#I’m sorry hotshot looks so weird

[thewallsaretalking-again]

I’m baaaaaaack

And I brought my nerd with mee

I just finished rescue bots academy and every single part of this show is soaked in serotonin. (specifically Hoist, Whirl, and Citadel Succundus)

My urge to draw something stupid has been immense lately, so I somehow came up with… THIS.

I’m warning you now, there will be many more of these in the near future. Be prepared…

[drewsbuzzcut]

The Best Of You, Honey, Belongs To Me

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy and smut, mentions having a baby and drinking alcohol, and mentions marriage

Takes place September 2026

“Ryan’s here,” Mat groans while unbuckling Nolan from his car seat.

Your sweet boy kicks his legs in delight, ready to be in his daddy’s arms while simultaneously distracting Mat from his distaste. You clock just where Mat’s line of vision was previously directed, Ryan’s car.

“You memorized his car?” You ask with a smirk after you round the corner to get to your two boys.

Mat doesn’t usually get jealous, so when he does you always feel a little smug.

“It’s not my fault he’s always around,” Mat mutters against Nolan’s chubby cheek.

“Dada,” Nolan squeals, his body leaning into his daddy’s chest.

“Aw baby, don’t be jealous. I’m all yours,” you say, holding up your left hand to showcase your rock for an engagement ring. It catches the rays from the sun and gleams, making Mat smile gleefully.

“I love you,” he says with his lovesick eyes that you love so much.

You walk up to him, long silky smooth legs on display, and reach out to move some hair away from his forehead. His hazel eyes sparkle in the sun, luring you into his chest. Or maybe it was his large hand on the curve of your ass pulling you to him. You seal your mouth to his and welcome his tongue as it passes the seam of your lips. He hums into you, tasting the cherry flavor of your lip gloss.

“Fuck. Can I just take you home?” Mat asks, breathlessly after he reluctantly pulls away.

He keeps his eyes closed for a while, memories of your night before flashing through his mind.

“Sorry, hotshot. We need to be here at least 3 hours before we can think about leaving,” you sigh, turning to adjust Nolan’s wrinkled shirt.

He gives you a single-tooth smile and you can’t resist kissing his cheeks, eliciting his precious giggles.

“Mama,” he coos and puckers his lips for a kiss.

“My boys and their kisses,” you cheer, happily giving your baby another kiss.

After dinner and many conversations held with many people, you finally have time to find your boys and relax. You make a quick stop at the ice chest to find a drink for yourself and Mat. The both of you won’t be able to drink too much because you have Nolan and the drive back home, but one sounds nice.

As you’re about to get to your fiancé, you see Ryan step up to him and you pause. Things with Mat and Ryan are still weird. Even though there have been many occasions that they’ve been around each other, there’s still tension that lingers. Ryan will make conversation with you and Mat will immediately turn green in jealousy. He reeks in it and you especially feel it when he paws at you so openly. You don’t mind Mat’s brazen nature when it comes to you; you know he’s not faking it.

“Hey, man. Do you mind if I carry Nolie bear?” Ryan asks and you can clearly see Mat tense up. His skin crawls as this nobody uses the nickname you coined for your son.

He’s still for a while and Ryan waits in front of him patiently. Mat’s confidence starts to falter. He never really thought about another man carrying his son as a threat, but now he’s on alert.

“Sure,” Mat agrees and passes Nolan into Ryan’s arms.

“He’s adorable, Mat. He reminds me a lot of Y/n,” Ryan says with a smile. His eyes briefly flash over to you. He seems to always know where you are.

“That’s funny, Y/n always says that he’s my mini me,” Mat retorts with a smug look painting his face.

Before Ryan can respond, Nolan starts wailing and squirming. He reaches his little arms out for his daddy, and Mat wastes no time taking him into his arms. Nolan’s cries pull you to them, so you can make sure he’s okay.

“Hey little man. Are you okay, baby?” You coo and run your fingers through the small tufts of hair on his head.

Mat watches the way Ryan’s eyes burn into your skin. He watches you so intently, like he just wants to pull you into him. Well, too bad. Mat will never let it happen.

“He’s okay. He just isn’t used to being in strangers arms,” Mat hums, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his side. As you wipe away Nolan’s tears, Mat’s hand makes home on the small of your back. His fingers dip down to the curve of your ass and you send him a wicked grin. His touch alone is enough to set you on fire.

“He’s a daddy’s boy at the moment,” you chime in, nudging your nose into your boyfriend’s cheek. You softly cup his cheek and pulls his lips to yours. The large diamonds of your engagement ring shine under the light and catch Ryan’s eye.

“You’re engaged?” His shocked question pulls your attention away from where you’re currently occupied.

“Oh yeah! Mat asked while we were in Italy last month. Isn’t my ring perfect? Mat had it customized. I’m so lucky,” you gleam, practically jumping up and down. The jiggle of your ass under your shorts catches Mat’s attention and he has to wipe away the drool on his chin.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to make this pretty girl my wife,” Mat simpers, slapping your ass and kissing on your exposed shoulder.

“Well of course you had to. She did have your baby,” Ryan murmurs, eyes rolling at the two of you.

“Shut up,” you snap and push yourself into Mat’s chest before he can throw a fist.

“I’m just saying. He probably felt like he had to propose to you because you had a baby,” Ryan shrugs as if what he was saying wasn’t rude and offensive.

“Careful, Ryan. You almost sound jealous,” Mat grunts.

“Jealous? Of who? You?” The other guy shakes his head, his eyes dead set on Mat.

“Right, you wouldn’t be jealous of me. I only have the girl of your dreams in my bed every night and she had my baby. And now she’s wearing the engagement ring I designed for her, but you’re not jealous,” Mat says under his breath, but loud enough for Ryan to hear.

You turn into Mat’s chest, coming face to face with the protruding veins on his neck and the flush in his face. He’s pissed. You rub down his torso and rub at Nolan’s back. Surely he can feel the tension and that’s why he’s pressed into Mat.

“I don’t care about any of that, because guess what? She’ll never forget her first,” Ryan huffs, unknowingly setting off a ticking time bomb inside of your fiancé.

Your jaw drops to the floor and your anger starts to boil over its already overflowing pot. You cannot believe this is happening right now.

“You know what, it’s time to go,” you cut in before things have a chance to turn for the worst.

Mat follows you silently, his hand intertwining with yours lets you know that he’s trying to calm down.

Bidding your goodbyes and promises of seeing your family and friends again soon pass by in a blur. You’re not even sure what words came out of your mouth. Your feet just know that you have to get out of there and carry you to the car with Nolan in hand.

As you buckle Nolan in you start to feel guilty for leaving Mat in there- he’s either stuck in line for the restroom or stuck in his farewells- but the air in that house was starting to run thin.

And while you worry about Mat, he’s seemingly burning whatever remnants of the bridge that connects you to Ryan.

Your fiancé places a heavy hand on Ryan’s shoulder, gathering his full attention.

“You may have been her first, but I’m her last. At least I can please my girl more than once in one night, and she sometimes doesn’t mind making a mess on my sheets,” Mat whispers and walks away before Ryan can respond.

The hockey player finds you in his vehicle, his fast paced walk getting him to you within a minute.

“I’m sorry I left you in there. I just needed to get-“ your words are cut off by Mat’s lips on yours.

His hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head back as his tongue devours your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he huffs, eyes closed as he tries to commit this kiss to memory.

“Always and forever,” you breathlessly whisper and place your forehead against his.

“Let’s go home,” he says, patting your butt and walking you to the passenger side.

The entire way home you keep a watchful eye on Mat. You can tell he’s still bothered by what happened by the way he white knuckles the steering wheel. You cup the back of his neck and rub out the tension with your thumb. You can feel him partially relax into your touch.

“I love you, Barzy,” you whisper and finally relax into the seat.

Back at home, you quickly give Nolan and yourself a bath before putting him to sleep.

Mat intercepts you in your shared bedroom, his hands pull your body into a hug. You’re only clad in your silk robe and the hockey player is quick to undo the tie. His eyes roam your bare body hidden beneath the silky material. Your nipples peek through and catch his attention. His thumbs massage your nipples over your robe and your core starts to tingle in delight.

“I can’t believe you ever had sex with that guy,” Mat grumbles as he pushes the robe off of your shoulders.

He grabs you by your waist and hoists you so you’re lying on your California king sized bed. Your darkening eyes follow each of his movements as he pulls off every item of clothing on his frame.

You move to rest on your side, half propped up by leaning on your elbow.

“It pisses me off that he made you come for the first time. It pisses me off even more that he’s still around and that he watches you like a hawk. You’re mine. You’re my wife, the mother of our child,” he exasperated, hands fisting his hair.

You watch him vibrate with anger that’s triggered by jealousy. Some people may feel guilty, but it turns you on like no other.

“But look at you all laid out for me,” Mat continues, finally getting on the bed.

He climbs on top of you, his knees pressing into the mattress at your sides. He leans down, cups your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A soft moan escapes your mouth, one that he almost doesn’t hear.

“Baby,” you hum and guide his hand to your heat.

“You’re so wet, pretty girl. Who’re you all soaked for?” He smirks at the way you coat his fingers in arousal.

“You. Only you,” you whimper as he sinks his cold fingers into you, preparing you for his cock.

“Hell yeah. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” Mat stakes his claim and continues to pump his thick digits into you.

“Fuck me. Fill me up, please,” you beg and close your legs around his wrist to stop his movements.

“You want my cock, baby?”

You nod your head before uttering out a desperate please.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” He questions even though he knows the answer. He finally moves between your legs, grabbing his length and giving it a few strokes, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

“Yes,” your response is broken as he slips himself between your folds. His shaft glistens in your wetness.

You softly swivel your hips, your clit meeting his leaking tip. He taps his head on your sensitive bud, teasing you until you’re begging.

“You feel so fucking good. Your pussy was made for me,” he grunts as he finally stretches you open.

Your core flutters around him immediately. He’s rock hard and heavy inside of you. His thrusts are slow, but pronounced. His mushroomed tip glides along your wet walls in a tantric massage. It makes you so weak.

“Kiss me,” you whine and pull him down on top of you. Your legs wrap around him, your heels digging into his back to keep him deep inside of you. Your hands wrap around his upper back and neck. You always need him pressed to your skin.

Mat takes your lips in his, his nose nudging into yours and his tongue stroking yours. He swallows each of your moans while simultaneously pulling more out of you.

The all too familiar knot starts to tighten in your tummy. Every single nerve ending in your body burns in lust. Mat must feel the way you clench down on him, because he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder.

“Oh my god. Right there, Maty. Don’t stop,” you chant at the change in angle.

His cock hits deeper to the point you practically feel him in your stomach. His large hands grip your hips and move them up and down. He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot and it sends you reeling. Your back arches off the bed and you fist the sheets while your moans get stuck in your throat. The pleasure is too good, it’s rendered you speechless.

“You look so sexy taking my cock,” he praises and circles your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Your body thrums in bliss, your slick dripping down his length and collecting at the base. The squelching and moaning creates your own melody.

“I’m going to come,” you announce with a loud moan.

The knot is being pulled taut, on the verge of snapping, and Mat holds you tight as he pounds into you.

“Come on my cock and scream my name, baby,” he throws you into the abyss.

You come with a cry, his name in the center of it. Your body twitches as the strength of your orgasm unleashes its wrath. Your walls collapse on his cock and sets off his own release. His come is pumped deep inside of you, filling you up, making you his.

“That’s it, pretty girl. You’re such a good girl, taking all of my come,” Mat praises, slowly pulling out of you and letting his lips caress your entire shivering body. He reaches down and circles your clit, working you through your release. Very gently he inserts two fingers into your sopping pussy, fucking his come back into you. It’s an erotic sight to see it drop down your thighs, but he also loves watching you be full of him. Plus, it’s hot to see it spill from your cunt.

“I love you,” you whimper and kiss on any part of him you can reach.

“I love you, baby.” He scoops your body into his arms and adjusts the both of you, so you’re lying on his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart eases the effects of your aftershocks. His warmth seeps into your skin and you can feel yourself slipping into the perfect satiated state.

Nolan’s shrill cries break through the silence from the baby monitor and wake you up.

“I got it,” Mat whispers with a kiss to your forehead.

“No, let me. I want to hold my baby,” you respond and pull yourself out of bed.

You quickly get cleaned up before warming up his milk and entering the nursery. While you get Nolan situated in the rocking chair, Mat cleans himself up and puts on some underwear.

Quietly he stands in the entrance of Nolan’s room, watching the love of his life feed their baby. You’re dressed in Mat’s button up and Nolan is wrapped in an Islanders onesie. He sucks his milk while his eyes are glued to you. Mat knows that’s why you love feeding him. The bonding moment is everything to you, especially since you weaned him off of your breast milk.

You look up and find the love of your life watching the sweet moment between you and your son. You give him a soft smile, one full of love and appreciation. He single-handedly changed your life and you couldn’t be happier than you are right now.

“I love you, Y/n. So much,” Mat professes, kneeling down next to the rocking chair, and gracing you with many kisses to your shoulder and neck.

“I love you, Barzy,” you whisper tearfully.

With ease, Mat picks you up and sets you on his lap after he sits on the chair. You lean your head back on his shoulder and continue feeding your baby boy. Mat presses his mouth into your neck and his pointer finger is wrapped up in Nolan’s tiny hand. Mat is grateful for his life with you and the family you’re both creating.

a/n: Idk how I really feel about this, but enjoy!

[softshuji]

Sometimes Tokyo is a suffocating place. 

Rindou loves it, don’t get him wrong. The various districts, various people, all milling about, some on phones talking fast, pushing through crowds that part unwillingly as they plough through, mothers and babies in prams and it’s loud, so loud, the tinny buzz of voices on top of each other and his head aches with the need for some silence. 

He walks into the library on a whim, his headphones blinking red and drained of battery and the cool quiet interior is a welcome respite from the noise, the collar of his shirt clinging to his neck under his hoodie, the occasional wisp of blond blue hair curling around his ears as the air con blows a blast of cold air.

Once he had hidden here with Ran, between the aisles as a police car rushed past, the two of them hunched over and catching their breath, a long stare that petered off into giggles and laughs, the two of them young and still new to it all. It’s a bit different now, a bit harder to get Ran’s attention since his Wife and child came along. He doesn’t resent it, he’s happy for him. Ran has been the source of his safety for years, it would be selfish to keep him like that- to rob him of what he knows Ran deserves. Peace, something to lean on when he is too stubborn to lean on him. 

