The low thrum of the city at the late hour buzzed in Bakugo's ears. He was perched on a railing on the top of a random building in downtown Musutafu, still clad in full hero gear. His eyes drifted from the flickering city lights to his phone, lit up on a specific contact.
Yours.
Are you done patrolling? Come over.
And God did he want to. He read the text 5, 10, 30 times before it entirely registered in his brain. Bakugo and you had done this before, late-night hangouts at one of your apartments. Take out ordered and a movie in the back neither of you really pay attention to, too engrossed in conversation.
The only problem was that every time he went back home, he had the worst feeling in his chest. He'd run a scorching hot shower, blast music into his earbuds, scroll aimlessly, just to get you out of his head.
What you and Bakugo had was so very complicated. Being friends since his UA days, as he matured, you and him only got closer, both bringing out the best in each other.
Now, both of you, at the discovery age of 22, were walking a line between friends and more, too afraid to say something to mess it up.
Bakugo finally replied, be there in 20, and headed towards the agency to sign out for the day.
You were lying sideways on your bed, aimlessly scrolling on your phone, when Bakugo texted you back.
Finally, you thought. He always took a while to respond.
You got up to make yourself look slightly more presentable. Not like it mattered. Bakugo had seen you at your absolute worst. Late-night study sessions at your university, where he'd pick you up at 10 pm to get you food. Early mornings where he'd force you to go to the gym with him, your face still fresh with sleep. He'd seen you cry, snot coming down your nose, eyes red and puffy. He'd held your hair back a few months ago when you were throwing up in the toilet from a stomach flu.
You really didn't have to try for him, but you still did. You combed your hair and applied some lip gloss for shine. You were clad in loose sweatspants and a simple fitted t-shirt, nothing too fancy. You looked into the mirror one last time. Good enough.
Then exactly 20 minutes after his text, there was a knock on your apartment door. Why were you nervous? Bakugo had come over countless times before, so what was so different about tonight?
You opened the door and smiled when you saw him, his usual gruff face more relaxed. He was clad in loose grey sweats and a black hoodie, classic Bakugo. And he still managed to make the simple outfit, somehow, look hot.
"Traffic was shitty," was the first thing he said when he strode in, shaking his shoes off.
"You were right on time, though," you commented, following him into your kitchen.
He grunted and opened your fridge to pour himself some water as you sat up on the kitchen counter. It was unsettlingly domestic.
"Long day?" you asked, swinging your legs.
He turned around, back against the fridge, "Meh. Like usual, nothing intersting happen though. Dumb agency keeps putting me on the boring shifts."
"At least you're not in life-threatening danger," you say.
"Would rather be, this shit is boring," he says as he starts to wash the glass of water.
You two talk about mundane things for the next 15 minutes, catching each other up since the last time you saw each other, which was only 5 days ago.
Somehow, in those 15 minutes, Bakugo moved right in front of you, your knees almost brushing his thighs from your spot on the counter. Neither of you really registered this; you always ended up getting in each other's personal space. It wasn't until you continued your story about the iced coffee you spilled in your morning lecture, your legs aimlessly swinging, that you brushed his leg with your foot. You stopped mid-sentence, both of you realizing the short distance between you two.
"And then..." you cleared your throat, face heating up and unable to look up at him, "I just left the class."
He was staring at you way too intently for such a simple story. His right hand came to settle beside you on the counter, mere millimeters from your hip.
"Tell me another one," he said, voice low.
You looked at him, dumbfounded, "Huh?"
"A story, about your day, about anything, just keep talking."
You swallowed as you struggled to keep eye contact with him.
"Uhm, that was all I had..." you mumbled, playing with the hem of your shirt.
This wasn't the first time this had happened. Multiple times before, you and Bakugo had ended up in a high-tension situation, bodies way too close, hearts beating way too fast. But before anything big ever happened, one of you, or both of you, pulled away, creating distance, dissolving the moment.
This time felt different, though.
"Y/N," he said, voice low, shooting a weird feeling straight to your lower stomach.
"What," you said, voice barely getting out.
"Why'd you invite me over tonight?"
You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at him, "Uhm, because I wanted company and food?"
He inhaled and looked down, slightly shaking his head, "You could have invited Mina, or anyone else, why me?"
He got you there.
"I- I don't know," you muttered, "because I knew you'd be free?"
His other hand came to rest on the other side of you, entirely trapping you. Your chest was slightly heaving, and you saw his eyes quickly flick there and back to your face.
Bakugo had always been a gentleman, never making you uncomfortable, never staring hard or touching you. Right now, however, you wanted just that, for him to stare, to touch you, anything but this excruciating distance that felt too close and too far, like the edge of a cliff right before a plunge into a deep ocean.
"Kastuki..." the use of his first name caused him to clench his jaw and exhale, "what answer are you looking for?"
"Just-", he stopped and rolled his shoulders, "Fuck, it's getting hot."
He moved to remove his hoodie, but you were quick, pulling him by the neckline, "Don't leave."
Now it was his turn to be shocked, emotion flashing through his eyes as he stared at you, pupils blown wider than when he came in.
