#and they’re completely confused as to how to make this speed up

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Sirius caused the longest hat stall in Hogwarts history when he was sorted, by the way

[posh--bee]

hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.

warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)

word count → 5.2k

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.

You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.

Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.

The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.

What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.

But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.

“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”

Oh. That’s right.

His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.

You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.

The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.

When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.

With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.

With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.

You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.

Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.

And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.

You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.

You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.

Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.

So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.

But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.

You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.

You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.

“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”

You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.

“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.

“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.

“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”

Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.

“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”

“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”

You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.

“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.

“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”

The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.

You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.

So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.

“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”

Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.

The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.

You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.

Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.

You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.

With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”

You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.

The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.

You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.

“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”

You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.

“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”

The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.

“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”

The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.

You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.

“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”

As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.

“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"

“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”

You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  

You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.

You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.

You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part ii]

When the mysterious new girl in town makes a lasting first impression, you make it your goal to befriend and welcome her to the town. [Part i] playlist!!!

self deprecating stalker jinx ill luv u 4eva & eva & eva...

"Hey."

"Hi!"

“. . .”

“. . . ?”

“. . .”

“. . . ???”

You blinked, waiting for her to say literally anything else, but nope. Just “hey.” and now she was standing there, looking like she was on the verge of shitting her pants while you wondered if this was how all her conversations went.

Surprisingly you didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable, more so confused. Looking around, your eyes landed on your old neighbor who’s own eyes were on the girl in front of you. He was giving her this look of judgment. It wasn’t obvious or harsh but it was still there. And then it clicked.

This was her.

The newcomer who moved into that old cottage on the outskirts of town. The one Mrs. Van Dee Kamp couldn’t stop speculating about, the one Mr. Gallagher said “looked like trouble”, and the same one you were so curious about. 

It wasn’t long before your group started to shuffle awkwardly, clearly ready to move on. They glanced at her, the kind of quick, hesitant looks people gave when they didn’t want to seem rude but also didn’t want to linger. One by one, they made their excuses, mumbling something about needing to get back to their stalls. They took a couple of steps away, looking back once they realized you weren’t following.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later!” you called, waving them off.

Turning back, you realized she was already staring at you, her wide pink eyes locked onto yours like you’d just caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Hi!” you started... for the second time now.

“Uh… yeah.” she said, her voice flat as if responding to a completely different conversation.

Not exactly the warmest start, but you continued. “You’re new in town right? People have been talking, but you know, nothing bad! They’re just curious.”

Her eyes glanced left then right as you were talking, like she was scanning for an exit. “Yeah. New.”

You tilted your head. “Well, welcome. I’m–”

“Okay.” she cut you off, her tone abrupt.

“...Okay?” you repeated, blinking.

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.”

Before you could say another word, she spun on her heel and started walking… no, speed-walking, towards the dirt path that lead into the forest.

You stood there, frozen, your brain scrambling to process what had just happened. Did she seriously just… run away? Mid-conversation?

It took you a solid few seconds to realize your jaw was hanging open. Shutting it quickly, you looked around, half expecting someone to jump out with a camera and tell you that it was a prank.

But no. The mysterious girl who had everyone talking had just bolted, leaving you standing there like an idiot.

And for some reason, instead of being offended, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Who was she? And what kind of person walked away from a perfectly normal greeting? Mind you, a greeting she had started. You didn’t know why, but suddenly, you were dying to find out.

. . .

This feeling wasn’t technically new.

For weeks, you’d felt it, that weird sensation on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. At first, it had been easy to ignore. You told yourself it was just your brain playing tricks. It was harmless. Whatever.

But now? Not so much.

The feeling wasn’t just there when you stood still like it was before, it followed you now. Around the market, down quiet streets, even when you stopped to chat with neighbors. You’d catch glimpses, a blur of blue hair disappearing behind a corner, the faintest sound of boots on the gravel.

More than once, you were so sure you’d catch them. You’d spin around at the sound of a shuffle or a shadow that felt too close. But by the time you looked? Nothing. Just an empty alley or a completely innocent looking street lamp.

It was driving you nuts.

You didn’t have to guess who it was either. You knew it was her. The girl from the square, Powder, or whatever her name really was. The way she’d bolted last time you tried to talk to her? That had to mean something.

Now it wasn’t just about being watched. It was about her. What was her deal? Why was she sneaking around? Why couldn’t she just talk to you?

You're own feelings about the situation were confusing you. You didn't necessarily... mind it. Unlike the other townsfolk, you didn't see her as a threat. She didn't seem like the type who would go out of her way to harm you. So 'why' was the question, and you were determined to figure it out.

Every time you caught a glimpse of her, something tugged at you. It wasn’t just the mystery of it all, though that was definitely part of it. There was something about her, it's like she didn't want to be seen yet wanted all of your attention.

And you wanted to know why. Why so secluded? Why so interested in your mundane countryside life?

It wasn’t like the townsfolk were any help either. They whispered about her, sure, 'the new girl with the blue hair and the weird vibes' but that’s all they did. Whispers. Speculation. None of them had actually tried to get to know her as far as you could tell.

Which left it to you.

The more you thought about it, the more determined you got. You didn’t want to believe she was some big, bad menace just because she didn’t fit into their little box of what people here were 'supposed' to be like. She was human, and just as deserving of a community as anyone else. So, yeah, you had questions.

And, apparently, she had no intention of giving you any answers.

It was almost funny how good she was at avoiding you. You’d be walking down the street, sure you'd spotted her near the bakery, and then poof. Gone. Like she had been a figment of your imagination. It was starting to feel like a game, except you knew something she didn't. How to cheat.

. . .

“Alright, I know you’re in there!” you yelled, leaning closer to the door as your fist continued to bang on the wood. “You can’t hide forever!”

Silence.

You squinted at the cottage, the place looked... interesting. It was still that run down creepy cottage you remembered always seeing whenever you passed by, but it was strangely... lively. Big scraps of metal and parts outside, colorful flowers (although wilted), and colorful graffiti that seemed to cover every side.

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you knocked again harder, this time raising your voice. “I’m not leaving until you open this door!”

Still nothing.

“Powder! Or... whatever your name is!” you shouted, hoping the use of her name might get a reaction.

From inside, you swore you heard a faint creak. A floorboard, maybe? It was hard to tell over the sound of your heart hammering in your ears. You leaned forward, pressing your ear to the door.

“I can hear you in there, you know.” you tried, softening your tone just a bit, stepping back from the door. “I’m not mad or anything. I just want to talk! That’s all.”

The silence that followed felt even more deafening than before. For a second, you wondered if you’d imagined the sound altogether.

And then, just as you were about to knock again, the door creaked open.

Barely.

A narrow space, enough for one pink eye to peek through.

“What do you want?” came a voice.

It wasn’t hostile exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either. Cautious. Suspicious.

You blinked, caught off guard by just how intense her gaze was up close.

“Uh, hi?” you started, scrambling for words that didn’t sound totally ridiculous. “We’ve been running into each other a lot lately- well, okay, more like you’ve been running away- but I just wanted to…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t actually planned this far ahead.

Her eye narrowed slightly, not moving to open the door any wider.

“...check in?” you finally finished, wincing at your own words.

The door inched shut a little more.

“Wait, wait!” you said frantically as you held up your hands.

“I mean it! No tricks, no weird town gossip or whatever. I just… I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we maybe start over? I'd love to be friends.”

Her eye flicked to your hands, then back to your face. For a moment, you thought she was actually gonna let you in.

Instead, she sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Her voice was quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Fear?

“Why not?” you asked gently, lowering your hands.

But she didn’t answer, instead she gave you this long silent look. And just as you were about to speak up again, the door shut and the bolt slid into place.

“Well, okay then.”

. . .

[Part iii]

when i talk abt the town pls imagine a Minecraft village or something of the sort ...

this chapter was SOOOO SELF DIVULGENT btw lololol was totally laughing my ass off writing it. I hope the difference in the way i write their povs is noticeable!!! also its 2am rn ill make sure to proof read in the morning... maybe...

part 3 sometime this week probs! it'll go back to being in pows pov ≽^•⩊•^≼˚

notes r appreciated & thx 4 reading as aaalways XOXOXOXO

[Teensy taglist (ˊᗜˋ)]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed

[bokutosbiceps]

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji  x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !!  might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you. 

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually. 

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?” 

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first. 

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong. 

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek. 

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them. 

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you. 

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it. 

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal. 

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous. 

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

[celaenaeiln]

Something fanon gets wrong

Dick Grayson is genuinely one of the greatest fighters in all of DC.

I know people have trouble believing this for some reason but a man who has defeated every single one of his enemies, other people’s enemies, and has consistently come out on top should have his abilities talked about a bit more because they’re amazing.

Let's start small to big. Firstly Donna talks about Nightwing's abilities.

When I read this I was confused by what she meant. Prowess means skill or expertise and that makes sense but Dick has a lot of power behind him though...

And then I realized she meant metaphysical power.

Dick isn't a magician. He can't run at supersonic speeds, throw buildings, speak to animals, communicate with the dark, fly above the clouds, bounce bullets off his chest (Oh, wait. He can do it off his ass instead never mind), turn into animals, or other amazing abilities. But his skill is so high that he is easily able to keep up with people who can.

M'gann, the white martian with extraordinary capabilities, tells Dick, "You are just a human, with no superpowers, yet you have consistently excelled throughout your career, despite being surrounded by godlike beings."

This is incredible.

We see Dick leading teams of superheroes and metas all the time and we take it for granted but we never acknowledge the immense power and skill he must have for him to be able to do this.

Repeatedly. Time after time. He outsmarts both his human allies and outfights his meta ones.

