleon, Co)

Canadian Centennial Grand Masters Chess Tournament, Winnipeg 1967 (Oct) – Illya misses (Napoleon)*

Sousse Interzonal, Tunisia 1967 (Nov) – Napoleon wins

(Hoogovens 1968; Monte Carlo 1968; Chess Olympiad, Lugano 1968; Palma 1968)

World Chess Championship, Reykjavík 1969 (June) – Illya v. Napoleon (Napoleon)*

San Juan International Tournament, Puerto Rico 1969 (Oct) – Defection

Some of the early ones really ballooned, like Mar del Plata and the Piatigorsky Cup, because I really needed to give their relationship space to develop. And I'm so glad I did, I love all those moments and conversations they have. Sometimes I feel like I'm rushing through fics more these days, and this one was one I just allowed to grow, which is part of what makes it so delightful.

Anyway if you ever have questions about this fic please feel free to ask, I will never not want to talk about it. I love it so so much. Thank you for asking!!

[bitchbrisket]

Thanks to @slightlyintimidating for tagging me in the fic writer 20 questions game, I haven’t done one of these in a couple of years.

How many works do you have on AO3? 515

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Too many words to count?

What fandoms do you write for?

In the past there was a bit of Wicked, the three musketeers, more recently the Miss Fisher murder mysteries, Berena, Mamma Mia every so often but for the past few years it’s been a smidge of ghosts, an occasional foray into the wheel of time, a hefty dose of the worst witch (both 1998 and 2017) and a sprinkling of the Mallorca files.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

All of these are Berena. Mainly AU which is great. I do love an AU. I’m fond of most of these fics.

Lonely hearts of Holby (fics featuring radio are criminally underrated)

Love endures & love is kind (what possessed me to write a vicar ffs?)

Wolfesbane take me away (this turned out better than I realised it would)

Oh Major (smutty smut smut smut)

Love of a lifetime (I think I would have written this a bit differently, in hindsight) .

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always. Comments and kudos are never guaranteed and someone took time out of their day to show me that they appreciate my scribbles.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’m not a fan of ending with angst but I have written a couple that end in death or a breakup usually because the character has been killed off. The most recent was won’t find the answer by staring at the stars.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them.

Do you get hate on fic?

Every so often. Got a bit more a few years ago but I’ve recently had an anon who’d acted as if I’d forced her to read the story under duress and she decided I had psychological problems. Absolute lol.

Do you write smut?

I do. I try not to repeat the same phrases and wording all the time and I have a list of phrases I can’t stand reading so that makes it even more of a challenge.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I’ve written a handful of crossovers. The most popular one I’ve done is Chessy from the parent trap and Miss Honey from Matilda. Someone on tumblr shipped them so I wrote the story and gifted it to them.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I contributed to one with my friend Jaqui (I never knew you were the someone waiting for me)

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Got lots; Serena Campbell & Bernie Wolfe, Siuan Sanche & Moiraine Damodred, Ada Cackle & Hecate Hardbroom, Agatha Cackle & Dimity Drill, Maria (?) & Baroness Schrader, Elizabeth McMillan & Concetta Strano, Bill Anderson & Harry Bright.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I deleted it in the end but I was trying to write a crossover with Poirot and Mrs Bradley. But I’m terrible at writing murder mysteries so I gave up on it in the end. I just know that the butler didn’t do it.

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told that I write great comedy one liners. That my writing isn’t cliched and the way I describe a character’s emotions and actions feels very real.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Extending dialogue for a long time is a struggle for me. I do well without much dialogue. Feels like a script and it seems wooden to me. And action. Can't write any action whatsoever.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Fine. I’ve done it occasionally.

First fandom you wrote for?

I think Elisabeth the musical?

Favourite fic you’ve written?

I can’t pick just one. But I really enjoyed writing Sweet nothings & Wind's in my eyes, I heed your call

Tagging: @batnbreakfast @marvelousmadmadammim @sosaywefrakkinall711 @hovercraft79

Questions to respond to:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fic?

9. Do you write smut?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

[cuddlebugsirius]

This is a little late but thank you to @fruity-individual @heartofspells and @yruablackwarbler for the tag in the WIP game 🥳

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask about the title that most excited them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

Familiarity breeds contempt

A song for the moon and the stars

The fires of Mallorca

Ontogenesis

Unhinged

Schrödinger's romance

Don't put it down

Something something needle pun

The Squishmallow infestation

MAFS Au

Open tags because I'm tired and lazy 🫣💜

[1989dreamer]

When the Stars Align

And here is part two of why @evanesdust​ had to be so, so patient for their prompt to be fulfilled.

AO3 Link

Written for this prompt (same as Seventy-Five Percent).

Yes, I wrote three stories for the same prompt. It was a lot of fun.

Summary: Derek has a coworker that is a little too enthusiastic about getting him alone, so he asks Stiles for help. Stiles gladly volunteers but neither of them quite know what they’re getting into. A pissed off Kate Argent isn’t to be trifled with and neither are the growing feelings Stiles has for Derek.

Tags: Stalking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Murderer Peter Hale, Deputy Cora Hale. Human AU, Getting Together, Fake Dating, Kate Argent is Her Own Warning, Fear, Non-descriptive Panic Attacks

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon, and Stiles was out at the park with his sketchbook and pencils, just trying to draw random sketches of his characters, trying to find the natural flow of their movement for the big battle they had coming up. Suddenly, almost sweetly, he heard the words: “I’m going out with Stiles.”

His head shot up. He was going out with someone? News to him. Who could be making such a bold claim?

He studied the people nearest him: Derek Hale, older brother of Stiles’ closest friend, Cora Hale; some blonde woman standing way too close to Derek; and a sallow-faced, shady-looking fellow who reminded Stiles of his sadistic chemistry teacher.

Derek pointed at Stiles. “My boyfriend,” he said, somewhat stiffly, upset and uncomfortable, and excuse him but Stiles was a national treasure. Dating him would be nothing but a delight.

The blonde woman seemed unperturbed by the fact that Derek was one) clearly trying to escape and two) his “boyfriend” was right there.

Stiles stood up, shoved his sketchpad under his arm, and sauntered over to them. He cocked a hip and tucked a hand around Derek’s waist, noting the way Derek sagged against him in relief. “What’s up, babe? These idiots bothering you?”

The woman’s face sank into a sour expression, and Stiles almost laughed at how angry she appeared. Almost as if she’d known Derek was lying to her, but Stiles had decided to play along. Whatever. It wasn’t like Stiles had anything better to do than to rescue the older brothers of his friends.

The woman stuck out her hand. “Kate Argent,” she said, as sour as her face.

Stiles ignored her hand. “Stiles, Derek’s other half.”

“Certainly not the better half,” Kate laughed, something malicious lurking beneath her false smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Derek said, and wasn’t he being so sweet? Stiles pinched him to make him close his mouth.

“Now, my question still stands: are you bothering my boyfriend?”

Kate didn’t answer. Instead, she stomped off, her companion trailing after her. Derek didn’t immediately pull away, which surprised Stiles.

“What’s up with that?” Stiles asked when Derek finally disentangled himself.

Derek rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She works with me. Technically she’s my boss.”

“And how does dating me come into it?”

Derek rolled his shoulders again and Stiles realized that he was shrugging.

“If you date me for, say, a month and then break up with me, spectacularly, publicly, Kate would think I’m undateable and she’ll leave me alone.”

“And why me?”

Derek shrugged again. “I panicked?” he offered.

“Oh, I see. I’m the convenient choice.”

“No,” Derek said. “I just.” He blew out a breath. “You were right there. I knew you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to do it. I can find someone else.”

For some reason, that was more of an insult to Stiles than the fact that Derek had chosen him in the first place. “Now, wait a minute.” He grabbed Derek’s hand. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

Derek’s eyebrows scrunched together. “You’ll do it?”

Stiles nodded. “Who knows why? Probably because you’re the big brother of my best friend, and Cora will never let me hear the end of it if I let you get pressured into dating your boss.”

Derek made a face. “Cora can’t know about the fake dating thing,” he said.

“Why not?” Stiles shook his head. “She’s my best friend. Of course, she’s going to know.”

Derek sighed. “Fine. It’s not like she wouldn’t have found out anyway.”

“So, what are your rules for dating?” Derek shrugged. “No, seriously. What’s on the table? What’s off? Pet names? Touching? What kind of dates do you want to go on? I mean, you want Kate to actually think we’re dating, right?”

“I guess?” Derek frowned. “I-I think so? Would it be easier to meet up at, like, one of our apartments and plan this out?”

“Sure. That works. Want to go now?”

Derek nodded. Honestly, he looked a little lost. Something wasn’t adding up. “Why can’t you just tell Kate’s boss or HR that she’s bothering you? Why go through this subterfuge?”

Derek sighed, and Stiles felt the vibration of it in his chest. Derek was bone tired, exhausted, and frustrated. He was thoroughly vexed.

“Kate is the HR department,” he said. “Her dad owns the company. All my coworkers just tell me to buckle down and date her.”

“But,” Stiles said.

“I’m not comfortable with dating. There’s been rumors of some of the men she’s dated before. She likes challenges, likes to break her partners. She’s taken my disinterest as a challenge.”

“There’s got to be some way to report her. Will any of her former partners file a police report against her?”

“I don’t know. I think she, like, collects evidence that her partners are the ones who hurt her.”

Stiles shuddered. “Dude, I am so sorry that she’s targeting you.”

“So am I.” Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry I got you involved. Kate will probably try and scare you off. I don’t know what tactics she’ll use, so I can’t warn you more.”

“Well, how about we worry about the logistics of the dating before we worry about what Kate will or won’t do?”

Derek nodded, sitting down on the grass next to Stiles. He held out his hands, like he was showing that he was unarmed. Stiles smiled at him. While he hadn’t known Derek well when he and Cora were in school together, he’d been the cool older brother. The hot, cool older brother that Stiles sometimes daydreamed about kissing until he lost his edge.

Talking to Derek now, finding out that he liked some of the same things Stiles did and dates would be easy enough, that he liked slow dancing and kissing in the rain, that it took more than a few meetings before he made up his mind as to whether or not he actually liked someone romantically was all cute and good. It also made it a little more embarrassing that Stiles wanted to kiss him even more now.

Derek nodded at the sketchbook. “Anything good?”

“Just character studies,” Stiles replied. He was not in the habit of sharing his work before it was ready to publish. He was also used to people not respecting his boundaries when he said he didn’t want to share, that he was already expecting Derek to demand his sketchbook anyway.

“Cool,” Derek said. He gripped a handful of grass, tugging at it too gently to break any blades. “I write stories that are sort of like that.”

“Oh really?” Stiles smiled to let Derek know that he thought that was cool too, but it was wasted because Derek never looked up. “Hey,” Stiles said, “you know that if you put words on paper, then you’re a writer regardless of what anyone else tells you, right?”

“Right.” Stiles heard the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He could also relate to being told that his “hobby” wasn’t a form of real art. Well, he had time. He would start working with Derek to shed the negativity and embrace his passion.

“So, um,” Derek said, “did you want to do the first date tonight?”

“Yes,” Stiles said before Derek could take it back. “Absolutely. Pick you up at 7:00?”

“Sounds good.” Derek pulled out a small book, tore out a piece of paper, wrote down his address and phone number. “Just text me something so I have your number too.” He handed the paper to Stiles.

“Absolutely.” Stiles waved when Derek stood up. As soon as Derek was out of sight, Stiles sent two texts.

One to Derek: This is stiles now u have my #

And one to Cora: Dating ur bro don’t make it weird

Derek did not respond immediately, but Cora did.

Y

Y what

Y my brother. Leave derek alone u ass

He’s my bf now. Srsly tho, i’m helping him. Don’t give him grief

Fine. But if he cries over u, i break ur knees

Fair

Stiles set his phone aside and picked up his sketchbook again, tracing the shadow under his main character’s face. It wasn’t perfect, but Stiles wasn’t trying. This had been an exercise to get him out of his apartment. Finding out that Derek was in need of a rescue just like Malcolm was not at all how he planned his Thursday to go, but it was still nice enough. Besides, he’d secured a date with the hottest senior at Beacon Hills High—never mind that Derek hadn’t been a senior in high school for almost seven years and Stiles had graduated college and moved back to help out his dad, who was looking to retire from the position of Sheriff of Beacon County within the next two or three years. He’d started taking some graphic design classes at the community college when he realized he could only get so far with his self-taught art.

He still liked hand-drawing things, and he was almost ready to move onto sketching Mallorca when his pad was forcibly lowered.

He gripped his pencil, aware of how much damage he could inflict even though it was dull. Kate’s face popped into view and Stiles restrained his hand.

“What do you want?” he said, blandly. Uninterested. Kate seemed the type of person to hate that.

Stiles was right. She barely waited a second more before thumping his sketchbook down on his lap.

“Listen, Styles,” she hissed.

“Stiles,” he corrected.

Kate looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “That’s what I said.”

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “You said ‘Styles,’ like style of clothing or something. My name is ‘Stiles,’ with an i.”

Kate glared at him. “Whatever. Just stay away from Derek Hale. He may think he’s your boyfriend, but there’s only one person who’s right for him, and it’s not you.”

“Maybe so,” Stiles agreed easily, “but you know who has to make that decision? Derek. Not you.” He picked up his sketchbook, tucked away his pencils, and walked away from Kate.

This wasn’t high school. And no one should ever be able to call dibs on a person anyway.

Kate needed to grow up, but Stiles doubted that she ever would. She’d had lines by her eyes and a little gray in her hair under the bad dye job. She’d probably never had to work for anything in her life, working in Daddy’s company, having men thrown at her feet either by themselves or by circumstances.

If dating Derek got Kate off his back, then Stiles was game.

His phone chimed.

Derek.

Thanks. What did you want to do tonight? Dinner? Movie?

Stiles paused, thinking. He’d only been planning on taking Derek out to The Boot, a steakhouse on the edge of town. Jeans and flannel almost a requirement. But a movie…No, Stiles didn’t like movies for first dates. There was a small park—just a bench and some trees—near Stiles’ apartment that he liked to sit outside and dream up new adventures for his webcomic.

Maybe he could take Derek there?