"I just wanted to watch a movie and eat food with you tonight," you started, and then you boldly wrapped your legs around his to pull him in. His eye widened as a sound akin to a grunt lef this throat. His hands found balance by your hips on the counter again. "But if you want me to give you more, just say the word, Katsuki."
The use of his name for the second time that night really lit the spark in him, tiny explosions leaving his hands, just loud enough to hear. His hands moved to settle on your waist, pulling you in even further, your feet hooking the back of his knees.
"I really don't wanna fuck anything up, Y/N, just please tell me what to do," he was basically mumbling, eyes low and searing.
"The only thing we'll mess up is if neither of us does anything. I'm so tired of this back and forth. I need to know if you feel something more."
His face contorted to an almost pained expression. You knew this was hard for him, feelings and words, expressing how he truly felt.
Your hands moved to the back of his neck, slightly running a hand through his hair; you could have sworn he shuddered.
"We can go slow, we can do this however you want, but I'm tired of pretending I haven't wanted more for the past 7 years," you said softly.
One of his hands came up to gently carress you cheek, his voice caught in his throat, cheeks flushed.
"Y/N."
"Yes?"
"Can I kiss you?"
The way he said it was so soft, like a whisper against silk, and yet laced with so much intensity you felt those four words inside your entire body.
Your answer was the movement of your head, connecting your lips with his. It took both of you a moment to register what had happened, and then in just an instant, it became more. His grip on your waist tightened, and you pulled him closer by the neck, legs bringing his body nearer.
You have no idea how long it lasted, but when you broke apart, you were both flushed, chests heaving, staring at each other directly.
"I'll try and give you everything you need Y/N, but I-", he stopped, inhaling, "I can't promise I'll be perfect 100% of the time."
You smiled and caressed his arm, running your hand up and down, "I don't need you to be perfect, Katsuki, I need you to be you, that's it."
He smiled softly and pulled you in for another kiss.
"You have no fucking idea how long I've waited to do that," he said.
You laughed, "No, I could tell alright."
He laughed and pulled your head towards his chest, kissing the top of your head.
"Are you really willing to give me a try?" he said, and you could hear insecurity and fear creeping into his voice.
You looked up at him, "I'm willing to give us a try."
At that, he smiled again, wrapping his arms around you tighter.
Neither of you were perfect, but you were willing to try this, even if it was slowly.
synopsis: After months of job searching, you clicked on a position for an overnight custodial position in the Emergency Room at the Pittsburgh Medical Treatment Center. It paid more than any other job that you had seen thus far and it came with a retirement plan.
chapter 1: the roof.
chapter two: the ride - All you wanted to do was go home after the world's longest shift and your bus had left you in the dust. Jack comes to help you out.
There was always the same overwhelming sounds and smells that you always had when you entered back into the ER.
Bright fluorescent lights. You could feel the sizzle of the lights in the back of your brain.
The tapping of keys.
The plastic smell of nitrile gloves.
Hand sanitizer.
The odd combination of clean and dirty. Nothing felt all the way clean here.
All you had to do was get through the last 30 minutes of your shift.
"Are you okay?" Amy said as she was tying the trash bag up. It felt like you could see through the bag to see the torn up shirts and bloody wipes.
You swallowed bile in your throat, "I am. Thanks for finishing that room for me. I'm sorry for freaking out and leaving that for you to finish up for me."
Amy finished tying the bag and looked at you, "You don't have to be sorry for having emotions. It's normal."
Emotions always needed to be sorry for existing and taking up space inside of you.
You nodded. "Let me help you finish up here so we can go home."
The carts needed to be restocked with sheets, wipes, and gloves. The mop head had to be changed. The sanitizer pumps needed to be refilled. All you could think about was your conversation with Jack.
Honestly, he was a mystery to you. Dr. Shen told you bits and pieces of his history that seemed to be information that you could have gotten from his LinkedIn.
It wasn't hard for you to make connections with other people. All of your parent teacher conferences in school had the same message.
"She's great but loves to chat in class."
It wasn't your fault. You wanted to learn more about everyone around you.
Over time, you learned to control yourself from chatting all of the time. That didn't stop other people from wanting to talk to you.
People naturally gravitated towards you whether you liked it or not. It didn't matter if headphones were in your ears or not. People wanted to talk to you.
Jack Abbot didn't seem to want to talk to you.
Jack never seemed interested in having a conversation with you.
No one liked the person that forced people into a conversation.
He hadn't been mean to you ever. He really just didn't make unnecessary conversation with you.
The roof conversation was unnecessary, right? He didn't need to tell you that story to comfort you. But, did he want to comfort you?
"You must have listened to that boring talk by Gloria. You're going to save the hospital so much money." Mel said behind you.
Both of your hands were clenched tightly around the hand sanitizer. It did look like you were trying to get every single drop out of the bag.
"You know I don't listen to those talks at all," you unclenched your hands, "It's already time for you day shifters to come in?"
"Yes ma'am. The sun is up and we are here," said Mel.
Clearly, Jack had been taking up your thoughts by not noticing the hum getting louder in the hospital.
The shift change was usually noticeable right away. All of the day shifters thought that all of the night time staff were neurotic to want to be awake at 4:00am and deal with crazy patients. It was a hidden secret that night shift was peaceful compared to day shift.
Day shift was pure chaos.