One of Dick’s greatest OP moments is when he takes down the entire Titans team -Gar, Raven, Donna, and Jason too when he hung around with them- single handedly. And when Jason put a gun to the back of his head in supposed victory, Dick opened his hand to let the golden bullets fall, gleaming in the light with the coldest line, “with these bullets?”

We all know how amazing Bruce is, but Dick is on Bruce's level.

No?

Okay, here's the evidence.

Dick has fought Azael in a sword fight to a standstill when Azael has beaten Bruce separately and Tim and Jason combined.

He has defeated Ra's in a sword fight and Ra's is one of the greatest swordsmen.

Sometimes he doesn't even need a sword to defeat a skilled swordsman.

He's a League of Assassins member and we all know that anyone from the League of Assassins is never just good. They're excellent. The entire fight Dick is looking for Blockbuster and he's so capable and good at fighting the entire scene was like watching Thanos flick Captain America away vibes. He's not even looking at him when he smashes his foot into Shrike's face!

Most importantly, he has defeated Deathstroke

The greatest thing about Dick is he is able to defeat Slade at the peak of Slade's abilities. Slade doesn't need to be weakened for Dick to win.

Here's where people has some hesitance accepting Dick's abilities.

"Bruce has defeated Slade but Dick has never been able to!"

He literally has in Dark Crisis but I'll give you the lead up.

Dick can easily disarm Slade.

He can predict Slade's moves ahead of time and properly counteract them.

He can go toe to toe with him and in one comic, they dance down a hallway, fighting, neither able to get the upper hand. The mercenary meta, considered by the US Government to be 1 of 2 greatest assassins (the other being Katana) isn't able to pin down and defeat a 20 year old despite his enhancements.

I left out the scene where Dick twisting Deathstroke's arm and smashing his face into a bedroom mirror despite being complete weaponless and in his civilian identity. No protection and no support. But it's another example of how Dick's poweress is much greater than people expect of him.

Of course there are panels where Dick has been defeated by Slade but Dick isn't 17/18 anymore. He isn't learning to fight without Batman hovering over his side.

Also there is a panel everyone references to when talking about Nigthwing losing to Deathstroke. This one.

sure. okay. whatever. BUT WHY WON'T YOU SHOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT COWARDS?!?

THEY DANCE-FIGHT LIKE THEY'RE ENEMIES IN A BALLROOM ON OPPOSING SIDES BUT CAN'T AFFORD TO LET ANYONE FIND OUT.

THIS IS SOME HIGH LEVEL JAMES BOND-RED NOTICE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE- TYPE SHIT.

"Close the hold, you morons! Close the--Guuk!"

That's Slade talking by the way. To his allies. Who do you think made him "GUUK!"?

And here they were evenly matched.

But Slade had to pull out bombs he had been saving for when other people came in order to defeat dICK AND HE STILL LOST BECAUSE DICK BESTED HIM.

Yup. Dick is just that good.

Nightwing defeated Bane

Before you go into saying something like "it was a holographic construction." What the fuck difference does that make? Does a holographic construction alter the strength used by the enemy, change their fighting style, phase through when fighting, act dumber than the real deal? No, right? The fact is Dick broke Bane's back the exact same manner that Bane broke Batman's. All those scenes of Bane punching Nightwing around? Let me remind you that the guy snuck up on Dick. The second time Dick underestimated Bane's powers before getting ready to put in real effort before Batman interfered to take Bane for himself.

All those amazing scenes of him defeating enemies that we've scoffed at recently? They're just a continuation of what already is written. It's not new or unbelievable, it's expected.

Here's my final point. Dick has defeated all of the Justice League's enemies in one go.

This is Batman/Superman comic where Kara gets infected so Dick as Batman sends her to the medbay while he tears down the Watchtower to save her. As in every single defense mechanism the Watchtower has, he demolishes it with his pure skill and abilities. Furthermore, the Watchtower defenses were enhanced by cyborg Superman to be lethal. To kill on sight.

Just. Phenomenal.

He did it! He defeated all of them and made it to the electronic controls he was aiming for.

Another thing I want to point is Dick's strength is greater than what people assume it to be.

He's the world's greatest acrobrat and has a build fitting of that but the strength he packs in his body is equal to that of a meta. Maybe it's because of how he only fights with metas and has teammates that are all metas but he has raised his striking power to equal that.

He shatters cyborg superman in one blow.

He can handle blows from meta humans in a way most others can't which suggests to me that he must've done some kind of training or have maybe increased pain tolerance or have the ability to backseat the pain so it won't affect his fighting. How many can take a hit and rise up the next second?

He's not metahuman. Batman must've done several tests because he also was amazed by robin Dick's poweress lol but really Dick is just extraordinary. Give him any enemy and he will garaunteed defeat them without using cheap tricks or surprise moves which is why he is one of the greatest. The only time people have gotten an upperhand on him is when he has been emotionally weakened. Emotionally. Imagine the absolute monster he would be if he controlled his emotions like Batman.

But I would never want him to though because his emotions are the reason why he's the light of DC.

[leighsartworks216]

Scar Tissue

Sylus x gn!Reader

Eyyyyy @comatosebunny09 I finally finished it >:3

Based on this post

Title from "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Warnings: cuddling, early relationship, intimacy, injury, guns, knives, semi-nudity

Word Count: 2,421

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Speak.”

The generic carpet muffles his footfalls as he crosses the room to the oversized floor to ceiling windows that peer out over Chansia City. You follow behind him until you get to the dresser, lined neatly with your clothes.

The hotel is very nice, especially high up here in the presidential suite. Though, you haven’t had much time to actually enjoy it. You got here yesterday, and it feels like all you’ve had time for is sleeping and getting dressed. It’s all been meetings, deals and exchanges otherwise. The only reason you’re back here at all is to change clothes to go to dinner with another client.

Sylus sighs, irritation painting his face with a scowl. You can just barely hear Luke’s voice on the other end. They’ve been holding down the N109 Zone in Sylus’s absence. “More petty land grabs?”

“Nah, from what we’ve heard it sounds like an affair came to light and now they’re duking it out to win their love.”

You snicker as you pull out a clean shirt. You turn and drop it on the bed, back to Sylus as you take off your shirt, bloody and torn from your earlier meeting. He turns to shoot you a half-amused half-annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Have Mephisto-”

But the words get stuck in his throat. Time seems to slow down as he stares at the bare expanse of your back. Your skin looks like a well-used cutting board. Scar after scar, criss-crossing over each other, fundamentally altering the appearance of your flesh for years to come.

He can pinpoint which were from missions he’d sent you on. Jobs that put you in the line of fire, where you had to fight your way out to survive, where someone got a surprise jump on you.

Others are completely foreign. Cuts and bullet wounds and burn marks, all unfamiliar to him. What secrets from your past do you keep locked away from him? How safe are you from the ones that hurt you? Would you ever tell him if something was wrong? If something cropped up from back then, from a time he’d never know enough of? Perhaps not.

Somehow, the former was worse. Knowing he was the one that sent you into trouble. Or those damn injuries you earned from taking a hit intended for him. Being the root cause for your pain aches more than never knowing the damage you incurred before.

You slip your shirt on, hiding the marks from view, and peek over your shoulder at him, confused by his silence. Time speeds back up.

He schools his features into something neutral, hiding the regret and hurt, and burying it deep down within him. He looks out the windows once more. Luke asks if he’s alright. Sylus ignores it, speaking as if nothing ever happened.

-

Dinner was dull, for the most part. The client didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t there for conversation, repeatedly prompting you to answer questions. You’d have signaled Sylus to put the man in his place, but it was all too amusing to see him flounder.

“What kind of gun do you use?” You’d slipped it from its holder mid sip of wine and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. That’d taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly enough, spewing off facts about the make and model that you already knew.

“Has it been modified?” You broke it down and separated the parts that had been replaced or enhanced. He’d curiously reached out to inspect them, but you put it back together before he could touch anything. He paused, but put on a slightly strained, polite smile as he awkwardly sat back in his chair.

“How good is your aim?” You shot the end of his cigarette when he went to tap the ashes into a dish, scaring him so bad he shook the entire table and had to rapidly keep his drink from tipping into his lap.

He seemed content to leave you be after that.

You fall back into the bed, arms spread out wide and still in your dinner attire. Sylus chuckles. “Have fun?” he teases. He sits down beside you, leaning on his arm with an amused grin.

You shoot an unimpressed glare his way. Fabric rustles as you slide your hand along the bed to hold his arm, caressing the tensed muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

His grin turns into a salacious smirk. You smack his bicep. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.” Nonetheless, he kicks off his shoes by the side of the bed and lays down beside you. With one hand acting as a pillow, the other rests comfortably on your stomach. You wrap your arm around his neck to play with his hair. Content, you close your eyes.

The last vestiges of the sun filter through the window. Combined with the few lights in the room, you look… peaceful. It’s starting to become a common sight, and he takes great pleasure in being the one allowed to witness it. These times when you trust him enough to relax. When you stop listening out for the slightest hint of danger. When your body releases the tension constantly preparing your body for an attack. It’s a privilege. He hopes never to take it for granted.

Your fingers flit lazily through his hair. His body still tenses on the onset of your touch. His natural instinct yells for him to pull away, go on the defensive, protect himself. It’s always a battle to fight against them and allow himself to completely trust someone. As this - cuddling together, the small moments of physical intimacy and skinship - become the normal, the fight gets easier and easier.

He wonders if that same defensive instinct wars on in your head when he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt. The first brush of his fingers on your flesh, the flinch of muscle away from the contact, that eases back into his touch after a pause. If it does, you say nothing of it. Rather, when your stomach flinches away, you tug on his hair. An equal exchange. And perhaps a reminder of the lengths you have both gone to expose yourselves to each other.

