IMAGINES ⌲ dylan o'brien

youre too nice (dylan)

**warning: violence**

  Y/N POV

    I'd been walking home, getting some ibuprofen from the small pharmacy down the road from me and Dylan's apartment.

  I've had a searing headache and we ran out of pills.

  I could see the building from where I was, maybe half way. I noticed a couple girls ahead, waking my way. I didn't take notice, they were just walking the other way.

  But the way they were walking, was straight towards me. They finally met up, stopping in front of me. Three girls, all looking around 18, maybe 17.

  "You're y/n, right?" One asked, putting a hand on her hip. I chewed the inside of my cheek, nervous. This didn't happen often but fans of Dylan would occasionally stop me and ask questions or ask for a picture.

"Uh, yeah. How can I help you?" I asked, looking at all of them. They looked at one girl, nodding at her.

  She turned to me. "We'd like you to kindly back off from Dylan."

  I was taken back from their statement. This had never happened, yet alone in public.

  Then again, it was ten at night.

"Um, I'm sorry. What is that supposed to mean?" I slowly asked. The blonde one rolled her eyes, like I was stupid.

"Dylan needs someone in his life who's good for him. And that's not you." She spat.

  "I don't really think that's you're decision to make." I said back. They all stepped a little closer.

  "Well, it doesn't matter. He won't want you after this." She said, before punching me across the face.

  My mouth dropped open, blood dripping onto the pavement. I held my jaw, trying to contain the pain.

  The others joined, punching and kicking. I eventually crumbled to the floor, only making it easier for all of them to kick me.

  I felt a few to the face, crying out in pain. Unfortunately, no one was walking these streets at this time of night.

  They finally ceased, one leaning down to my level.

  "Now we'll see."

And they walked off.

  I struggled getting up, when I finally did. I now had to limp down the street. My stomach bruised, my legs burning, my face bloody.

  I passed a store window, reflecting my face. I looked closer, seeing all the cuts and swelling. My hair was disheveled, my clothes were all over.

  I looked away, continuing my aching journey home. When I reached the building, the front desk woman gave me a weird look. This was most likely because of my appearance.

  I got on the elevator, leaning against the rail as I pressed 6.

  The ding rang through the elevator, opening the doors. I stumbled out, making my way to 604.

  I slowly pulled out my keys, shoving them into the door. Opening the door, Dylan had his back to me, sitting on the couch.

  "Hey." He said, not turning, his eyes trained on the baseball game that was airing on.

  "Hey." I said back, closing the door and hanging my purse on the coat hanger.

  I grabbed the pills out of my purse, walking to the kitchen to get water. My feet hit against the tile as I put water into my cup and took the pill.

  My headache was even worse now, not compared to my other injuries.

  I wasn't going to bring it up to Dylan, though. If he was going to know, he was going to find out when he looked at me. Not when I complained about being jumped by girls who go to his movies.

  "How was the pharmacy?" He joked, still not taking his eyes off the tv.

  "Eventful. I was grabbing change and dropped it on the floor, embarrassing myself in front of the seven people behind me waiting for the only register that was open." I told him. I wasn't lying. That really did happen, along with that other thing.

  "Aw. Well, they'll get over it." He explained, shrugging to himself.

"Who's winning?" I asked, trying to keep conversation. I walked over to the couch, standing behind him.

  "Uh, the Mets. They're only the greatest." He exclaimed, as if it was common knowledge. I laughed a little at his large love for the team.

  I placed my hands on his shoulders, slightly rubbing them.

  "Aren't you the one with the headache?" He asked, grabbing my hands from his shoulders and intertwining his own.

He began to stand up. "Here you sit and I'll stand behin-"

  He turned around, finally catching a glimpse of my face.

"What happened?" He rushed around the couch, carefully holding my face.

  "It's nothing." I sighed, shrugging him off. He persisted, holding my head this time.

  "This isn't nothing, y/n. Who did this?" He asked, his eyes trailing all over, taking a full body examination of me.

  "Just some girls, looking to take out some anger. I'm okay." I argued. His eyes widened.

"You're not okay. For one, you're not putting you left foot all the way on the floor so something happened there. You're left cheek is swelling so one punched you." He evaluated. He gathered that much?

"Dylan-"

"No! We need to go to the hospital and get these checked out!" He said, pulling me towards the door.

"No!" I said, getting super serious. He looked confused, throwing his arms up. "Why not."

I sighed. "Because when I tell the doctors what happened, it's gonna blow up and some how someone is gonna tell some one else and then it'll be all over and that's not good for you." I argued, letting out a breath I'd been holding.

  His look softened as he walked closer to me. "You're worried about the publicity on me?"

  I did a small nod, looking at him.

He walked over to me, closing the space in between us. He held me in his arms, rubbing my back.

  "You're too nice." He laughed, causing me to laugh with him.

  "Seriously Dyl," I said, pulling away. "What if it gets out? A story about your fans beating me isn't really something you want on your career?"

He shrugged. "I don't care about the story. I care about you."

  My entire body was suddenly washed over with this warm feeling, causing my to slightly move.

"Are you sure?" I asked, trying to get a plain answer. He nodded, placing his forehead on mine.

"I've never been more sure."

I smiled, pecking his lips.

  "Now-" he started, pulling me towards the door. "Let's get you checked out."

"But it hurts. C'mon, let's just stay here and let my body heal itself." I groaned, pulling the opposite way.

  He rolled his eyes as he walked back over to me. I was happy he agreed until I saw him crouch down next to me and sweep my legs out from under me. He held me bridal style now, carrying me to the door.

  "You're ridiculous." I stated as he walked out of the apartment and shut the door. He sighed.

"Deal with it." And he pecked me on the lips.