Stargazing actually. If thats okay?

Derek’s reply came a few seconds later. Sounds good. Thanks.

Stiles couldn’t help the elation those words gave him. Yeah, it was Derek’s idea to pick out Stiles as a potential date, but the fact that he was agreeable to Stiles’ suggestions was a nice departure from Stiles’ usual dates.

See you at 7.

Stiles smiled at his phone, sending, See u then and then basically floating home, his steps light and unfettered.

He would make tonight awesome for Derek. And himself. The start of something new and beautiful.

The end would be fiery, and he’d have to guard his heart, but there wasn’t any harm in playing pretend, right? Thinking of a future where Derek did really want to date him. Where Kate Argent wasn’t a reason Derek needed safety or that Stiles could provide that safety.

Yeah. It was a nice fantasy.

~ * ~

The Boot wasn’t too crowded and the food only so-so, but when Derek got going, he could tell a story and keep Stiles sitting on the edge of his seat.

Using interrogation tactics gleaned from a lifetime as the son of a law officer, Stiles managed to extract Derek’s online persona from him, filing away the information for later in case he had to live a sudden Derek-less existence.

Like after publicly breaking up with Derek to make him undesirable.

After their meal, which Derek paid for and Stiles vowed to get the next one, they headed to the little park by Stiles’ apartment. He was acutely aware that sometime during their meal, the sallow-faced man Kate had been with showed up, and now he was following them.

“Excuse me a moment,” Stiles said, ducking into the bushes, like he was going to take a leak. Instead, as soon as he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Cora, asking her to look into Kate Argent and her associates.

Cora was a junior deputy at the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department and as such had access to resources that Stiles could only dream of—legally—obtaining.

Her reply came immediately: What am I looking for?

Stiles made sure his flash was off before he took a quick snap of Derek standing under the streetlight, back tense, facing down the sallow-faced man, who was perfectly illuminated, if even more washed out because of the quality of the light.

Fella on the left

On it

Stiles put away his phone and stepped out from the bushes, tugging at his zipper like he was just redoing it.

Derek sagged, visibly relieved to see him.

“Problems?” Stiles asked, putting his arm around Derek’s waist, making sure to keep his hand from actually touching him to keep up with the illusion that he’d just handled his dick.

“No,” Derek lied.

The man nodded his agreement. “Just thought I recognized him.”

“And do you?”

“Yeah,” again it was Derek who spoke. “This is Jerry. He works in Kate’s office with her.”

“Jerry, huh? Well, glad to see that you’re not a stranger I have to call the cops on. Just a coworker.”

Jerry shrugged. “I’m not who you should be worried about.”

“And neither is Kate. Go tell her the date was great. And we’re going to have sex now.”

Jerry scuttled away, his expression somewhat relieved. Puzzling.

Stiles’ phone pinged and he checked it to find a text from Cora.

Jerry has priors. Stay clear of him.

Priors, huh. Could be why he hung around Kate so much outside of work, if she had something on him.

Will do, he sent back. Well, he would certainly try. If Kate and Jerry had plans to keep running into Derek and him when they were on dates, Beacon Hills wasn’t the largest.

“Let’s get you home,” Stiles said to Derek, wondering at the stricken look he received in return.

“I thought we were supposed to go stargazing?”

“Yeah, if you want. I thought after running into Jerry, you might want to go home so that you wouldn’t risk running into him again.”

“I mean, isn’t it better to give them more evidence that we’re dating?”

“Sure. Okay.” Stiles took Derek’s hand, led him to the park. The whole way, he couldn’t shake the sensation that he’d done something wrong.

They sat on a bench, and Stiles let his head fall back. Even though they were competing with all the light pollution of the city, the stars were still breathtaking. Stiles liked to imagine that he was on a different world, exploring like his webcomic. It sure beat studying graphic design and living in his skin some days.

“Are we really going to have sex?” Derek asked quietly after a few minutes.

“No.” Stiles moved his head so that he could see Derek’s profile. “Did you want to?” He’d thought the whole ruse of them dating was to get Kate off Derek’s back so that he wouldn’t have to be assaulted.

And then he remembered what he’d said to Jerry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up and turning to face Derek. “I shouldn’t have said that, and especially not without clearing it with you first.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Derek, you’re allowed to be upset and to stand up for yourself. That’s what the ground rules are for. If I say or do something that makes you uncomfortable, then I need to know so that I don’t do it again.”

Derek nodded. “Okay. So, wanna point out any constellations?”

Happily, Stiles leaned back, lifting an arm. And then realized that Derek was putting him on. Amateur stargazer that he was in his spare time.

As first dates went, it wasn’t either the best or the worst, but it was a solid seven-and-a-half in Stiles’ book, and he had to remind himself, after walking Derek home, that they weren’t really dating.

It would undeniably get more difficult the longer they played the ruse, but at least there was an end. Even if it painted Stiles as the bad guy. It wasn’t like Stiles needed his reputation to remain pristine for Kate Argent. In fact, the more she disliked him, the better in his opinion.

Maybe he could work this storyline into his webcomic. It wasn’t like his adventurers were currently on an adventure.

On the one hand, Stiles had based Malcolm on Derek, subconsciously. And something like this—needing to pretend to date to throw off an unwanted suitor—was something Malcolm could potentially encounter. On the other, more logical hand, Derek probably read Stiles’ webcomic. Cora certainly did. Better not to muddle it with real life situations.

Shame though. It’d make a great arc. Even though he’d need to create a whole new character because Mallorca was asexual and uninterested in dating anyone platonically, and Stiles already knew that if he put a fake-dating in his comic, he’d have to end it as a real love story. Too bad real life couldn’t mimic fiction.

Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked home, mind already spinning with the storyline he couldn’t post.

~ * ~

Stiles woke up to a barrage of texts. Some from Cora. One from Derek. And seventeen from an unknown number.

Stiles opened Derek’s text first.

Kate got your number. I let Cora know too. If she bugs you, file a report. Maybe we can get her on harassment.

Stiles turned to Cora’s three texts.

Derek told me about kate getting ur #

If she bothers u let me kno

Come by the station. We’ll get u set up w/reports

He sent a text to each Hale thanking them for their concern. And then he read each and every one of the unknown texts.

It was definitely Kate.

She moved from a joking tone to downright threatening.

Well, Stiles knew what he was doing with his morning. Derek and Cora were right that he needed to establish a pattern of harassment. He’d suspected that being in Derek’s orbit was dangerous but to actively be threatened with bodily harm was another thing. Kate wasn’t stupid enough to actually threaten him, was she?

No. It was more likely that these texts were from Jerry or some other associate-slash-lackey.

Still. Stiles could give the phone’s owner hell. Maybe teach Kate a lesson by proxy.

He shot another text to Cora, letting her know that he’d stop by the station because of the texts he’d received.

Then, he took a shower, grabbed his textbook for his 1:00 class, and headed out.

Cora met him at the front desk. She snapped her fingers at him until he surrendered his phone.

While she copied the texts to an evidentiary phone, he poked his head into his dad’s office.

“Stiles,” Dad said in the way that usually meant he wasn’t pleased to see him. “I hear you’ve got a new boyfriend.”

Stiles winced. “Yeah. Meant to tell you about that.”

“You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions.” Dad rummaged in his desk until he found a bottle of antacids. He popped a couple in his mouth, chewing with a grimace. “You’re not here because your boyfriend is being a possessive asshole, are you?”

“No, not my boyfriend.” Stiles winced again. “Actually, it’s someone who wants to date my boyfriend. Kate Argent. She didn’t use her own phone to text me. She’s too smart for that.”

“Great.” Dad ran a hand over his face, digging at his eyes. “So who’s phone did she use?”

“That I don’t know. I think Cora is trying to figure that out now.”

“Great.” Dad rattled the antacids before putting them back in his desk. “Keep us in the loop if there are more incidents. And tell your boyfriend that I’d like to meet him some day too.”

“Dad,” Stiles whined, “it’s still so new. Let us see if there’s something there before we start introducing each other to families.”

Cora knocked on the door before his dad could open his mouth again. She handed Stiles his phone. “You were right that Kate didn’t use her own phone. She used Jerry’s. The kind of threats on there…” she whistled. “Well, let’s just say that it violates his parole.”

“So Kate’s burning her bridges.” Stiles bit his lip. “Hey so, Jerry followed us when we were on our date yesterday.” He blushed, embarrassed that he’d even said anything at all last night. “I told him we were going to have sex because I knew he was only following us on Kate’s orders.”

“And did you?” Dad asked.

“No, not that that’s any of your business. Thing is, Kate might be punishing Jerry for bringing her news she didn’t want to hear.”

“That’s definitely a possibility.” Dad sighed. “Okay, Stiles. I know you have class today. How about you head out? Let us know if you get any more texts.”

“Will do.” Stiles left the station with a nod to Cora. What a fucking mess. Derek didn’t need a boyfriend: he needed a bodyguard. Hell, Stiles needed a bodyguard after this morning.

How could Derek continue to work at Kate’s family’s company when she was such a menace?

Or maybe it was the fact that Derek was “dating” Stiles that made her flip out on him.

Whatever the reason, Stiles needed to warn Derek. There was a good chance that Kate would escalate, and Derek was probably her intended victim.

She was worse than what Derek had said. She was dangerous and volatile. And Stiles wanted to be the one to bring her down. He didn’t want to hide or let her win because doing either of those things meant that she’d get Derek, and that was not an acceptable outcome.

Yes, they were fake-dating, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t care for or not love Derek.

He sent a text to Derek, asking to meet him after class ended at 5:00 and to watch out in case Kate tried anything retaliatory.

Then, he tried not to vibrate out of his skin with pent up anticipation and worry and every negative emotion he could feel in a four hour span.

~ * ~

Derek brought Stiles a coffee when they met at the park by Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles accepted the coffee and sat on the bench. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down, no matter how he pressed on it. “Hey, so did Kate do anything to you today?”

“No.” Derek took the seat next to Stiles, put his hand on his knee and then pulled back. “She was tied up in meetings all day. Jerry, though, got arrested over lunch.”

“Oh?” Stiles tried to play at being surprised but Derek touched his leg again. “Okay, yeah. So I think it was Kate, but someone blew up my phone today with threats and things.”

“Are you okay?” The worried furrow that appeared between Derek’s brows was adorable, and before he could stop himself, Stiles reached out to smooth it away. Derek smiled at the gesture.

“I’m fine. I filed a report with the Sheriff’s Department. That’s probably why Jerry got arrested. It was probably his phone.”

“I’m sorry that I got you roped into this. I didn’t think that she’d try and go after you.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Stiles took a sip of the coffee. It was too sweet, but that was okay. There was plenty of time to teach Derek how he liked his coffee. “If she gets mad enough, she’s going to make mistakes. We can stop her with those mistakes.”

“Yeah but, I just don’t want one of her mistakes to be hurting you.”

“That’s so sweet.” To make his point, Stiles sipped at the coffee again. “Look, Derek, you knew she was possessive. It’s why you made yourself unavailable. Anything she does is on her. And your sister is a freaking deputy. Kate should know better than to mess with you.”

“And yet,” Derek murmured.  He set his hand on Stiles’ knee again, and Stiles realized that his leg wasn’t bouncing anymore. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of Kate, so I think we should back off the dating thing.”

“You think so? I mean, if Kate was mad enough to burn one of her associates because of one date, imagine how much damage she’ll do to herself the longer we ‘date.’”

“I guess.”

“Besides, I thought the date was actually kind of good. And if Jerry isn’t going to be around to interrupt us again, then all the more reason to do it again.”

Derek looked away. “I don’t want to trap you,” he said quietly. “I panicked when Kate demanded that I produce my boyfriend immediately. I saw you drawing, and I—I blanked. You were familiar and that’s why I picked you out. I’m sorry.”

Stiles managed to hook a finger under Derek’s chin and draw his gaze back. “I wouldn’t have agreed to date you if I hadn’t wanted to help out.”

“But it’s not real dating,” Derek said, bitterly.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s doing what it needs to do,” Stiles said, just as bitter. He was a little mad that Derek kept reminding him that it wasn’t real. Stiles wished it were, but he also didn’t know how to broach that subject, especially because it was officially only the second day they’d been dating. And how had his dad heard about it? Stiles hadn’t told him, hadn’t wanted to jeopardize whatever rapport he and Derek had. After all, it wouldn’t do for his dad to confront Derek and announce “About damn time.” Yeah, Stiles had been friendless for nearly three years after his childhood best friend Scott McCall had transferred to a school close to his grandmother after his mother was injured in a workplace accident and his dad couldn’t take him in.

In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been Stiles’ best idea to get drunk and confess to his dad that he was bisexual and crushing on the star of the basketball team. Surprisingly, his dad had taken it well and had taken to teasing Stiles about seeing Derek when he and Cora became friends.

Now it was a matter of time before Dad hunted down Derek and demanded to have a father-boyfriend talk with him. And knowing his dad, he would probably take the opportunity to embarrass Stiles with his long-standing crush. Nope. Better to keep them apart.

“Look, Kate was probably upset because Jerry reported what I said to him.”

Derek shot Stiles a scathing look. “You think I don’t know that? Why’d you tell him that anyway? It’s not like I do that. And especially not on the first date.”

“But that wasn’t supposed to have been our first date,” Stiles pointed out. “I mean, it went toward establishing our—your alibi to having been dating me for a while.”

Derek flushed, glaring at his lap. “I guess,” he mumbled, as close to a “You’re right” Stiles was likely to get.

It did not make him feel any better. He’d still used Derek, albeit in a way that had actually helped his case. Maybe. Still, Stiles felt skeevy, like Kate had crawled under his skin and jack-hammered the crudeness of declaring sexing up Derek Hale out of his mouth.

It was not a pleasant sensation.

“I am sorry about telling him that.”

Derek shrugged, and Stiles realized he was trying to play it cool. Why though? “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, as you pointed out, if we’ve been dating for a while, it’s pretty obvious that we would have started having sex at some point.”

Or maybe not, Stiles thought, studying Derek’s suddenly green face. “Dude, are you sex-repulsed?”

“What?”