Calloused fingertips dance across your belly, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Soft ridges and toughened skin of layers of damage done across the years. His mind is shot back to the thoughts he had earlier. You can feel the shift in his touch. The way his fingers lift to barely ghost over your skin, as though you’re as thin and fragile as wet tissue paper. You open your eyes to watch him.

His face is stern. Like when discussing a difficult deal, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark. He slowly pushes up the shirt until it rests in a rumpled heap around the bottom of your ribcage. The shift in your breathing latches on at the edge of his senses. Just as with your back, scar after scar decorates your skin. But one stands out from the rest.

Along the line of your hip is a cut. It’s shallow. The skin it tore apart is irritated from lack of care and not having a moment to rest properly.

That’s his fault, too. Dragging you out to a dinner you didn’t really want to go to instead of giving you the opportunity to sleep and heal. Technically, you’re his bodyguard - his guard dog, always by his side, defending him from anyone who you deem a threat. Yet, he’s discomfited by just how quickly you step in to protect him. That’s what this scar is the result of.

The meeting this morning. A fight broke out. He was aiming a gun at the other group leader. One of their lackeys came up from the side with a knife. And you got hit. It had bled, but you’d brushed him off so easily when he mentioned it. You weren’t doubled over, nor were you in a rush to patch it up, so he trusted your judgement. Without a second thought.

Fortunately, your judgement is dependable. All it really needs is a bandage to keep the skin together and bacteria out while it heals, and yet he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. All he does is trace alongside it, feeling how it becomes intertwined with the scars before it.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, but the tone of his voice is odd. Teasing, edged with something raw. Something more vulnerable. Something that you two have been dancing around for weeks. “Tell me the next time you’re hurt. I’ll patch you up.”

You brush the hair from his face. His red eyes shift first to the bunched up fabric of your shirt, then to yours. His eyes are soft. The deep maroon of before has melted into a bloody crimson.

“I can patch myself up.”

He scoffs with a smirk and the slight tilt of his head. “I wasn’t asking, sweetie.”

You quirk a brow up at him. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

Your fingers falter. He brushes his thumb more firmly along the edge of the cut, still light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force that it no longer feels like he’s treating you like something fragile.

You frown at him, tapping three times at the base of his skull, a silent request for more information. He pushes himself up onto his elbow. It should be salacious, even intimidating, for him to hover over you like this. But it’s not.

His eyes follow his hand as he traces other marks on your belly. A bullet entrance wound here, a Wanderer’s blade there. The ones he caresses are newer. They haven’t yet faded into your skin. Of all of them, he’d only helped treat one or two. Some, he never even knew about, but he could trace back to when, what mission, they were received from.

“How many of these are from protecting me?” he asks lowly. “You do realize I can heal from all of these much faster than you can, don’t you, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. “It bothers you… that I do my job?”

He chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “You could stand to be a little less efficient at it.”

The world falls quiet. The sun disappears, leaving darkness in her wake. The orange glow of the hotel lamps forms mountains and valleys along your skin. You study him, searching for answers.

Over your lifetime struggling to survive, you’d gotten good at reading people, Sylus included. Of course, he had broken your assumptions and expectations. If he hadn’t, you’d never have let him get so close. Never have allowed him to touch you like this, see your skin like this.

Right now, you can’t understand him.

He hired you to be his bodyguard, to protect him. To be his own personal shield when shit hits the fan. But he doesn’t want you to? A lingering fear in your mind worries for the end of your partnership. Would he really touch you like this if he wanted to fire you? Besides, when you made the damn deal, he said only you would have the power to call it off. He wasn’t someone to go against his word.

You drop your hand from his hair. His eyes snap to you, a flicker of fear that is snuffed out when you touch his chest. He’s still wearing his nice dress shirt, jacket discarded elsewhere. You play with one of the buttons. “How many times have you stepped in to protect me?” you ask.

Countless times. More and more frequently.

“Do you let any of them scar?”

He slowly shakes his head. It’s always second nature for him to use his Evol to take care of any and all injuries. Anything that could scar is gone before he has a chance to think about it, so long as he’s in the right conditions to use it.

“Then you can’t understand.”

He hums. “Enlighten me.”

You grin. Gliding your hand from his chest, down his arm, you hold the back of his where it rests on your stomach. It doesn’t take much effort to guide him. He watches, feels the scars that scrape by, as you bring it back back down to your hip, until his palm rests over the cut. It will heal within a couple of weeks, probably less. Once it’s healed, it will scar over. Once it scars over, it will be nothing more than a lasting memory embedded in your skin.

“They’re badges,” you say quietly. When he looks back up at you, you’re watching his hand, trailing your fingertips over the veins that decorate them. “I earned them from protecting you.”

So why would I not want them?

It goes unsaid, but he catches it anyway in the gentle reverence of your carress, the quirk of your brow when you look at him wordlessly asking if he can understand now. It doesn’t need to be said.

He slips his hand out from under yours. The bed shifts with his weight as he turns and gets up. You feel the loss immediately. It’s easy to hide the disappointment, but it churns over in your gut, more distinctly than you’ve ever felt it before, as he disappears around the corner of the wall. Did he really hate them so much?

He returns a minute later when you’re considering fixing your shirt with a medkit in hand. He sits on his knees, sets the kit down beside your body, and opens it up to get what he needs. The disinfectant stings as he wipes it along the cut, but you hardly feel it when he just looks so beautiful. So focused on taking care of you.

“Tell me when you're hurt,” he reminds you. He unspools a length of gauze and wraps it around your midsection securely. He glances at you with a slight grin as he grabs a roll of bandages from the kit. “They won’t scar well if they get infected first.”

A week later, you’re the one patching him up. He sits calmly on the couch as you draw a needle through the skin of his bicep. It’s just a knife wound. Earned from stepping in to protect you.

He can’t wait to see the scar.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[sassycheesecake]

Giggling like a lovesick teen, you intertwine your hands with your husband Osamu Miya, as you try to walk up the path that leads to your house.

The black-haired man just shakes his head with a smile at your silly antics, happy to be home after you just came back from a much needed date night, leaving Atsumu in charge to watch your triplets.

As soon as you enter your suspiciously dark house, you flip on the lights and hear a mix between a hiss and a groan.

You and Osamu look at each other and make the way to the living room where you find the babysitter.

You frown in confusion when you spot your brother-in-law, Atsumu Miya just waking up apparently from his nap on your living room couch, the TV still running on a random show he probably fell asleep to.

As soon as the blonde spots you, he stretches on the couch and greets you.

"Hey (Y/N), hey bro. How was date night?" The Setter gets up, stretches some more and makes his way over to you.

"Pretty good. Food was fantastic and wine amazing. How were the little troublemakers?" Osamu asks in return, taking off his jacket and hanging it up over the coat rack.

When Osamu talks to his brother, you’re making your way up the stairs, opening the room slowly to make sure your children are sleeping.

The door opens wider and you expected to hear quiet snores.

You don’t.

Turning on the lights, just to see all three beds empty, you feel your anxiety and fear taking over in your brain.

You hope this is just a bad dream, a nightmare.

There is just no way that Atsumu seriously lost your kids.

Walking down the stairs carefully, each step feels heavy and there’s a silent storm raging inside of you.

"Atsumu." You stand in the entryway of the living room again and Osamu frowns in concern at your panicked expression.

"Hmm?" He puts on his jacket as he turns to you.

"Where are the triplets?" You ask with a hint of fear.

"In bed? As they should? I put 'em down myself." Atsumu states like it should be super obvious.

You try to breathe slowly as your panic starts to settle in, while Osamu comes over to you to hold you.

"I just went to check on them. All three beds are empty. I couldn’t find them anywhere upstairs." You’re completely sober now, panic rushing in like a speed train as you tell Osamu about what you discovered upstairs.

"What?!" The twins say synchronized, both voices filled with panic.

"Keisuke? Kaito? Kaori?" Osamu calls out for your children, looking around everywhere, along with you and Atsumu.

Around ten minutes later, the three of you still haven’t found them. And you’re ready to call the police.

You already have your phone in your hand, pacing around and the number dialed ready when you hear Atsumu and Osamu in a very heated argument.

"Ya seriously couldn’t stay up til we're back?! It’s barely 9 pm!" Osamu begins to yell, when he sees your scared expression and your pacing, he stops his loud voice and quickly comes to your side to calm you down.

"Baby? It’ll be okay. 'M sure they’re okay, I already called sum of mah old teammates they are looking for them." He brushes away some of your incoming tears and his heart breaks at the sight. He can murder his brother later, right now all he should focus on is you and your three missing rascals.

Before your panic attack AND heart attack begin to grow even more, the front door opens and the eldest of the triplets walks in, Kaito looking extremely guilty. Two more familiar faces follow, Keisuke looking extremely tired and one very happy Kaori as she holds the hand of none other than Shinsuke Kita.

"I found them outside on my way home. They were hungry and went to the store down the street." Kita explains calmly as he looks at you and the adult twins.

He looks concerned at yours and Osamu’s expressions, lastly looking at the blonde twin who looks as guilty as his nephew.

When your children see you in your distressed state, they rush over to you. You hug them in a tight embrace, crying with relief that your babies are okay and unharmed.

With one last scolding look to Atsumu, who freezes in fear, Kita leaves your house.

You have calmed down and Osamu breathes out a big sigh of relief and talks to his children in a quiet yet firm voice.

"Up to bed, you three. Mum and I will be up in a few minutes. We need to have a few words with yer uncle."

As soon as Osamu and you see the three figures vanish from his sight, he turns to his twin, fury burning in his eyes.