Old habits do tend to die hard.

But he can’t lie and say it isn’t lonely sometimes. The days when he picks up the phone, types out a text to his Brother- the only person who was only ever a call away, a message away, a shout across the house- and imagines him juggling the throes of newfound parenthood, something he loves and enjoys, and having his little Brother clinging onto him still, this far into adulthood when Rindou thinks he should be able to stand on his own two feet and wishes it was easier to do so.

There is only so much music he can listen to, only so much he can drink alone, only so many clubs he can waste his time at before it bothers him- the strobe lighting, the flirtations of girls who’ll forget his name when the next hotshot with a wad of cash comes along, and maybe he flirts back for a time, just to throw out the napkin with their numbers on later because it ultimately means nothing to him when there’s so little substance and he hates the idea of meeting someone like that- playing pretend because there’s so little else to do.

He’s angry that it seems so hard for him and he wishes he were a little less….him at times. A little more like Ran, a little easier, a little less rough around the edges, the jagged and sharp points of him that are stubborn and unwilling to be smoothed down by time. If it were a year ago, he’d call his Brother now and they’d drive at night and he’d feel a little less like he’s wading out to shore, a little more seen, a little less like he’s squashed between here and there and scrambling for something to understand. 

Maybe he kicks at the ground then, and maybe he loses his footing and stumbles into you reaching up to get something from the shelf, you knocked sideways and him barrelling into you, one hand braced on the wall to stabilise himself, the other reaching for you to pull you to him instinctually. 

‘Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,’ he says, headphones clattering to the floor, the wires corded around his hoodie, an avid crimson spillingacross his skin. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, no I’m fine, don't worry.’ And you look up from where you’d bent to brush the dust from your legs with the beginnings of a smile. And maybe the light hits you at just the right angle, the sunlight dancing through the window, dust mites flickering in the golden glow- or maybe he’d touched your hand for a fraction of a second and it had been warm and soft or maybe he’s rationalising and something cold in him cracks a little but he smiles back and lifts a hand to rub at his neck with a trepidation that he curses himself for. 

You laugh, awkwardly, a brightness around the edge of you that feels warm, that feels foreign and weird and genuine and he watches the reflection of himself in your eyes, bewilderment and confusion and an attempt at a lopsided smile when you retrieve his headphones from the floor, the two sides now coming apart in your hands.

‘Oh,’ you say, a worried bite on your lip, the two sides of his now broken pair in your two hands. ‘God I’m so sorry, I can pay you for these-’

‘No need, it was my fault, I’m the one who hit you.’

‘No, no, I was in the way-’

‘You weren’t, I was just not watching where I was going. You don’t have to pay for anything, they weren’t that good anyway.’

He neglects to mention that they were his favourite pair, a set he bought a year back to kick off the DJ thing that never really went anywhere, because it was only ever just him and the kit, him and the music and maybe it was a lonely experience to not have anyone to share that with, long nights where the tinny sound of the music is somehow an ache in the otherwise silent house.

‘You sure?’ You cock your head to the side, lifting the two halves. ‘They seem really good quality. I can’t pay for it all now but maybe-’

‘Don’t worry, seriously. I got a tonne more at home.’

You blink and he curses himself again inwardly, avoiding and resisting a sidestep on his feet in nervous apprehension. He sees then, your books scattered on the floor at your feet, and bends to pick them, resting them under his arm as he leans down before handing them to you gently, his fingers brushing yours on the underside and it makes his chest lurch when you murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ that he’s glad isn’t lost on the reverberating drone and shuffle of feet in the next aisles over. 

‘Okay, I can get you a coffee? It doesn’t quite make up but I’d feel bad for not doing anything at all.’ You turn to pack the books into your bag and he watches you, the ease with which you hand the two sides back to him and wait expectantly for his reply, the loud and disastrous crash of his heart that he’s convinced you can hear, the long and ample silence that has his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. 

‘You don’t have to say yes by the way- I’m not trying to- you know, I just feel bad for breaking one of your things-’

His lips part. ‘Yes, yes, I’ll….’ he chews on his lip, hands helplessly holding the broken headphones, the swirl of something that feels like desperation clouding the flecked hue of his eyes. ‘Yeah, I think that’ll be okay.’

And it feels strange and different and new and terrifying when you grin brightly and pat his arm  and the hollow of his throat beats with nerves, pink flashing across his cheeks and ears in a way that feels so utterly like a betrayal.

You hum, hoist a stack under your arm and the sun is out, streaming through the windows as you lift your bag over your shoulder. ‘Okay nice, I’m going to go check these out but I'll meet you outside in ten?’

‘S-sure….’ he says, a whisper caught on his lips with a starved and suffocating breath, the dizzying euphoria, nerves and anxiety all rolling along his chest when he watches you leave with a short wav, the bag you’re carrying falling over your shoulder.

And maybe the pain is good this time, the sense of vertigo that has him bracing a hand on the shelf, a hand to his chest to rub at, slow and deliberate breaths to calm his racing heart.

Maybe this time, he feels a little less angry, a little less sad, a little more like something that feels scarily akin to happiness. 

Reblogs appreciated!

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13k

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

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

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

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw {You Are Here}

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

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

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

You’d be missing Andrew and his dimpled grin.

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

“What do you mean you’re done?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still on shift tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I said I can’t find her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.”

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

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

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

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

“Holy shi…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you make it to the jeep?”

“If I say no would you carry me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Won’t your dad be disappointed?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what?”

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

“Like what?” you smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They being Allison’s dad and aunt?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you said?”

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

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

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

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

You made your choice and Andrew is a good guy.

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you later,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, “Have you apologized to Allison?”

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

“You mean you were stalking her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles: You’re just unfriending the pack?!

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

Stiles: No

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

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

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

(Y/N): Tell you later

Scott: Ok

Stiles: Tell us now

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, Loverboy.”

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

Hence the anxiety making your fingers pull on your sleeves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cameras?” Kate questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you hunt?” you say innocently.

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

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

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

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

You nod, “Why math?”

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

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

“And your parents are…?” Victoria continues.

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you live before?” Chris asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you say fast, “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was Allison?” Scott changes the subject.

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

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

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

Scott shivers, “Scary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blush, “Is that alright?”

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

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

“You’re a fan of Disney?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He holds your hand atop your lap the whole way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

“I came to ask you something.”

“And your phone is…?”

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

“And not coming to the door…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suddenly feel warm, maybe from embarrassment – maybe from empathy. You couldn’t imagine a life without your mother. “A very fitting name for someone so mischievous.”

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

“I knew it,” you smirk.

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

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

He looks shy as he mumbles, “Mieczyslaw.”

“Mitchy-slav?”

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

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

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

“I already know your dad, Stiles.”

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

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

You hope your gesture is kindly met.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles was never quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are all connected?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He puts a finger to his lips and listens.

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything, sweetheart…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I would’ve done the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because he’s failing?” Stiles gawks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t want to go with Allison?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Get people to kiss you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost.”