The chaos was a rush of people from nurses, aides, social workers, security officers, doctors, volunteers, and maintenance staff. There were people that you had no clue what they even did but they had a name badge. The name badge people were NPCs.
You did keep a running list of all of the day shifters you knew.
Dr. Robby was Jack's buddy. Sometimes frenemy.
Perlah, Princess, and Dana were the HBIC's of the nursing world. You wanted to be them when you grew up.
Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. Mel King.
Dr. Mel King was the highlight to you. You naturally gravitated towards people like Mel. Her spirit was infectious in a serious way and you couldn't help to want to be her friend.
Shit. All your mind could come up with the word was shit. It smelled like sweet shit. You looked around and there was a trail of poop that looked like red clay.
"It's actually C-diff. But, yes. Sweet shit." You were thinking out loud again.
"What the hell is C-diff?"
Dr. Langdon led the way towards room number three and stopped suddenly, "C. diff is clostridioides difficile. It's highly contagious bacterium that causes diarrhea. Also, we haven't met yet. My name is Mel King. Please call me Mel."
"You can get diarrhea bad enough that you leave traces of it on the ground everywhere?" you asked.
"Yes. You aren't able to control your sphincter muscles which results in this," she said as she pointed to the ground.
"Before we go in there, you need to put this on. C-diff is contagious and I don't want you to get it." She handed over gloves, a paper gown, and a mask.
Did she expect you to do surgery?
Dr. King opened the curtain and God must have decided to punish you in that moment.
The smell of sweet shit doubled. You had to hold in a gag.
"Hi, Mr. Hendricks. My name is Dr. King. It looks like you have all of the signs of C-diff. I am going to prescribe you a medication that will help clear up the infection. Also, you should see your primary care physician to get a referral for a colonoscopy," explained Mel.
How did she have such a straight face while it smelled like shit had been boiling on a stove?
"I want you to be comfortable while you wait for your medication. My colleague and I are going to clean this room up so you're able to relax," Mel said as she nodded to you.
She turned to you with the box of Cavi wipes. "Let's get to cleaning."
Since the education and deep cleaning of C-diff, Mel was your buddy.
"The next shift can finish up here for you. You have about ten minutes until your bus is supposed to come."
Damn it.
Your bus has left you every day for the past two weeks and you didn't want to be caught waiting outside in the heat until the next one.
"Thank you for letting me know!" you said. You quickly finished putting away the cleaning supplies and ran to your locker. "I'll see you later, Amy. I gotta go!" Amy waved bye to you.
You needed to hustle to the bus. When you came outside of the hospital and got hit with the wave of heat, you watched your bus speed by.
"Oh. My. God. Not again!" you groaned loudly.
All you wanted to do was get on your bus, listen to your music, and get home. Take your shoes off. Let your dogs breathe. Shower. Rot on the couch.
Instead, sweat was starting to form on your forehead. You leaned against the pillar and let your backpack fall to the ground. Home felt so far away at this point.
"What are you doing out here? You trying to go back in there?"
You turned your head and Jack was standing with his backpack that had to be from the military. There was no way you could get a backpack like that at Walmart.
"My bus came ten minutes early and drove off without me. I'm either going to have to wait for the next one which comes in the next hour or walk four miles home. My feet are already screaming thinking about walking home," you said tiredly.
Jack looked at you, "Let me give you a ride home. There's no reason for you to wait for the next bus."
You didn't want him to have to go out of his way to drive you home. He had been on his feet all day saving people's lives. You could wait until the next bus came by inside of the hospital. The lobby had the best air conditioning. Corner Store Joe and you would be able to soak up some of that sweet air conditioning together.
"Hey. I can tell that you're thinking about going back into the hospital and waiting. You're not going to bother me or whatever you're thinking about," said Jack.
"Ugh, okay. I'll let you give me a ride home just because I'm tired and it's too hot out here. I'm going to give you some gas money since you're going out of your way."
He nodded and started to walk to the parking lot. You walked alongside him and tried to focus on his humongous backpack. Or, how it felt like hell outside. You couldn't think about the fact that Jack was taking you home.
He pointed to a black pick up truck with tinted windows.
"That's mine."
Of course, he drove a pick up truck. It was one of those that would be driving up a mountain in a commercial to show off how much it could haul. You walked over to the passenger side and reached for the handle of the passenger door.
Jack cleared his throat and looked at you, "No woman should have to open their door." He opened the door and gestured for you to get in the truck.
You climbed into the passenger seat and put your seatbelt on. Jack closed the door behind you.
Wait. Wait. Did he just open the door and wait until you were comfortable before he shut the door?
God God.
Before this moment became a core memory for you, Jack got into the car and turned on his truck.
Thank God for whoever invented air conditioning.
"You can put your address into my phone," Jack passed his phone to you.
You put your address into his phone and handed it back to him. Your fingers grazed his and you had to stop yourself from thinking about how his hands looked like grabbing the door handle.
Get a grip, girl.
This is the longest you had been around Jack.
"Do you have a preference on what you want us to listen to? I don't care either way." said Jack as he cut on the car, "Shen forced me to get Spotify so you could also play what you want."
You huffed out a laugh, "I was the one that had Shen switch from Pandora to Spotify so he has some nerve to force you to get it. I'm fine with whatever."