"Yer officially scratched off the babysitter list." Osamu growls at his brother.

"WHAT? Oh come on! It was just one little mistake! I have been watchin' 'em since they were this big and nothing ever happened!" Atsumu forms his hands into a cat-like-size round shape as he tries to justify himself.

"Ya were sleepin' instead of watchin'! They are only 6!" Osamu steps closer to his twin and you begin to fear that your husband is about to commit fratricide.

"Okay let’s all calm down." You managed to calm down a bit and now it’s time to calm the situation down in general.

"Don’t tell me ta calm down! I am about to murder this asshole!" Osamu sees red as he charges for his brother and you move yourself in between them, protecting Atsumu even though he fairly deserves the beat up of his twin brother.

"Samu. They’re okay. That’s all that matters." You stand your ground even though your husband is fairly much taller than you.

Osamu keeps his furious gaze on his twin and you stay in front of him, not standing down.

"Atsumu, go home. We’ll talk about this another time." You tell the blonde and he doesn’t fight you on it, just leaves in a hurry and is soon out of the door.

Osamu paces back and forth, running his fingers through his raven hair repeatedly.

"Samu."

He doesn’t stop pacing but he stopped running his fingers through his hair.

"Osamu." The chef finally stops and looks at you and you’re shocked to see tears in his eyes. Whether it’s out of relief or anger, you don’t know.

Last time he cried was when you were in labor, having a complicated birth due to having a risky pregnancy by carrying the triplets.

"They are okay. No one was harmed, and Kita found them. They are home with us, calm down my love." You press your forehead against his and the former Wing Spiker shudders at the action, holding you tightly against him and he feels himself relaxing at the sound of your voice and your warm embrace.

"But what if he hadn’t found them? What if someone kidnapped them, or they got lost? Or-" He rambles on, tears running down his cheeks that you wipe away with a cautious but tender touch, as he did for you earlier.

"It’s okay, they’re okay. They’re kids, Samu. They will make mistakes in the future and we’re going to help them. To realize those mistakes and be there for them. Let's have a talk with them now and go to bed. It’s been a stressful evening and all of us now need the rest." You smooth out his messy hair, giving him an encouraging smile.

Osamu returns your smile slightly and agrees with you.

A little bit later after a talk with your children, Osamu lays on your shared bed, eyes open as you sleep deeply.

Kaori, Keisuke and Kaito sleep in between the two of you, spread out like star fish. Kaito is physically closest to his father and the young boy with the same dark black hair as his father cuddles closer to his chest, a happy sigh escaping his little mouth with a smile.

Osamu's heart warms at the action of his son, pulling him closer to let out a happy sigh himself and finally falls asleep with his family of five in bed, a smile resting on his face as well.

[offbrandkyoya]

[31]

m.list next

“I’m having so much fun!”

You exclaimed as you walked side by side, Kageyama. He smiles at you with a nod. “It’s very fun.” You smile even more. “It’s nice getting to know your friends. They’re all very funny and cool.” 

“We know!” Tanaka and Noya shout from the front. Kageyama pouts, “They’re not that interesting." “Jealous?” Hinata pokes his back while Yachi snorts. Kageyama turns red and turns around to smack Hinatas head. “Shut up!” You laugh and put a hand on his arm to prevent him from hitting Hinata even further. 

While that’s happening, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were trailing behind. Yamaguchi walked a bit further from his friend. Tsukishima, finally, gains the courage to ask, “Is something wrong?” Yamaguchi doesn’t respond. Tsukishima scratches his neck. He isn’t good with words; he knows that, but this is Yamaguchi, his best friend since childhood.

Tsukishima takes notice of the distance between the two and the rest before saying what he wanted to say for so long. “Yamaguchi…” He gulps, “Why’re you mad at me?” Yamaguchi stops walking, and so does he. The group doesn’t notice and continues to chat like nothing happened.

“What makes you think that?” “Don’t pull my leg, Yamaguchi.” Yamaguchi looks at him with a frown before facing back forward. “You’re annoying.” Tsukishima raises a brow in shock. “What?” “This whole time with Kageyama, you’ve been such a downer!” “Uh…what?” 

Yamaguchi furiously turns his full body to him. “I mean, you’re acting like a piece of shit!” “Uh-“ “First, you drag me away from cleaning duty, and I got in trouble with the coach for it!” “I told you, you could’ve said no! Are you really petty over that?!” “I’m not petty!” Yamaguchi puffs up his cheeks. 

“It’s because I realized how much of a blunt guy you are. I mean, I know you’re kind of dry, but you’re  so... Tsukishima shrugs, which angers Yamaguchi more. “That!” He points at him. “You don’t care! Your whole “face reality” act pisses me off! Can’t you act like a good friend to Kageyama for once in your life?!” 

Tsukishima looks around in utter confusion. “What’s the convenience store incident got to correlate with Kageyama?! I think you’re  overreacting." “Shut up, Tsukki!” The blonde jumps a little. “I didn’t want Yn to have a bad time because of my disappointment in you, but you completely ruined my mood.” Yamaguchi looks down. “But, unlike you, I actually have the decency to know when or when not to act like a complete jerk.” 

He looks back up with his nose scrunched. Tsukishima holds the bottom of his shirt, looking down. “I’m…sorry…” Yamaguchi's lips falter. “I didn’t know this was a big deal to you." Yamaguchi glances to the side. “It’s fine. Not like I cried over it or anything.” “Did you…?” “No!”

Yamaguchi sighs, “I’m not that much of a crybaby.” “You used to be.” Yamaguchi furrows his brows, and Tsukishima rubs his neck. “Sorry…” “It’s fine.” Yamaguchi smiles a little. “Maybe I was overreacting, but I really was hurt by how pessimistic you were." “Sorry…”

Suddenly, Yamaguchi laughs, “Look who’s saying sorry now!” Tsukishima blinks before letting out a chuckle. “Right.” The two look into each other’s eyes with fond smiles. "I'll...try to not be an asshole to Kageyama.” “That’s a start!” He pats his shoulder, then faces back forward. “Ah crap! They definitely left us behind!” He whines upon seeing that his friends have now turned into little specks. 

Tsukishima begins to walk ahead while Yamaguchi moped behind him. “I’d rather spend my time with you than those guys.” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes and pinches the blondes side. He yells and rubs the area. “Don’t be rude.” “Okay, okay..” They speed up the pace to catch up to the others, with you being the only one to point out they have disappeared.

I HVAE 2 INBOX RESPONSES BUT I CANT SEE THEM TUMBLR WTF WHY DO YOU HATE MEEE

erm it’s raining hard as balls rn..

I think yamaguchi should’ve kicked tsukkis balls idk 😬😬😬😬

@karma-gisa @cosmiicdust @abcdefghijklmzopqrstuvwxyz @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @xmagik @tnazips @zhochikennugget @makkir0ll @asp7n @hrkdlsjz @lucky-chars @azharyy @gigiiiiislife @ahnneyong @rouzuchan @bakarinnie @djmoyolehuani @rinheartshyunlix @weirdowithaphone @luvvmae @diorzs @stefnarda @ilovecandys2010 @samvagejkflxhrt @fishrene @goldenchildee @empress-pug-pug @muskratlove @krak-jj @romyoia @yukii-1 @lovingvi @muyyie @asher-muffin @drvgsndior @tired-jaz @loveelylacey @yumiaur @vrxouei @fictionalmenarehot @zazathezaer @littlekohai77 @judithregulus @eccedentesiast-sapphic

[foreingersgod]

Can you write a CC x country reader that has a heavy accent, like Texas or smth and how it makes people react to it?

this is such a cute idea, i decided to put my own little twist on it so i hope you like it!

Texas Twang . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you were born and raised on a texas farm, eventually moving away for college where you met caitlin. here’s a list of 5 times she’s fallen in love with you and your accent

A/N: #5 is a wee bit spicy (trying to feed ya’ll as per request) so please skip it if you’re uncomfortable with that!

also i got these sayings off of google cause i dont know any texas slang or how to convey the reader having an accent so sorry if they’re literally not real 😭

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

1. when you first met

you were panicked, running around your small room trying to find your stupid fucking phone. you were already running 5 minutes behind, the clock on the wall told you, but you wouldn’t be able to find your first class of the morning regardless if you didn’t find your phone. checking under your heap of blankets, in the drawers of your desk, and even in your laundry basket, you found nothing.

then, after throwing every book out of your backpack as a last resort, you saw it laying below discarded orientation papers and sticky notes. with a sigh of relief, you snatched your phone and sprinted out of your building.

you were running at full speed, which was a little embarrassing considering every one else on campus was just walking normally. but you were extremely behind and would be so mad if you were late to your first class at this school. so you continued to weave through people. you dodged campaigners, sped through large groups on the lawns, probably knocking down a few people in the process.

your sprinting seemed to pay off when you noticed the building up ahead. you glanced at the time, seeing you still had a few minutes to make it if you really hurried. your legs ached as you continued to speed walk past bypassers.

then, without notice, you ran right into someone passing by. the force of your impact causing the both of you to fall to the ground in the middle of the quad. if you weren’t late already, you surely would have been now.

“shit” you heard the other person cuss under their breath. you looked up, still planted on the ground, to the person in front of you.

she was an insanely attractive woman. lean, about 6 foot, muscular, just your type you might add. she was pushing herself off of the concrete side walk, brushing the gravel from her pants. you followed suit, standing up then apologizing profusely for running into her.

“oh my hell, i’m so sorry” you exclaimed “i was goin’ way too fast, i apologize”

she gave you a crooked smile, shaking her head.