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

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

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

“Personal choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head, “Not gonna happen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum in reply, “You’re welcome.”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams.”

~~~

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

[goodlucktai]

Would you maybe do 8 with Leo talking to Usagi? :D

dialogue prompts

8. “Okay. Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

x

The subway tunnels are dark, half-collapsed, and the purest pitch black. Leonardo’s eyes are hooded white when Usagi sweeps the beam of his penlight towards him. Usagi’s never gotten a straight answer from any of the turtles about what, exactly, they had been genetically modified for in the first place, but he watches Leonardo pass his own light to one of the frightened humans behind him and figures he could add ‘built-in night vision’ to the column of weird abilities he’s seen firsthand proof of. 

The woman takes the light from Leo and passes it to her young daughter, who clutches it like a lifeline. No one from their group makes a sound, hyper-aware that the Krang hounds they barely managed to outrun could make a reappearance at any second. 

“Okay,” Leo says, in that steadfast, fearless tone of voice that made heads swivel from every corner of the room to pay attention when he talked. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

“What?” Usagi blurts, jolting forward. “Leonardo, what?”

He tries to keep the panic out of his voice, for the sake of the humans they had not quite managed to fully save just yet, but he can’t help the way his heart starts to race. Leo doesn’t swear. He never swears. Every time he used to, he would look around guiltily, waiting for his big brother to swoop in out of thin air and scold him— “I don’t care if you’re a hotshot resistance leader,” Raph would say, “you’re still my brat of a baby brother, and I’m still bigger than you.”

But Raph died two years ago, and is no longer around to scold him for it. It didn’t stop Leo’s knee-jerk reaction of looking over his shoulder for him, as if he still might appear. And Usagi knows that hurt him every time. So Leo doesn’t swear. 

For him to break out the big guns, something must really be wrong. Usagi sweeps the light over him, his pulse pounding in his ears, and freezes when he finds what definitely looks like a piece of metal sticking out of Leonardo’s arm. 

Leo tilts away from him, putting the injury in the dark, and says, “Hush, Cottontail. We can’t let the hounds know we’re here.” 

But what was already a tricky situation has become a ticking time bomb. The hounds are nearby, their warbling, high-pitched croons reverberating down the dark tunnels, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint their location by sound. They’ll follow the scent of blood from a quarter of a mile away, like sharks. And Leo’s losing it fast—alarmingly fast. 

He unties his mask from around his eyes and uses his teeth to knot it around his arm instead, tight above the wound. He’s perfunctory and businesslike about it, and when he looks up Usagi knows he’s going to say something horrible.

Sure enough, “I’ll draw them away,” Leonardo says. “Once I do, you get these people to safety. We’re not that far from the safe zone, you’ll make it.”

Only that’s not how it’s going to go. Because Leo’s siblings are waiting for him. Because Mikey still hugs Leo like an octopus any time one of them leaves without the other, every single time, almost thirty years old and made ancient by grief and fear but still very much someone’s baby brother. Because if Usagi goes through with this, he’ll have to look April and Mikey both in the eye when he returns, and he doesn’t have the stomach for that. 

A crooning howl creeps toward them, alarmingly close. The hounds are getting excited, as if they’ve picked up the trail. Usagi shifts one step back, then another. 

Leonardo says, “Don’t. Don’t you dare.” It’s his leader voice, but it doesn’t work on anyone who grew up with him. And they were kids together before the end of the world. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, because he is. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t go. But this—him or Leo—this isn’t a decision that needs to be made. This just is what it is. 

He runs as far as the end of the track, sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles piercingly. Leonardo’s stricken face, fuzzy and indistinct just within the range of Usagi’s flashlight, is the last thing he sees before he turns and runs for his life. 

They’ve used these tunnels for training exercises more than once, and that’s the only reason he makes it as far as he does, counting on muscle memory as he sprints and ducks and climbs. He crawls into a pipe just barely big enough for a rabbit yokai, much too small for a Krang hound—but not before he feels the drag of claws in the meat of his calf, not before a cry of pain is wrenched out of him, the immediate sting of the alien toxin setting in like a chemical burn. 

There are four of them screeching and digging at the mouth of the pipe with their horrible hands, and Usagi presses as far back as he can and hopes the metal holds. Hopes Leo got away. Hopes he won’t look over his shoulder for Usagi the way he does for Raph, because that would be—that would be so—

The sun comes out, flooding the tunnel with gold. The hounds shriek and peel away. A familiar, powerful force thrums in the air, like the charge before a lightning strike but consistent. 

Usagi thinks it’s strange to see a sunrise underground, and stranger still to see the sun at all when the sky has been overcast with dust and smoke for years, but it’s nice. It’s warm. 

And then he wakes up, which is super disorienting because he doesn’t remember going to sleep. He’s in the infirmary, the one room in the base guaranteed to have working lights and clean linens. The soft pillow beneath his head feels like a luxury he didn’t do anything special enough to deserve.

There’s a pressure on his hand, and when he looks he discovers Leonardo is holding it while he sleeps on the edge of the bed, slumped forward in his chair. Michelangelo is conked out beside him, his hair doing the funny curly thing it does after he uses too much ninpo, the whole of him blanketed in leftover static electricity. 

On the other side of the bed, April is watching Usagi with brown eyes that see everything. 

“That was close,” she says. “I don’t need to tell you that.”

No, she doesn’t. The memories limp and crawl back, and Usagi rips his eyes away from Leo’s face. He looks stressed even when he’s sleeping. Usagi contributed to those lines under his eyes, the chasm between his brows. It doesn’t feel good to know that. 

“I won’t ask you for a miracle,” April murmurs, “because that isn’t fair. But—it feels like I’m holding onto him by a thread sometimes. And I know Angie isn’t gonna let him out of his sight again for at least a week. Usagi, he can’t lose anybody else, okay? He can’t.”

The distress in her voice triggers something in Usagi that just bleeds, all through his ribcage, all through his heart. 

“I know,” Usagi whispers. He really does know. Donatello’s funeral was three months ago, and it still feels like they’re walking through a minefield. They’re balancing on a tightrope. Leonardo hasn’t laughed once since he buried his other half. 

“So just,” April says, “come home, okay? No matter what, make sure you come home.”

“I promise,” Usagi says, and holds his free hand out to her. She clasps it, and her fingers are human, the shape of them entirely different, but they have had a decade to make the gesture familiar and second nature. She’s his sister, as much as she’s Leo’s and Mikey’s, and Usagi would do anything she asked of him. 

So he keeps that promise for a long time. But he doesn’t keep it forever. 

[dontbesoweirdkira]

How many children would each of the Salieri men have? -Anon

A/N: Okay this is a response to a inbox request. For some reason I cannot find it anymore?? Sometimes my inbox eats up y’all’s messages. I’m so sorry!! ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS!! I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam

I know I’ve written before that he wants kids with his wife but that’s delusional ¡Yandere! Sam who’s only doing that to baby trap you.

I think he truly doesn’t wants kids and would be perfectly fine if you couldn’t bear any. I think the true reason why he goes through with it is because of the time that he’s in.

Hotshot mob-boss Sam would need to have children because he’d eventually need to have a successor for the family.

Needs come before wants😪

Plus it’d look so weird if he willingly chose not to have any when he can. During that time if you were married with absolutely no kids by like the second year…*side eyed* (exaggeration but y’know)

Please no more than 2 tho. Only wants a son but would be okay with having daughter if he also had a son.

Would be an okay father tho so don’t worry too much. He’s like a dad that swears he hates dogs and if his family gets one he won’t take care of it but once the dog is around he switches up.

Yeah that’s him, he loves his kids a lot. He doesn’t always know how to show it and he’s kind of both physically and emotionally absent.

He does provide them with everything and if they are giving you a hard time he will defend you.

Paulie

You cannot change my mind on this. He wants the most kids and has the strongest desire for them.

This man is a hopeless romantic and he reeeeallly wants to have a perfect large family. I read a headcannon once that said Paulie had a very abusive father and the Mob was his ticket out of that. I believe that too and he wants to become the father he never had.

He fantasizes about being the best dad ever and having the whole family work together in his pizza joint. How beautiful his wife would look carrying his kids.

He wants 6-12 kids…3 boys and 3 girls if it’s 6 or 7boys and 5 girls if it’s 12.

Have you seen that scene in shameless where the guy goes “I HAVE A MAGICAL DICK” after finding out his wife is having twins…yeah that’s Paulie

Seriously this is his dream and if he ever becomes a father he’d never shut up about it. #1 PTA dad. He’s extremely involved with his children’s life. He’ll go through insane lengths to protect his children from a horrible childhood.

Tommy

The original “whatever my wife wants, I’m happy with” man.

I think he’s indifferent about the whole concept of having kids..? Like having kids would be nice….so is not having kids. Doesn’t really care about the societal pressure to have them at all.

He cares about his wife more than any of that junk. If having children would be too much of a strain on your life then don’t worry about it.

To be honest he’s kind of worried to have children because any day he could be gone and now his partner would be left as a single mother. :/

So I’m going to say while he’s actively in the mob he’d be leaning towards a no. But if this is after he’s escaped and you’ve settled down, Tommy is down for it.

Maybe 1-4 kids. Keeping it rather light and traditional. I don’t think this man would handle more than that tbh. Hes certified tired™️ and the more kids the less sleep.

I have a feeling though that he’d have all girls. He’s actually okay with that though. Mobster in a tutu to make his girls smile🤣

I’d say he’d be a normal suburban dad but I think he’s slightly too reserved and dangerous for that.

The family dynamic is super normal. He goes out to work to provide for y’all and when he gets home he’ll help the kids with homework.

We all know Tom is extremely loyal and loving so his kids are his world. They mean absolutely everything to him and he’ll do whatever it takes to help guide them through life.

[definitelynuwonhere]

REDACTEDTOBER DAY 02

This involved less thought, but it’s something. the prompt for the other list said video-game so it conveniently matched as well and I’m seriously happy with how this turned out, as weird if a concept at is it, i hope u like it <3

ADAM

—

“Atari”

Adam was an orphan at a young age, a runaway one at that.

6 years old, and he’s already managed to raise himself.

On one of the nights in search for shelter, he found himself in a seemingly abandoned house.

At least, he thought it was abandoned.

The house belonged to Henry Jessup, former department agent who had been laid off since the rise of the hotshot detective, Colm Greer.

The house was all he had, his own sanctuary of dusty shelves, curtained windows and an Atari 2600 console that adorned his tv that sat in the middle of the living room.

Games was his escape, an escape he’d immersed himself in entirely since being laid off.

That particular night, while enjoying a game competitive game of pong, the sound of tiny feet, caught his attention. He may be out of commission, but that didn’t diminish his sharp senses, and thar sound was sure as he not his raccoon companion, Gerald.

Straightening his back, he grabbed the closest thing in sight as a weapon, which in his case would be a beer opener.

“Who’s there!?” He called out, his voice booming as it echoed the dimly lit room.

—

Adam froze, covering his mouth to avoid any sound from escaping.

He crawled under a table, only to be grasped the collar of his shirt, hovering him over the face of a 60-something aged bearded man.

“Who are you?! How did you get in?!” He roared, keeping him about 3 feet off the ground.

“I-i n-need, r-roof…i-it was..cold..” The young boy stuttered, whimpering in fear as tears welled up in his eyes

The man met the boy’s gaze, seeing the fear in his face. He let out a low growl, easing his grip and setting him down.

“Well, what you did was trespassing.” he spoke, walking back to couch. “Sorry..” Adam mumbled, sniffling as he rubbed at his neck where he’d be gripped

“You hungry?” the old man spoke in a nonchalant tome, holding out a half eaten box of spinach pizza, offering it to the child.

Adam felt heard the gurgle of his stomach, having barely eaten the past 2 days, he was practically drooling. He looked up at the man, seeking confirmation.

“Well, go on” He replied.

Once he got the answer, he quickly picked out a hefty slice, practically shoving the entire pie in his mouth, letting out a content groan having finally eaten again.

“Jesus, slow down, pizza ain’t going nowhere”

Henry spoke, handing him a plate to place his slice on before taking his spot back on the couch

“Grab a seat.” He said, gesturing towards the empty couch across from his.

Adam nodded appreciatively, placing his pizza on the plate before walking over to the couch.

“I—“ He started, only to be cut off with the man’s low grovel.

“There’s a free bed upstairs, I don’t like mischief, and I expect you help around the place.” He said, his eyes never leaving the TV while he played a around of pong

Stopping mid bite, his eyes widened in shock, he was letting him stay? His lips curved into a small smile, nodding at the man’s offer.

Henry let out a confirm him, taking a swig from his mug before turning to face him, “Wanna play?” He asked nonchalantly, reaching out a second controller.

The boy tilted his head curiously, taking the controller in his hands, watching closely as the man explained what each control did.

Then they played. A thing they would find themselves doing often, bonding over the galaxies of Galaga, to the trenches of Pacman and Q*bert. They explored it all.

And as the years went on, now in his vampiric life, A decade since Henry passed, Adam often found himself going back to the slums of the little run down cabin. The calming buzz of the TV and its glow providing a dim light, creating a sense of melancholy as he booted up the same Atari 2600.

[bradshawsbitch]

Congratulations on the 300 followers 🥳 you deserve it! May I request ”Well this is awkward..” for Rooster? If not that then ”You’re jealous, aren’t you?” for Jake 🤩

Hey, thanks so much darling!!💘💘 I think I’ll go for Rooster, if that’s alright 🙈 and uh, oh my god I’m sorry it turned out so filthy!

Minors DNI - 18+

Warnings: SMUT! FILTH! Afab!reader, oral (f receiving), PinV, pet names!

Description: you, call sign Dove, have had a little crush on Rooster. Perhaps he’s had a little crush on you too, and it has pent up for quite a while.

It was sometimes hard, pretending not to have a ridiculous school girl crush on Rooster. You tried your best to hide it, but boy did he make that hard. You found yourself giggling at his stupid jokes, tucking your hair behind your ear as he talked to you - and sometimes you’d find yourself subconsciously mirroring his movements. It was embarrassing. Phoenix and Halo liked to tease you about it, especially after a couple of hotshots at the bar.

Rooster just was just impeccable in every sense of the word. He was sweet, funny, kind, and boy he was hot as hell. Flying with him was fun, and never stressful (not like flying with Hangman, he made you feel like you had Satan himself hunting your F/A-18). He was careful and methodical, and you admired that about him too.

In today’s exercise, you’d been his wingman - and unfortunately, he had been forced to save your ass from being ‘shot down’. You felt anxious about if he would be mad at you when you landed, so you’d spoken a soft “I’m sorry, Rooster” through the comms.

“It’s alright, Dove. What’s 200 more push-ups?” He sighed, but didn’t sound angry. You wrinkled your nose and offered to do half. He just laughed and said it was fine. So that’s how you found yourself staring at his sweaty, heaving chest as he sat down on the hard tarmac after his 200 push-ups.

You made some conversation about the exercise you’d flown, and he was really nice about you messing it all up. He said he knew you were an excellent pilot, and that everyone had an off day sometimes. That made your cheeks warm up considerably, and you felt abashed. You didn’t feel like you were, but you still thanked him. You watched as he rose to his full height, him patting your shoulder kindly as he said he wanted to cool down with a light jog (he was absolutely crazy).

Sighing, you laid down on the tarmac, covering your eyes with a soft groan before peeling yourself off the ground to hit the showers. You stopped on your way there for some water and a fruit, feeling a little faint in the heat. You took your time and slowly but surely made it to the locker room and the showers. It looked as if it was only you there, but you could hear a single shower running - so maybe Phoenix was still here washing off the day.