Jack pulled out of the hospital parking lot and turned onto the street. "How long has your bus been passing you by?"
"It has been about a week of the bus being early by ten to fifteen minutes. I don't know if it's a new driver or someone thinks that I need to get more steps in after being on my feet for twelve hours."
"What do you do if your bus doesn't come by?" said Jack.
"It depends on the day. I walk home or I'll wait for the next bus. It's really annoying when the bus comes early in the morning because I have to hustle to make it to work on time."
Jack stopped at a stop light and turned his head towards you, "You're telling me that you either walk three miles to work at night. Or walk back home after being on your feet for twelve hours?"
"Sometimes, yeah. It's better in the summer for me to walk to work because it doesn't get dark outside until late. If it's the morning, I'll wait in the hospital or I'll sit outside with Joe if it's not sweltering. For whatever reason, Joe knows the bus schedule by heart."
He nodded slightly and looked back at the road.
The hum of the engine was his response.
You looked at him at the corner of your eyes and noticed that he was calmer here. At the Pitt, he was on edge waiting for the next emergency. He hovered in the ambulance bay to see if he was able to help EMT. There was always a restlessness to him. Was it his time as an ER doctor? Or his time serving in Iraq?
Jack pulled into the front of your building and cut the truck off. That was the fastest ride back home ever.
"Thanks for the ride home. You didn't have to do that for me. What's your Venmo or CashApp?"
He shook his head, "I don't want your money."
"Come on, please. I don't want you to think that you had to give me a free ride."
"The ride wasn't a problem at all. You're not giving me any money," Jack said as he opened his door, "Don't get any ideas. I'm coming to open up your door."
He was really serious about women not opening up doors for themselves.
You gathered your backpack and waited for him. He opened the door and you hopped out of his truck.
It really made so much sense that he drove a truck.
"Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you in the evening," Jack said.
"You get some sleep and don't do whatever you do to keep yourself busy. Don't go saving kittens out of a tree," you said quickly.
You swore you heard an amused huff as you walked to your front door. You could feel his eyes on you until you unlocked your door and entered into your apartment.
"Thank you. I really appreciate that," you said with a shaky voice, I think we better get back down there before Shen burns down the place."
He thought, "I don't want to go back down to the hospital. I want to stay up here with you."
Don't say that out loud. Don't be weird.
He nodded at you and said "You're right, please lead the way."
He couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you walked down the stairs.
Jack didn't know what was going on with him when it came to you. There wasn't time to go into that when he needed to close out the last thirty minutes of his shift.
The hustle of day shift was coming in. It was sensory overload. He couldn't believe that he went from sitting in the dusty heat of Iraq waiting for an emergency alone to now having to be around 20 plus people every shift.
He could feel the weight of finishing up this shift. There were charts to finish, check in with the residents to sign off on any labs, and hand off to the day shifters.
Instead of that, Jack couldn't stop watching you with everyone who came into the door. Doctors, nurses, custodial workers, social workers, and even the grumpiest security officers gravitated towards you.
He wanted to be one of those people to you. But, why would you want to be around him?
Jack could list all of his issues in order.
Emergency room doctor who worked insane hours and was known to work double shifts with no problem.
A widow who's wife had died over two years ago and wasn't able to take off his ring until a month ago.
A man who couldn't stand fully for longer than six hours a day without his prosthetic pain throbbing throughout his body.
A man who wasn't able to sleep more than three stints without being woken up by his brain's variety of nightmares.
Yeah.. He didn't expect that you would want to talk to him.
"You must be thinking about something really serious because the vein from your neck is about to burst out."
Of course. Robby always knew when to interrupt his spiraling thoughts.
"Shut the hell up, Robby. Don't you have patients you need to save or something?"
Robby stood next to him and smiled, "Of course, this is the ER. I am trying to figure out what you're thinking about so hard. You're brain is going to explode."
"Don't worry about it. It's nothing," Jack said, "I am just ready to shower and go home." His eyes lingered over to you as you ran off to the break room, "It's time for me to wrap up for the day."
Robby looked at him and smirked softly, "You never want to leave the ER this quickly. Usually, you want to see if there's any exciting action happening on our shift before you go back home to your castle."
Jack never wanted to go home. It was too quiet. The Pitt gave him a break from the quiet.
Jack could see all of his crew getting ready to leave. All of them knew to wrap up as quickly as possible before they hit the weird period where they were desperate for sleep but couldn't sleep at all.
"I have a hot date with my shower and my couch."
He gave Robby a pat on the shoulder and gathered his jacket. He was ready for a shower, his couch, and try to think about anything but you.
He wondered how you got home from work.
His answer came to him leaving the doors from the Pitt and entering back into the world.
Your backpack that was covered in miscellaneous pins was thrown to the ground with defeat that only came from people who desperately wanted to go home. He could see the exhaustion in the slouch of your body.
He wanted to comfort you. He wanted to give you a hug after the shift you had.
No.
He just needed to make sure that you were okay.
"What are you doing out here? Are you trying to go back in there already?"
Smooth one, Jack.
He listened to you talk about your bus commute and what would you would have to do to get back. He could feel the weariness coming off of you.
Jack's entire job is listening to the problem and finding the solution. He knew how to fix this problem. He could give you a ride home.