“no you’re ok, it happens, i should’ve been paying attention”

“no, really ‘s my bad”

her face twisted ever so slightly as you talked “you’re not from around here are you?” she blurted “sorry, that’s completely irrelevant, i just noticed the accent”

you laughed, this wasn’t the first time someone was confused by the heaviness of your accent “it’s fine, i don’t mind. yea, no i’m from a small town in texas, i moved up here for college recently”

“oh really? that’s cool” she smiled, extending her hand to you “well, i’m caitlin by the way”

“i’m YN” you returned her handshake “ ‘s so nice to meet you, but i’m runnin’ late for class”

“wait” she stopped you before you ran past her “do you think i could grab your number, maybe i could take you out sometime?”

you were all smiles “i’d like that, i’d like that very much”

2. your first argument

you don’t even know how it started. all you knew is that some girl was getting flirty at the bar and, according to your girlfriend, you were letting her seduce you. this was obviously not true. you and caitlin hadn’t been dating that long, but it has going really well and she’s incredibly important to you. important enough that you wouldn’t just be flirting with other women at the bar.

nonetheless, you were being dragged out of the bar. caitlin was oozing jealousy as you headed back to your place for the night.

“she was all over you, YN” caitlin sneered, following you into your apartment and slamming the door.

“oh my god, she wasn’t!” you rolled your eyes “good lord, arguing with you ‘s like tryna piss up a god damn rope”

“what?”

“what do you mean what?” your accent was thick, rolling off your tongue.

“what the hell does ‘pissing up a rope’ mean?” she looked at you confused, dropping the girl from the bar entirely.

you looked at her equally confused “you don’t say that here?”

“uh no, i think that’s a you thing” she said “your texas slang is distracting me and it’s making it very hard to be mad at you right now”

you chuckled, kissing her cheek “ ‘s just my southern charm, baby”

3. when you sing in the car

caitlin hated country music for the most part. but when you came along, you made it your duty to get her to enjoy it at least a little bit. she had never been subjected to small farm country music and to you, that was a sin.

so you’d play it for her on occasion, if she let you. and surprisingly it was pretty often. she would never tell you, but she only put up with country music just to hear you sing it. she was completely mesmerized by the way your accent mixed with the tune of the songs.

one day you were in the car together, on the way home from a get together with friends. it was a warm summer evening, sun on the brink of setting causing the sky to glow shades of orange and pink. cait was driving, per usual, you being her honorary passenger princess. she rolled down all the windows for you (even the sunroof) just how you liked it. you loved feeling the hot summer breeze blow through your hair with the radio turned all the way up.

“you follow me, and lead me on..” you hummed lightly, ‘all your’n by tyler childers sounding through the car radio.

she snuck glances at you as she drove down the empty street, watching how you let your arms hang out with window and let the wind fan over your face.

“so ill love you till my lungs give out” you closed your eyes, lost in the moment “i ain’t lying’”

caitlin so desperately wanted to pull over and listen to you sing all night long. your voice was like a gift from the gods. the way your accent slurred with each word had her melting in the drivers seat.

“i’m all your’n” you looked over to caitlin, smiling “ ‘n you’re all mine”

she smiled back, reaching across the console and resting her hand on your thigh.

she let you play your music the rest of the way home, just wanting to listen to you sing for a little bit longer.

4. when you met her family

you had waited months to meet caitlin’s family. no really, families were your thing. growing up in texas, it was common to be in or surrounded by a big family. and you knew big families more than anyone else, having 9 siblings, you being the middle child. it was a setting you thrived it and you tended to get along with people pretty well.

caitlin was hesitant to introduce you, she was freshly out of the closet and had never brought a girl home before. but this thanksgiving, she thought it was the perfect time to introduce you.

“so, YN” caitlin’s mother asked from across the table. “i’m sure you’re not used to such a small family, caitlin told me you come from quite the family tree?”

caitlin’s hand found your knee under the table, squeezing it lightly for comfort.

“oh yea,” you chuckled “my mama had a whole litter with 9 ‘a us. it was always crazy around the house, with 5 brothers n 3 sisters. and my daddy wasn’t around to help out off’n, but that’s a whole ‘nutter can a worms”

the way her family reacted to your voice made caitlin laugh under her breath, watching how they slowly dissected your sentence trying to make out the words from beneath the accent. she thought it was cute, lucky to have such a unique and special girl.

even the way you interacted with her younger cousins had her fawning over you, you were just so sweet and gentle.

“hiya, sweetie” you smiled as caitlin’s baby cousin accidentally fell into you “took a bit of a spill there didn’t ‘cha?”

you were the perfect picture of a warm welcome, full of beauty and grace and kindness. caitlin knew, from this moment, you’d be in her life forever.

SPICE AHEAD

5. during sex

she’d be lying if she said that damned accent didn’t get her riled up. because truly, it had her wet the second you started talking.

when she would have you pressed up against the wall, one leg wrapped around her torso as she kissed down your collarbone and onto your cleavage. the way you would moan “oh darlin’” oh so sweetly in her ear had her going crazy.

the rare instances in which you would take the lead in bed, watching as you crawled atop of her, stripping her bare. how you would hook your fingers under her underwear, tugging them down her long and toned legs. she was already bucking her hips into nothing. then you’d fasten your arms under her thighs, pulling them apart to place delicate kisses along the insides of her legs.

you’d tease her a bit more before dropping your head low, hot breath fanning against her glistening cunt. she bit her lip, trying to suppress moans of pleasure, and you had hardly touched her yet. you took your time with her, tongue dragging deliciously against her, savoring the taste.

“well you’re just sweeter than cherry pie, aren’t ‘cha baby” you’d praise, having her arching under your touch. with that, she couldn’t hold her moans any longer, completely coming undone as you continued to treasure every inch of her body.

you were going to be the death of her. 

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/N: alright guys i tried to make it a little spicier, so feedback is much appreciated cause i honestly feel like it sucked lol

[kafkaesquedyke]

I’m a little confused by some posts I’ve seen about armand breaking down the door in the book, because they frame armand as either ‘lol he’s so random’ or ‘that proves he’s abusive too’ when everything that happened before explains armand’s actions

break down with tva book quotes under the cut TW: discussions of csa

the initial event that triggers everything is Marius sending Armand to a brothel to have sex with other boys (which was preceded by Marius sexually abusing Armand for a couple of years atp (all of the following takes place while Armand is 17), including already having sent armand to another brothel to have sex with women)

this basically differs from his previous sexual encounters in that he 1) has sex with other guys, 2) they’re most likely around his age, and 3) he enjoys it (I consider basically every sexual encounter Armand has in tva non-consensual but this, and the following encounters, are the closest to “potentially consensual” within a fictional narrative, that this book has to offer and the closest we get to Armand’s real sexual preferences)

following that Marius grows incredibly cold towards Armand, which he clocks as him being jealous (Armand knows Marius is a supernatural being and that he can read his thoughts) though Marius is also potentially stressed because of his duties towards Akasha and Enkil

So, Armand leaves and has sex with Lord Harlech, some noble man he just met (again, I don’t consider this consensual, but mostly because of the age gap)

(not included in the screenshots, but they switch and Armand tops and doms Harlech and deliberately makes a point about enjoying it, which contrasts his relationship with Marius where he is not allowed to reciprocate intimacy (mostly due to Marius’s vampire nature) also Harlech behaving like a lunatic after lol)

then he goes to Bianca (a close friend throughout the novel) and they have sex as well

she calls him out on his relationship with Marius, as well as that he was hiding from him

once Armand returns, drunk after stirring over Marius’ treatment of him in a tavern, Marius is madly painting with vamp speed disturbing the other boys

he’s also painting Armand, further implying that his rage is about Armand sleeping with others, again, something Marius ordered him to do!

Marius ends up flinging paint in his rage, after Armand enters (presumably reading his thoughts?) and orders everyone out of the room

Marius does not respond to Armand’s pleas to once again talk with him, so they can resolve the situation. Armand begs him to simply admit that he’s angry with him and Marius continues to ignore him and then flees

he locks himself in his bedroom (which Armand shared with him so far) then he tells Armand to go sleep with the other boys in a way that implies an end to their relationship. tbc, at this point armand ties all his self worth back to Marius and how much he is desired by him, specifically because Marius is the only person who ever “cherished” him

so Marius rejecting him like that signals to Armand that he is no longer special to him and has therefore lost his unique worth, which Armand has built his entire self worth on (by Marius’s design)

so Marius acting jealous over Armand having sex with others (partially under Marius’s orders), Armand questioning him, not getting a response, leaving to further explore his sexual options, which makes Marius even more jealous, while the entire time refusing to talk about it, despite Armand begging him to, and then rejecting Armand completely is what ultimately leads to Armand breaking the door down. Marius was a 100% more immature here than Armand despite being a thousand-year-old beefing with a teenager (who he’s abusing)

[ssareids-coffee]

hi ! i’m obsessed with the idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and her having no experience she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” like genuine curiosity and omg he would be so vocal, soft, and instructional i can’t do this-

sorry this took so long!! but i hope you like it🫶🏻

sat on the sofa in his trailer, passing a joint between the two of you as a horror movie plays in the background. eddie hands you the joint, letting the smoke fill the air between you both. you’ve been best friends with eddie for almost your whole lives, so being curled up on his sofa under a blanket while your wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties as he’s wearing his own plaid pyjama bottoms was nothing new.

‘what do you think of the move so far sweetheart?’ eddie asks casually, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his chest.

‘i really like it’ you say with a smile, finishing the joint and stubbing it out on the ashtray he keeps on the coffee table ‘i like the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously, makes it much more enjoyable’

eddie hums in agreement, his nose pressed to your head as you cuddle, taking in the scent of your shampoo. he knows it’s wrong to be harbouring these kind of feelings about his best friend, but there’s just something about you that makes him feel weak at the knees. he’s enjoying the moment of being close to you, when he starts to hear faint moans coming from the tv. he looks up, the main character of the movie having sex with her longtime boyfriend, he laughs.