You started to undress, and only had your panties on when you heard a weird noise behind you that sounded an awful lot like “Fuck!” furrowing your brows, you turned around - only to be met by the completely naked form of Rooster.

“Oh, god!” You yelped, taking a little too long gazing at him before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Well… this is awkward” Rooster laughed “I forgot my towel…”

Fucking hell. The lord was testing you today. Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the death of you. You had your arms crossed over your chest, not being able to locate your towel with your eyes tightly shut.

“Y-you can borrow mine… uh, if you can find it by my things over here” you winced at your suggestion. Having Rooster closer to you whilst naked didn’t sound like a good idea. You bit your lip as you tried not to replay the vision of Rooster’s amazing body, little droplets of water running down his chest, down to his happy trail. God, you had known that he must be packing. And he was. Christ on a bike.

“Is it this pink, fluffy one?” You could hear Roosters purring voice near you, and you gasped at his sudden appearance. You hadn’t heard him move. You could only let out a high pitched “Mhm!” As you nodded your head. God his voice was lethal, and you felt your thighs clench together involuntarily. He seemed to do that to you. Make your body react so viscerally against your will.

“Are you okay, baby?” Rooster smirked, seeing you half naked had made his cock twitch. He’d wanted you for so long, and from the way your body was reacting - it seemed as if you might want him too. You let out another hitched breath of air at his words.

”Y-yeah, I mean— no, or— are you covered? Can I open my eyes?” Rooster decided to try his thesis. Being still mostly uncovered he said he was.

You opened those beautiful eyes of yours, and you noticed him standing so close to you, his broad chest right in front of you, and you did the unthinkable - you whimpered.

“Little dove, I think someone liked what they saw, hm?” He was full on smirking now, grabbing ahold of your chin to lift it so he could see your beautiful face. You licked your lips, barely being able to breathe as you stared into his handsome face. You whimpered again and nodded slowly. His smile widened. “That’s good, baby. I’ve been liking my view for a while as well…” he purred, his grip on your chin holding you steady.

“Can I touch you, little dove?” He whispered, his lips almost ghosting over your ear. A soft moan fell from your lips as you nodded, eyelids fluttering close as you felt warmth spreading through your core. “Need you to use your big girl words, my little dove” Rooster whispered, and you felt your knees grow weak as you almost collapsed into his chest.

“Y-yes, Rooster - please touch me!” You moaned, and as soon as the words were out of your mouth, Bradley’s lips ghosted over the warm skin of your neck, leaving small, teasing kisses. His big hands tugged softly at your crossed arms, asking if you would lower them for him. You didn’t hesitate for a second, letting them drop by your sides at his command.

“So beautiful,” Rooster murmured, kneading your breasts with both hands. Your head tilted backwards, a gasp drawn from your lips as he massaged and teased your breasts and nipples.

“Rooster,” you moaned, placing your hands on his strong biceps. He only smiled, bending down and connecting his lips with yours, eagerly wetting your lips with his tongue as he asked to taste you. You immediately obliged and sighed at the feeling of his tongue stroking against yours seductively.

Releasing your lips, he kissed his way down your neck, to your collarbone, and finally to your bare chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples - sucking and licking you so good. This was when he let out his first pretty moan. Hearing a man moan was like hearing the angels sing, in your opinion, and it turned you on knowing he was enjoying this just as much as you.

“Is it okay if these come off, little dove?” He had kneeled down before you, and had his fingers near the edge of your panties. You licked your lips and nodded again. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Y-yes, sir” you didn’t know where that came from, perhaps because of how he exuded dominance in the most delicious way - and his loud groan told you he liked it. He wasted no time in pulling your underwear down, grabbing your thigh and hoisting it over his shoulder, his mouth desperately tonguing at your core, kitten licking your clit, making you gasp and moan, your head falling back against the locker door. When his tongue started fucking you, you yanked hard on his hair and saw stars infront of your eyes as your orgasm crashed down on you.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” Rooster’s raspy voice commanded, as he picked you up with ease, putting your legs around his waist as he carried you. “We gotta wash you up,” he mumbled, stepping the two of you into a shower, shutting the drapes behind you. His mouth was soon on yours again, having you pressed up against the cool tiles, his large hands under your thighs as his body held you up. He switched the water on, groaning at the beautiful sight of the water trickling down your body.

“Please fuck me, lieutenant,” you moaned quietly and Rooster’s eyes fluttered close with a strangled groan “You catch on quick, pretty little dove,” he whispered, before fisting his cock once, twice, before he lined himself up and dove in, seating himself deep inside you.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well” he groaned as he watched himself bottom out in you. You were panting, moaning, whimpering at the delicious stretch of him. He wasted no time, knowing someone could walk in at any moment, as he pulled out slightly before fucking back into you. His moans were so pretty, you never wanted him to stop. By now he was fucking you hard, fast and deep, his hands hoisting your hips higher to reach deeper into you. His hands helped you with the rhythm and you clung to him as if your life depended on it, a soft moan releasing from your lips as you heard the door of the locker room open.

“We have an audience, little dove. Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock for me now?” Rooster whispered, and that was all it took for you to bite down hard on his shoulder to keep quiet, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your second orgasm washed over you, clenching around Roosters cock as he fucked you deep, letting out a strangled groan as he too came, painting your insides with his warm cum.

He held you still, the water echoing in the space. He was still buried deep within you when you heard Hangman’s cocky voice say “Still burying your sorrows, Rooster?” And you thanked your lucky star he could only see Bradley’s feet.

Rooster smirked, huffing out a small laughter as he replied:

“Yeah, something like that” as he smiled at your flushed face.

[thewertsearch]

TA: some crazy technology AA dug out of some ruins.

It looks like both of the ‘apocalypse’ handles are part of the Sburb distribution circle! 

Of all the theoryposts I made, I really didn’t expect ‘let’s extrapolate from the troll usernames’ to pay the most dividends, but here we are. What this is telling me is that no, these usernames aren’t arbitrary, and yes, they are all packed with foreshadowing, and I need to be paying close attention. 

TA: if you heard what i heard every night i mean WOW FUCK. CG: NO LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT YOUR WEIRD MUTANT BRAIN. CG: AND DON'T SCAN MINE OR WHATEVER, IT'S OFF LIMITS YOU DOUCHE. TA: i told you like a billion times i cant do that you nubslurping fuckpod.

It seems TA’s blood-and-carnage dreams are worse than they’re supposed to be. Karkat seems to be under the impression that he’s psychic, and we’ve heard this one before. 

There’s a good chance that TA is awake on Prospit - or Derse. If dream selves express your subconscious feelings, how do they react to a species wracked by primal nightmares?

CG: WHY ARE YOU TWO UP TO THIS SECRET STUFF. CG: WHY HAVEN'T YOU TOLD ME ANYTHING ABOUT THIS? TA: KK im sorry but really its kind of a private matter between me and her and id appreciate it if that was respected.

We’ve also seen a Player getting evasive like this before. If TA has a source like Jade’s, he knows that he can’t share his information until the loops he’s setting up have closed. 

CG: WHAT A LOAD OF SHIT, THIS ACT THAT YOU ACTUALLY THINK YOU'RE A HOTSHOT, YOU KNOW YOU HATE YOURSELF. TA: nobody hates himself more than you idiot. CG: YEAH WELL I HATE YOU WAY MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF, AND THAT'S FUCKING SAYING SOMETHING. CG: IN FACT I HATE YOU MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF AND YOU HATE YOURSELF AND YOU HATE ME COMBINED. TA: oh fuck that noise in every leaking orifice its got you know i hate the combined product of you and myself more than you could ever begin two hate me and myself and you and yourself on your worst day so FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.

Yo, what the fuck is happening!

It’s not just Karkat who’s screaming about how he hates his friends - TA is getting in on the action, too.  I’ve seen enough of this dynamic  that I’m starting to think it’s cultural - the trolls, on some level, are being taught to hate.

Just what sort of planet is this?

TA: im setting up two teams. TA: like two separate competing teams so that theres a better chance of at least one group winning. TA: and also i guess two see which one can win faster.

Wait, what the fuck is actually happening.

I understand why TA would want to get his friends into the Medium - it’s the only way to save their lives. But he’s looking farther ahead here - it almost sounds like he knows what awaits them at the end of the game. Sburb isn’t just an escape hatch for him - it’s something he sees value in winning.

Absolutely nothing so far has indicated that Sburb will help you resurrect your planet - indeed, the game is quite insistent that it won’t help you do that. What does TA think is going to happen when they win?

[lemonade-if]

Character Overview: Love Interests

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

(Click Here for physical descriptions!)

Rather than giving away a profile, I decided to go around campus and interview anonymous Morigaoka students ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ Perhaps some direct quotes from peers would be the best way to convey the basic impressions of these eight characters.

Without further ado...

---

Ren Sugiyama 杉山蓮 (F) - Year 1 Class A

“Did you know? There’s a tree by the west campus gate called the ‘Tree of Rejection’. Apparently, 18 people confessed to Ren-chan there last month and she turned all of them down. That’s why I’m planning to confess to her by the shoe lockers instead...oi, why are you laughing. I’m serious.”

“Sugiyama’s filthy rich. Her mom’s that famous designer, Kanae Sugiyama. Wonder why the kid of such a hotshot would attend such a normal school like Mori High...not that I’m complaining.”

“Whew, Ren-chan from 1-A!! She’s got it all. Half of me wants to date her, and the other half wants to be her. I’ve heard she’s dated a few people in the past. I wonder what they were like...it must be a lot of pressure to date someone as popular and high profile as Ren-chan."

“I hate sports, but I joined one just so I could see Ren-chan cheer for me at our games...well, I suck so I have to watch the cheer team from the bench, but that’s still technically her cheering for me...um, are you okay? You’re looking at me like I’m disgusting.”

Yuushin Mikazuki 三日月勇心 (M) - Year 1 Class A

"N-no comment. Sorry.”

“Grumpy bastard. Mysterious. Absolute worst case of Resting Bitch Face I’ve ever seen. I sit in front of him in class so his glare pierces right through my back. Wait, don’t publish that last part, he’ll know who I am-”

“Um...I guess he ditches a lot. Why? Who knows...fighting, maybe? He gets called to the guidance room a lot for showing up injured. Imagine fighting Mikazuki though...he’s huge.”

“I don’t really know him, but a guy like that is bad news for sure. It’s best to stay away. I feel sorry for whoever gets assigned the empty seat next to him.”

A/N: Yuushin’s route includes heavier themes, language, and content than the other routes, including problematic behavior such as fighting and underage smoking. He is not an abuser in any capacity, but his route is not recommended for those seeking a warmer and light-hearted playthrough.

Shion Kisaragi 如月詩音 (F) - Year 1 Class D

“Class B’s Kisaragi is the school’s top student and the only first year in student council. I wonder what she’s like outside of school. Can’t really imagine her doing anything besides schoolwork...but they say the quiet ones are the craziest, right? Kidding, kidding...”

“She’s...smart? Studious? She seems really busy, too...I've never seen her just sit around doing nothing. Even during lunch, she's multitasking as she eats."

“I don’t know her, but I overheard her talking to the principal once. Her voice gave me this weird sense of deja vu...can’t imagine why...”

“I’m a moron, so our homeroom teacher always makes Kisaragi-san tutor me. She seems plain at a glance, but she’s actually really cute up close, especially when she adjusts her glasses...huh? You didn’t ask about that? My bad.”

Hikaru Takeuchi 武内光 (M) - Year 1 Class B

“Ah, the soccer team’s freshman ace! He’s an idiot, but he’s a fun idiot who knows how to work hard and play hard. Bright, easygoing, mischievous but dependable in times of need-- he’s the type who can get along with anybody. I doubt there’s anyone in this school who has bad things to say about a guy like him."

“Ever since I watched Takeuchi eat 12 servings of mazesoba for lunch, I’ve wondered if he’s really a human. It’s actually insane how much that guy can eat. If soccer doesn’t work out, he’ll have a good shot in the competitive eating world.”

“Sometimes, Takeuchi seems like he’s in pain...I asked him about it before, but he laughed it off. Maybe I imagined it.”

“There was a time back in junior high when I had detention with Hikaru for a whole month. We were riding our mops like racehorses through the hallways when we crashed into the principal, knocking off his wig...Hikaru tried to help by picking it up and putting it back on the geezer’s head but the guy went berserk. He retired shortly after that.”

Leila Ozaki 尾崎レイラ (F) - Year 1 Class A

“I heard Ozaki lives in a dorm? She moved to Tokyo alone for high school. No wonder she feels so mature...it must be tough to move out so early.”

“It’s unfortunate what happened to her band...you didn’t hear? Their vocalist went missing half a year ago and the police still have no leads. They were invited to headline some pretty big gigs but had to cancel all of them. They’ve been on hiatus ever since. Re;Light 13, you can look them up. Ozaki’s the drummer.”

“She’s cool as hell. I wish I could talk to her, but she’s always wearing headphones or airpods...she seems like the type of person who’d have really interesting stories. Someday, I want to ask her about what it’s like growing up in Los Angeles.*”

“You can’t think I’m creepy for this, promise? And you can’t tell...okay, Ozaki has a tattoo on her ribcage. I swear I wasn’t trying to look-- I just happened to see when we were changing for gym!! She noticed that I saw and just...raised a finger to her lips and smirked...” 

*Leila is Blasian, with an African American father and Japanese mother. She moved to Japan after elementary school.

Aleksei Zakharov アレクセイ・ザハロフ (M) -  Year 1 Class C

“He’s a shameless flirt. I’d never go out with a cocky guy like that. He’s completely irresista- unreliable! I mean unreliable! I definitely don’t think he’s charming!!"

“The exchange student in Class C, right? ...wait, what? He's not an exchange student? Huh? He was born in Japan? That makes sense. I always wondered how he was so fluent...”*

“Al’s well-built and athletic, so all the sports coaches were bending backwards trying to recruit him. You should’ve seen their faces when he ended up joining Journalism instead...he doesn’t even like writing.”

“I’m friends with Zakharov so I know he’s the type you should play around with, not the type to expect anything from. Still, there are people who think they can change him...you just can’t change people like that, you know? At least he has the tact to reject them upfront. He doesn’t get involved with anyone who likes him seriously."

*Aleksei is Caucasian. He was born and raised in Japan.

A/N: This route is more "bold" than others due to his personality. He will not continue to flirt with MC if discomfort is expressed. However, if MC does not indicate discomfort, he will flirt with them even outside of his route because he finds MC attractive in every route.

Akane Yoshida 吉田茜 (F) - Year 1 Class D

“Yoshida-chan is pure-hearted, down-to-earth, and unconditionally kind. She’s too good for this world, to tell the truth. I always tell her that it’s alright to be more selfish, but it’s hard for someone who grew up prioritizing other people their whole life.”

“Class D’s Yoshida right? I admire her. She's not the most confident in herself, but she always puts 120% into everything she does, no matter how much she’s struggling or how bad the odds. Watching her makes me want to work harder myself.”

“That reminds me, Akane invited me to the movies the other day. She said she got tickets for a fun movie that she's been looking forward to. It turned out to be some horror film with a weird killer clown...she said it looked cute...unbelievable."

"Yoshida-chan baked brownies for class a few months ago, right before finals. Don’t tell her, but she used salt instead of sugar. None of us had the heart to disappoint her when she asked how it tasted with such a bright smile. My buddy and I ate every last crumb to make sure she’d never find out...god, it was awful..."

Yosuke Takanashi 鷹無永祐 (M) - Year 1 Class B

“He has the looks to be an actor but the expressive range of stale bread. Seriously, I’ve never seen that guy smile or laugh, ever. Is he scared of getting wrinkles? I don’t get it, but all the girls think he’s so cool...what’s the deal with girls liking black-haired guys with emotional constipation...”

“Takanashi won regional MVP at Nationals last year, so he had scholarship offers to a number of elite schools. I’m just confused why he chose Morigaoka. Is he a masochist? Everyone knows our basketball team sucks ass..."