It was Stiles’ turn to shrug. “I don’t know. Like, the thought of sex, especially you having sex, makes you feel physically sick or something. Repulsed by the idea of sex.”

Derek looked thoughtful for a minute. “Maybe,” he finally said. “I guess. Cora just calls me asexual.”

“That’s probably a part of it.” And now Stiles felt even worse about telling Jerry that he and Derek were off to do the horizontal tango. Great. Guilt felt a lot like heartburn, except Stiles wouldn’t be able to chew a few antacids and have it go away. “So, I’ll understand if you really don’t want my help anymore.” Stiles bit off the rest, Not that I’ve been much help so far, because this really was not about him and he had actually helped even if it was just Kate throwing a tantrum.

“No. Kate probably smells blood,” Derek said. “She’ll probably double-down and I don’t know if I can deal with that alone.”

“Hey, you’re not alone,” Stiles hurried to assure him. “You’ve got Cora and you’ll still have me on your side even if you decide that the fake-dating isn’t working out.”

Derek seemed to think about that for a few minutes before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Hey thanks, Stiles.”

He leaned over, gave Stiles a one-armed hug, and then jumped to his feet. “I was wondering if you wanted to schedule another date now? Maybe Sunday night? There’s this really cool spot out in the preserve. Even better for looking at stars than this park. Would you like to go?”

Stiles couldn’t stop the smile or the skip in his heartbeat. “I’d love to,” he said, trying to force his tone not to jump. He wasn’t very successful but Derek didn’t seem to notice that he was unnecessarily happy for their next date. “Midnight picnic?”

“Sounds great. I’ll pack the food.”

“Okay, see you Sunday.”

Derek smiled and walked off.

Almost immediately the guilt came back, wriggling its way into his mind, spreading tendrils of doubt and disgust.

Stiles sighed, deflating down as he thought about just what he was doing. How could he survive a month of dating Derek, a month of “pretending” to be in love, and then break up like nothing happened?

How was he supposed to yell at Derek and make him un-date-able when Stiles was walking-breathing proof that someone wanted to date Derek?

He cursed himself for not asking out Derek earlier. Yes, Derek probably would have said no. It was his sister’s friend. They’d known each other since Stiles was a freshman and Derek was a senior in high school. It would have been weird, and Stiles would have been hurt by the rejection, but it surely would be better than this pseudo-relationship they were in.

Stiles needed advice, and he only knew one expert on Derek Hale. Well, only one that he was willing to talk to. Derek had another, older sister who still sometimes scared Stiles.

And there was no way Stiles was talking to either of Derek’s parents.

Nope. Cora was his go-to encyclopedia on her brother. Even after eight years.

He shot her a text, asking to meet to discuss personal things.

Her reply was almost immediate: told u

Which, no she hadn’t. She’d threatened his knees over text and then laughed her ass off when he told her face to face about dating Derek, because apparently her brother was indeed un-date-able and definitely some form of asexual. She revealed that he’d never even confessed crushes in high school.

“Sucks,” was what she’d said before she changed the subject to the upcoming Beacon Hills celebration days.

Well, told-you-so or not, Stiles still needed advice, and Cora was still going to give it to him, whether she wanted to or not.

~ * ~

Well, being adults kind of got in the way, and Stiles had papers due that he worked on all day Saturday, and Cora had a double shift at the station, so it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that their schedules finally managed to line up enough for him to crash into her room and fall onto her bed, spilling out the whole story, leaving nothing out. Before, he’d only told her that he was going to be dating her brother as an experiment, per Derek, not him.

“You did what now?” Cora asked for the third time.

“I agreed to fake-date Derek even though I am in love with him,” Stiles dutifully repeated for the third time.

“Why would you do that?”

Finally. A different question.

Stiles shrugged. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how uncomfortable he was. And Kate wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Derek told me that she’s targeted other men like him and that she always gets away with it because she files reports first.”

Cora narrowed her eyes. “Reports like what?”

“Rape and assault.”

“Jesus fuck, really?”

Stiles nodded.

“So you were helping him?”

“More like he panicked, picked me out so that he wasn’t ‘available,’ and then I agreed to keep up the charade.”

“And now you’re here,” Cora confirmed. “In love with my brother and fake-dating him.”

“Yep.”

“So is the public dumping still on?”

“Is Kate in custody yet?” Stiles countered. Cora glared at him. “Then yes. Yes it is.”

“Well that’s fantastic. Are you planning on telling my brother that you’re in love with him?”

“Ah, no. I was actually hoping that avoiding that particular problem might make it go away.”

Cora blew out a breath through her nose. Secretly, Stiles agreed. He didn’t think this was a problem that time would solve. In fact, the longer he let Derek believe that he was just helping him out instead of trying to save up as many memories of dating Derek as possible, the more their separation was going to hurt. Stiles knew he could heal from a broken heart because he’d done it before. He’d just never had to heal from his first crush.

And he didn’t want to. Selfishly, he wanted Derek to realize that dating Stiles was the best thing ever and they would never break up. Mopey, he voiced this sentiment to Cora.

“Well, you could always confess your feelings to, you know, the object of your feelings.” Stiles vigorously shook his head. “Then, something else you can do is just never break up with him. Eventually he’ll have to realize that you’re dating.”

And then Stiles would get promptly broken up with.

“We need to remove the threat of Kate,” Stiles said. “Without the excuse of why we’re dating, I can maybe ask him out again properly.”

“So how do you get rid of Kate?” Cora asked.

Stiles thought for a few minutes. “Well, she blew up my phone with threats after learning that Derek and I were ‘going to have sex.’” He aggressively shoved his air quotes in Cora’s face in an attempt to ward off any smacks or grossed out reactions she might have to him fucking her brother.

Cora fell over laughing. “Derek? Having sex?” She was practically hooting, and while Stiles understood the sentiment, it still stung.

“Hardy har har,” he intoned. “Yes, me having sex with your asexual brother is so fucking funny.”

Cora swallowed her laughs and sat up. “I’m sorry. That was really mean. It’s just, growing up with Derek gives me a perspective that maybe you’ll get to learn someday. There’s no way Derek’s having sex any time soon. In fact, if he ever has sex, I’ll buy you a diamond ring.”

“The diamond market is an evil industry and I won’t be a party to its support.”

“Jesus, Stilinski, it’s just an expression. I’m never going to actually buy you a ring of any kind.” She paused, staring into space, before a gleam came into her eyes. Stiles did not like that look. That look got him in trouble for boosting his dad’s whiskey sophomore year, leading to his bisexual confession. That look got them busted for sneaking into the only bar in Beacon Hills that didn’t card minors but called their parents.

That look was going to be the death of him one day, and while he might protest the whole way, he was still going to do whatever it was that gave Cora that look.

“What if you could incite Kate into giving herself up just by doing something really simple?” Cora asked, far more innocently than whatever she had planned.

“And how can I do that?” Stiles returned, apprehensively.

“By proposing.”

“To Kate?”

Cora hit his arm lightly. “No, idiot,” she said affectionately. “To Derek.” Stiles stared at her, incredulous. “I mean,” she rolled her eyes, “instead of breaking up with him, propose to him. Publicly so that Kate gets wind of it right away. I’ll be there so I can arrest her if she tries anything.”

“It’s been a day,” Stiles said. “If I propose now, Derek will think I’m crazy.”

“You can always ask him out again. Right now, isn’t it more important to get rid of Kate? As long as she’s around, your relationship will always be about keeping her away from Derek. Without that threat, Derek would be more open to dating you.”

“If he forgives me,” Stiles muttered.

Cora waved away his concern. “I’ll make sure he still likes you after.”

“Wait, he likes me now?”

Cora snorted. “No. He doesn’t like anyone. It’s Derek. You remember him from high school.”

“I remember him being really hot and me being too chickenshit to talk to him.”

“Well, you’re certainly not shy now,” Cora pointed out. She stood up and grabbed something off her dresser. She tossed it at Stiles, and he juggled it before she plopped down next to him again.

“What is this?” Stiles knew it was a ring box. Why Cora had given it to him, he didn’t understand. Was he supposed to use this ring to propose to Derek?

Cora opened the box, revealing a simple silver band set with a single black stone. “Zirconium,” Cora explained. “Not a real diamond.”

“Suits you,” Stiles said, because it did. Cora had had a goth phase in high school, and the only reason she probably still didn’t wear all black was because of her job. And that was only because Beacon County deputies wore brown uniforms.

She didn’t paint her nails or wear heavy makeup but that was probably because Cora was Newton’s First Law embodied—a body at rest will stay at rest even if that body wants to have heavy eyeliner and black fingernails.

“And this ring won’t be weird to propose to your brother with?” Stiles asked. He couldn’t see Derek wearing any jewelry. Hell, he never saw him wear his class ring even after agonizing about getting it.

“Well, it’s not like you’re really proposing. You’re just trying to get Kate off his back long enough for me to find something to charge her with.”

“And you’ll definitely be there?”

“How do you think Derek is getting there?” Cora paused. “You are proposing at the mall, right?”

“It is the most public place in Beacon Hills, and Derek did want it to be public.”

“Good. Okay, so I’ll make sure Kate is there to witness it.” She closed the ring box. “Stiles, Derek might say yes if he feels pressured, like if he sees Kate, so if you’re expecting him to break up on the spot, he might not.”

“I’m already fucked,” Stiles said, tucking the ring box into his pocket. “It’s not like I can fall anymore in love with him.”

“Don’t speak your own prophecy,” Cora said. “I’ll do my part, but Derek can’t know that I suggested the proposal. He’d never forgive me.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if he hates me after?” Stiles asked, just a little bitter. Derek was Cora’s brother. He’d eventually be okay with her. Stiles, though, wasn’t family, and as soon as he’d outlived his usefulness, Derek would have no obligation to keep in contact with him. It sucked that this was Stiles’ dream but Derek’s nightmare.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t hate you forever,” Cora promised.

Time would tell if it was an empty promise.

“Okay, so, should I have a script or do you want to leave it up to chance?”

“Words,” Cora immediately replied, retrieving a notebook and pen from under the bed. She flipped to a blank page and wrote at the top: Stiles’s Proposal Speech.

Then, she sat and tapped her pen on the paper for about five minutes.

“Can’t think of anything?” Stiles asked. “Like, maybe I should mention that even though it’s been such a short time, I already know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him? Or is that too much?”

“Might be a bit much for Derek, but it’s perfect for Kate.” Cora wrote it down. “Got anything else?”

Stiles had plenty of other ideas, years of observing and loving Derek from afar was enlightening, but he didn’t want to burn everything on this proposal that wasn’t even going to be real. So he only gave Cora a few more ideas, checked his phone for the time, and made the excuse of having to get ready for the date with Derek to escape.

Cora didn’t respond, too busy stringing together his ideas into what was certainly going to be a melodramatic, eloquent speech.

Stiles would collect it tomorrow, and then he and Cora would set the trap for Kate. It felt like trapping Derek too.

And Stiles was not okay with that.

It was one thing for Derek to claim him as a boyfriend to try to escape Kate’s persistence, but it was another thing entirely to trap Derek in that lie by proposing and having Kate there. Of course, Stiles could always take it back after Kate was arrested, but that was if Kate reacted the way they expected her to. If she didn’t, and Derek still was pressured to say yes, then Stiles thought he was no better than Kate.

He took a deep breath, took out his phone to text Derek to cancel tonight, and saw a message from Derek.

Just wanted to say, really looking forward to tonight. I really like hanging out with you, and I’m so thankful you’re here.

Stiles paused, mind spinning. Derek liked him? He would have given anything in high school for Derek to acknowledge him, but now, it felt cheapened.

Can’t wait 2, Stiles texted back. And that was not what he needed to say, but he figured he could think about it and talk to Derek tonight. Maybe they wouldn’t even need Cora’s plan if Kate realized that they were going on a date to an isolated area.

But that sounded like a great way to get murdered by her without having backup.

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t even know what was right anymore. Get rid of Kate by proposing to Derek? Don’t propose to Derek?

Either way, he wanted one last date with Derek before the shit hit the fan. He’d make tonight the best that he could and then if Derek decided to break contact after tomorrow, then Stiles could subsist on the what-if of a relationship with Derek with reality sprinkled in.

Life was going to suck so much, but Stiles was used to it. Mostly.

~ * ~

He and Derek met at the entrance to the preserve, and Stiles scoffed at the “No Entry After Dark” sign. The Hales had installed it after a few too many teens got caught out there, having the kind of fun their parents didn’t want them to have.

It was a lame measure, easily navigable, except for the stretched chain that meant they couldn’t take any vehicles with them.

Derek hefted a basket that must have held the midnight picnic, and Stiles lifted the chain so he could duck under it. It gave him the perfect opportunity to ogle Derek’s ass, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Guilt was choking down most of his other emotions and, not for the first time, he was thinking it had been a grave mistake to come here.

Even worse was there was no cell phone service out here so he couldn’t even send an SOS text to Cora.

It wasn’t long before Derek made him forget about his misgivings. They lied on a blanket, looking up at the stars. Which were definitely more visible without the light pollution of Beacon Hills.

It wasn’t Stiles’ intention, but he found himself talking about his webcomic, about the adventures the characters were on. Turned out Derek was a big fan, had read it from the start.

“Don’t be mad,” he prefaced his confession. “Cora told me all about it back when you first started posting it. I liked it enough to keep coming back.”

Stiles smiled. He didn’t mind. He hadn’t sworn Cora to secrecy until after the comic had taken off and gained Internet fame. It was actually a relief that Derek had seen the comic and hadn’t made the connection that Malcolm was based on him.

Before he quite knew it, they’d been there for three hours, and Derek was dozing, head on his shoulder.

Stiles nudged him. “Should we go home?” he asked, thinking of the sign at the entrance of the preserve.

Derek yawned, snuggling closer. “Don’t wanna move,” he mumbled.

“We should though,” Stiles said. “I’m sure that even your parents don’t want you out here all night.”

Derek sighed before sitting up. “You’re right. Come on. We can crash at my parents if we’re too tired to drive home. They live just off the side of the preserve.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he should take Derek up on that offer, but he had to admit that it was really nice to have Derek next to him as he fell asleep. And just like that the guilt was back.

“I should get back to my apartment. I have class tomorrow.”