‘literally the number one rule in a horror movie, if you fuck, you die’ he says with a laugh, looking down at you and watching your reaction to the scene unfolding. just as the main character climaxes, you turn to him.

‘does that feel, good?’ you ask, buzzed enough from the weed that your not entirely realising that your telling your best friend you have never had an orgasm. eddie feels his cheeks flush slightly and his cock stir involuntarily at the thoughts your question filled his mind with.

‘does what feel good? sex?’ he asks, slightly confused.

‘no, not sex, having an orgasm’ you say, looking back at the tv screen. eddies eyes widen at the realisation.

‘you’ve never had an orgasm?’ he asks, shocked ‘not even by yourself’

‘no, i mean i’ve tried but i can’t ever get myself to finish’ you say softly, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘does it feel good though?’ eddies mind is racing, partly because of the thoughts of you trying to touch yourself and not being able to cum.

‘uh- yeah it does feel good, like really good’ he says, clearing his throat so his voice does not make him sound as horny as he is.

‘have you ever made a girl cum before?’ you ask him, chewing on your bottom lip as you look up at him through long lashes.

‘yeah- a few times’

‘can you show me how you do it?’ you ask, the words falling out your mouth before you can stop them, his eyes widening and breathing becoming more laboured at your proposition ‘oh! not like that, like can you show me how you do it, like acting it out or something?’ you say shyly. eddie is sure he is dreaming, there is no way his beautiful best friend is asking him to explain him to show her how to cum, so she can then go home and touch herself using what he taught her. no- he shouldn’t be getting off on this, your his friend and friends ask each other for help, but he can’t deny that your innocence isn’t making him want to completely ruin you.

‘yeah, sure i can’ eddie replies, shifting on the sofa to turn so he’s facing you, holding one of his palms up ‘so, you know where your pussy is, but your clit is up higher, it’s that little bud right at the top, about here’ he says, using his other hand to point to the top of his outstretched palm.

‘the mistake a lot of people make is applying way too much pressure, or not going slowly enough’ he continues.

‘how do you find the right speed and pressure though?’ you ask curiously ‘i always find that i either can’t feel anything or i feel so much it hurts’

‘well the pussy and clit aren’t the only places a person can feel pleasure, working yourself up first can help with that kind of thing’ he says, clearing his throat as he tries not to picture you with your hand down your panties when your home alone.

‘working myself up how?’

‘uh- teasing yourself, playing with your nipples, teasing yourself over your panties’ eddie replies, looking at you with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils ‘taking things slowly with yourself until your really desperate, can feel how much you need it, it’ll help’

‘okay, that makes sense’

‘you’ll want to start on the outside, working on your clit, but when you get wet enough you can try putting a finger inside yourself. it’ll be tight, but you want to curl your finger till you find a spongy spot, and you want to hit that again and again, that’s your gspot’

‘can you make someone cum just using their gspot?’ you ask, your face mirroring his own desire.

‘yeah, you can, but most women need some kind of clitoral stimulation to cum too, so using both hands to work different areas would most likely help’ he says, noticing that your squeezing your thighs together, cheeks slightly flushed- were you, turned on by this?

‘i have such short fingers though’ you say, placing your palm against his to show the clear size difference ‘i don’t know if mine could reach that far inside’ you say with a small pout. eddie clears his throat, trying to think about anything other than how close you both were and the image of you fingering yourself that was now playing on repeat in his head.

‘right- uh, i guess that could be a problem’ he says, eyes locked onto yours, face subconsciously moving closer to yours.

‘eddie’ you say softly, fingers now intertwined with his ‘can you show me’ you ask, voice barley above a whisper.

‘are you asking what i think your asking?’ he says breathlessly, nose bumping against yours as you are drawn to each other.

‘yes, can you show me how to make myself cum’ you whisper, and that’s all the confirmation that eddie needed before his lips were on yours. years of pent up feelings are pouring out of him as he kisses you, he desperately tried to remember everything about how you feel against him incase this never happens again. he reluctantly pulls away, turning you round so your back is flush against his chest as he sits on the sofa.

‘can i take these off sweetheart?’ he asks, voice thick with desire as he tugs at your borrowed shirt.

‘please’ you whisper, he pulls the fabric off your body, leaving you in just a pair of panties. he feels like he could cum in his pants just from looking at you, the way your back is pressed to him, your tits on full display for him as he takes in your almost naked form.

‘we’re gonna start with working you up, okay angel?’ he says sweetly, lips finding their way to your neck as his hands run up and down your stomach, occasionally grabbing your hips and giving them a squeeze. the feel of his lips on your neck and his hands finally on you after all this time, you let out a breathy moan which makes eddies already hard cock impossibly harder. he slowly reaches up and starts gently touching your boobs, tracing your nipples with his thumb as his mouth finds its way to your earlobe, gently biting it. your back is arching, head falling back against his shoulder as his name falls from your lips like a prayer. your squirming now, bucking your hips up as he tugs on one of your nipples as you let out an almost pornographic moan.

‘eddie, please’ you moan desperately, breathing now laboured as he touches you everywhere but the place you need him most. he takes your panties off, slipping them down your legs as he lets out a groan at the sight of you now naked against him.

‘okay sweetheart, give me your hand’ he says, voice heavy with lust as you place the back of your hand against the palm of his ‘good girl, now your gonna touch yourself, and i’m gonna help guide you with my hand like this okay?’

‘please’ you whisper, your hand moving down your stomach and towards your aching pussy. your fingers catch on your clit, making you gasp at the sensation, his hand still firmly placed against yours, guiding each movement. he starts with small, soft circles on your clit, your already whining and moaning at the feeling- you didn’t know it could feel this good. he can hear just how wet you are, each circle of your clit with your finger making a soft squelching noise from just how turned on you were, making his cock strain even more against his pyjama pants- but this isn’t about him, it’s about you. he slowly starts to increase the pace of his hand against yours, speeding up the movements of your fingers against your clit.

‘eddie, feels so good, didn’t know it could feel so good’ you pant, head thrown back on his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut, cheeks flushed from arousal.

‘i know baby, your doing so well’ he says softly, using his free hand to gently stroke your hair before moving his fingers down to your neglected nipples.

‘fuck- something feels, different’ you say through a moan, hips now grinding against your own (and also his) hand as your breath comes out in short gasps.

‘it’s okay sweetheart, you gonna cum? your doing so well, you can cum’ he says, coxing your orgasm out of you with each brush of your nipple and circle of your clit. the coil in your stomach burst, crying out as you grind your pussy desperately against your fingers, crying out his name as slick gushes from you. eddie can’t stop himself now, he’s all but humping your back, desperate for any kind of release now your cumming. you cum down from your orgasm, head fuzzy from the pleasure. he softly removes his hand from yours, moving it to your jaw to lift your chin upwards so your looking at him.

‘you did so good angel, so fucking good’ he says breathlessly, kissing you again.

‘eddie’ you mumble against his lips ‘can you show me how to touch a dick now?’

‘fuck’

[chaifootsteps]

Seeing stars if it was good

(assuming Loona is up to speed about via)

Stolas: why would she do this? It’s not my fault I forgot the promise, she’s just so impatient! She doesn’t consider how upset this all makes me.

Loona: Hey, youre the adult here, cut your daughter some slack. She’s just a kid. Everyone lashes out when they’re young and confused, especially if going through shit at home. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. Actually it’s the opposite.

Stolas: If she cares why would she run away?

Loona: Well, this affair and the divorce going on right now, that was all your choice. Via doesn’t have a say in that. The family drama all across the news, all that gossip, that shit was your choice too. Her moving home every weekend, that was also you guys’ choice. Maybe…maybe lashing out was her way of getting control back.

Stolas: I never wanted to be married, I never even wanted to become a father. But I’m trying anyway!My whole life was set in stone. Yes what I did was rash. But it was desperation. It was true love! He taught me I could choose, that’s why he’s my destiny, my soulma—

Loona: Oh shut it with that soap opera crap. You may not have wanted it, but you were married, and you are a father now. You always will be one of those things, and what type of dad you are? That part is completely up to you. Don’t give someone else credit for letting you choose, cause if you do that, you’re still giving power to somebody else. I grew up in a freakin cage dude. With literal metal bars. I know what I’m talking about. You grew up in a massive palace full of food, a big bed, servants, and a huge swimming pool. I think you had more choice than you realise. And controlling others like you do, doesn’t make you more free.

Stolas: I have no idea what you’re talking about. All my life has been is a pain and torment. I’ve been an excellent father given my circumstances for seventeen years, I just made some mistakes. Doesn’t everyone?

Loona: (sighs) Well yeah, like I said, people lash out and do rash things when they’re trying to take control back. No matter how hard it is, you still love your daughter don’t you?

Stolas: Of course I do.

Loona: Then focus on that. Try to be happy with your kid in a way that’s stable, with trust, before you go off getting revenge on your bitch wife or starting a relationship with some guy. She expected you to keep your promise, and got disappointed when you didn’t. That’s more important than you think.

Stolas: It is?

Loona: Yup. When she starts expecting you to let her down so often that she doesn’t even get her hopes up to start with, that’s when you need to worry.

Stolas: I…see.

Loona: Now let’s go get your daughter. There’s still time to see the meteor shower.

If this had actually happened in canon and actually stuck, if this were the kind of writing we were getting consistently, I guarantee you I would be a softer on Helluva. Not on Viv herself, but on the show, definitely.