Of course, he didn't want to become the person Gloria would use as an example of how to not make an employee uncomfortable by driving them home.
Instead of asking you if you wanted a ride home, he told you that he would give you a ride home.
What the hell happened to acting normal and asking if she even wanted a ride from you?
He watched you trying to figure out a way to not inconvenience him by driving four miles away from the hospital. He would drive you anywhere.
When you finally agreed to ride with him, he didn't know what to do after that. He wasn't the best conversationalist (according to Robby, Shen, and Ellis) and didn't know what you would want to talk about after the shift. Just because you were friendly and chatted with everyone at work didn't mean that you wanted to talk to him after work. You reaching out to the door handle of his truck finally snapped him out of his thoughts.
"No woman should have to open their door," he said.
Call him old fashioned. Jack's dad had drilled into him that no woman should have to open the door for herself. His dad would raise up from the dead if he started to let women open up their doors at this point in his life.
He watched as you gently smiled at him and turned to get into the truck. He could almost taste the combination of your faded perfume, your hair products, and the light smell of sweat on you.
Focus. All he asked was to drive you home. He definitely knew that he couldn't ask if you would let him smell you.
He needed to focus on driving you home. That's it.
Close your door. Walk to the other side of his truck. Get into the truck and turn it on. Try not to think about your smell anymore. Be normal. Drive you home without crashing his car and having to explain to a cop that he distracted because of a person's scent.
He pulled out of the parking lot and realized that normal people wouldn't want to sit in silence or listen to his radio guys talk about the Eagles finally not being a disappointment.
Shen did get him onto Spotify and now he had unlimited access to music (and his secret love of history podcasts that Shen had deemed as old white man entertainment).
He handed his phone to you and your fingers grazed his hand. Immediately, he felt a shiver run down his body and had to focus on breathing. Nothing had put him on high alert like this in a long time. The contact between the two of you couldn't have been longer than two seconds. He wished for more.
Think about something else. Ponder about something else. Ask her something.
The safe thing to ask was about traveling on the bus and what she had been doing if her bus didn't come on time. You gave your answer quickly with your hands doing majority of the story telling. He couldn't believe that you were walking to work at night.
He nodded to your answer because he didn't want to tell you what he really thought.
He could fix this problem for you, permanently. He could drive you to from work at night regardless of what was happening at with the city buses.
Unfortunately, Siri's voice took him out of his easy (self-serving) solution to your problem by letting him know that he arrived at your apartment.
Get out of the car and open her door. Don't offer to drive her home every single day. She didn't ask you to solve this problem for her.
"Thanks for the ride home. You didn't have to do that for me. What's your Venmo or CashApp?"
He wouldn't take anything from you. He especially didn't want your money.
Jack shook his head, "I don't want your money."
"Come on, please. I don't want you to think that you had to give me a free ride," you said.
"The ride wasn't a problem at all. You're not giving me any money," Jack said as he opened his door, "Don't get any ideas. I'm coming to open up your door."
In his head, he knew that the rush to open your door was purely selfish.
He saw you get your backpack together through the window and your water bottle (where had the water bottle even come from?)
Stop being weird and open the door, Jack.
You smiled at him and he got that same feeling earlier when you grazed his hand. The smile centered him. Not a lot of things could center him.
The wind went by when he opened the door. Your smell went into his nostrils. Again, he was in the same place as earlier. He needed to say something.
"Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you in the evening," Jack said.
"You get some sleep and don't do whatever you do to keep yourself busy. Don't go saving kittens out of a tree," you said cheekily.
Jack had to swallow the laugh that he desperately wanted to get out. Instead, a huff came out of his mouth.
All he could was watch while you walked to your apartment door.
The regret was already setting in. The ride was too short.
my shaylas, thanks for reading! i was so busy with work in the last couple of weeks and i wasn't able to write. i am going to upload more and have fun. i get so much anxiety with writing aka making sure that my words are coherent. if you have made it this far, please like and/or comment <333 appreciate you all!!
i'm also on ao3 if you want to check me out there. :)
I've recently circled back to my Teen Wolf obsession, and i was wondering if you could write something (whatever format you prefer!) about a Liam Dunbar x Stilinski!reader where she's Stiles' younger sister and best friend with Liam, and he doesn't know about the supernatural (she does ofc) and when he gets bitten she becomes his anchor right away? like maybe the two have been pining on eachother for years not realizing each others feelings and this whole new werewolf thing just brings them all up? thanks in advance!đ¤
It's been a while since I've watched Teen Wolf so it was hard to remember parts, if any of this isn't actually correct to the storyline of how I'm remembering it then I'm sorry... I need to rewatch it haha.
Liam Dunbar x Stilinski!Reader Headcanons
Youâve always been close to Liam. As Stilesâ younger sister, you were used to chaos â but somehow, Liam felt like the eye of your storm. Even when he was spiraling, you always saw the good in him.
He was your best friend. Constant sleepovers (innocent, though you both definitely blushed when your hands brushed), late-night texts about random thoughts, and the way he always made sure you got home safe from school â it was obvious to everyone but you two that the feelings ran deeper.