“Oh, I’ve known him awhile. He's actually a really good guy, but...I wonder what's up with his family. For all he’s achieved, you’d think his parents would at least show up to something. They've never even showed up for student conferences."

“At first, I couldn’t believe that someone as stoic as Takanashi could be best friends with guys as rowdy as Takeuchi and Zakharov. Now, I'm starting to get the sense that Takanashi's pretty passionate himself. It just doesn’t show on his face."

A/N: This route is a slower burn with a stubborn stick-in-the-ass. It is not recommended for those who would like “instant” gratification.

--

Aside from the ROs, there are side characters MC will encounter as well. Their overviews will be up at a later date.

Thank you for reading!   (´∀｀)♡

Click Here to go to the Lemonade master post!

--

For those who want a little more:

Click Here for an ask about their hobbies.

Click Here for an ask about their heights.

Click Here for an ask about their favorite subjects.

Click Here for an ask about their romantic history.

Click Here for an ask about their names.

Click Here for an ask about their voice claims.

Click Here for an ask about flirting without locking in.

Click Here for an ask about PDA.

Click Here for an ask about their breakfasts.

Click Here for an ask about karaoke/singing.

Click Here for an ask about puppy eyes.

Click Here for an ask about their love languages.

Click Here for an ask about RO x RO (crack).

Click Here for an ask about school uniforms.

Click Here for an ask about flirting/initiation.

Click Here for an ask about "spicy content".

Click Here for example scenario reactions ask 1.

Click Here for example scenario reactions ask 2.

Click Here for example scenario reactions ask 3.

Click Here for a random blurb (Hikaru).

Click Here for a random blurb (Yuushin).

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis Meet The Batboys

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: Y'all, I am slowly but surely making good on that promise to get all my stories reposted--also editing them so they're nice and neat! Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

She hummed in amusement as her father grunted and begrudgingly passed over another five into the man’s hand. “You know…it’s good to know that my perfect father actually sucks at something.” She turned and popped a piece of cotton candy into her mouth. “And it’s carnival games.”

He grunted again when he missed the balloon, and he handed her the darts. “Why don’t you try it, sweetheart?”

She handed him the cotton candy with a grin and took the darts, holding one up and making the repeated motion of throwing it. She couldn’t help but feel a little cocky as she asked, “Dad, if I get this, what toy do you want?”

She nodded to the bat in the corner. “I was thinking about the stuffed bat. Eh, dad?” He glared at her, but she laughed as she tossed the weighted dart, watching as it hit center and she pointed to the bat. “I’ll take that one.”

The man handed it to her, and they walked off; she held it up to her father. “Here. A bat for Batman,” she quipped, and he grunted at her.

“That isn’t funny, (Y/N).”

She shrugged and retorted, “It’s a little funny. You just have no sense of humor because you’re a stick in the mud.” (Y/N) shoved the stuffed animal in her backpack before reaching up and taking her father’s hand; she glanced down at her wristwatch on the opposite hand and said, “The performances don’t start for another twenty minutes. Want to go look at something else? I saw one of those spinning car rides. We could do that.”

When he didn’t give her response, she looked back up at him to see him staring off into the distance, his eyes set on the Wayne Enterprises tower. “Dad? You okay?”

He blinked as if startled from his thoughts and he directed his gaze down at her and after a few moments, he nodded. “Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I haven’t spent a lot of time with you.” He frowned and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I haven’t been a good—”

She cut him off with a ‘pfft’. “Dad, it’s alright. I’m not angry.” (Y/N) squeezed his hand in return. “I might be young, but I’m not an idiot. I know being a dad is new for you, especially since you didn’t get to watch me grow up the first decade of my life. But what matters is that you’re here now, and you’re doing the best you can. And that’s all I ask of you.”

At her little speech, he was stunned, and after a moment he knelt down and hugged her. “I love you, sweetheart.”

(Y/N) returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, though they were so big and broad that she couldn’t meet her hands around his back. “I love you too, dad.”

Happening to glance over his shoulder, she immediately gasped. “Dad!”

He let her go, immediately moving to protect her. “What? What is it?”

(Y/N) pointed towards a costumed family walking and greeting the people. “It’s the Flying Grayson’s!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him along in their direction. “Let’s get a picture with them!” She could hear her father chuckle behind her, but he followed, and they stepped up to the family.

(Y/N) waved at them. “Hi Mister and Missus Grayson! Can we get a picture with you?”

The man and woman smiled at them and nodded, and a boy a couple years younger than her stepped up.

He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.”

(Y/N) took his hand and shook it. “(Y/N) Wayne. Nice to meet you, Dick.” She gestured to her father. “This is my dad, Bruce Wayne.”

Her father smiled and tipped his head towards the boy before handing the camera to someone and stepping beside her. She and Dick had become friends instantaneously as they slung their arms around each other’s necks, their grins cheesy and wide.

The camera flashed and the man handed Bruce the camera, and (Y/N) nodded to the family. “Thank you for taking a picture with us.” They started to walk away, but she stopped them, motioning to her dad. “Can my dad take a picture of the three of you? I know it seems a little weird, but it’d be cool to have a picture of you guys, and one with you.” They nodded at her request and she gestured to her father, watching him take the photo of the family. “Thank you!”

They waved and walked off, leaving them, and she turned to Bruce. “Wanna go find seats?” He nodded, and they began moving in the direction of the tent.

***

Time seemed to grind to a halt as (Y/N)’s heart stopped in her chest as she watched them slam into the ground. Chaos filled the tent in mere seconds, people screaming, children crying, and her father grabbed her arm. “(Y/N)—”

She nodded and pulled her arm away, already starting to make her way from her seat. “I’ve got him. Go.” She didn’t wait for his reply, hopping the seats until her feet hit the dirt ground and she broke into a sprint towards the sobbing boy in the center.

She twisted her feet and slid on the ground next to him, her heart tightened when he gazed up at her, sky blue eyes wide in agony. (Y/N) reached out, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve got you Dick. I’ve got you kid.”

She felt his arms come around her middle as his head burrowed in her shoulder; his entire body shook with every heart-wrenching sob, and (Y/N) raised one of her hands, running it through his hair as she whispered repeatedly, “I’ve got you.”

(Y/N) heard GCPD officers shouting, and she looked up, seeing her father standing beside them. “Batman,” she whispered softly.

He glanced at her before kneeling beside them and blocking the way of the fallen couple. “You two shouldn’t look at this anymore.”

She nodded and squeezed the boy on the shoulder. “Dick. We need to get away from here.”

“I can’t…leave them.” He pulled back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m…all alone.”

(Y/N) shook her head, and placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m here, Dick. You’re not alone.” His face pinched as a new round of tears sprouted in his eyes and he lowered his head, the sobs wracking his body, and she gazed up at her father’s face, knowing the agony behind the white slits. “You’re not alone.”

Jason:

She walked alongside her father, tugging at the collar of her suit. “Can’t we make a suit that doesn’t choke me as much as this collar does? I feel like I’ve got one of Ivy’s vines wrapped around my throat.” He didn’t say anything and she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine. Ignore me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who designed your suit, Batgirl. I told you to choose breathable fabric but you refused and said you wanted adequate protection like mine.”

She blinked and glared at him. “Do you get some sick pleasure from repeating my apparent failures?” He chuckled lightly, and she looked around. “Whatever…I still think you shouldn’t have parked in Crime Alley. You know there’s always trouble here.”

“The Batmobile is fine,” he said, voice tired as if he’d answered the question a hundred times before—he had.

(Y/N) hummed, nodding to the car a few feet ahead of them and quipped, “Oh, so the kid jacking the tires off it is completely normal?”

Her father looked at her split second before turning to see it, his eyes widening in disbelief as he muttered, “I don’t believe what I’m seeing.” He moved soundlessly towards the boy, her following.

“Got to give it to him. It takes some big balls to jack the Batman’s ride,” she admired and he grunted, though she knew he was in agreement, and they walked up on the oblivious boy.

She watched her father pull his ‘Put-The-Fear-Of-Batman-Into-‘Em’ stance and he cleared his throat with an exaggerated, ‘ahem’. (Y/N) snorted at the way the boy jerked, twisting to see them staring at him; she swore he’d shit himself the way the fear bled into his eyes.

Her father glared at the kid. “You do realize that’s the Batmobile, right?”

The boy’s face pinched, and he tipped his head up, his voice haughty. “Duh. You do realize you parked your car in Crime Alley, right?” (Y/N) barked a laugh, but quickly coughed when her father turned his glower to her, and he turned back to the boy just in time to see him swinging the tire iron.

“Bad move, hotshot.” Her words fell on deaf ears as she watched her father catch the tool and grip the boy by the front of his hoodie, picking him up off the ground a few feet.

He squirmed, legs kicking out for few seconds before spitting, “You want to beat up on a kid, go enlist in the GCPD like every other bully in this city.”

(Y/N) saw the gears turning in her father’s head as he leaned in, his face inches apart from the boys as he demanded, “I’m only going to ask you this once…So give some serious thought to your answer.”

The boy craned his neck, eyes narrowed as he asked, “What it is?”

Her father gave him a smirk. “Are you hungry?” The boy’s brows furrowed in suspicion, and within the next ten minutes, they were sitting on the hood of the Batmobile eating burgers and fries and sipping on milkshakes.

At one point, she’d reached over and grabbed the boy’s hands; he looked up at her and she nodded to his burger. “Slow down, Jason. You’ll eat your hand at this rate.”

He snorted but nodded, eating a little slower than before as he said, “Sorry. This is the closest thing to a home-cooked meal since I’ve had a home.” He paused and looked out at the city. “It’s funny…I was here once, looking for Wayne Manor.” He looked between them. “I was trying to case the place, but I got lost.”

Bruce looked down at the boy and questioned, “Why do you think it’s okay to steal from people?”

Jason scoffed at his question. “Are you kidding me? Look at this view.” He motioned to the buildings in the distance. “Freaking ‘Billionaire Playboy’ thinks he’s the king of the world. Pfft.”

(Y/N) elbowed him in the ribs and quipped, “Oh honey, he doesn’t think he is. He knows he is.”

The two of them cackled, but the solemn look from her father made their laughter fall short and he said, “Sometimes you just have to give people a chance Jason…they’ll usually surprise you.”

Her father’s words made Jason pause, and she saw him sink into deep thought. After a few moments, she leaned across Jason and nudged her father.

He looked at her and she tipped her head to Jason. “Does this mean he’s coming home with us?” Her father looked at him and back to her, then nodded and she shifted her arm, grinning as she wrapped it around Jason’s neck. “Well then, welcome to the family…little brother.”

Tim:

She could sense the boy following her, and after a few moments, she realized he wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t just some coincidence that they were on the same path—he wanted something from her. She glanced over her shoulder before ducking into the shadows of an alley, waiting for him to follow.

Sure enough, he stepped into the opening of the alley, looking for her, then he shook his head and stamped his foot on the ground. “No-no-no. I was so close to finding her.” He sighed and his shoulders fell in defeat as he visibly deflated.

She stepped behind him and gripped his shoulder in an steel-tight grasp, inquiring, “Why are you following me, kid?”

The kid gasped like he’d been shot as his knees collapsed beneath him, falling from her grip and to the ground. He rolled and gazed up at her with a mixture of shock and wonder as he breathed, “Batgirl.”

She glared down at him and demanded, “Answer my question before I call GCPD for you being out past curfew. Why. Are. You. Following. Me.”

He swallowed thickly before nodding rapidly. “Right. You see, I’ve been looking for you, Batgirl.”

“Yeah, I got that from the tailing. What I wanna know is, why?”

“I need to talk to you about Batman.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the mention of her father. “What’s a scrawny-ass kid like you, need to talk about Batman with me for?”

His mouth opened, then it snapped shut and he seemed to think on his answer for a moment. He looked at his hands and whispered, “It’s about your brother…Jason Todd.”

Hearing her deceased brother’s name knocked the air from her lungs and she barely managed to get the word ‘what?’ out without sucking in a breath.

He glanced up at her. “I know who you are Miss Way—”

(Y/N)’s hand shot out and she slapped it over his mouth before shaking her head. “Don’t say my name. You don’t know who’s listening.” He went silent as she removed her hand and held it out for him. “C’mon. If you know who I am then that means you know everyone’s identity.”

He nodded mutely and she clicked a button on her wrist; A few moments later, her bike pulled in front of the alley. “Get up. We need to go have a chat.” He took her hand, letting her haul him to his feet, and they walked over to the bike. (Y/N) climbed on before nodding to him. “Get on and hold on.” He followed her order, sitting in front of her, and she took off.

***

A few minutes later, they were stepping into one of the safe houses her dad set up around the city. She closed the door and flicked on the light, pulling the cowl off before gesturing to the table. “Sit.” He obeyed and she opened the refrigerator, pulling out two sodas. (Y/N) turned, taking the seat across from him and sliding his drink over. “Now. Who are you and how do you know about all this?”

He nodded and pulled out a giant book, placing it on the table. “My name is Timothy Jackson Drake, I’m thirteen, and I’ve been following the exploits of Batman, Batgirl, and Robin since I was two.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow at that. “Two’s a little young to be able to remember us.”

Tim looked at the book and nodded. “I know…but I have a photographic memory, and I remember the first time I saw Batman.”

“And that was?”

He paused and his voice quiet. “The night Dick Grayson’s parents were murdered.” (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and he drew his eyes to hers. “I remember Dick swinging to the ground as his parents climbed the ladder. His mom went first, and his dad followed. Then…the rope snapped, and…they fell.”

Tim quieted considerably and she had to strain to hear him as he recounted, “I got scared, and I looked away. I couldn’t watch…then I heard the crash and Dick sobbing. And I saw you run down and hug him.” He met her gaze. “Then I saw this giant, dark shape falling towards you, and I thought it was going to hurt you two. But then I realized Batman wasn’t trying to hurt you…he was trying to help you both. And he went from being a monster…to becoming some great Dark Knight.”

Tim looked at her. “From them on, I’ve been having the same dream, over and over. I—”

(Y/N) raised a hand, stopping him. “When did you find out who we were?”

He nodded. “When I was nine, I was watching TV and I saw you and Dick, well, Robin and Batgirl. You—”

“Batgirl and Robin. In that order.” She pointed to herself with a face that could only be something akin to the ‘first-child-syndrome’. “I was first.”

A smile grew across Tim’s face and he nodded. “Right, Batgirl and Robin. Anyway, I saw you two on TV, and I watched Dick perform a quadruple somersault.” He grinned rather proudly of himself and declared, “I knew that somersault like I knew my own name. About six months later, Robin made his first appearance. And if Dick Grayson was Robin and Bruce Wayne’s ward, then Bruce Wayne was Batman, and you were Batgirl.” (Y/N) stared at Tim in shock, too stunned to even form words.

He shifted nervously under her gaze. “Um…Miss (Y/N)? Batgirl? Are you alright?”

(Y/N) blinked and shook her head as she muttered, “Holy shit, kid. What are you?”

“I—I’m sorry?”

She huffed a laugh and grinned at him. “You’ve got some damn good detective skills to have figured all that out.” Tim smiled sheepishly under the praise, then (Y/N) stood up from the table, stretching her arms over her head until she heard her joints pop, then she stared at him. “You got a place to sleep tonight?”

“I…no. Not at the moment.”

(Y/N) placed her hands on her hips and hummed. “And why’s that?”

“Well, in the course of looking for you, I’ve also been looking for Dick. But I can’t find him. He’s good at disappearing.”

She nodded and pointed to a room. “I know where Dick is. Go sleep in the guest room, and tomorrow we can go find him.”

As she walked past him, heading for her room, he questioned dubiously, “You’d do that for me?”

(Y/N) stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Isn’t that what family does?”

Tim’s jaw went slack and he gaped at her as she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her.

Damian:

She shut the door behind her and locked it, though there really wasn’t any reason to considering the fact that no one could get into the manor, let alone across the front lawn without anyone inside knowing.