[bluedandylyon]

I think I took for granted how good She-Ra is. Like it is a MIRACLE that a show like this exists, you know?

Idk, watching the Arcane finale and seeing it fumble the things it set up for itself in season 1, ditching complex and complete set-ups and pay-offs for cheap parallels that don’t always make sense; it made me realize how fucking lucky we got with spop.

There are a lot of incredible things about the show, about how pretty much every character in the show is queer, how trauma is represented, complex themes interweaved beautifully in a TV-7 rating show.

BUT

I feel like we as a ~ society don’t talk enough about the set-ups and pay-offs in the show. The fact that nothing in the show comes out of left field and how every piece of dialogue serves a function and sets the characters up. The characters in spop will never act out of character for a line, or to further the plot. Their consistency is incredible.

Let’s take Jinx and Catra for example. Jinx has complex mental health issues that were at the center of everything in szn 1, so she had a lot of symptoms and she was able to be messy and frustrating and realistic in her disorder. Then szn 2 came around and somehow her symptoms are mostly cured - which ok, we can chalk that up to Isha’s presence in her life, which yeah, her hallucinatory symptoms partly come back when Isha goes missing. Although, this would mean that they’re setting up that if Isha is not in Jinx’s life, then her symptoms would come back full force no?

Isha dies and there is absolutely nothing that pays off in terms of this little set up they did. Jinx becomes suicidal, but her other, more complex, more “able to ruin plot plans” symptoms disappear in its entirety. This is a character whose complexity is determined by what the plot needs to do.

Catra also has complex mental issues, and those NEVER go away for the sake of plot expediency, in fact, the plot baked Adora and Catra’s conflict in the center of it all from the very beginning. This means that Catra gets to act realistically all throughout the show and that furthers the plot. Catra doesn’t get rescued and all of a sudden her trauma goes away for the sake of redeeming her faster. Catra has not been healed at the end of the show, she is beginning to heal. She is allowed to explore the depths of her trauma and symptoms and instead of speeding through it, the show says - here, go down to rock bottom, get rescued and be unable to say thank you, get re-triggered by your abuser and run away at the very end of the show. And also, here are some characters that will call you out on your behavior, here is an emotional support animal, here, the person you love and have pushed away from, never hated you!! Her healing always feels like it’s a deliberate choice from Catra bc of what tools the show is giving her, not bc the plot needs to move forward now.

And in terms of set-ups and pay-offs. I mean…. It’s actually nuts. Characters’ dialogues literally bake themselves into other characters. Shadow Weaver tells Adora “Catra distracts you, confuses you” and Adora later tells Bow and Glimmer (after calling SW out btw) “I am distracted and confused and I cant be any of those things if this is going to work” which creates the final moments of the show.

Angella tells Adora “take care of each other” and Adora internalizes it as “I have to take care of Glimmer” bc of her trauma, and that leads her to be very controlling with Glimmer, which creates conflict in their relationship, which creates the heart of Etheria situation, which creates the Horde Prime situation.

SW tells Catra that she abused her bc Catra reminded her of herself. In that same episode, where SW’s past is explored, they both say “it doesn’t matter what I do, my authority figure doesn’t trust me”, we can see how Catra begins to emulate SW’s authority style throughout the show.

The show starts with SW telling Adora “isn’t this what you’ve wanted since you were old enough to want anything?” and it ends with Catra asking her “what do you want, Adora?” which sets up the conclusion of Adora’s entire arc.

Even little things, like Entrapta telling Wrong Hordak it’s ok to make facial expressions and Wrong Hordak being animated copying character’s facial expressions for practice after that.

ITS JUST SO GOOD THE WRITING IN THIS SHOW IS RIDICULOUS.

[ellswritings]

Wolf’s Bane 1x09

Episode 10

A pair of headlights flash into Fallon’s eyes as she roughly turns the wheel to Derek’s sleek black Camaro. Stiles is in the seat next to her, Scott in the back. She’s pushing around sixty miles per hour in a twenty-five mile zone, but with the person in the large SUV behind them, she’s getting dangerously close to just flooring it.

“Fallon, if you could stop driving like a freaking grandmother, that would be great!” Stiles chides sarcastically.

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna flip, Stiles!” She snaps, turning a sharp corner causing the car to lift up on one side slightly. “Besides, I am not crashing Derek’s car. He would have my head on a stick!”

The brunette and Scott had managed to make up not long after the full moon. While the words he said still stung, his apology was pretty awesome. He showed up to her house with a bouquet of moonflowers, her favorite, and a whole box of pizza for them to share. He also spent ninety percent of the night groveling and telling her to slap him for what he said, which she never did, but she appreciated the sentiment.

Hence why she’s now part of some elaborate plan to confuse the police and hunters of Derek’s whereabouts. The three teens are driving his car while Derek chases after the Alpha as the police are chasing him. But they are also chasing the trio. They don’t know how the plan came into action, but it’s way too late to stop now.

“Fallon, I really don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here!” Stiles yells at her again.

“I’m not going any faster! It’ll kill us,” she tries to reason with him.

“Well, if you don’t go any faster, they’re gonna kill us!” He turns to point to the hunters chasing them, but the SUV seems to have disappeared. “They’re gone.”

“Damn it,” Fallon grumbles, taking that as her sign to floor it. “Derek, if I crash your car… please don’t kill me,” she whispers.

Stiles turns his police radio on and the voice of his father echoes through the car, “All units, suspect is on foot, heading into the iron works.”

“Copy that,” the girl replies, speeding up before turning down a dark alleyway she knows leads to the iron works. They see a small explosion and a few hunters loading their weapons as Derek lays on the ground. The brunette rolls down the passenger side window, forcing Stiles into the back as she skids to an unsafe stop. “Get in!” She yells.

Shots are fired as the werewolf runs as fast as he can, jumping expertly through the small window and sliding in next to Fallon. She pushes her foot to the floor as bullets bounce off the side of the Camaro. The tires screech loudly as she zooms out of the iron works. “Oh so now you go over a hundred,” Stiles snarks. “Just because Derek’s in the car?”

“No, you idiot. Because we’re being shot at!” She yells, while glaring at him through the rearview mirror. “Now shut up and let me drive,”

“God, Derek, what part of laying low don’t you understand?” Scott asks frustratedly.

“Damn it, I had him!” Derek exclaims, completely ignoring Scott.

“Who?” Stiles leans forward from his spot beside Scott. “The Alpha?”

“Yes!” Derek scoffs impatiently. “He was right in front of me, and the freakin’ police showed up,” he growls under his breath out of pure annoyance.

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs–” Stiles tries to defend his fathers and his deputies choice of profession, but is cut off by Derek throwing a glare his way.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” Derek snaps sarcastically. Stiles opens and closes his mouth, not knowing how to defend himself. Scott has his guilty face on while Fallon puts her finger up, offended.

“Okay, first of all, I never agreed with anything they said to the police. I just said I wanted to go home. Your name never came out of my mouth,” she argues.

“Both hands on the wheel!” Derek yells at her, gripping her right hand and placing it firmly around the steering wheel.

“Stop yelling at me!” Fallon screams back at him, making the man raise his eyebrows at her.

“Did you really just yell at me to get me to stop yelling at you?”

“Okay!” Stiles cuts them both off. “Can we get back on track please? You said you had the Alpha. How did you find him?”

Derek stays silent, not revealing his information to any of them. Scott scoffs at his immature behavior, “Can you trust us for at least half a second.”

“No,” he responds bluntly.

“Fallon? Can you trust Fallon?” Stiles asks quickly.

“Yes.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. His brain short circuits before he grips onto the head of Derek’s chair. “Are you serious? You trust her? He asks offendedly. “How about all three of us?”

“Or just me,” Fallon smiles smugly at Stiles through the rearview mirror. “We all know he’s not gonna trust you guys any time soon. So why don’t we just let him explain?”

Derek nods, turning to physically only address Fallon. “Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

Harris. As in Adrian Harris? Their chemistry teacher? While she would love to believe that he’s a murderous Alpha werewolf so there could be a reason to explain his rude behavior, he just doesn’t seem like the supernatural type. The man himself is a jerk, but not enough to be running around at night killing people. In fact, he seems like the person to be more afraid of a werewolf rather than being one. Or is that what the Alpha wants them all to think?

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles asks in just as much disbelief as Fallon.

The girl turns the car down another quiet side road as Scott furrows his eyebrows, “Why him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Derek answers.

“What’s the second thing?” Fallon asks, briefly looking towards Derek.

Derek reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it so they can all see it clearly and holds it up for them to see. It’s a wolf inside of what could possibly be a pendant. “Some kind of symbol,” Derek says. When Scott gets a good look at it, he groans quietly, rolling his eyes. “What? You know what this is?” The man questions aggressively, needing answers sooner rather than later.

“I’ve seen it on a necklace,” Scott sighs. “Allison’s necklace.”

“Oh, what a relief,” Fallon snarks. “That shouldn’t pose an issue.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Scott pushes the door to the high school open, Fallon and Stiles following behind him. The werewolf huffs, “This is gonna be impossible, you know.” He tells them pessimistically.

“Why can’t one of you two just ask her to borrow it?” Stiles suggests. “I mean, she doesn’t hate Fallon.”

“It would still raise a couple of questions if I just randomly asked for her necklace, Stiles,” Fallon points out. “Her family barely trusts me as it is.”

“Weren’t you over there just the other day?” The boy questions.

“Yes,” Fallon nods. “But that doesn’t mean they’re gonna be totally fine with me just taking Allison’s necklace. They’ll want an explanation.”

“So just lie,” Stiles shrugs. “You’re good at that.”

“Thank you?” She furrows her eyebrows. “But I’m still not gonna do it. Her mom scares me.”