You knew about the supernatural long before Liam did. Being a Stilinski, there was no avoiding it â especially when your brother is Stiles. He tried to keep you out of it, but eventually you became part of the inner circle.
When Liam transferred to Beacon Hills High, you could already feel things changing. He was keeping his anger more in check, trying hard to stay out of trouble. You were proud of him â though he didnât realize how often you went to bat for him behind the scenes (and maybe threatened a lacrosse player or two on his behalf).
The Bite â Everything Changes
When you saw Liam dangling from the hospital roof, your heart stopped.
The scream that left your throat made Scott freeze before jumping in â and biting him â to save his life. You saw it happen. You knew what it meant.
He didnât understand what was happening to him â the strength, the rage, the anger but you didnât let him face any of it alone.
âLiam, I know youâre scared. But youâre not crazy. Youâre not a monster. And youâre not alone.â
Scott and Stiles werenât sure if it was too soon to tell him everything, but Liam gazed at you wide-eyed, vulnerable and you just nodded. âIâll explain it all. But you have to trust me.â
The Aftermath
The first full moon came fast. Liamâs panic rose like a wave every time he felt the shift start. He snapped at everyone â except you.
You became his anchor before he even knew what the term meant.
âThink of something that makes you feel human,â Scott said.
Without hesitation, Liam looked at you.
He told you later that it wasnât even a choice.
âItâs you. Itâs always been you.â
And you blinked, shocked, because you had spent years loving him in silence.
You touched his cheek, gently.
âThen hold onto me, Liam. Iâm not going anywhere.â
When he finally shifted fully for the first time, he was shaking and feral â but your voice cut through the haze. You whispered memories back to him:
the time you stayed up all night watching cheesy horror movies,
the way he always waited for you after practice,
the way he once called you the only person who made him feel normal.
And when he finally collapsed exhausted, back to normal again he wrapped his arms around you like a lifeline.
In the aftermath, the two of you sat together on the floor of Scottâs house. His breathing was still ragged, and yours wasnât much better.
âI thought I lost you,â you whispered.
âYou didnât,â he said, voice low. âYou never will.â
There was a pause. A long one. And then, finally:
âI love you,â he admitted. âI think Iâve loved you since the day I moved here.â
You smiled, eyes brimming. âYouâre lucky. Iâve been waiting for you to catch up.â
The kiss was soft, shaky, and everything both of you had been holding back for way too long.
Merlin â hot, naked and willing â in Arthurâs arms for one whole night?! Hell no.
âAbsolutely not,â Arthur repeats more firmly. Just the mental images are enough to make him feel shaky. And hard. And terrified.
âWhy not?â Merlinâs voice is low and deceptively reasonable. It penetrates Arthurâs defences like a smooth, sultry knife encountering stupid, helpless butter. âIâm not that repulsive,â the seductive turniphead argues.
âOh shut up.â Arthur is so very cool with his life right now.
So very fucking cool. But the dumb, pathetic truth is that, to Arthur, Merlin is everything unrepulsive. From the tips of the tousled near-black hair to the oddly graceful feet currently telegraphing their misguided interest, there isn't a thing that he finds objectionable â even the controversial stuff. Whether it's Merlin's quirky dark humour or his caffeine addiction or his chronic inability to say no, everything about him feels hideously attractive to Arthur.
âThen why not?â Merlin asks.
Because. It would annihilate Arthur.
It would quite simply destroy Arthur if he took that monstrous leap of faith â as dearly desired as it is â and ended up being just another one of Merlin's failed relationships. It's better to just keep it all... lidded and untouched. Better to keep it all in the abstract dreamland of romantic fantasies.
âBecause you said it yourself," Arthur replies, all steady voice while his heart wails in self-inflicted agony. "Youâre drunk and vulnerable and youâre clearly not thinking straight.â
"I haven't been thinking straight since puberty," Merlin comments with a wry snort.
"Don't get smart with me. You're not being rational right now."
âWell⌠Look at where being rational has got me.â There's a rueful smile softening his words as he leans more heavily against Arthur, his head settling on Arthurâs shoulder like it owns the place (which it kind of does). âI'm so fucking rational that I'm back to being single again." He gives a little puff of a sigh. "I think we should fuck, though.â
Read the rest here:
(You might want to re-read Chapter 1 to refresh your memory as to what the boys had got up to)
Title: The Lies We Tell (2/3)
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Word count: 7968 (2/3)
Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Merlin, Not drunk Arthur, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Pining Idiots, Merlin Needs a Hug, Requited Unrequited Love, Fluff, unbetaed, POV Alternating, Tiny bit of Angst, Explicit Sexual Content
I posted the first chapter of this story as a standalone back in October as a response to the Merthurmicrofic weekly challenge (prompt: Lies). It was already too long to be a microfic at the time. It is now beyond redemption. đ
The 2nd chapter was written for @bertytravelsfar's birthday - and is now several months late. Apologies, my friend. You know how damn slooooww I am. đ
Also this new chapter bumps the story into explicit territory, I'm afraid. đ
Chapter 1 - The Lies - rated Mature
Chapter 2 - Bad Choices - rated Explicit
Tagging @coshiemonie @nebulastars @otsanda @sparrowrising @firestarter91 @orliththedragon who all expressed some interest when I posted a snippet in January. đ
âMel,â he said again, softer this time. She looked up. âI could go with you.â
She blinked. âWhat?â
âI could go with you,â he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âTo the wedding.â
Her brain stalled out completely. â⌠Why?â
He huffed out a quiet laugh, pushing himself off the counter. âBecause you clearly donât want to go alone.â
âNo, I - I mean, yeah, obviously, but that doesnât mean you have to - you donât even know these people, and itâs my dadâs whole thing, and thatâs a lot to just -â she gestured vaguely between them, â- insert yourself into.â
âIâm not doing anything that dramatic,â he said, stepping a little closer. âIâd just be there. With you.â
She stared at him. âThatâs it?â
He tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âI mean, I can also glare at anyone who makes you uncomfortable, if that helps.â
A surprised laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it.