“And you let me have a late date?” Derek asked, incredulous.

Stiles shrugged. “I really like hanging out with you. It’s not a big deal, and it’s not like I’d already be in bed anyway.”

“Still, I don’t want to get in the way of your schooling. Or your interests. You don’t have to go on dates with me. It’s not like Kate’s watching us that closely.”

Stiles grunted in agreement. Except, the minute they were back on the access road and had service again, both their phones dinged with incoming messages.

Stiles had several texts from an unknown number and two voicemails. Derek frowned down at his phone. Stiles punched in his voicemail.

Cora.

“Stiles, where the fuck are you? Don’t go back to your apartment. We got a call out. Fire was dispatched. Kate Argent—not proven of course—just burned your apartment down. Call me back now.”

Sent almost an hour ago.

Stiles turned to Derek, and he was ashen, his own phone to his ear. Faintly, Stiles could hear someone screaming over the speaker.

“Are you okay?”

Derek nodded, but he didn’t move even when the message either stopped or dropped to a volume Stiles could no longer hear.

Stiles dialed Cora’s number, putting her on speaker. “Stiles! Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m at the preserve,” he answered, “with Derek. We’re both okay.”

“Stay right there. The Sheriff is sending a deputy out to you.”

“What’s up with my apartment? Someone burned it down?”

Cora blew out a breath. “We won’t know until the arson investigator takes a look at it. We were able to save most of the building, but you’ll have to file reports with your insurance.”

“That’s just great.” Stiles sighed, running a hand over his head and tugging at his hair. “Thanks for doing that, Cora.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Just get in your car and lock the doors. The deputy should be where you are in less than half an hour. And keep Derek with you.”

Derek moved to lean over Stiles’ phone. “Why?”

Cora blew out a breath. “We’ve found some disturbing imagery at the scene,” she said. “You’re both not safe.”

“Cora, I got some messages from Kate, I think. It was a little hard to understand what she was saying. I’ll pass on the messages when the deputy gets here.”

Someone spoke to Cora, their words coming through the line like a heavy blur. Stiles thought he recognized his dad’s voice though.

“Okay, so the Sheriff wants you to go to the Sheriff’s Station. Someone will meet you there to take copies of the messages you’ve both received.”

“Both?” Stiles asked. He hadn’t mentioned the messages he’d gotten. How had she guessed?

“Both,” Cora repeated. “Look, if this is Kate, she’s escalating and quickly. Stiles, you had those messages from before. I would be surprised if you hadn’t gotten more. Now, get in your car and start driving. We have no idea where Kate is, and for all we know, she found out where you are. Get in your car, lock your doors, and start driving. Don’t stop until you’re at the Sheriff’s Station and a deputy can escort you in.”

“And I guess you want us to stay on the line?” Stiles took Derek’s hand, leading him to his Jeep.

“Preferably, yes,” Cora answered. “Are you in your vehicle yet?”

“Yep.” Doors were locked too. Derek buckled his seat belt, setting the basket down by his feet. Stiles buckled his own belt and turned the key in the ignition.

The headlights came on and Stiles swallowed back a yelp. Derek next to him wasn’t as lucky.

“What?!” Cora cried. “What’s going on?”

Kate Argent was standing in the headlights. How they hadn’t seen her, Stiles didn’t know. He threw the Jeep in reverse and punched the accelerator.

Kate lumbered after them, raising her hand to throw something after them.

Derek yelled again when glass shattered over the hood of the Jeep, fire spreading with it.

“We’re on fire!” Stiles yelled into his phone.

“What?!”

“She threw a fucking Molotov cocktail or some shit at us.”

“And now you’re on fire?!”

“Yes!” Stiles shifted to drive and stood on the accelerator. “Where is she?” he asked Derek.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see. I think she pulled off after she threw that thing. Are we okay to keep driving even though we’re on fire?”

“No!” Cora answered. Stiles ignored her, pressing the gas a little harder. “Stop driving! Get out and hide! We’re all coming to get you!”

“I’m not letting that bitch get her hands on us or my Jeep.”

Quietly, Cora asked, “Even if it ends up costing you both your lives?”

“Here she comes!” Derek shouted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw headlights aiming right for them. He jerked the wheel, switching to the brake. The whole Jeep shuddered and the brakes squealed as he executed a sharp turn. The vehicle, looked like a two door car of some kind, missed them by inches.

“We’re heading west from the preserve, back to town. Kate’s still chasing us.”

“And are you still on fire?”

Derek unbuckled his seat belt and shrugged out of his jacket. Stiles bumped the Jeep up onto the pavement and slowed. Derek leaned out of his rolled-down window and beat at the flames with his jacket.

After a few tense moments where Kate came barreling out of the preserve and turned on to the road, tires screeching, the flames were out, and Derek was back inside, buckled up again.

“No,” Stiles said. “Not on fire anymore. But Kate’s chasing us, and I hate to say it, she’ll probably catch us. My Jeep is not the fastest thing on the road.”

“We’re coming to you. Do not deviate.”

Already, Stiles could see flashing lights up ahead. Behind them, Kate slowed and then turned off.

“She’s not with us anymore,” he announced.

“Good,” Cora said. “Keep driving. You’ll have a police escort to the Station. We’ll put your car in the evidence garage so it won’t be left unattended. Are you both okay?”

Stiles nodded, mentally checking himself over. Yeah. He was fine. He turned to ask Derek the same question and realized that Derek was not okay. He was hyperventilating, shaky and pale, soot smudged over his face, his jacket forgotten over his lap.

“Uh, negative. Think we’ve got a panic attack going on. Will need assistance ASAP.”

“You or Derek?”

“Derek.”

“Roger that. Just keep driving. Help is just a little farther.”

Stiles put the worry about what Kate was doing right now in the back of his mind and focused on reaching the deputies, parking and unbuckling Derek’s seatbelt so that the first deputy to reach them could just open the door and pull Derek out onto the pavement.

Stiles climbed out, grabbing onto another deputy, who was really the Sheriff.

“You’re okay,” Stiles’ dad said, leading him to a cruiser. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Stiles gestured at Derek, still surrounded by deputies. “We saw Kate. She found us when we got back to the Jeep. We were on the phone with Cora ‘cause my apartment got burned down?”

“Not fully down,” his dad said. “The fire department responded quickly enough that they were able to save the building, but your stuff is probably another matter.”

“Well, fire must be Kate’s choice of weapon for the night because she threw something at my Jeep and suddenly, we were on fire.” Stiles’ phone trilled sharply and he pulled it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Did you reach the deputies?” Cora asked. “We got disconnected.”

“Yeah, my dad found us.” Stiles craned his neck, trying to see how Derek was doing. His view was blocked by at least three deputies. Another two were inspecting Stiles’ Jeep. “I don’t know how Derek’s doing. He was having a panic attack last I knew.”

“Was it Kate Argent?”

“Yes. She pulled off when she saw the lights. I don’t know if she’ll go home or if she’s lying in wait somewhere.”

“Well, for safety reasons, the Sheriff will probably have you stay somewhere with a guard.”

“Great. Well. Thanks for everything. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Cora drew in a breath like she was going to say something else but then all she said was, “Bye.”

“We’ve got a hotel room for you,” Dad said, taking Stiles’ shoulder and leading him to where one of the deputies was sitting with his arm around Derek. “Isaac is going to stay with you to make sure that Kate Argent doesn’t attack you.” The deputy with his arm around Derek half-waved at Stiles.

“And how are we getting there?”

“I’m driving,” Isaac said. “We can’t risk Argent seeing either of your vehicles and attacking you again.”

“And what about my Jeep? Cora mentioned putting it in the evidence garage?”

“Absolutely. We have a few deputies going to retrieve Derek’s Camaro just in case Kate Argent attacked his things like she did yours.” Dad takes Stiles’ keys

Stiles and Derek were stashed in the back of a cruiser and whisked to the station.

A few hours later after their statements and a preliminary search for Kate, Isaac the deputy and Isaac’s partner, Boyd, drove Stiles and Derek to a motel in Hill Valley.

Before he left to patrol the area, Boyd handed Stiles a lump of something. “We think this may have been the trigger for Kate’s aggression tonight,” he said, cutting a quick glance to where Derek was huddled on one of the beds. “I’m so sorry for what she’s putting you through.”

Stiles just nodded and then threw the deadbolt as soon as the door shut.

He checked his phone and noticed that Kate hadn’t sent any more messages to him. Good.

The lump Boyd had handed him weighed heavier on his soul than his palm and he squeezed it tightly. It was Cora’s ring. Kate had attacked them because she thought Stiles was going to propose to Derek. Which he had been. That had been the plan.

He sighed and stuck it in his pocket. Derek’s phone buzzed, and Derek flinched but didn’t otherwise move to answer it.

“May I?” Stiles asked when it buzzed again. Derek shrugged, handing him it, swiping his thumb over the back to unlock it.

Stiles opened the messaging app. Eighty-five texts. Eighty of them from Kate. The phone buzzed again, three times in quick succession. Make that eighty-three texts from Kate. Stiles jumped to the texts from Cora.

Don’t come home

Got camaro to garage leaving keys with sheriff

Plz call asap

Tell me ur both okay

Derek?

The time stamp on Cora’s texts meant that they’d already touched base with her after she sent the texts, so Stiles moved on to Kate’s messages.

All of them threatening and graphic.

Apparently Kate really wanted to eviscerate Stiles, pull all his bowels out, and while he was suffering, she wanted to rape Derek next to his dying corpse. She even had attached a picture of herself fucking the bottle she’d thrown at his Jeep.

Stiles promptly called his father, asked for someone to collect Derek’s phone, and then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to offer what little comfort he could to Derek.

“She isn’t going to stop, is she?” Derek asked. He was ashen, still shaken from his panic attack.

There were no words to say that would assuage him. And after a deputy had taken Derek’s phone, which had received several more graphic and certainly disturbing texts from Kate, Stiles handed Derek one of the toothbrushes Deputy Isaac had left for them, and then lied on his bed and didn’t sleep.

~ * ~

Dad called bright and early, and Derek’s phone was returned shortly after. Bad news all around: Kate hadn’t been found and had been using a now-disconnected burner phone, so all they had were her texts to Derek, and that one graphic picture. Nothing else to go by.

Derek was shaking too hard after that call that Stiles had gone down to the corner store, using techniques his dad had taught him to slip a tail, used the ancient and only payphone in all of Beacon County to anonymously dial Derek’s workplace and let them know he had taken ill. He also took the opportunity to call his professors and ask for a week off to deal with the fact that his apartment had burned. He was trying not to think about all the things he’d lost, like his physical copies of his webcomic or the quilt his great-grandmother had made for his mother when she was a baby.

Then, Stiles went back to the motel, taking a long and meandering way again, and prayed that Kate hadn’t seen him.

Derek wasn’t any better after lunch, even though it was Cora’s shift with them, and she spent all of it huddled on the bed with him.

“Before we met,” Cora said suddenly, “Derek had a stalker. He was a friend of our sister Laura. About a year after they met, he took Derek. There’s this old root cellar in the preserve. Laura had shown him it so that they could have peace and quiet away from the brats, as she called us then. He took Derek out there.”

Derek shuddered, pressing against Cora’s side.

“We had therapy for years and years. In fact, I think Derek still goes.” He nodded when she patted his arm. “The cops never caught him.” A hard glint came to her eye. “He’s buried out there in the root cellar. Or he was. It’s blocked off now anyway. Our uncle Peter still has five years before he can seek parole.”

That explained why Derek was so shaken. Stiles would be too if an event like what had happened during his childhood had repeated itself.

It also explained his urgency in picking out Stiles and calling attention to the fact that he was with someone. It hadn’t worked to dissuade Kate, but Stiles would make damn sure that it would be her downfall.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing the ring off the night stand next to his bed, “what if we lay a trap for Kate? Make sure the deputies can find her?”

He opened the box. The ring was still intact even if Kate had burned the box itself. Derek looked at the ring. “A proposal?” he asked, weakly.

Stiles nodded. “It’s why she snapped.” Guiltily, he explained about their previous idea of catching Kate when Stiles would propose. Now, things had changed. Kate had escalated far faster than any of them could have predicted. “If we go somewhere public where we can hide a bunch of deputies in the crowd, then we can lure her out and she can be arrested,” Stiles said.

“That could work,” Cora agreed. “We already know that she’s got a bunch of burner phones because she keeps contacting Derek’s phone. We’re trying to run traces on them, but it’s not really working.”

“How would you lure her?” Derek asked. When neither Cora nor Stiles said anything, he huffed. “Is she still contacting Stiles too?”

Stiles checked his phone. He’s gotten a text from each of the burner phones, but he wasn’t paying attention to it, too worried about Derek to worry about himself. Or too arrogant. Trying to keep his mind off what’s already been done to him. “Yeah. I have texts from unknown numbers.”

Cora read a few of them. “She’s definitely threatening to kill you.”

“So, here’s how you lure her: you send a mass text to everyone in your contacts except me or me too, doesn’t matter. It’s not like she knows it. And you say that you’re planning on proposing but you want a flash mob of familiar faces for support.”

Stiles stared at Derek. “That’s brilliant. It just might work.”

“Kate will know that there will be other people there,” Cora butted in. “She might not fall for it.”

Stiles picked out a text and showed it to her. In the text, Kate had described how she was going to flay him open and set his insides on fire. “I don’t think she cares about a crowd. She’ll probably show up with a gun and try shooting.”

“Let me run this plan by the Sheriff. He’ll probably want to get state police involved.”

“Tell them to wear sneakers and no watches. No visible ear pieces,” Stiles said. “I’ve seen enough pictures of undercover cops to know that they’re easily spotted a mile away. They need to blend in. Lives, more than just ours, are at stake if Kate has a weapon.”

“Just hang tight,” Cora said, phone already up to her ear. Someone rapped at the door. “That’ll be Boyd. We’ll call you with details, but just hang tight. Love you, Derek. Like you, Stiles. Don’t worry about anything, and don’t do anything without backup.”

She let Boyd in and hurried away, barking at the Sheriff. Stiles knew his dad would appreciate the information, but probably not the plan. He hoped Cora told him it was Derek’s idea.