Hauling the bag up and over her shoulder, she found it odd that no one had greeted her yet and her oddity turned into unsettling when she didn’t hear anything.

She dropped her keys in the silver bowl on the side table and looked around the foyer. “Hello? Dad? Alfred? Timmy?” She stuck her head in the kitchen door. “Anyone home?”

There was no response and she hummed questioningly, knowing that on a Sunday, everyone was home relaxing. She made her way to the study and shifted the clock hands, watching as the entrance appeared, then she descended the steps into the cave. It was even quieter than usual, and she felt the hairs stand up on the back on her neck as she made her way to the Batcomputer.

She pushed a button on the keyboard, watching as the screen came to life and said, “Give me the most recent update.”

“Confirmation?” It replied.

“(Y/N) Wayne, Batgirl.”

The computer beeped for a moment. “(Y/N) Wayne. Batgirl. Access level high.” It paused. “Access granted. Welcome Batgirl.”

“Give me the most recent update.”

“Requested.” It processed the request then told her, “Talia al Ghul entered Gotham Bay approximately two days ago, leaving behind Damian al Ghul in Batman’s custody.”

Damian al Ghul? Who the hell is that? (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she pushed another button. “Who is Damian al Ghul.”

“Damian al Ghul is the biological son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul. Conceived…month and day unknown…year was two-thousand-three.”

(Y/N) stared at the screen, not sure if she should feel shock that her dad had a second biological kid, or disgust that he slept with Talia to get one. All the sudden, her training kicked in and she felt someone behind her. She spun around, catching the blade of a sword coming at her. She looked down at a young child, no older than ten, glaring up at her. She’d seen pictures of her father when he was a child, and though he had Talia’s emerald green eyes and olive complexion, there was no mistaking the resemblance between him and her father.

Her eyes narrowed into slits as she shoved him away. “The hell are you doing?”

He raised the sword again and said, “Testing you.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, her gaze curious. “For what purpose?”

He ran at her waving the sword. “To see if you are really father’s daughter.”

She chuckled at that and dodged each attempt to cut her. “Trust me short-stack, I’m Bruce Wayne’s kid.”

Her insult seemed to set him off and he swung the sword wildly. “I am not short!”

(Y/N) grunted as the blade grazed her arm, and she clenched her jaw. “Alright. I’m done entertaining you.”

She let him come to her, then she twisted, wrenching the sword from his grip before tossing it away and coming back around. She gripped him by the collar and used the momentum to slam him to the ground before pulling his arms behind him and putting her knee in his back.

It all happened within seconds, and he didn’t know how to respond other than to cry out in anger. “Let go!”

She pulled his arms tighter until he stopped squirming and she leaned down. “Take a chill pill, runt.” He still cried out in rage at the name, and she heard someone grunt a few feet from her.

“Let him up, (Y/N).”

She looked up to see her father and Alfred walking towards her. She obeyed, rolling away from the boy and to her feet. “I was wondering where you were.”

Bruce nodded to Damian, who was pulling himself off the floor in a rather heated fashion. “We were trying to find out where Damian had gone.”

(Y/N) eyed him for a moment before murmuring, “So, he really is your kid?”

Damian cut Bruce off, spitting, “Are you jealous?”

She looked at Damian and snorted. “Not even an ounce short-cake.” (Y/N) laughed at the way his face pinched in rage, and she turned to Bruce. “You just can’t help collecting them, can you?” He glared at her and she laughed, walking over and nudging him. “Smile a little, Scrooge. Your face will get stuck like that if you don’t.”

He sighed, and muttered, “I don’t know what to do with him.”

(Y/N) glanced at the boy who was picking up his sword. “Too angry?”

“Belligerent is more like it.”

She chuckled and patted his back. “Don’t worry. I’ve got him.”

“(Y/N) I don’t think—”

“Relax, dad. I handled Dick’s anger, didn’t I?”

“Damian’s got Dick beat by a longshot. I don’t think he knows any demeanor other than attack.”

(Y/N) waved as she walked towards Damian. “No one’s able to beat Dick’s anger. No one in a million years could reach the level of pissed off Dick Grayson stays at.” Bruce grinned as he watched (Y/N) take the sword and move Damian towards the stairs. “C’mon pint-sized. We’re going to explore Gotham.”

“I do not want to go.” He retorted, pulling away from her.

She grasped the back of his neck like a puppy and held him firmly as they walked and she quipped, “I don’t really give a fuck whether you want to or not. You’ve been raised by homicidal psychopaths since you were born.” She looked down at him. “You need to see the real world.”

“My grandfather and mother aren’t psychopaths!”

“Oh really? So killing people for money or because honor demands it, isn’t psychopathic traits? What about when Ra’s kills people because they disrespect him?”

“That is different!”

“I mean you don’t see me poppin’ caps in people’s asses when they call me a whore, do you?”

Bruce watched the two of them climb the stairs, arguing, and he sighed, sensing Alfred walk next to him.

“Almost reminds you of Master Dick and Miss (Y/N), doesn’t it Master Bruce?”

He looked at Alfred, then smiled and nodded. “In every way, shape, and form.”

Alfred smiled. “It is such a good thing that Miss (Y/N) is the oldest. The boys have needed her.”

“She’s their protector.”

Alfred paused, resting a hand on his shoulder; Bruce met his gaze and saw such a solemnity in them as he said, “She is everyone’s protector, Master Bruce. Even yours.” Alfred walked away, then Bruce turned and looked at the photo resting on the desk. It was the first photo he and (Y/N) had taken in their suits.

He smiled at it and nodded. “That she is.”

[swappwas]

My Big Greek Hunk- Hermes

“Hey Wimp. you’re hogging the treadmill. Step off!”

28 year old Josh pulled out his earbuds to respond to the irritated guy who had been hovering over his shoulder all night. Josh wanted to give the meat head of piece of his mind but one look at his biceps had him perish the thought.

“Oh uh s-sorry about that. Must have lost track of time.”

Josh stepped of the treadmill and went to refill his water bottle. A usually quick and easy task, well… if it wasn’t for some other guy causing a big fuss in front of the drinking fountain.

Apparently some new hotshot underwear model just came into town and was already super popular with the local guys at the gym. He was currently piling on weights and lifting them all like nothing. Josh had to wiggle through the mob of dudes cheering on the new guy as he broke the gym’s record in consecutive deadlifts. Josh was already a shortie at 5’2 so bobbing and weaving through muscle dudes crowding the gym wasn’t new to him.

“DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!” The gym chanted as the mystery man just breezed through his last rep. There was a lot of friendly pats and high fives as mystery man when to the fountain to get a drink as well, nearly trampling over Josh in the process.

“Hey watch it!” Josh said as he sadly attempted to shove the new guy to little effect

“Oh apologies! I must’ve missed you!”

Josh was mortified as the tall man practically crouched down to speak to him.

“Hmm you seem different from the typical sorts of mort- I mean, MEN that I find myself in the company of. I assumed this was a place for the more combative type, is it not?”

Josh didn’t know what to think of this guy. He was kinda giving of an arrogant vibe but his question seemed genuine. Weird, normally a guy that full of himself would be ostracized in a gym like this it was if something about him… commanded respect? Josh tried not to ruminate on it for too long,

“Well not everyone’s a wrestling or body building guy. I’m a runner.”

Before Josh could say more the stranger’s eyes lit up.

“Why that’s not something I’ve seen often, a man of speed and efficiency! Quite interesting indeed…” The man said as his large hand cupped Josh’s ass cheek through his lycra running shorts.

“W-woah there!” Josh was gay, sure, but he definitely wasn’t down to get felt up by some rando at the gym. Though he had to I internally admire, the guy was hot as hell.

“I don’t even know your name!”

“It’s… Zephyr. You may address me simply as as Zeph if that is of- greater ease.” He practically cooed into Josh’s ear, needing to bend down to even reach.

“You amuse me, I’d very much like to see more of you. Would you be so kind as to allow me that pleasure?” Zeph said.

Josh could only nod in response. What was he doing?! This was so unlike him. Before he knew what happened he had driven the gym hottie to his apartment. The events after he nodded “yes” all seemed so fuzzy. No not fuzzy, it was like his memories were coated in static.

“My, you’re quite the dedicated athlete.” Zeph said as he inspected Josh’s medals, a collection composed primarily of silver and bronze.

“Though I can definitely see you earning something greater.”

Josh shook off the Zeph induced stupor. “What do you mean greater?! Is that why you’re here, to criticize me? I don’t know why I let you in here but I sure as hell know that no hunk is worth this!”

Josh marched towards the door with the intention of kicking this weirdo out of his apartment.

“GET OUT! I never wanna see-“

Josh’s words were cut short as Zeph abruptly kissed him!

He wanted to protest but it was like the gym earlier, as he was washed over in a feeling of pure bliss. Josh felt sparks of electricity fill his body, like a lightning bolt hit him square in the chest. His body began to ache like he had just finished a workout. He was too wrapped up in the kiss to fully notice the changes now occurring throughout his lean body.

His dri-fit running shirt began to feel constricting as he gained actual muscle mass! Nothing too obscene but what he was currently wearing was definitely several sizes too small compared to his new build.

Josh’s eyes fluttered with extra alarm as he felt his throat seemingly swell up! Was this an allergic reaction or something?! Had his guy eaten nuts recently??? Josh was allergic to those!

But no, in reality that alarming sensation was actually the growth of a more pronounced Adam’s apple! It would not only alter his voice, but be a powerful reminder of his enhanced masculinity.

Before Josh could pull away, there was one last change. His feet burst out of his sneakers as they grew several sizes. He was definitely around a size 15 now, that was a low estimate.

Zeph finally released Josh from his passionate kiss. Though he was still taller, the difference wasn’t nearly as significant after his “kiss.”

I, Zeus, have blessed you with speed of Hermes, a fine man such as yourself should make great use of this gift.

“Z-Zeus?!” Josh was shocked at the new tenor of his voice. Before he could ask question or lash out, Josh looked down at his new body, which looked as if it had been sculpted by the Greek god himself!

“This is… amazing! Oh man look at me!” Josh tried take a few step forwards but stumbled over his newly grown feet.

“My, they’re quite large now, allow me to properly accommodate them.”

A snap of the gods fingers materialized Golden sneakers that appeared around Josh’s feet.

“Usually they have wings but I think a mortal such as yourself world best stay closer to the ground at first.”

“T-thank you! How can I repay you?!”

Zeus assumed his iconic grin as he crossed his arms behind his head and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“Well I did come with the intention of making love. I also made sure to make your new match one of your mortal stereotypes. The meat to match the feet!”

Zeus snapped and Josh was in nothing but a golden thong.

“Come now my not-so-little Hermes. Let us hope you aren’t the fastest in every regard…”

[drewsbuzzcut]

Dangerous

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic… read hook, line, and sinker before this part

warnings: mentions of an injury, small very minor angst, small mention of food

*At the pizza place*

“I know I already said that you’re a natural when it comes to modeling, but I just can’t get over how seamless you are when it comes to all the different poses. You must be really flexible,” mat comments.

“It’s funny you say that. I actually used to do ballet. I started at a really young age- maybe 3 and it was the love of my life at the time, of course. I actually got injured at 15 and I was never able to get back to normal,” you say solemnly.

“So you went into modeling? That explains why you weren’t a child model or something like that.”

You nod your head in agreement, “yeah. It’s crazy because everyone in my family, even friends, would always say that I belonged in the modeling industry. I guess that was true. I wouldn’t change things. I love modeling. It’s probably the best thing to happen to me,” you finish your small story.

“I’m sorry about your injury, but I’m glad you’re in your rightful place,” mats speaks.

“It’s ok. It’s weird, though. You’re the first person who noticed my flexibility. No one I have ever met or worked with has ever noticed.”

“I’m glad I noticed because if I hadn’t, I would never know that little story about yourself,” mat is so sincere with his words, it makes your heart melt. Also making you grow a new appreciation for this handsome man that just came out of nowhere.

“What about you? You’re probably flexible too,” you guess.

“Not really,” he chuckles.

“I don’t think I can do a split or an even a high kick,” he continues.

“I don’t think that’s true. The way hockey players move during the game means you definitely have to have some kind of flexibility even if it’s a little,” you add in.

“You watch hockey?”

And you were caught.

It’s not like you didn’t want it to be a secret that you watch hockey, you just didn’t want mat to think that you were lying about knowing who he was when you met him for the first time.

You truly didn’t know anything about him, but you knew that he looked familiar. When he told you that he played hockey, the puzzle pieces weren’t hard to put together- especially because you had just been at an islanders game the past week.

“Occasionally. I’m more of a baseball person, but i watch hockey every now and then, live or on tv,” you inform him.

“Another interesting fact about you. What team do you root for?”

“If this is your way of asking if I’m a rangers fan, you’re not slick,” you tease with a wicked smirk.

“Well, I’m not a rangers fan. I actually quite enjoy the islanders,” you finish.

“Hmm… I like that answer.”

“Ok, hotshot. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

You both laugh at the same time before trying to calm down and breathe in some air.

It was crazy how easily you could laugh with him.

There’s a pause in conversation as you both take drinks from your cups and bites from your pizzas.

It’s a comfortable stillness, you’re taking in the nice evening you’re having with mat and secretly hoping you can do it more in the future.

“I actually have to tell you something,” you say slowly, trying not to worry him, but also being worried yourself.

He nods his head for you to continue.

“When you had told me that you played hockey, I kind of figured out who you were. When I met you, you were so familiar to me and the hockey thing made everything click. I did know you. Well, of you. I recognized you from the game. I hope that doesn’t freak you out or anything,” you blurt.

“It doesn’t freak me out nor does it bother me. As long as you don’t look me up or anything crazy,” mat responds.

Huh. Why didn’t he want you to look him up?

“Yeah , of course!”

“I am so full. Did you want to get desert?” Mat asks.

“I will have to take a pass on desert. I’ll probably just eat some fruit at home,” you answer.

“Sounds good! Well as much as I enjoyed shadowing you for the day, and trying your recommendation for pizza, I have an early morning tomorrow so I should get home.”

“Oh yeah! I don’t want to keep you too long or ruin your schedule,” you tell him.

“Do you live far from here?”

“Not really just a couple of minutes from here actually.”

“Mind if I walk you home?”

You heart melts just a little bit. He is so sweet, you think to yourself.

“As long as you don’t leak my address,” you tease.

“No promises,” he teases back.

As you’re walking back home, it’s silent but it’s only because you’re thinking about how good this day has been and how you hope it was just as good for mat.

“I guess your job isn’t exactly private either,” you speak your one nagging thought out loud.

“Not really. Which is why I wasn’t necessarily surprised when you said you had recognized me. Although, I’m sure my life is a bit more private than yours,” you’re now wondering if he thinks you had lied about knowing him when you first met. You hope that isn’t the case.

“Kind of. Especially when I’m pictured out with other famous people. I did a shoot last year with Bella Hadid and that sort of skyrocketed my career in the right direction, so now I’m always having the paps follow me, but only when they think I’m doing something secretive or interesting,” you explain.

“That’s crazy. I’m only recognized on the streets every once in a while.”

“You’re still recognized, though.”

“True. It’s honestly weird to be known,” mat said.

You nod your head in silent solidarity.

The conversation fades after mat’s last sentence, but the silence is comforting. It allows you to soak in mat’s charming and intense presence. You almost don’t realize that you had just made it to your home.

“Looks like this is me,” you interrupt the silence.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to leave you just yet,” mat responds.

“Dito. Today was really nice.”

You both are facing each other, not daring to break the strong eye contact. He brings his finger to drag it along the length of your forearm before stopping at your wrist. Your heart is pounding. You’re afraid it might jump out of your body in attempt to land in his large, warm hands.

“I enjoyed today. Best day I’ve had in a while. This may be a bit forward, but will you go out on a date with me, y/n?” Mat pulls you a tad bit closer to him.

“Hmm… you’d be pretty lucky to get to spend another day with me.” You lightly poke at his chest.