Michael Bluth x Reader tags: Slow burn, Office tension, Jealousy, Angst with a hint of fluff
POV: Your perspective
Rating: đĽ (18+)
Summary:
Weâre switching things upâthis chapter is told from your POV and the next chapter will be from Michaels POV. The night at the office takes on a whole new light as the HR email stirs up more than just laughter, and suddenly the boundaries between reality and imagination start to blur. đ
Next up, weâll see the same events again through Michaelâs eyes⌠and letâs just say his perspective is a little different.
The night started like most others: fluorescent lights humming, a vending machine buzzing like it had a personal grudge, and me cradling a cup of reheated coffee that technically qualified as food if you didnât think about it too hard. Michael and I had found ourselves in that strange rhythm weâd been keeping since the elevator incidentâcloser, but pretending not to be. Pretending not to notice each other had become our unofficial side hustle.
Then the ping. HR email. Subject line screaming in bright red:
REMINDER: Misconduct & Office Etiquette.
I perked up immediately. âWell, somebodyâs in trouble.â
Michael didnât even look up. âDo I want to know?â
âYes. Obviously.â
I read it aloud, milking every word.
âDue to a recent incident involving inappropriate conduct between an employee and their administrative assistantâŚâ
He groaned like the weight of the world had just been added to his to-do list. âGreat.â
ââŚthe individuals were discovered in the janitorâs closet. During work hours. With clothing partially removed.â
I covered my mouth but couldnât keep the laughter in. âOh my God, Michaelâthere are descriptions.â
He closed his eyes like if he concentrated hard enough, Iâd disappear. âPlease donât.â
ââŚtie left hanging from the cabinet handleâŚâ
He sighed, the most defeated sound in the world. âOf course there was a tie.â
ââŚfiling cabinet used in a manner inconsistent with office safety standards.â
That did it. I broke. Laughing so hard I snorted. Michael gave me a lookâthe kind you give a toddler about to throw juice on the carpetâwhich only made me laugh harder.
But under the humor, something shifted. The email wasnât just absurd. It was⌠vivid. And once planted, the images had a way of lingering.
ââ
Filing duty later meant trading the glow of the monitor for a wall of paper, which was both better and worse. Better, because I could take âphone breaksâ without Michaelâs patented judgey side-eye. Worse, because the quiet left too much space for my brain to circle back to that email.
The idea of two people sneaking around at work shouldâve been scandalous. Instead, it was⌠alluring. Like a spark hidden in the endless monotony of folders and staples.
As if summoned, Michael appeared in the doorway, hands in his pockets, face set in that long-suffering expression.
âSeems filing is the only way you actually do any work around here,â he said, tone dry as dust.
I rolled my eyes. âWow. Incredible material. Did you practice that one in the mirror first?â
He smirked faintly. For him, that was basically stand-up comedy.
I stretched to slot the next folder onto the top shelf and instantly regretted my stubbornness. It was just out of reach. I tried again, tiptoes straining, refusing to ask for help.
Behind me, Michael made a noiseâhalf amusement, half exasperation. âYou done yet?â
âPerfectly capable,â I snapped, stretching again.
He chuckled. And then, predictably, he moved in.
âWill you justââ He brushed my hand aside, frustration undercut with that gentle restraint he always carried, like he couldnât bring himself to actually be rough even when he wanted to. âHonestly, youâd rather break your arm than let me grab it?â
The file slid easily into his hand. And Iâunfortunatelyânoticed everything. The muscles in his forearm flexing. The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. The warmth of him, close enough that the air seemed heavier.
Flash #1 His arm braced beside me. His other hand gripping my hips, thumb pressing in as he leaned down, voice low: âWhat, no thank you? Bad girl.â His breath hot against my ear, a thrill racing down my spineâ
ââReality snapped.
âHello?â Michael waved a hand in front of my face. âYou okay, or did the files put you in a coma?â
âFine,â I said too quickly, yanking the folder from his hand.
âYou sure? You looked spaced out.â
If only he knew he was the center of the trance. My cheeks burned as I ducked back into the paperwork.
âFine,â I repeated, quieter this time, hoping he wouldnât notice the flush in my face.
But of course he did. Michael always noticed. He just pretended not to.
After what felt like hours, I made my way back into the main office. The hum of the overhead lights mixed with the steady clack of Michaelâs typing. He didnât even acknowledge meâjust kept going, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the screen.
âAva gone?â I finally broke the rhythm of his keyboard.