Boyd held out his hand, and Stiles surrendered his phone.

Then, because there was nothing else to do, he pushed Derek aside and lied next to him on the bed. Eventually, he managed to drop off to sleep, mostly because Derek turned on his side, put his head on his shoulder, and weighed him down.

It was dark when Stiles woke up, and Isaac was the deputy watching them.

“The Sheriff wanted you to know that the operation has been planned for tomorrow at 1300 hours. He also wants you to know that he loves you and that he and Deputy Hale will be your escorts during the operation.”

Next to Stiles, Derek yawned widely before snuggling back down.

“Can I send the text now?” Stiles asked.

Isaac shook his head. “A text has been sent for you.”

Great, more waiting. And Stiles didn’t even have his sketchpad so he couldn’t exactly distract himself. Something else lost in the fire.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Derek prompted.

Stiles rolled his eyes and dutifully repeated the words. Then, Isaac settled in the corner, staring at nothing in particular. Derek tugged at Stiles’ arm.

“Wanna try spooning,” was all he said when Stiles looked at him. Then, he flopped over, ass pressed against Stiles’ crotch, one of Stiles’ arms over his waist, curled right above his dick. It was surprisingly intimate, especially for someone who possibly was sex repulsed, like Derek, so Stiles worked at keeping his breathing even as he experimentally threw a leg over Derek.

He hummed a little, kicked it back over and then drew it between his own legs. “Better.”

Better for Derek maybe, better for an accidental boner for Stiles. Hopefully Derek wouldn’t mind the imminent erection.

Might as well enjoy the whole experience, Stiles thought a little desperately, dropping his head to nose at the back of Derek’s neck. Derek shivered from the contact but didn’t voice any complaints, so Stiles kept his face there.

He wished it were real, and maybe that was why he didn’t fall asleep again until Derek accidentally rolled out of his arms during the wee morning hours.

~ * ~

Stiles climbed out of his Jeep, his dad hopping out of the passenger seat. Cora was driving Derek’s Camaro with Derek riding shotgun.

Derek looked pale again, nervous. He’d woken up and refused any and all touches. He’d only waved a little when Cora collected him about thirty minutes before Stiles’ dad had shown up with the Jeep.

They’re at the mall, and while a lot of Stiles’ actual contacts had regretfully informed him that they had work or school and couldn’t attend, they wished him the best. The deputies and state police officers had taken Stiles’ advice and were near indistinguishable from the regular shoppers.

“What’s the timeframe again?” Stiles asked his dad, just for something to do.

“You go in, walk around for about ten minutes, and then get to the food court—it’s been shut down for ‘repairs.’ Get on one knee, say something pretty to Derek, and we’ll grab Kate if she’s around. We might get her before then too.”

Stiles had checked his phone in the morning and had a text from one of Kate’s burners: see u there :) so she was definitely aware and at least planning something.

Derek joined them at the entrance where Dad loudly announced his plans to visit that one store that looked like a hunter’s wet dream.

“Turner’s Outdoorsman,” Stiles muttered when he marched off. “It’s called Turner’s Outdoorsman.”

“Might as well be a hunter’s wet dream,” Cora remarked. She glanced around, a casual casing to see if they’d been spotted yet. “I have to get a present for Mom. See you at the meeting place.”

Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ hand as soon as she vanished into the crowd.

“I don’t like this,” he said under his breath.

“Neither do I, but I don’t see another option to getting Kate to stop unless you want to break out your uncle and let him do what he does.”

“There’s an idea.”

“I’m not serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

They walked slowly, window shopping. Derek pointed out a few things that his sisters liked, and a telescope that he wanted. He was saving up for it, and though his job paid well, it sucked so much joy out of his life. “I don’t know that it’s even just Kate,” he told Stiles as they walked past a cluster of deputies, Boyd and Isaac the only ones Stiles can identify, enjoying hot pretzels.

“Those look good,” Stiles said. The deputies had been good about bringing them food, but at the motel, Stiles had been a little too nervous to eat much. Now he’s starving.

Derek wrinkled his nose at the cheese sauce, but he bought a pretzel for Stiles.

“It’s true love,” Stiles declared, dunking his pretzel and stuffing a third of it in his mouth at once.

“Twoo wuv,” Derek began quoting, and Stiles choked on his pretzel. And then, their ten minutes was up.

“Wanna check out the food court?” Stiles asked, false casualness.

Derek shrugged. “Sure, why not? Seeing you scarf that monstrosity actually made me a little peckish.”

They arrived at the food court, and Stiles pretended to be disappointed that it was closed. They could still walk through and sit at the tables, but there was caution tape littered everywhere.

It wasn’t a very romantic spot for proposals, but it was the most open and empty place in the mall right now, plus there were a few pillars that could provide emergency cover if they needed it.

Could also hide Kate, but the undercover officers swarmed the court from all angles. There was nowhere for Kate to hide now.

Derek pretended to be interested in picking up the tape while Stiles pulled out the ring, in a new box, and dropped to one knee. He waited for Derek to notice him, and when he didn’t, he cleared his throat.

Derek turned, and then, suddenly he didn’t seem to be acting anymore. His eyes filled with tears as he stared at Stiles, knelt down in the middle of an empty food court.

“Derek Hale, we’ve been dating for long enough. I know you, and I know you make me happy. I know I never want to see another day without your bright smile and charming wit in it.”

Stiles almost broke down there because he realized that he wasn’t pretending either. If he was really proposing to Derek, these were the words he’d use.

He rambled on a little bit about love and what Derek meant to him, and then he asked, “Will you marry me?”

Derek nodded, almost frantically, all but running to lift Stiles off the ground in a hug. Stiles barely noticed the commotion in the background because he and Derek were kissing. Derek’s wet face was pressed to his, their hands tangled together.

When they finally pulled apart, several of the deputies were hauling away a fighting and snarling Kate Argent. She’d dyed her honey-blonde hair dark brown and a pair of glasses were askew across her face, but it was definitely her.

“We’ll make sure her bail is too high to get out,” Dad promised them. He nodded to the ring. “Congratulations. You’re good for each other. Hope to have you over for dinner soon.”

Cora waved at them too. “I’ll text you later. Give me details, but not too many. I want to be your best man, Stiles.”

Stiles stared after them, a little shocked. “They do know that that was part of the plan, right?” he asked Derek.

Derek plucked out the ring. “Doesn’t matter if it was. It’s real now.” He slid the ring on his finger, admiring it. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Stiles barked out a startled laugh. “I think you’ll find that it is you who is stuck with me,” he countered. Soberly, he asked, “Do you want it to be real? Because Derek, I really do love you. I really would like to marry you. I’ve had too many tastes to say I can give you up. Besides, the agreement was only for a public dumping to get Kate away from you.” He pointed at the retreating group of deputies, Kate Argent in their midst, still fighting. “She’s going to be very far away from you now.”

“How about this answer?”

Stiles turned to Derek because that wasn’t an answer at all, and gets another kiss. A little drier this time until Derek pokes him with his tongue.

“Thought you didn’t kiss people you don’t know well,” Stiles joked.

Derek just grinned at him. “I spooned with you. I took you to my spot to star gaze,” he protested. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and led him out to the parking lot. And that ring looked damn fine sitting on Derek’s finger.

 ~ Three Months Later ~

They kept the engagement, did the rounds with the parents and celebrations. They even had a registry for their wedding. Just a few bottles of champagne to toast with. They were also moving in together at the end of the month.

And they had gone on several dates. Derek had even written a full length novel based on Stiles’ webcomic.

Currently, they were out in the preserve, lying on a blanket, Derek’s brand new telescope set up behind them while Derek pointed up at the stars, explaining the constellations again. To Stiles, they still looked like dots, pinpricks in the dark velvet of the night.

He raised himself up on one elbow. “Hey, so what happens when the stars do align? Is there some kind of cosmic energy?”

Derek shook his head. “They’re all dead or dying. They’re so far away, and we won’t know if maybe when they align, it’s because one is killing another, or they’re merging or something. Not for billions of years, anyway.”

“Well, I know what happens on Earth when the stars align.”

Derek glanced at him, raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked. The little furrow of consternation was beautiful. Derek was beautiful.

Stiles leaned over him and slotted their mouths together. “This,” he whispered into the warmth of Derek’s lips.

For a long moment Derek didn’t move or respond. And then, just as Stiles went to pull away, he dragged him down so that now their legs were tangled. He’d become a lot more bold, more willing to test the waters, as it were.

“You asshole,” he said, smiling. “The stars didn’t align for that.”

“They could have,” Stiles retorted. He could argue his point all night, but he’d rather kiss Derek. And it seemed like Derek agreed with that plan.

On Derek’s finger, the ring glinted as brilliantly as the brightest star. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned for this, but Stiles thanked them all the same as he managed to make Derek gasp his name to them.

~ End ~

[namjoonchronicles]

rkive | nj

↳ namjoon, you

↳ 5k words

↳ 1/3 ‘take your wife to work’ fic

↳ husband!namjoon, domestic au, fluff

A soft caress on the side of his face as he lay asleep in the middle of your bed, invading the side that you assigned to yourself. You glide your hand down the length of his shoulder down his forearms before leaning down for a trail of kisses all over his cheeks.

“Wakey, wakey, baby…” you brushed your lips and spoke in gentle hushes, “you told me to wake you up at 8.30am, it’s now 8:35.”

He moans sleepily in return, eyes shut while his hand wildly search for the ends of the duvet, attempting to pull them up to cover his shoulders again. Of course. You passed the opposing wall a blank stare, the I-knew-this-was-gonna-happen face. You climbed on the bed, over his sleeping body, and to the curtains before yanking it open. Namjoon did nothing more but whine, rocking his body side to side--just like a child throwing morning tantrum. “Come on,” you knelt next to his lanky legs, his toes peeping out the ends of the duvets that didn’t manage to cover his whole being. He sat up after a while and leaned his forehead on your back. “I’m so sleepy…” he murmured.

“I can see that, so I brought coffee…” you reached the back of his head with your right hand, fluffing his bed hair. You feel him smiling against your back and how his lips moved to the back of your neck. “This is honestly why I married you…” he added a low deep chuckle that wasn’t intentionally sexual.

“Glad to be your honorary coffee maker…” you retorted and switched to face him, sitting on the bed still, to cup his face, “I am extremely underpaid.”

He began thumbing your side with a drowsy smile, almost drunken, chuckling. “With added benefits, I believe…” he pursed his lips, with his heavy-lidded eyes, fishing for a kiss. You clicked your tongue after a quick peck and pushed his face away before he could deepen them, giving him a lopsided smile, “In this economy? Sounds too good to be true if you ask me…”

“Am I asking, though?”

You took in a steady inhale, and your eyes turned into thin slits, peering at your husband and his snarky reply so early in the day.

“You will treat me with respect. You will treat me as a wife,” you prodded his chest with your index finger, “Or you will no longer have one.” You cocked an eyebrow and moved away from the bed despite him holding on loosely, “Hurry the fuck up, the pancake is getting cold…” you disappeared outside. Namjoon pushed both the heel of his palm on the mattress with a smile playing on his lips. His wife is feisty and he loves it. He won that conversation and he knows it. As soon as he stepped outside with the mug you coaxed him awake with, your phone camera was on him. He is being followed very closely.

“May I know what these footages are for?” He said, looking down the water washing down his mug. You zoomed into his fluffy arms. He wore tanks to sleep and his BCG Vaccine scar showing up pretty nicely from the distance you were filming him at.

“For days that I terribly miss you,” you passed, “Because even though you’re always on your phone, you never have time to send me a cute self-portrait, so I’m making a video for myself…”

He fills his mug with plain water now, leaning against the counter, his black tank showing his ribs from this angle, he took a mouthful sip before talking through the mug, “For days you missed me? Am I hearing this correctly?”

You nodded from behind the camera, and Namjoon lifts his face and placed his mug aside, “Come here,” he ordered.

“Why.” “Just get here.” “No.” “If we’re saving that for our times away, shouldn’t there be a memorable scene.”

Intriguing, you thought.

“What do you have in mind--” “--you know what I have in mind.”

You had to stop recording because he was getting rather bold with his words and facial expressions. Sitting on one chair, you sat on his lap while sharing a plate of pancake, drenched with honey. You grimaced at the first bite he fed you. “How are you eating this much sweetness…” you commented.

“To chase away the bitterness of the coffee…” he shoved another bite-sized into his own mouth. You set your phone to lean against the vase, to shoot horizontally. “We’re back filming?” he asked, his palm gliding up and down your lower back, glancing once in a while at the camera.

“Is this camera going to follow me when we arrive at the studio building later?” he asked, looking at the food and then at you for confirmation. “Yes… you have a problem with that? You want to sue me for it?” you challenged him a smile, biting your lips and he broke eye contact immediately, scoffing. “Can you afford the legal fees going against me?” Namjoon licks the residue honey on the corner of his lips. “Now you’re just showing off your big dick energy, big boy…” you circled your arm around his neck and retorted, “Isn’t that what got you interested in the first place?” “Wow, almost six years of marriage and you still don’t know that I’m only after your money,” you nuzzled the tip of your nose on his.

Namjoon closes in, whispering hotly against your mouth, “I don’t care if you’re only using me for my money, I only want to earn for you...honey.” He embraces your lips with his own, kneading the flesh together in a rhythmic motion, with literal honey still lingering on his tongue, fully aware that your phone is filming his every move. He made sure that his tongue made a glimpse as it enters yours, him passing a glance at the lens from the corner of his eyes as if to remind himself that he was being recorded.

“I want a copy of this footage later,” he spoke in hushes, against your ear as you give the camera your clothed back. His dark brown eyes darting at the camera as he sinks his teeth onto your shoulder, playing the staring game with it.

“Who cares about what you want,” you darkly chuckled.

Brushing your teeth next to each other become a routine, now that he’s home more than he leaves the country. He pokes your side and pinched your cheek at any chance he gets, so that’s something. Something about being home with him felt natural but extraordinary because he rarely gets to do so in the early years of your marriage. “You know, when you rap, there’s this vein on the right side of your neck protruding out, and I think it’s so sexy…” you traced the length of the vein with your index finger, tiptoeing next to him, by memory.