He laughs and walks backwards down the steps of your building. He has the cockiest expression adorning his face and glint in his eyes.

“I’ll see you next tuesday at 6:30,” mat exclaims.

“You’re pretty confident, hotshot,” you fire back, a bit of shock and amusement displayed on your face.

“Got to match confidence with even more confidence,” he says referencing your undying confidence.

“HA! I’ll see you at 6:30. Don’t be late, barzy!”

“You’re a dangerous one, y/n,” mat finishes with one last smile as he watches you go inside, patting himself on the back for successfully getting a date with you.

a/n: it’s been a little bit since i posted the last piece but hope you enjoy this part!!

[illegal-spiegel]

“Mr. Coffee-Shop-Hotshot”

Pairing: Hikaru Hitachiin x f!reader Genre: fluff, angst, smut Warnings: jealous and possessive Hikaru, unprotected sex (wrap it up), a dash of degradation, choking, and I think that’s it lmao Summary: You’ve been dating Hikaru since high school but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous of your coworker at the coffee shop Word Count: 4.1k words  A/N: characters are aged up!! Prompt #72 from my 1k Followers Event: “You’re Mine.”

You and Hikaru have been sweethearts since high school. The thing is, when you two first started dating, no one thought it was going to last, seeing as how you two were literally enemies until Hikaru kissed you to shut you up. After that kiss, you two avoided each other until Kaoru tried talking to you while pretending to be Hikaru. You weren’t blind though. You could tell it was Kaoru instead of his twin. You played along until the end though, only revealing you knew it was really him until he got his point across. His point was “I’m sorry for treating you so poorly. I’m just not very good with feelings and I didn’t know how to face you after the kiss without arguing with you.” You figured that Kaoru wouldn’t say something like that unless Hikaru felt that way himself. So, you grew a pair and talked to Hikaru after he was done with the Host Club. 

“It appears I’m going to be the man in this relationship.” was the first thing you said to him, to which he scoffed at because A. if anyone is going to be the man, it’s him and B. who says you two are in a relationship? 

You just kissed him and that easily proved your point. From then on, you two started dating, to everyone’s surprise. Just because you two were dating though doesn’t mean you two stopped fighting. While everyone else has their honeymoon phase, you two went right to the old married couple stage. They weren’t ever serious fights though. One time you two argued about who had better eyes. Hikaru couldn’t admit to you that it was definitely you and you couldn’t admit to him that it was actually him, so you both claimed that it was yourselves. 

After that phase ended though, you two went into the honeymoon phase, which just confused everyone, including you and Hikaru. Suddenly, him leaving his used cup on your bedside table didn’t bother you anymore. You’ll just bring it down with you when you go downstairs. Hikaru realized that he didn’t mind you having your clothes thrown out in every other direction in his room anymore. His maid will just clean it up anyway. No harm done. 

The honeymoon ‘phase’ was more annoying to everyone than the old married couple phase. Now, instead of you two arguing who wants the last piece of candy, you two are ‘arguing’ about who gets to kiss who last. It makes everyone gag. Honey senpai seems to think it’s really sweet though. 

That was four years ago and now, you two are just as bad now as you were back then. Everyone, luckily and unluckily, decided to go to the same university. It is way out of your price range but that wasn’t going to stop your boyfriend of four years from getting you to go there. “I’ll pay off all your bills, babe. Don’t worry,” he’ll always reassure you despite your worries and nagging. You refuse to let him pay for it all though, so you got a job. 

It was actually pretty easy to nail the job, seeing as how it’s at the coffee shop where you and the gang always went for energy boosters and to study. You were already friends with the manager from going in there so much, so when you asked if they were hiring, they practically hired you on the spot. 

Hikaru didn’t like you having a job though. 

“Why do you even work here? I can pay for everything, babe. You don’t have to worry about it. So why don’t you just quit? I miss hanging out with you,” he complains every time you leave for work, when he shows up to your work, and when you come back to your shared apartment. His argument, in your royal opinion, is stupid. If anything, you see him too much as it is. I mean, you already live with the guy and have half of your classes with him. What more does he want from you?

It took him a month to finally accept the fact that yes, you will pay for things yourself, and no, you are not quitting just because he wants you to. Once he realizes that you can secretly give him free coffee though, not that price ever mattered to him, he was happy. “Okay, but I also want a free muffin,” he finally agreed. 

It was like that for maybe half a year before new problems started to arise. Your boss hired a new guy who you don’t even know the name of yet but, oh, Hikaru hates him already. “I don’t like him. He smells like too much Axe body spray and he has a weird, purple piercing in his eyebrow. And! And, he has a tattoo. A tattoo! Who does he think he is,” Hikaru complains to you while you try to do homework. He had gotten your schedule mixed up and when he went to go see you on your day off, he ran into the new guy. You weren’t surprised that he could tell he’s new since Hikaru is practically there as much as you are. He knows everyone and, of course, everyone loves him. 

Not this guy though, apparently. 

“When he gave me my coffee, it tasted off! Then, I realized, he didn’t add sugar! I didn’t say anything about sugar!” he continues to rant, making you sigh and set your pencil down. You turn to face him now, placing your hand over his and soothingly rubbing your thumb over his smooth skin. 

“Baby, I’m sure it was an accident. He’s new, remember? I’m sure he just forgot to add it,” you reassure, giving his cheek a kiss once he takes a deep breath and lets it all go in one breath. 

“Fine. I guess you’re right. But if he messes up again, I won’t hesitate to say something next time!” You giggle at this and nod your head, giving him a proper kiss this time to relax him even more. 

“Okay, baby. You do that,” you tease before going back to your homework. This, of course, was just not okay. 

“Babe, we’ve been studying for hours. Let’s take a break,” he coos, moving closer to you and starting to place kisses along your neck. You try to ignore him and focus but your boyfriend knows you too well. Knows your body too well. 

“You mean I’ve been studying for hours. You’ve just been talking and playing on your phone,” you tease, a gasp ripping from you when he sucks and nibbles on your sweet spot. You feel him smirk against your skin, his hands coming to squeeze your thighs. 

“Fair point. Makeout with me a little and then, and only then, will I study,” he bargains, making you roll your eyes. 

“Fat chance,” you decline him as you playfully push him away, making him whine loudly. 

“But baby—”

“No. Study and then, and only then, will I makeout with you,” you bargain right back, a smirk of your own coming to your face. 

“You’re wicked,” he says with a dramatic gasp and a hand across his heart. When you don’t reply or even react, he groans before finally picking up his pencil. “Fine! You better take your shirt off too then,” he snaps before focusing on his work. Most of your study sessions go like this. 

The next day at work, the new guy, Ritsu, came in in the middle of your shift. Your boss introduced the two of you once he put his stuff away in his locker, the guy seeming nervous for his next shift today. You smile at him and shake his hand, reassuring him that you’ll help him out today. He seems to relax at this, thanking you before starting to get to work. Whenever he had a question or messed up, you were right there to help him. The day, overall, went pretty smoothly you think. 

At the end of your shifts, he grabs his things from his locker before walking to the front with you. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks as he walks over to his motorcycle. You smile at him but shake your head, taking your phone out of your pocket to check your messages. 

“No, that’s okay. My boyfriend is picking me up and taking me out to dinner. Thank you though!” you reply with a sweet smile, Ritsu flashing you a smile back as he climbs onto his motorcycle. 

“Okay, good. I didn’t want you walking home alone at night. I heard there was a robbery a couple of roads away from here,” he explains as he pulls his helmet on. 

“Oh yeah. It was at the corner gas station. That’s so sweet of you to think of me though. I’ll be sure to let you know if I ever need a ride!” you thank once more. He nods as he turns the vehicle on, bidding you farewell with a salute before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. 

You check the time and see that you have a few minutes until your boyfriend gets there. Luckily, he seemed to have left early because, within the next minute, he’s stopping right in front of you. “Well, hello there, good lookin’. Do you need a ride?” he playfully flirts. You hum and pretend to think about it as you walk over to his window. 

“Well, I don’t know. Are you going to show me a good time?” you playfully flirt right back. He hums as he happily lets his eyes trail over your body despite your hideous work clothes. He didn’t seem to mind them though. 

“Oh, you have no idea, baby. Don’t tell my girlfriend though.” You scoff as you burst into a fit of giggles, lightly hitting his arm before going to the passenger side. 

“Well, that depends. Am I prettier than her?” you reply, batting your eyelashes at him as you slide into the car and pull your seatbelt over your body. He hums and nods his head, putting the car in reverse as he replies. 

“Oh, most definitely. She’s like a fat cow,” he jokes, making you scoff and hit him again. 

“I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying such things about her. What if I decide to tell her what you said about her?” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest as if you’re mad at him. You know for a fact that he’d never cheat on you. You always tease him that he’s too obsessed with you. ‘I love you! I’m not obsessed with you! There’s a difference!’ he’d always argue to your joking jab. 

Before he can leave the parking spot, he stops the car to look at you with this new glint in his eyes. “What if I eat you out so good that you can’t even remember your own name, let alone mine?” he whispers right into your ear, his tongue licking around the shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath, not expecting his sudden change in this little game you two were playing. 

“I doubt you’re any good,” you sass, it lacking the power that you want it to have. He pulls away from the side of your head to make eye contact with you again, his eyes shining with a newfound lust. 

“Well, I’ve only ever been with my girlfriend, so it’s possible. You should hear the way she screams my name though. She’ll cum three times from my mouth and fingers alone before I even give what she really wants inside of her,” he says lowly, your eyes moving to watch his lips as he talks. You press your legs together, already starting to feel arousal bubbling low in your gut. 

“Is she any good in bed?” you decide to ask, bringing the attention off of him. You wait for him to say something along the lines of ‘no, she’s horrible’ but it seems he decides to stop playing your little game all of a sudden. 

“She’s better than good. She sucks me off like I’m a popsicle and she just got out of the desert. She’s always so desperate to unravel me but I never do only because I know it works her up even more. She then starts acting like a brat, trying to get her way. We both know that’s just her way of annoying me to the point that I punish her. Mmhm, her screams sound so good when her face is shoved into our mattress,” he replies, his voice dropping an octave or two. You gulp at this, feeling your panties dampen with your slick. 

“No wonder she’s your girlfriend,” you whisper, your throat suddenly too dry for your liking. He only hums before continuing with his driving, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it once you two get on the road. 

“What do you want to eat? I’m kind of in the mood for Mexican,” he says to you as if he didn’t just make you so horny that the only thing you can think about is having him inside of your mouth instead of food. 

“That sounds fine,” you say softly, trying to think of anything but that. He smirks at the way you sound, which is slightly wrecked, and starts to head in the direction of a Mexican restaurant that you two like. That night ended, of course, with him deep inside of you and grunting out all sorts of deliciously dark things into your ear. 

Things continued on like normal for a while. You went to work but didn’t get to work with Ritsu again for a week, so Hikaru never ran into him again. The day you did work with him though, he seemed to be struggling more than usual. So, when there was a break in customers, you decide to ask him what was up. 

“Sorry. I got into this fight with my girlfriend, Mei, this morning,” he explains, a frown hanging heavy on his face. You nod your head, only too familiar with that feeling. You and Hikaru don’t have serious fights a lot but you, obviously, have them just like every other couple. 

“It’s okay. I understand. Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can give you my opinion or some advice?” you offer, wanting to help him feel better. He thinks about your offer for a moment before sighing and giving in, starting to tell you everything that had happened that morning. You two occasionally pause to help a customer but always end up focusing back on his situation. As a woman yourself, you look at his story from her point of view and figure out what might be the cause of her frustrations. 

“Okay,” you say once he finishes his story, “I think I see what the problem is.” You then tell him what you think and what he should do to mend their relationship. After hearing your advice, he realized what he did wrong and gets so excited that he hugs you. 

“Thank you so much! It all makes sense now! No wonder she was so upset! You’re seriously a lifesaver! I owe you one!” He hugs you tightly, making you giggle and return the hug. 

“It’s no problem at all,” you reassure. You two pull away when you hear the bell ring, automatic smiles coming to your face to greet your new customer. Your eyes widened when you saw your boyfriend instead though. A very angry and brooding boyfriend at that. “Babe? What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be here for another hour?” you ask confusedly, walking around the counter to give him your usual hug and kiss. 

His eyes are on Ritsu though. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not want me here? Am I interrupting something?” he snaps, his eyes squinting at Ritsu as he says this. Your brows furrow at his words, stopping in front of him and dropping your arms since it’s obvious that he’s not going to give you a hug. 

“What? Well, I’m working but—”

“Oh, sorry to bother you then. I’ll let you get right back to it,” he snaps, turning his glare to you before leaving without another word. He doesn’t stop or turn around when you call after him either, making you sigh as a frown comes to your face. 

“What’s up with him?” you mumble, trying to think as to why he would be mad. That’s when it hit you. You hugging Ritsu? Did that upset him? But why? You hug guys all of the time. Well, not all of the time. And then again, they’re his friends too or your family. You snap out of your daze when the bell jingles again, signaling a new customer. You sigh and go back behind the counter, smiling and greeting the customer happily. Guess you’ll just have to talk to him about it later then. 

When you get off work and you get back home, you find that Hikaru isn’t home. You think back to what he was telling you yesterday, remembering him telling you his plans for today. You check the time on the microwave before looking at your fridge for any notes. He doesn't have any plans right now that you are aware of and he didn’t leave a note telling you where he was going or when he’ll be back. Maybe there was an emergency? That just makes you worry more though.

You let it go with a heavy exhale, trying not to read too much into it. You don’t have to know where he is every second of every day. 

You go to your bathroom to take a shower and get the smell of coffee off of you. You end up accidentally using his body wash though, the smell of cinnamon and ginger filling your nostrils. It’s not your favorite but it’s what he’s been using for years. He pulls off the smell really well though. 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself up in a baby blue towel, leaning against the sink to look at your skin in the mirror. After applying some lotion to your body to make you feel extra nice, you leave the bathroom. You stop at the door though when you find Hikaru sitting on the bed, his feet still on the floor and his hands hanging between his knees. Now you’re even more concerned. Normally, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to take a shower with you but now he won’t even look at you. 

“Hikaru,” you call out softly to him, seeming to bring him out of his daze. You walk over to him and come to stand in between his legs, making him sit up straighter. His eyes glaze over your bare collarbones and neck, something spurring to life in his eyes as water droplets cascade down your soft skin. 

“You’re mine,” he says suddenly, his eyes snapping to yours. Your eyes widen a bit at this random declaration, your brow raising curiously at him. 

“What?” is your brilliant reply to him. You gasp when he stands and switches your positions in a flash, the back of your knees hitting the bed before you fall back onto it. You gape up at him, your hands clinging to the front of your towel. 

“You heard me. You’re mine!” he growls, his hands snagging your towel away from you before you can even attempt to stop him. His eyes wander your body, a dark look in his eyes as he takes his sweet time admiring your naked body. 

“Hikaru,” you breathe his name, goosebumps crawling over your flesh. He hums in response, one of his knees coming to the bed so he can lean over you, his fingers starting to trace random lines and patterns into your skin. 