Michael paused long enough to rub at his eyes, looking exhausted in that way only he could make seem mildly performative. âYeah. Sent her home early. You seemed to have the filing figured out all on your own.â A smirk tugged at his mouth.
I rolled my eyes, dropping into the chair across from him. âHilarious. I get itâIâm stubborn. But good call. I donât think me and Ava can âget alongâ for long.â I repeated the words, this time serious.
Michael pushed back from his desk and stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted just enough to reveal a sliver of skinâsoft line of a happy trail, muscles I hadnât expected from him, a hint of heat under the crisp button-down exterior. My eyes darted there before I could stop myself.
âWell, I never really understood why you donât like her,â he said, voice casual, but his stretch held my attention hostage.
âSheâs⌠a lot,â I started, but the words thinned out. My brain wasnât cooperating. Not when all I could think about was how Iâd pegged Michael Bluth as the dapper, smug office painâthe bossâs son who lived for one-liners. I hadnât accounted for him having actual muscle beneath all that irony.
He laughed, disarming me completely, the sound rough and real. âWell, she can be a lot⌠like someone else I know.â He shot me a glance now that his stretch was finished.
âWhat?! Weâre nothing alike.â I pushed up from my chair, too fast, defensive. His words still landed, though, lodging in my chest. Maybe I was a little like her. Maybe.
âWell,â I admitted, softer. âMaybe just a tiny bit.â The admission loosened something in me. My shoulders sagged with reliefâuntil I realized how close Michael had gotten.
I blinked, startled to find him right there, invading my space. Not in a bad wayânever in a bad way. His presence was heat, steady and overwhelming.
Flash #2 He tilts my jaw with his hand, guiding my eyes up to his. Theyâre blue and intense enough to melt through me, cheeks heating under the weight of it. His thumb brushes across my skin, sweeping a strand of hair from my face.
âYou may be like her,â he says lowly, âbut I like the parts that arenât like her a lot. And the ones that are, too.â His breath ghosts across my cheek. His touch tightens, promising moreâ
ââReality snapped.
âHello? Are you listening?â Michaelâs voice pulled me back. He was still across the desk, waving a hand like Iâd drifted into space.
My cheeks burned. âYeah. Sorry. Just⌠tired.â
âUh-huh.â He gave me that skeptical look, like he could see through the excuse but wasnât about to call it out.
I rubbed my eyes and pushed to my feet, grabbing my bag. âI think I need some coffee.â
What I really needed was fresh air. A smoke. Something to shake the haze of fantasies that kept spiraling tighter around him. Because if I didnât get out soon, I was bound to say something very, very stupid.
The night air would have to beat it out of me. Or at least keep me from blurting out just how much I wanted those fantasies to stop being fantasies.
The air hit me before I even lit upâcool and sharp, wrapping around me like a reminder the city could still breathe even when I felt like I couldnât. I leaned against the fence, watching headlights dwindle as the streets emptied. The silence was steady, grounding.
Then the rooftop door creaked. The familiar scrape of shoes. Michael.
I smiled without looking. âYou really love keeping tabs on me, donât you?â
It was our routine by nowâme sneaking away, him finding me, the banter inevitable. But this time his voice was lower, more deliberate.
âI do,â he said. A pause, heavier than usual. âAnd I also⌠love you.â
My breath caught. The joint slipped from my hand, forgotten on the concrete. I turned slowly, disbelief warring with the sudden thrum of my pulse.
âYouâyou what?â
He stepped closer, closing the space until my back brushed the fence. His arms braced on either side of me, trapping me in a cage of warmth and tension. His expression was unreadable, but his eyesâGod, those eyesâburned.
âI love you,â he repeated. Not flippant. Not sarcastic. Just bare.
My throat tightened. âMichael⌠donâtâdonât joke about that.â
âDo I look like Iâm joking?â His voice cracked just slightly, soft but firm. He tilted his head, closing the distance. âYou drive me insane. Youâre stubborn, difficult, you argue just to win. And IâŚâ His eyes flicked to my lips. ââŚI love all of it. Especially the parts I shouldnât.â
The words broke something open inside me. My hands clenched in his shirt before I realized theyâd moved. âSay it again,â I whispered.
His lips hovered a breath away. âI love you.â
The kiss was inevitable. At first, hesitantâhis mouth brushing mine like he wasnât sure if this was allowed. But the hesitation crumbled. Heat poured in. His hand slid along my jaw, the other gripping my hip, pulling me flush against him.
I gasped into his mouth, and the sound seemed to undo him. The kiss turned hungry, desperate, years of restraint unraveling in seconds. My fingers dug into his shoulders, his teeth grazed my lip, and for one perfect moment the world dissolved into just this. Just him.
When I finally tore away, breathless, I opened my eyes.
No one.
The rooftop was empty. The door hadnât moved since Iâd walked out.
The phantom heat still burned on my lips.
I slapped my cheek, trying to chase the haze. Frustration twisted hot in my chestâwhy now? Why was this bubbling up like the HR email had flipped some hidden switch?
Bag in hand, I left fast. Down the stairs, into the street, sending a rushed text just to avoid facing Michael. But no matter how quick my steps, the words chased me:
I love you. I love you. I love you.
On loop. A hundred times. Words he had never said. Words he might never say.