“You think everything I do is sexy,” he shot back, and spit out foams into the sink before rinsing off with little thought. “But am I wrong though,” you pushed his entire body as he bends over with little strength, and he stumbles to the side a bit.

He leaves the bathroom with a playful kiss on your clothed butt cheek, hollering, “Of course you’re right. You’re always right…” on his way out. “You’re choosing my outfit today!” You reminded him.

“Got it!” He yelled from the walk-in wardrobe.

“I’m thinking of something sophisticated yet modest...something shapey but not too tight, maybe a little loose,” his index finger on his chin as he trudges forward then back repeatedly, “I’m thinking Versace?” He took out a printed silk blouse with blue pants.

You walked out with a black purse, commenting, “I look like a rich man’s mistress on a Mallorca getaway, spending his hard-earned money while he fucks another 19-year-old blonde, and I get to purchase a very handsome male companion with an Italian name like, Emanuele, whom I bore a child with; so I can get a run for the rich dude’s money when I file for divorce.”

Namjoon let out a delicious moan, “Very scandalous. I like it too.” He lifts his butt from the couch and followed you out the door.

“But if you were my mistress, I wouldn’t be fucking anyone else and Emanuele shall never exist. It’s just you, me and Mallorca,” he shut the door behind him and it automatically clicked locked.

He fastens his seatbelt while you fixed the rearview mirror because it’s been tilted in a weird angle after a sudden roll in the car the other day. You just can’t stop touching each other whenever you guys were left unsupervised. This is why you both have no friends apart from his members. “If you liked the veins in my neck, then I love the sexy mole on the apex of your left thigh…” the belt clicks while the car engine hurls on.

“How on earth did you remember I have a mole there? What’s with the sudden compliment about my body?” you eyed him with suspicions read all over your face. “It’s super sexy. When I think of it, I get super horny? Also, you have like three very prominent moles, from my memory… the thigh, the pinky toe and one behind your right ear,” he clicked his tongue while the car moves out the parking lot.

“The details of that description is honestly disturbing,” you shot, steering the wheel with both your hands, “We’re not going to be long in the studio building right? I don’t trust you being there with me without getting handsy, knowing your touchy ass.” You eyed him up and down, giving him a side glance with a slight warning. “Whenever I see you, I don’t want to behave…” Namjoon leans over to your side, grinning.

“See, this is what I’m talking about…” you darted emotionlessly.

You have never been inside of Namjoon’s office. Not since they moved. Namjoon said he renovated his studio again, changing the soundproof walls--or as you call it, sponge walls that offers a great cushion for any rough acts. Both of you are terribly explicit and have too many inside jokes for anyone to keep up with. Most of your friends can’t tell if you both were fighting or basically roasting each other to no end. The sarcasm gets too raw and merciless at times, coming from two very sensitive people the world had ever seen. Namjoon and you are like lovers who secretly hate each other when you’re around people and strangers, but can be very lovey-dovey when it’s least expected. That’s why when you took yourself inside the building after waiting for about twenty minutes in the car, you declared an insult to Namjoon who was on the phone at the time.

You immediately retracted silently and blinked repeatedly. Even as he extended his arm at you, you were cautious at the receptionist who was there waiting on her work station, standing up at Namjoon’s wave--that indicates he needed a paper and pen. You stood next to him as he listens attentively to the caller. When he hangs up, he scribbled a few more words that made no sense to you. “Babe, I think our trip is going to drag a bit longer since someone will be expecting to meet me in an hour,” he underlines a name twice and the receptionist bowed to you while Namjoon used his keycard to gain access inside the staff-only area. You saw that the place had large lounges.

“Can I expect an exclusive building tour with my husband?” you gave a pair of hopeful eyes and he was honestly so whipped for you, that it took very little for him to abide by your request. He had always wanted to offer you a tour of his new studio. Since he had been actively requesting several rooms and units in this new building to be made under his orders.

Staff lounges. Game room. Pantry. Everything is sleekly designed, with modern vibes. High ceiling and good lighting.

“This is where Taehyung sometimes lives, the game room,” Namjoon used his keycard to gain access to the exclusive room. “Where the recording studios at?” you wondered and Namjoon’s face switches into a goofy smile. He pointed his thumb to the hallway behind him, “This way, ma’am…” he walked sideways in order to continue looking at you.

The studio was everything you imagined and more. The intricated equipment on display, the recording booth. Your lips parted slightly in a wide smile, at awe of the place your husband spent most of his time in. This is where Namjoon regularly works in. He’d be sitting in one of these chairs, monitoring the recording session with high fidelity headphones around his head. You imagine him being all serious with his music and your heart flutter like a schoolgirl having a crush on a bad boy down the alley she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with. Namjoon pulls a chair out and sat at the same time you did. You couldn’t stop scanning the whole room with sparkling eyes. You never thought you would see it in real life. You’ve heard many songs recorded in this very room and you couldn’t help being absolutely awestruck.

“Where do you sit?” you asked him. “Right in that seat, you’re sitting in, recording engineer. BangPD sits here and Pdogg hyung, on that chair, usually,” he pointed to the long couch in the room.

You rested your elbow on the armrest, your chin on the heel of your palm, spinning softly in the chair that belonged to him. “Look how far you’ve come… this is. This is amazing, you’re amazing, you know that baby?” you gave him a glance, pursing your lips and returned your attention to the setting of the studio. Namjoon appeared bashful and you didn’t have to look at him to know that he’s turning red. “I’ve always wondered about your early days...how you began. How you bravely chose a path none of the people in your shoes would. You go against the wishes of your folks, and take the storm head first,” you paused, speaking with a little shake of your head, and, “Why are you so goddamn brave? What triggered you? Who was Namjoon before he is Namjoon? Do you know how much hazards there is for boys your age to embark on a hiphop journey? Drugs? Prostitution?... missing classes? The horror your parents must have faced, you naughty boy.”

Namjoon covered the upper part of his face, hiding his laugh right after, giggling. “I wasn’t a naughty boy…” he said.

“Sure you are.” “Am not, I promise…” he rested both of his elbows on his knees, thigh widespread as he sat facing you. The view of the studio as the background from your side, “I just remember wanting something so much that my inside feels like it’s ripping if I ever abandon it. I knew, I just knew that I want to be a musician, no matter how difficult it was going to be, or whom I may lost on the way...even if it means, myself. It’s not just hiphop to me, I found family, a brotherhood, a pact, a passion I couldn’t find anywhere else…”

You mirrored his actions, and touched the tips of his fingers with yours, lacing and unlacing them, “You’re capable of everything. That’s what your teacher told you.”

“Yes, I was capable of a lot of things… but none of it appealed to me. I could bow under the demands of conventional educational system, do what I do without an ounce of soul in my power--forever wondering if this was the life I truly wanted, knowing that I’m good at something else…it was very difficult to tell my father, especially,” Namjoon reminisce, his eyes dropped to the floor as the pain clearly never left his mind.

“You were starved for days, and stood at a corner within a circle as a punishment,” you spoke in place of him. He drops his head and then nodding. His pocket money was taken away. He had curfew. His family did everything they can to prevent Namjoon from seeing his brothers from the hiphop scene. He skipped classes while simultaneously doing well in his studies despite pouring his entire passion into music instead of his school books. The boy who sleeps in the back of the class from attending rap battle almost never failed any of his quizzes and exams. His treaty with his parents was as follow: if I manage to maintain a good score in classes, you’ll let me do music.

You cupped his chin in response to his silence, and made him stare into your eyes, “I, am proud of what you were, what you are and what you’ll become… and my love may not be enough to fill the holes you have in you, all the flaws you thought you have, and shortcomings that you’re afraid of showing… but I will always have your back, through thick and thin,” you granted him a chaste kiss on his lips, making a squeaking sound, “Even if we ever end up divorcing.” You smiled against his ear lobe. “If I ever made you think about divorcing me, you can rightfully pull me by the dick and I’ll make you want me again,” he commented.

“Can I go in there?” you pointed to the booth. “Absolutely,” Namjoon shot.

He watched you skipped towards the entrance of the recording booth with a fond smile. The speaker buzzed on, and the green light above turns on while the white tile outside the studio indicating, “In Session” lights up, simultaneously.

He lowers his mouth to the microphone, and pressed the intercom button before he speaks. “There’s a headphone on the neck of the tall stool if you put it on you’ll hear my voice better… without the echo,” he watched you put on the very headphone and you gave him a gleeful thumbs up like a kid putting on a fire suit at the fire station tour. Such an excited little baby, Namjoon thought.

He increases the receiving volume and told you that the microphone in the recording booth is up and ready to receive any sound and that you could say anything you want.

“Nice tits,” you bit your smile and pointed to him while drawing a heart shape with your index fingers. Namjoon gave you a fool in love grin, with a dumbfounded chuckle. Of all the things you could have said, you settled on that. This is what he loved about you. The fact that you could be tastefully affectionate, riddled with deep conversations he truly enjoys--at one point, and be an idiot, the next. It’s true what they say, that the union ripens with time like a fine wine. The longer you were together, the more you’re helplessly in love with one another. The secrets to the everlasting marriage? Consistently hitting on each other to no end.

Namjoon had to leave for the meeting. He is monitoring a recording session in the studio next door and at first, you were there to watch him work. But after a while, you felt like you haven’t finished exploring the entire building. As he stood by the chair of the sound engineer-in-charge, you tugged on his sleeve to have him leaning down so you could whisper in his ear. He nodded in return, crossing his arm, putting on his work mode as he straightens up. You grabbed your purse from the black long couch to leave the studio in a hurry and grinning excitedly all the while. Before you leave, Namjoon reminded you to, “Be careful. Keep your phone on at all times…”

Not long after you stepped out the studio, Namjoon tutted his tongue, shoving his hand to the back pocket of his jeans for his keycard, before rushing out the same door. His keycard at the end of the lanyard dangling meters away from the floor. You spun around at the call of your pet name and sped back to him. He had his lower half of the body inside the studio still, wanting to make sure you get access to all the rooms in this buildings. You kissed his chin and put the lanyard around your neck, turning away. Namjoon watched you enter the lift and you waved back at him enthusiastically. He is very much enamored by his wife. 

You’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to be in their wardrobe area. Most of the attires are owned by the company, and the stylist sometimes designs clothes that would suit them.

“No, I want my Gucci’s here today!” You heard a fairly familiar voice, coming from the hidden halls of the large space intended for clothes’ only. “Taehyung?” you guessed. The pretty boy came out from the dividers as if he walked out of a magazine shoot. Pink tinted glasses, flowery printed dress shirt with striking yellow trousers. Wrist decorated with multiple bangles and rings on fingers. Once he locked his eyes with you, he puts away his phone immediately. The person on them was still talking. He taps the ‘end call’ button and you blinked at him.

“Mrs. Kim Namjoon…” he recalled, letting on some sleazy drawl at the end of it. His expression was nothing at all polite. “Who’s day did you ruin with that abrupt end call, Taehyung…” it wasn’t a question, just a mild reality-check for the fantasy-stricken boy who sometimes needs to be called out.

Taehyung visibly shrinks twice in size as he plopped on the couch next to you. “...what’s bothering you sweetie?” you rubbed his back, joining him.

Taehyung took some time to reveal what’s on the inside, but that’s just typical Taehyung. He’s a little-guarded soul with glittering fences. Let’s so few in, but entranced all others. How could he not, with his handsome good looks and honey-dripped voice. He wanted to become a good lyricist, just like Namjoon is. You could tell their work apart because even though Namjoon’s work is poetic, Taehyung prefers to fall into the beauty of imagery as well as metaphors. Taehyung has a vivid imaginations a fellow artist and writers share, but he describes it differently.

“Retail therapy isn’t a thing, is it, noona?” he added an awkward chuckle at the end of it, laced with the bitterness of a lonely soul. “It is only a thing when you do have money,” you replied honestly, and from the sparkles, in his eyes, as he beamed at you, you knew he appreciated the sincerity.

“I’m trying to write a love song, but it had been sitting on my desk for about a week now… I kept trying to imagine a situation of being in love, but I’ve never been in it, so how will I write something I know nothing about…” his shoulders dropped as he sighed out the words, “I kept getting dissatisfied with the imagery I come up with, feeling that it’s not enough or too much… Namjoon hyung won’t have these problems, would he?”

You propped your elbow to rest on your knee, chin on the heel of your palm. Your wedding ring sparkling under the light of the hall. Nose scrunch as you showed disagreement on Taehyung’s accusations. Your eyes shot to the corner of the room along with a click of the tongue.

“Namjoon has a different approach on solving writer’s block. Yours happen to be retail therapy, and Namjoon, well Namjoon, sometimes he reads a comic book.” “Namjoon hyung has you. I have no one…” “That’s not true! Sometimes when we both deal with something difficult, we don’t talk about it to each other from the get-go, and that’s one of the flaws in our marriage that we’re still working on,” you paused and inhaled, “Being in love and staying in love are two different things… love is flawed. It’s nothing perfect. Listen, about your songwriting… Have you consulted anyone about it?”

“I’m consulting you…” Taehyung goofs, “But literally I’ve spoken to everyone including Yoongi hyung about it, but nothing helps.” “Your efforts will pay off, buddy,” you patted his forearms twice, “...maybe you’re too focused on it and it has stopped you from viewing in another perspective.”

“You guys talk back each other a lot, even in front of us, is it really like that back at home when no one sees?” Taehyung asked, and you could see from his face that he was a little amused. “Sometimes, I mean… Namjoon and I, we don’t hide anything from anyone. What you see is what you get. If I don’t like something he’s doing, I’ll call him out on it. Vice versa. We tease each other to no end, if that’s what you’re asking…” you shrugged. “Do you guys ever fight, like really fight…” he mirrored your movements, clawing his chin, as he scratches the stubbles under his jaw. “Definitely...Definitely,” you stressed on the second time you said it.

He’s stubborn, you’re stubborn. You want things to go your way, he wants things to go his. You’re all about managing finance, and he’s all about spending it. He wants a house outside the country and you want one close to home. You talk about priorities and often questions his. Emotional, spiritually, physically.