“That’s right. Say my name, baby,” he coos, his fingers coming to tweak your nipples. You moan his name in response, back arching up into his hands. He watches you with attentive eyes, not daring to look away from your lewd expressions or wet hole for even a second. He loves how quickly you react to his touch, your body always craving his as much as his craves yours. “Who do you belong to?” he asks as he crawls completely over you, staring into your eyes as he lets his hands crawl down your body. 

“You,” you whisper breathlessly. 

“Who?” he growls, suddenly shoving two of his fingers into your drooling heat. 

“You, Hikaru!” you cry, back arching when he slips a third finger in. He hums lowly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, scraping the pads of his fingers against your g-spot to get you really moaning for him. 

“That’s right, baby. You’re all mine, now and forever,” he whispers before pulling his fingers out, making you whimper. He brings his dry hand up to your throat, squeezing it lightly as he stares into your eyes. “Shut up! Dirty whores like you don’t get to cum until I say so,” he hisses, not letting your neck go as he uses his other hand to remove his pants and boxers. “‘M gonna fill you up, remind you that you only belong to me,” he mumbles, his hand frantically trying to pull his member free. 

Your brows furrow at this as you bring your hands up to his chest. Before you can question him though, he starts to push into you. You both groan in sync as he slips inside, your eyes rolling back into your head for a moment. You forget about his words for now, your brain only thinking about the way he feels inside of you. 

He just barely bottoms out before he’s already pulling back to thrust back in, starting a frantic pace. You moan his name loudly, your nails lightly scratching his chest, causing him to hiss. He keeps up the frenzied pace, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. 

You both cum almost at the same time, Hikaru finally giving you permission to cum after denying you your orgasm over and over again. He keeps true to his word, pushing deep inside of you and coating your walls white. He stays inside of you for a while, his chest heaving as he tries to get air back. He slowly releases your throat, and instead brushes his fingers against your cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes shining with regret. You’re confused for a moment, thinking that that’s some of the best sex you’ve ever had. Then you remember his words from before, how he kept saying you’re his and that no one is going to take you from him. 

“What’s going on, my love?” you whisper, still a little breathless. He looks away from you, starting to worry his lip between his teeth. 

“Don’t leave me for him,” he whispers, and if you weren’t just a couple of inches away from him, you wouldn’t have heard it. He pulls out of you then and moves to lay beside you, putting his back to you. 

“What? Hey. Hey, look at me,” you say worriedly, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you use your free hand to gently trace random shapes into his back. It takes him a minute but he eventually turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling instead of you. “What’s all this ‘leaving me’ talk about? We’ve been dating for years, Hikaru. Why would I want to leave you for someone else?” you ask with furrowed brows, starting to run your hand through his hair to help soothe him. He leans into your touch, his eyes finally meeting yours. Despite your reassuring words, he looks scared, worried. 

“What about Mr. Coffee-Shop-Hotshot? You seemed to like him a lot,” he grumbles, his mouth turning into a scowl just at the thought of the man. You can’t help but smile at how jealous he is, your heart swelling with the amount of love you hold for the man before you. 

“You dope, he was asking me for advice about his girlfriend. That hug happened because he was thanking me for basically saving his relationship,” you inform, a smirk on your face as you watch the realization come over his face. 

“Oh,” he squeaks out, his face turning sheepish and red. You snort and move to lay your head down on his chest. 

“You’re such an idiot. You should know by now that you’re the one for me, idiot and all,” you tease, gently rubbing his chest and abdomen. He huffs and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. 

“Whatever. As if you wouldn’t get upset if I was hugging another girl,” he accuses. 

“You act as if another girl would even come near someone as ugly as you,” you tease, obviously joking. 

“Hey!”

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[arrowflier]

Prompt: Some silly pop culture argument and Lip and Mickey teaming up against Ian. Later Ian and Mickey have an extended playful banter about the same and laugh it out.

Little old hermit me trying to think of something😂:

Sorry it's ancient history lol but here we go.

Mickey is standing halfway out of the trailer out back, one foot on the step and one still on the cracked floor, when he hears the commotion. Voices, inside the house, rising with every word.

He slips through the door quietly, catches it before it can bang shut, easing it closed with a quiet click as the noise grows louder. He can recognize the voices now, Ian and the idiot brother he’s out here babysitting for in the first place, and he stomps toward the house with all the irritation that a man with baby drool on his shirt and a monitor in his hand can muster.

And he’s ready to take sides and take someone down when he swings the back door open and steps into the kitchen, only to find the morons in question huddled over the family laptop at the kitchen table, screaming in each other’s ears.

“All that time with your eyes in books ruined your vision,” Ian exclaims with a shove to Lip’s shoulder. He tries to grab Lip by the hair, but there isn’t enough of it anymore, and his hand slides over his brother’s eyes instead before it’s shaken off.

“Fuck you,” Lip retorts, trying the same move on Ian and succeeding thanks to the length Mickey insists his boyfriend keeps. Lip pushes Ian’s head down by the hair, shoving his face right in front of the old, flickering computer screen, and says:

“Look again. It’s blue and black, dipshit.”

Mickey blinks. What?

Ian manages to knee Lip in the balls and struggle free while he hisses, but instead of putting space between them, he steps closer until their chests bump together in some sort of macho bullshit that Mickey just sighs at.

“Who you callin’ a dipshit, moron?” Ian goads his brother. “I’m not the one that’s colorblind here.”

And Mickey still has no clue what’s going on, but he’s tired and the baby is sleeping and he doesn’t have the energy to figure it out right now. So he pushes himself off the wall he hadn’t realized he’s leaned against, and puts himself between the fighting Gallaghers with his face to Ian’s.

“Jesus, calm the fuck down in here,” he demands, twisting his head to look back at Lip once Ian immediately backs off. “Just got your kid down for a nap, screamo. You’re welcome.”

Lip has the grace to look abashed at the mention of his child. When Mickey holds out the baby monitor, he takes it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “thanks.”

And it’s not really enough, but Mickey will take it.

“What the fuck are you two fightin’ about anyway?” he asks, moving toward Ian where the other man had collapsed onto a three-legged dining chair.

“You looked like you were about to murder each other, and as fun as that might be, seems like a weird thing to do over…what?” He glances at the open laptop, sees a picture pulled up of a party dress. “Fucking online shopping?”

“It’s a whole thing, Mickey,” Ian starts, but Lip cuts him off, coming closer to turn the laptop toward Mickey.

“What color do you think this is?” he asks, out of nowhere, and Mickey squints.

“Blue,” he answers easily, and the way Lip grins and Ian scowls makes him tense. “What, was that a trick fucking question or something?”

“Nope,” Lip answers, smug. “Got it in one, all done here.”

“Look again,” Ian urges Mickey, grabbing Lip by the arm before he can leave. “Are you sure it isn’t white and gold?”

Lip scoffs, and Mickey obediently looks again. He takes long enough that the brothers settle, watching him intently, then leans back and says,

“Why the fuck would you think that thing was yellow?”

Ian pouts.

“Didn’t say yellow,” he grumbles. “Said gold.”

“Yellow, gold, what-the-fuck ever,” Mickey says. “Something wrong with your eyes, hotshot?”

“Hey, I have twenty-twenty vision!” Ian protests, Lip laughing behind him.

“Sure,” his brother says with a nod, making his way to the door again. “That for the twenty concussions you got playin’ soldier as a kid or the twenty black eyes your boyfriend probably gave you over the years?”

“He beat you up more than me,” Ian whines, and Mickey can’t help it. He laughs. Hard enough and long enough that Lip escapes through the back door before he stops, and Ian is so busy looking at him with hurt eyes that he lets his brother go.

“What are you lookin’ at me like that for?” Mickey says once he’s finally got his breathing steady again, and the pout on Ian’s face almost sets him off anew.

“Supposed to be on my side,” he mumbles.

“What, this side?” Mickey asks, plopping down on the very edge of Ian’s chair, forcing the other man to make room so he doesn’t fall to the floor. He grabs Ian’s arm and brings it around his own shoulders, tucking himself into him more firmly, and adds:

“Yeah, I like this side.” He wiggles his ass in the seat, their hips bumping together. “This is a good side.”

“Good,” Ian returns, amused and smiling now. “Cause you gotta stay there, even if you disagree with me.”

“Fair enough,” Mickey accepts. “But I just got one question.”

Ian hums, inviting, and Mickey smirks.

“You think my eyes are gold, too, mister twenty-twenty?”

It gets a laugh, short and sharp, and Ian’s fingers jabbed against his ribs. Mickey twitches, but those fingers gentle quick enough, stroke up and down along his side.

“Nah,” Ian answers, looking down into Mickey’s eyes with softness in his own. His tone has shifted, dropped, and Mickey shivers when he bends forward to rest their foreheads together.

“Gold isn’t worth nearly enough.”

Mickey swallows.

“Fuckin’ sap,” he murmurs, letting his head fall back on Ian’s broad shoulder, bringing their faces closer together.

“For you, yeah,” Ian breathes against his lips. Mickey leans in, leans up, ready for his kiss, when Ian suddenly stands and leaves him scrambling to keep his balance.

“But it’s still white and gold, though,” Ian calls out on his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Mickey growls, and chases after him.

“If you don’t want your balls to be as blue as that dress, you better take that back!”

[loth-wolffe]

I love your song list prompts and I just discovered your writing and I'm obsessed. Could I request 25 from the song prompts with Crosshair?

(I hope you dont mind me putting these two prompts together, i just thought they were walking the same path. ps. tHANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KINDNESS. ILY)

Mutual

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Warnings: nOne.

Word count: 1,3k. not proofread

Prompts: 25. I need to know, if this is mutual, before I go. - Mutual by Shawn Mendes and 30. All we do is think about the feelings that we hide, all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. - Drive by Halsey

You've been dancing around each othe for what it seems like forever, he'd push and pull, and you'd be left spinning before you find your way back to his arms.

He's such a tease, that Crosshair, with his snarky words and easy smile that you were sure he kept just for you, and he had you eating out of the palm of hand before you noticed.

It was mostly that, flirting at every given chance, light touches here and there, having no respect for personal space, sweet comments and cute pet names were thrown at the table, too.

The first time he called you sweetheart you blushed furiously, and when you first teased him and said a cheeky hotshot, he was lost of words for a minute or two, and you have never felt more proud around him, Wrecker did tease him tremendously that day.

Crosshair would come to your office or room most times, uninvited until he became a regular presence around you, which made it even harder to bear when he was away, because when he was in Kamino, Crosshair always seemed to gravitate your way, even in the mess hall or if you were under a ship fixing whatever, he would spot you right away, walk towards you and sit as close as he could without making it weird.

Sometimes you'd just sit in silence, taking a moment of peace and quiet and listening to the radio, imagining for a second what would it be if you held each other's hands, to be in each other's arms, to hold and to caress and to be oh so close, to be wrapped by the other's warmth and feel each breath, murmur sweet nothings, and maybe admit a fantasy or two that had been playing for far too long in the mind of the other.

If you kissed, would the other lips' feel soft, chapped, stiff, warm? And as you kiss, would it be gentle, needy, slow?

Would it be practiced, sloppy, awkward?

Would you fit like two missed pieces of puzzle finding their way back together? You feel like you would.

Yet you wait, and you don't know he does too, for some kind of sign, a fleeting chance to take a breath as you fall and admit that he's the one you hope is on the other end ready to catch you, to stop you from hitting the ground, to lift you up and tells you there's nothing to worry about.

A few moons passes before you find your answer.

He has to go, and you're not sure if you're ever going to see him again, he might be gone, and you might be too. There might be a day he doesn't come home and instead have one of his brothers holding back their tears as they tell you the news.

You can't stand it, the thought of lost time, of having all these minutes, and hours, and days with him, to explore and to know, to feel and to find.

You knock on the door before you're processing what you're doing, and before even asking you if you're really doing this, but the door whooshes open and there's five pairs of eyes looking at you.

There's no turning back now.

"Hi," you greet, the most awkward you have been since meeting them, Hunter lifts a brow in question as the others wonder what are you doing there, in their barracks, this late in the night.

They'd be leaving in a couple hours, and you had already said your goodbyes.

"I uh," you clear your throat, taking a quick sweep with your eyes to the room, avoiding everyone's eyes, "I actually wanted to talk to Crosshair, there's uh," your cheeks burn and the logic part of your brain —and the rest of it too— is screaming you to abort, you rub the back of your neck and your eyes find his amber ones, "there's something I want to discuss with you, before you guys leave," you take a pause, head titling down and you don't think you have ever found your shoes more interesting, "if that's alright."

Eyes look from you to Crosshair before the sniper stands up from his spot above a supply box you're sure it shouldn't be there, and you feel anxiety bubble in your throat when you see Hunter's smirk and Tech's knowing eyes.

It doesn't calm down once you're alone in the hall.

"Yes?"

ABORT, ABORT, ABORT.

You can see a little you jumping with a sign, red letters making you panic.

"I–," you start, but no other words come out, they feel stuck somewhere between your tongue and your throat and you search in his face any indication for you to continue, something to anchor you as you give him your heart.

You blink, shaking your head.

"It's nothing." It leaves in a sigh, your shoulders deflating as your coward self kicks you in the ass and smiles proudly.

"You brought me to the hallway to discuss... nothing?" He says, carefully, as if he wanted to be sure of your actions, and them sounding like you were actually crazy.

"Yeah I just," you shrug, scratching your arm, feeling so small, "forget it. We can talk about it when you return."

You will definitely won't talk about it, but you seriously need to get out of here, and just be away from him so you can peacefully curse at yourself and probably cry a little, too.

"Yeah, sorry, that was all, if you don't have anything to add, I should get back." With rushed words because you can't seem to go back to your room fast enough, you start turning to leave as you continue rambling, "you should go, too, get some sleep, I know that–"

"Wait."

And of course you do, because you're wrapped around his finger in the most embarrassing way. Stopping halfway through the movement, you sigh and turn quickly to face him.

"There is something I want to discuss with you, actually."

"Oh." You frown. "Really?"

What could he possibly want to tell you?

"Yeah," and his eyes scan for something behind you, maybe if there was any passing trooper of a kaminoan wandering around, maybe taking a second to gather his thoughts, making sure he was going to ask whatever he had in mind.

"What is it?"

"I'm leaving in an hour." You frown deepen, and nod slowly. He's not giving you much to work with.

"And?" You inquire, curiosity dripping from your voice because you have no idea where is this going.

He takes a breath, and if you didn't know better you would think he's nervous.

"And, can I kiss you?" His voice is sure, confident, a question that rises from mixed signals and unsure feelings, yet he makes it sound as if he had always known.

But your mind just, short circuits, and you're left paralyzed, the you in your brain screams, and laughs, and cries because who would've thought, he actually feels the same.

But you don't answer and he gets uneasy.

"Or not."

But before he can apologize, you hold him by the back of his neck, and in a swift motion, you crash your lips with his, and it takes him a moment to respond, but he does eventually, taking a breath before pulling you close, hands flying to cup your face, and it's so much better than you could've ever imagine.

He tastes like caf and something sweet, something so Crosshair that makes you whimper lowly. His lips are soft, and warm, and the kiss is gentle yet urgent as he pushes you against the wall, a leg between yours as he presses his body closer.

He kisses you like it's the last time he gets to do it, and for a while it is, until he finds his way back to you, and you make sure to make up for the lost time.