“Things will change when we have children, I promise you,” Namjoon once said. The way he laid it out so frankly, didn’t convince you one bit. This conversation has occurred once too many time and you’re starting to feel that the marriage you built on this foundation is beginning to brittle underneath the weight of his fame and responsibility. “I hope so…” you said in a whisper, barely believing what you said.

“I guess in marriage there is a lot of tolerance and understanding? Because when we think about the things that we did in order to build this relationship as strong as it is, makes you want to keep it that way, even through the occasional ‘earthquake’ and ‘mudslides’... He got options, I got options, but we’re here now, and that’s all that matter isn’t it?”

His lower lip protruded out, as he was thrown deep in thoughts. The common understanding is that love and marriage co-exists, but the longer a couple stays together, the more their friendship is put to the test. That’s why it’s important to befriend your partner before falling in love with them. At least, when the love ends, the friendship remains.

You excused yourself for wanting to see the rest of the building before Namjoon comes back and wanted to go home. It’s not every day you could roam around the most famous building in the country, home to many famous producers and their studios. This is basically your version of Disney World. This is where the magic happens. Seokjin once took a picture of the building rooftop garden and ever since you saw it, you’ve always wanted to take a look at the views from up there. It was as breathtaking as you expected.

The blue cloudless sky is turning to orange zest, floating in the air as the sun descends to indicate the day is almost ending. You’ve been here all day.

“It will take two minutes, he says,” you spoke to yourself, “It won’t be long, he says.” You carefully leaned your elbows on the wooden rails to watch the busy streets downstairs. All the red light and the white light decorating the traffic underneath you. Busy people everywhere. All rushing to go home to their loved ones, finding food and winding down after a hectic day. Namjoon never gets to spend that. He never was the one for a 9 to 5 job, because to him, inspiration can strike him anytime. There was this one that he stopped in the middle of eating because he had an idea on how to change the beat after the chorus belonging to a track. Or this one time he sat in bed, stripped down after a steamy lovemaking session because he knows what verse to write. You’re still salty about that.

Not because he started working right away. But because he doesn’t give himself a time to be just Kim Namjoon, the Kim Namjoon that has a wife and a normal life. Is this what he’s going to be when he has a kid, later?

We’ve spoken about kids before. We spoke about that a lot.

“I guess in marriage there’s a lot of tolerance and understanding…” your own voice piqued your thoughts as you rode the waves of reminiscing.

From Namjoon’s point of view, he understood that you too had given up so much for his work. You were patiently waiting at home, dutifully understood your responsibility as a wife, the homemaker, and he knows what troubling thoughts you might had had whenever he’s away. Just the same as he is.

As he works, as he tries to tirelessly be present in this studio where he stands, you are always in the back of his mind. And things don’t change even if he’s out of the country, performing, lecturing, educating, analyzing, designing. He ensured that you get calls from him, texts from him, pictures of what he’s doing and where he was. Always making sure you feel safe despite the distance. Because he saw how little you thought of yourself because he saw how your smile faltered when he spoke to his stylist, because he caught the hesitance in your voice when you feel slightly inferiored. He understood all the thing you didn’t have to say out loud. Because it’s hard to be in love when you’re two continents away.

“Because hey, you’re the famous one between us two,” Yeonjun spoke through the microphone. He got the pronunciations clear and in pitch. Namjoon slammed the stop button and tapped the pad of his index finger on his chin. “Alright, go home. We got it,” Donghyuk--also known as Supreme Boi; managed the recording with little hiccups. Yeonjun skips outside, beaming because it had been a long day for him as well. Namjoon gave him a shoulder squeeze and acknowledged his skills. Donghyuk carefully wraps up while noticing that Namjoon had plunged into exhaustion onto the black couch. “You gotta go thank your wife for that line, bro,” he gushed. Namjoon shuts his eyes and laid the back of his head on his wrist. “I’ll tell her that…” he drifts. Donghyuk spins his chair to face Namjoon, and tilted his head to one side, “I thought you said you came here with your wife?”

Namjoon rolls off the couch and dashed out the door at once. He tried to call her but she was on the phone with someone else. He walked past the pantry, past the lounge, past the wardrobe hall--but she was nowhere to be found. She’s not in the cafeteria too.

Namjoon headed back to his studio and there you were.

Sleeping on your side, on his black couch, curled in a ball. Koya the koala plushie in your arms, you don’t even use the armrest as your pillow. Namjoon slowly shut the door, making as little sound as possible, and knelt next to you. Wonders in his eyes, his dimples shallow and his lips curved into a small gentle smile. Softly, he tucked your baby hair behind your ear and thumbed your cheek. He ghosted his lips over the skin just above your eyebrow and shut his eyes as he stamped a kiss on them. You didn’t even stir, you must be really tired. He hooks his finger on a drawer underneath his work desk and took out the blanket you knitted for him to use on his nights away from home and spread them on you so you could stay warm.

With the lights dimmed to perfection, Namjoon manages to move you on top of him. “We have to head home…” he whispered. And it your dazed state, you said, “I am home.” Your nails scratching the thin fabric of his shirt, as you nuzzled your face into his chest where your ears are pressed against the soft thuds of his heartbeat.

“Home is wherever Namjoon is.”

And whenever he isn’t around, you’re homesick. He placed his palm over the back of your head, and slide it down your spine and then up again. With a soft exhale, he shuts his eyes and held you tighter--in the comfort of his studio, Rkive.

“So…” he begins, flickering eyes towards the on-going streets and then to you, who was driving beside him, “There’s no chance I’m going to get the footage you had been earnestly recording, right?”

“Correct,” you shot. The car radio plays rather dimly, in the background, just as preferred. You had a feeling that Namjoon will exercise his rights as a husband or as he’d like to call it, your non-negotiable life partner to gain his portions of the videos you made for his own selfish pleasure, so you attempt to hide the smile that was itching to get out, because right here, is where he lay out his arguments.

“You know, I’m the one that came up with Jungkook’s nickname ‘the golden maknae’...right?” he slowly shifts in his seat, covering his philtrum with his index finger, panning the view outside the moving car. “Known fact for someone who had been supporting you for a while, yes…” you quirked, in an elegant tone of someone who has the upper hand of the situation.

“Don’t you ever wonder if I were to give you a nickname, what it will be?” “...no, not really.” “A dictator.” “You’re just picking fights with me because you know you won’t get your hands on the videos. Are you seriously going to call me a dictator because I didn’t give you what you want? Did it ever occur to you that you don’t deserve the footage?”

Namjoon lands his palm over the expanse of your clothed thigh, a very possessive gesture that you’ve grown numb to. “Let’s negotiate…”

“Negotiate what…? All the negotiation is not up for discussion.” “I can make your footages a lot spicier.” ‘I like them sweet and bland; unlike your corrupted mind.”

He smirked, “Do you? Do you…?” “Siri, play Do You by RM.” And just like that, his smirk is gone. There’s no changing your mind, is there? Namjoon has to be a tad more creative. But he liked the challenge.

That’s why the moment he stepped into the apartment, his eyes darkens and his lips turned into a Cheshire grin.

Read the rest of ‘take your wife to work’ fics!

[magicalrocketships]

17 & 37, please! thank you!

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

A mixture of both. I’m mostly chronological but sometimes I jump around and fix it all together. The I Had Rather sequel has a pile of scenes I have to join together and fix together. So does the Wild Child AU. It depends if I’m writing bits and pieces or telling someone the story in brief or in email, then I end up making them all drafts in Scrivener and having one new, real draft I join them all up in. Sometimes I’ll want to write one scene or there’ll be something that’s the crux of a story or the reason i want to write something, and I’ll write that bit just to get it out of my system and then I’ll have to go back and write the entire story that builds up to it. So no, not a complete rule. 

37.    Talk about your current wips.

1) Nick and Harry get married, aka one of many possible sequels to this story. That story has a little bit of an ambiguous ending, in that Nick and Harry have a night together in Mallorca and Harry promises he’ll be there for Nick and he wants this, wants them, but Nick can’t necessarily trust that Harry will be able to live up to his promises in the morning. There were various ways I could see the Nick and Harry in that story going, and this is one of them, but it’s also not the only ending for that story. I don’t know if I’ll ever write the others. In this ending, they’re getting married, and they’re not telling anyone. It’s really close to being done. I have fairly little confidence in this story and I can’t decide if it needs another total and complete rewrite. 

2) Harry Styles Cooks aka the one where normal, rl! Louis Tomlinson has a perfectly normal obsession with celebrity chef Harry Styles, and has a perfectly normal sized collection of unofficial Harry Styles merch, and perfectly normally has no desire to cook any of his recipes, and has no real desire to meet him in real life, but then Harry Styles shows up at his door one day looking to borrow some sugar. I need a bit of free time to think about the order in which things happen in this story, and then I’ll do the next chapter. Louis has just figured out that Harry is lonely and needs a friend. He’s going to go on full Stop Harry Styles From Being Lonely alert. Probably. He might even eat some lettuce voluntarily, if it’ll make Harry smile like he smiles at salad in his cookbooks. 

3) Wild Child AU. Cis girl!Louis keeps getting into trouble at home so as a last resort, her grandparents pay to send her to boarding school. Co-starring Harry, the headmistress’s son who has a crush on the guy who’s supposed to do the school radio, Niall, who’s slowly coming to terms with being asexual, and Liam, who’s inexplicably popular just for being nice. Louis is determined to get expelled so she can go home to her mum and her sisters and her normal life. 

4) Than A Man Swear He Loves Me, aka the I Had Rather Hear A Dog Bark At A Crow sequel. I swear to god, by the time I get over my fear of writing this and screwing it up, there will be literally nobody left on the planet but me who wants to read it, BUT I AM TRYING. I promise. I wrote some words in the file last week. I’m trying. 

5) Mpreg Louis - Louis gets knocked up by a loser bloke from his old temp job, and Nick meets him in a park after a shit one night stand. THEN THERE IS A BABY and Nick and Louis being best friends who are also in love with each other, and Louis with secrets and being all alone AND SOMETIMES ALL I WANT IN THIS WORLD IS LOUIS BEING SAD AND THEN BEING HUGGED. 

[selbstgemacht-derfoodblog]

Schnelle Zitronencreme als Nachtisch im Glas

Rezept für eine leichte Zitronencreme aus Joghurt und Lemon Curd! Die Creme wird im Glas angerichtet und lässt sich gut vorbereiten, zum Beispiel als für liebe Gäste. Ganz easy und super fruchtig und lecker. Ein fruchtiger Nachtisch im Frühjahr und Sommer!

Rezept für eine leichte Zitronencreme aus Joghurt und (selbstgemachtem) Lemoncurd! Die Creme wird im Glas angerichtet und lässt sich gut vorbereiten, zum Beispiel als Nachtisch für liebe Gäste. Ganz easy und super fruchtig und lecker. Ein fruchtiger Nachtisch im Frühjahr und Sommer!

Zitronencreme im Glas

Vor einigen Wochen hatten wir eine Woche Urlaub. Diesen haben wir auf Mallorca…

[gabrielaaufreisen]

Luftaufnahmen - die Welt von oben

Luftaufnahmen – die Welt von oben

Die Welt aus einer anderen Perspektive

Fliegt ihr auch so gern? Dann mögt ihr bestimmt auch Luftaufnahmen, oder?

der Hafen von Miami

Meinen ersten Flug habe ich mit 14 Jahren unternommen. Es ging in den Herbstferien mit meinen Eltern nach Mallorca. Damals standen noch Fotografen an der Flugzeugtreppe und die Bilder wurden dann auf dem Heimweg am Flughafen verkauft. Ja, so lange ist das…

[the-mallorca-files]

Fic idea I’ll probably never do anything with: Palma police family plane crash au

Max, Miranda, Inés, Roberto, and Luisa are the only survivors of a plane crash on a deserted island

none of them know each other (Max still lives in Germany, Miranda still lives in England, and Roberto & Luisa never started working in the Palma forensics lab), but now they have to work together to survive

Roberto had been making melodramatic statements about how the plane could fall out of the sky for pretty much the entirety of the flight

(nobody is impressed when he turns out to be right)

Inés tries to take charge immediately because that’s just what she’s used to, directing the others on what to do

Miranda quickly gets tired of this and storms off on her own, where she promptly has a near-death experience

Max finds her, takes her back to the little temporary camp he and the others have set up, and makes sure she doesn’t die

all five of them expect to be found soon, but hours and then days go by without any sign of rescue, and they realise they need to prepare for the possibility that they could be there for a while

they start expanding their camp, making their shelters a little more permanent, finding a source of food and drinking water in case the stuff they’ve salvaged from the plane runs out, etc

Miranda and Inés keep bickering about what the right way to do things is, much to the other three’s annoyance

(‘the right way’ often ends up being Luisa’s way, thanks to her falling down a hyperfocus-fuelled Google rabbit hole about how to survive on a deserted island a few months previously)

there is a lot of Roberto melodrama about how they’re going to live the rest of their lives on the island before dying a probably slow and agonising death

Miranda eventually gets so annoyed by this that she gets Max to throw Roberto into the sea

“we’re stuck on an island with a bunch of dead bodies, we could do without the Shakespeare 🙄”

obviously there is also a lot of Wintake sexual tension

[f1-stuff]

fuck it we ball WIP GAME

rules: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have WIPs.

thanks for the tag @unabashedlycasualangel and @c2-eh !

Minimum (Giver AU)

Bi Charles

Mechanic AU

Mallorca AU

Soulmate AU

Daemon AU

Royal Harem AU

All my f1 WIPs are Charlos bc I have a problem...

I'm tagging @effervescentdragon @desomniis @monagasque @rudesses @somethingsgottagive @chubbydino aaand I almost made it to 7 tags, but i've run out of ideas. As always, feel free to ignore!

[energyload]

Urban Drivestyle: E-Fat-Bikes aus Berlin

Urban Drivestyle: E-Fat-Bikes aus Berlin

Bei Eis und Schnee entspannt mit dem Fahrrad unterwegs sein – ein E-Fat-Bike machts möglich. Ein Hersteller ist das Berliner Start-up Urban Drivestyle, das die „Harley der Elektromobilität“ bauen will. Seine elektrischen Ganzjahresbikes waren ursprünglich für Touristen auf Mallorca gedacht und sollen jetzt einen echten Beitrag zur Verkehrswende leisten. (more…)

[fuckyeahcaraddict-blog]

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI. Ursprünglich aus Wien, mit zwei Niederlassungen dort, gibt es NENI Restaurants inzwischen auch in Städten wie Zürich, Berlin, Amsterdam, Mallorca, und aktuell auch wieder in Hamburg. Aktuell wieder, denn vor wenigen Jahren wurde das 25hours Hotel altes Hafenamt durch einen Brand in Mitleidenschaft gezogen, so auch das dort beheimatete NENI Restaurant. Vor einiger Zeit wurde endlich wiedereröffnet, und so konnte ich es natürlich kaum erwarten auch einmal in Hamburg Falafel, Hummus und Co. von NENI zu genießen.

Da ich vor meinem Besuch nicht wusste wie voll das NENI in der Hafencity in Hamburg sein wird, habe ich zuvor über die NENI Website einen Tisch reserviert. Einen Link dazu findet ihr unten in den Kontakt-Details. Und glücklicherweise habe ich reserviert, auch wenn nur für 1 Person! Um 17:00 Uhr hätte man zwar noch gut einen Platz gefunden, auch ohne zu reservieren, doch das Restaurant wurde dann aber doch recht bald gut voll. Aufgrund der aktuellen Situation bietet NENI nicht die übliche, recht umfangreiche, Speisekarte an, sondern nur einige ausgewählte Klassiker. Die derzeitige Speisekarte findet ihr online als PDF hier. Im Restaurant selbst ist die Speisekarte auch Euer Platzdeckchen, so werden keine gemeinsamen Speisekarten verwendet, und Eurer Set wird anschließend weggeschmissen.

Als Vegetarier fällt es mir im NENI absolut nicht schwer, etwas leckeres zu finden. Bisher habe ich bei NENI, als Wiederholungstäter, stets das selbe in Rotation gegessen – dreierlei Humus auf der Etagere, vegetarische Zigarren, Falafel und Pita Brot. Doch in Hamburg wollte ich etwas neues probieren, auch da es die vegetarischen Zigarren nicht gab, und habe mich so für das NENI Sabich entschieden. Auf einem Pitabrot angerichtet erwartet Euch eine wahre Geschmacksexplosion. Ein bisschen von jedem, und alles äußerst köstlich zur gewohnt-guten NENI Qualität. Für 15 Euro enthält das vegetarische Sabich das folgende: gebackene Aubergine, Humus, Ei, Tomatensalsa sowie Tahina mit Amba. Für 4 Euro extra gab es zusätzlich noch 3 Falafel. Zum trinken habe ich mich für etwas erfrischendes, die NENI Limonada (hausgemachte Minzlimonade), entschieden. Als Gruß aus der Küche gab es noch Labaneh mit Oliven und köstlichem Öl, samt knusprigem Brot zum dippen

Das Sabich vom NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt Hamburg war wirklich lecker. Man kann sich direkt Scheiben (wie eine Pizza) schneiden, und hat von allem ein bisschen auf der Gabel. Besonders die gebackene Aubergine war traumhaft! Mit den extra Falafel war mir das Gericht jedoch schlussendlich doch zu mächtig, ich habe es nicht geschafft die komplette Portion zu essen (nur 4 Stunden vor dem NENI besuch ein Franzbrötchen zu essen war wohl keine gute Idee..). So konnte ich leider keines der Desserts von NENI mehr verdrücken, bei einem kommenden NENI besuch bringe ich definitiv genug Appetit für das Knafeh (ähnlich türk. Nachspeise Künefe) mit. Im Außenbereich sitzend habe ich einen tollen Abend im NENI im Alten Hafenamt in der Hafencity verbracht, ich kann das Restaurant absolut empfehlen und komme gerne wieder. Übrigens: da alle Mitarbeiter Nase-Mund-Masken tragen besteht für Gäste nur eine Empfehlung, Masken beim herumlaufen im Restaurant zu tragen. Und wer seine Kontaktdaten beim Verzehr der leckeren Speisen vor Ort nicht angeben möchte, kann sich das Essen auch vorbestellen und abholen beziehungsweise über den orangenen Lieferdienst bringen lassen.

Adresse NENI Hamburg im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt: Osakaallee 12 / Eingang Überseeboulevard 20457 Hamburg Deutschland Öffnungszeiten: Mo – So: 12h – 23h Webseite: www.nenihamburg.de Link zur Online-Tischreservation: opentable.de/neni-hamburg

Bilder: Sabich mit Falafel im NENI Hamburg mit Labaneh und Minzlimonade

NENI Minzlimonade

Labaneh

#gallery-0-11 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-11 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich Neni Hamburg

Sabich mit Falafel

  #gallery-0-12 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-12 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

[travel-food-inspiration]

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI. Ursprünglich aus Wien, mit zwei Niederlassungen dort, gibt es NENI Restaurants inzwischen auch in Städten wie Zürich, Berlin, Amsterdam, Mallorca, und aktuell auch wieder in Hamburg. Aktuell wieder, denn vor wenigen Jahren wurde das 25hours Hotel altes Hafenamt durch einen Brand in Mitleidenschaft gezogen, so auch das dort beheimatete NENI Restaurant. Vor einiger Zeit wurde endlich wiedereröffnet, und so konnte ich es natürlich kaum erwarten auch einmal in Hamburg Falafel, Hummus und Co. von NENI zu genießen.

Da ich vor meinem Besuch nicht wusste wie voll das NENI in der Hafencity in Hamburg sein wird, habe ich zuvor über die NENI Website einen Tisch reserviert. Einen Link dazu findet ihr unten in den Kontakt-Details. Und glücklicherweise habe ich reserviert, auch wenn nur für 1 Person! Um 17:00 Uhr hätte man zwar noch gut einen Platz gefunden, auch ohne zu reservieren, doch das Restaurant wurde dann aber doch recht bald gut voll. Aufgrund der aktuellen Situation bietet NENI nicht die übliche, recht umfangreiche, Speisekarte an, sondern nur einige ausgewählte Klassiker. Die derzeitige Speisekarte findet ihr online als PDF hier. Im Restaurant selbst ist die Speisekarte auch Euer Platzdeckchen, so werden keine gemeinsamen Speisekarten verwendet, und Eurer Set wird anschließend weggeschmissen.

Als Vegetarier fällt es mir im NENI absolut nicht schwer, etwas leckeres zu finden. Bisher habe ich bei NENI, als Wiederholungstäter, stets das selbe in Rotation gegessen – dreierlei Humus auf der Etagere, vegetarische Zigarren, Falafel und Pita Brot. Doch in Hamburg wollte ich etwas neues probieren, auch da es die vegetarischen Zigarren nicht gab, und habe mich so für das NENI Sabich entschieden. Auf einem Pitabrot angerichtet erwartet Euch eine wahre Geschmacksexplosion. Ein bisschen von jedem, und alles äußerst köstlich zur gewohnt-guten NENI Qualität. Für 15 Euro enthält das vegetarische Sabich das folgende: gebackene Aubergine, Humus, Ei, Tomatensalsa sowie Tahina mit Amba. Für 4 Euro extra gab es zusätzlich noch 3 Falafel. Zum trinken habe ich mich für etwas erfrischendes, die NENI Limonada (hausgemachte Minzlimonade), entschieden. Als Gruß aus der Küche gab es noch Labaneh mit Oliven und köstlichem Öl, samt knusprigem Brot zum dippen

Das Sabich vom NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt Hamburg war wirklich lecker. Man kann sich direkt Scheiben (wie eine Pizza) schneiden, und hat von allem ein bisschen auf der Gabel. Besonders die gebackene Aubergine war traumhaft! Mit den extra Falafel war mir das Gericht jedoch schlussendlich doch zu mächtig, ich habe es nicht geschafft die komplette Portion zu essen (nur 4 Stunden vor dem NENI besuch ein Franzbrötchen zu essen war wohl keine gute Idee..). So konnte ich leider keines der Desserts von NENI mehr verdrücken, bei einem kommenden NENI besuch bringe ich definitiv genug Appetit für das Knafeh (ähnlich türk. Nachspeise Künefe) mit. Im Außenbereich sitzend habe ich einen tollen Abend im NENI im Alten Hafenamt in der Hafencity verbracht, ich kann das Restaurant absolut empfehlen und komme gerne wieder. Übrigens: da alle Mitarbeiter Nase-Mund-Masken tragen besteht für Gäste nur eine Empfehlung, Masken beim herumlaufen im Restaurant zu tragen. Und wer seine Kontaktdaten beim Verzehr der leckeren Speisen vor Ort nicht angeben möchte, kann sich das Essen auch vorbestellen und abholen beziehungsweise über den orangenen Lieferdienst bringen lassen.

Adresse NENI Hamburg im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt: Osakaallee 12 / Eingang Überseeboulevard 20457 Hamburg Deutschland Öffnungszeiten: Mo – So: 12h – 23h Webseite: www.nenihamburg.de Link zur Online-Tischreservation: opentable.de/neni-hamburg

Bilder: Sabich mit Falafel im NENI Hamburg mit Labaneh und Minzlimonade

NENI Minzlimonade

Labaneh

#gallery-0-11 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-11 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich Neni Hamburg

Sabich mit Falafel

  #gallery-0-12 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-12 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

[thecaraddict]

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI. Ursprünglich aus Wien, mit zwei Niederlassungen dort, gibt es NENI Restaurants inzwischen auch in Städten wie Zürich, Berlin, Amsterdam, Mallorca, und aktuell auch wieder in Hamburg. Aktuell wieder, denn vor wenigen Jahren wurde das 25hours Hotel altes Hafenamt durch einen Brand in Mitleidenschaft gezogen, so auch das dort beheimatete NENI Restaurant. Vor einiger Zeit wurde endlich wiedereröffnet, und so konnte ich es natürlich kaum erwarten auch einmal in Hamburg Falafel, Hummus und Co. von NENI zu genießen.

Da ich vor meinem Besuch nicht wusste wie voll das NENI in der Hafencity in Hamburg sein wird, habe ich zuvor über die NENI Website einen Tisch reserviert. Einen Link dazu findet ihr unten in den Kontakt-Details. Und glücklicherweise habe ich reserviert, auch wenn nur für 1 Person! Um 17:00 Uhr hätte man zwar noch gut einen Platz gefunden, auch ohne zu reservieren, doch das Restaurant wurde dann aber doch recht bald gut voll. Aufgrund der aktuellen Situation bietet NENI nicht die übliche, recht umfangreiche, Speisekarte an, sondern nur einige ausgewählte Klassiker. Die derzeitige Speisekarte findet ihr online als PDF hier. Im Restaurant selbst ist die Speisekarte auch Euer Platzdeckchen, so werden keine gemeinsamen Speisekarten verwendet, und Eurer Set wird anschließend weggeschmissen.

Als Vegetarier fällt es mir im NENI absolut nicht schwer, etwas leckeres zu finden. Bisher habe ich bei NENI, als Wiederholungstäter, stets das selbe in Rotation gegessen – dreierlei Humus auf der Etagere, vegetarische Zigarren, Falafel und Pita Brot. Doch in Hamburg wollte ich etwas neues probieren, auch da es die vegetarischen Zigarren nicht gab, und habe mich so für das NENI Sabich entschieden. Auf einem Pitabrot angerichtet erwartet Euch eine wahre Geschmacksexplosion. Ein bisschen von jedem, und alles äußerst köstlich zur gewohnt-guten NENI Qualität. Für 15 Euro enthält das vegetarische Sabich das folgende: gebackene Aubergine, Humus, Ei, Tomatensalsa sowie Tahina mit Amba. Für 4 Euro extra gab es zusätzlich noch 3 Falafel. Zum trinken habe ich mich für etwas erfrischendes, die NENI Limonada (hausgemachte Minzlimonade), entschieden. Als Gruß aus der Küche gab es noch Labaneh mit Oliven und köstlichem Öl, samt knusprigem Brot zum dippen

Das Sabich vom NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt Hamburg war wirklich lecker. Man kann sich direkt Scheiben (wie eine Pizza) schneiden, und hat von allem ein bisschen auf der Gabel. Besonders die gebackene Aubergine war traumhaft! Mit den extra Falafel war mir das Gericht jedoch schlussendlich doch zu mächtig, ich habe es nicht geschafft die komplette Portion zu essen (nur 4 Stunden vor dem NENI besuch ein Franzbrötchen zu essen war wohl keine gute Idee..). So konnte ich leider keines der Desserts von NENI mehr verdrücken, bei einem kommenden NENI besuch bringe ich definitiv genug Appetit für das Knafeh (ähnlich türk. Nachspeise Künefe) mit. Im Außenbereich sitzend habe ich einen tollen Abend im NENI im Alten Hafenamt in der Hafencity verbracht, ich kann das Restaurant absolut empfehlen und komme gerne wieder. Übrigens: da alle Mitarbeiter Nase-Mund-Masken tragen besteht für Gäste nur eine Empfehlung, Masken beim herumlaufen im Restaurant zu tragen. Und wer seine Kontaktdaten beim Verzehr der leckeren Speisen vor Ort nicht angeben möchte, kann sich das Essen auch vorbestellen und abholen beziehungsweise über den orangenen Lieferdienst bringen lassen.

Adresse NENI Hamburg im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt: Osakaallee 12 / Eingang Überseeboulevard 20457 Hamburg Deutschland Öffnungszeiten: Mo – So: 12h – 23h Webseite: www.nenihamburg.de Link zur Online-Tischreservation: opentable.de/neni-hamburg

Bilder: Sabich mit Falafel im NENI Hamburg mit Labaneh und Minzlimonade

NENI Minzlimonade

Labaneh

#gallery-0-11 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-11 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-11 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich Neni Hamburg

Sabich mit Falafel

  #gallery-0-12 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-12 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-12 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh

Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.

Sabich mit Falafel im NENI im 25hours Hotel Hamburg Altes Hafenamt #nenihamburg #hamburg #neni #sabich #labaneh Falafel und Hummus, für mich eine traumhafte Kombination. Besonders schmecken mir diese orientalischen Spezialitäten der inzwischen internationalen Kette NENI.