Stiles groans overdramatically, throwing his head back, “Scott?” He asks hopefully.

“How would I even get it from her?”

“It's easy! You just say, ‘Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on it or in it that can lead me to an Alpha Werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?’” Stiles answers unseriously.

“You’re not helping,” Scott glares at him.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Scott huffs. “What if she, like, only takes it off in the shower or something?”

“That's why you ease… that's why you ease back into it, okay?” He pats Scott’s shoulders. “Get back on her good side. Remind her of the good times. And then you ask for the necklace.“

Fallon can see the distant look on Scott’s eyes, “You’re thinking about her in the shower aren’t you?” She asks monotonously.

“…Yeah,” he admits sheepishly.

“All right. Stay focused, okay?” Stiles shakes him straight. “Get the necklace. Get the Alpha. Get cured. Get Allison. In that order. Got it?”

Scott nods, “Get the necklace.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The school day had been pretty uneventful for Fallon. She had gone to her classes as normal, finished some homework, read a couple chapters of her book, and doodled in some of her notebooks. She thought she’d be able to get through the whole day with something terrible happening, until Scott came up to her and Stiles and informed them that Jackson “knows what he is.”

“How the hell did he even find out?” The girl asks questioningly. “What could’ve given it away?”

“I have no idea,” Scott replies nervously.

“Did he say it out loud?” Stiles waves his hands around worriedly. “The word?”

“What word?”

“Werewolf,” Stiles whispers loud enough for only them to hear. “Did he say ‘I know you’re a werewolf?’”

“No,” Scott sighs impatiently. “But he implied it pretty freaking clearly!”

“Okay, maybe it’s not as bad as we’re making it out to be,” Fallon says calmly. “I mean, he doesn’t technically have any proof of it, right?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “And if he wanted to tell someone, who would believe him, anyway?”

“How about Allison’s father?” Scott says pointedly. He’s right. If Jackson were to tell Chris or Kate for that matter, Scott would have to go into hiding for the rest of his life.

“…Okay, it’s bad,” Fallon rubs the back of her neck.

“I need a cure– right now,” Scott insists desperately.

“Does he know about Allison’s father?” Stiles looks at Scott curiously.

“I don’t know.”

Stiles puts his hand out, stopping Fallon and Scott from moving any further. “Okay, where’s Derek?” He questions, wondering if the older man could be of some assistance.

“Hiding like we told him to,” Fallon answers with a shrug. “Why?”

“I have another idea…” he says mischievously. “It’s gonna take a little time and finesse, though.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek. Time and finesse with Stiles usually means something that is bordering illegal. The last time he used those specific words was when he wanted to take Fallon to the candy store downtown at one in the morning and lower her down through the air ducts because they were closed. His reasoning was “I really want salt water taffy.”

“Stiles, we have the quarterfinals tonight,” Fallon reminds him seriously. “And keep in mind, it’s also your first game. We can’t do anything to risk that, especially since your dad is coming.”

“I know, I know…” he waves her off, but she knows that with whatever he’s planning, something could definitely go wrong. He looks back at Scott, “Look do you have a plan for Allison yet?”

“She’s in my next class.”

Stiles pats his shoulder, “Get the necklace.” He grabs Fallon’s hand, pulling her along behind him, “And you are coming with me.”

Fallon’s heart sinks as she realizes now that she must be an instrumental part in his scheme. She turns back to Scott and mouths, ‘help me.’

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“You sent her romantic photos of the two of you?” Fallon asks in disbelief as she sits down in her seat at the lunch table across from Scott, Stiles sitting next to her. Allison had just ran to Fallon in complete tears, pulling her out of her class. Scott had sent her photos of them being close and lovey with each other which only made the poor girl feel guilty for her decision. While Fallon believes she was a bit over dramatic and rash in deciding to break up with Scott, he took the absolute wrong route to try and get the necklace. “What the hell were you thinking? I mean, there’s no way you actually thought that would get her to give you the necklace.”

“I didn’t even think it was that bad,” Scott frowns. “I thought it was sweet.”

Scott, she already feels like crap for dumping you,” Fallon points out. “Sending her those photos was like a punch to the gut. No wonder she told you not to talk to her anymore. There were so many better ways to have handled that.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he says quietly. “I really thought it was a nice gesture.”

“…So, she’s not giving you the necklace?” Stiles brings up awkwardly.

“She’s not giving me the necklace,” Scott answers quickly and irritably, angry that’s the only part Stiles seems to care about.

“Did you find anything else out?” Stiles asks, taking a decent bite out of his cheeseburger.

Scott looks to the roof frustratedly, “Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they’re totally psychotic.”

Fallon takes a bite of her peanut butter and jelly with a sarcastic nod, “Right, we’re psychotic when you're the one who thought it would be a great idea to send romantic photos to your ex-girlfriend to get her necklace. When instead you could’ve just said ‘hey, I don’t mean to be weird, I know we’re broken up, but I just wanted to say that’s a really cool pendant.’ But y’know, why would you want to do that? That would just be too easy.”

Stiles nods along with her words, Scott glaring at him slightly. “Okay, I came up with a Plan B just in case something like this happened,” he reveals.

“What’s Plan B?”

“Just steal the stupid thing!” He says bluntly, moving to open his drink.

“Why wasn’t that Plan A?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows. “I could’ve done that, easy.” It’s true. She and Allison have gym together, so when they were changing she could’ve easily gotten it off of her. Not that she likes to make a habit out of stealing people’s things, but this is for the greater good of Scott’s life.

“Do we really think that’s the best way?” Scott asks unsurely. “Couldn’t we at least try getting to Harris?”

Stiles shakes his head, “My dad put him under a twenty-four hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got. Steal it,” he commands. “Thank you. Better it be you than Fallon who’s apparently itching to steal something,” he sends her a weird look.

“Okay, I’m not itching,” she defends herself. “I just like to steal sometimes. It makes my heart go fast.”

“I don’t know if I want to call you adorable or scary,” Stiles stares at her.

The three of them continue eating their lunch. Fallon steals one of Stiles’ fries while he takes one of her cookies. The two of them don’t notice Scott’s uncomfortability until he shifts in his seat to look at them, “Guys, he’s watching us.” He nods his head towards a table in the distance.

Fallon and Stiles look up, noticing Jackson staring at them with a smug smirk. It sends chills down her skin the way his predatory gaze is stuck on them. Ever since Scott’s made it onto Coach’s radar, Jackson has been absolutely insufferable. He really wasn’t that bad before, but now she questions why she even became friends with him in the first place.

“I wanna punch him,” she mumbles. “… again. But this time harder. Like I want to break his nose.” She glares at Jackson, but the blonde isn’t focused enough on her to see her anger.

“Okay…” Stiles places a hesitant hand on her back, rubbing it up and down. “Easy there killer.”

The two of them notice Scott zoning out and going slightly pale. Stiles leans forward, “What’s wrong?”

“Jackson's talking to me,” Scott tells them worriedly. He scoots forward in his seat, panicking as he tries to get closer to his best friends. “He knows I can hear him. Look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal. Pretend that nothing's happening.”

“Just let me go over there and punch him,” Fallon begs. “Seriously, I’ll get him to stop talking. Maybe I can take Stiles with me and he can kill him with his sarcasm and supernatural ability to annoy people.”

“Hey!” The boy smacks her, offended.

“Would one of you guys just say something!” Scott whispers. “Just talk to me!”

“I can’t think of anything– my mind’s completely blank,” Stiles sets his water bottle down.

Scott looks at him baffled, “Your mind is blank? You can’t think of something to say?”

Stiles defends himself, “Not under this kind of pressure.”

“Technically we are talking to you,” Fallon says pointedly. “Your stiff posture is what’s giving it away.” She glances back up and furrows her brows, “And he’s not even sitting there anymore.”

Scott spins around quickly, noting the blonde’s absence. His concern grows, “Where the hell is he?”

“Looking for me, McCall? I'm right here. So, what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger, more powerful? No, I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse... Which means you're actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?”

“Yes,” Scott mutters defensively out of nowhere. He squeezes the water bottle in his hand so tightly that his whole arm begins to shake.

Fallon reaches forward, encasing her hands around his, “Scott…” she warns. “Don’t feed into it. Ignore him.”

“I'll bet my new co-captain's gonna score a bunch of shots tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you're not a lying cheat, I'm gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. And you know what I'm gonna start with? Her.”

Scott’s entire body goes rigid. Fallon wishes she could hear what antagonizing words Jackson’s saying to him. “Scott, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, concerned. “What’s happening?”

“Talk to us,” Fallon begs, trying to pull him out of whatever angry trance he’s in. “What is he saying to you?”

He stays completely silent, only listening to Jackson’s mumbling. Stiles snaps his fingers in front of Scott’s face, but it doesn’t even earn a blink from the zoned out boy. The two friends try to search the lunch room, but Jackson is nowhere to be found.

“I'm gonna destroy any chance you'll ever have with her. And, when I'm done with that, I'm gonna get her all alone, and I'm gonna get my hands all over that tight little body.”

Scott’s hand quakes violently as he brings his water bottle up to his mouth, taking a sip to try and calm himself down. Fallon’s leg bounces up and down as she watches Scott with troubled eyes. Is he going to turn in the middle of the lunch room? Or just go and murder Jackson?

Stiles leans closer to his best friend, “Scott, come on, you can’t let him do this. You can’t let him have this kind of power over you, okay?”

“I'm gonna do everything you never got the chance to do, and Scott? She's gonna beg for more.”

Scott is now gripping his plastic tray with a deadly amount of force. His face is starting to flush red with anger as the plastic in his hands begins to crack under the pressure.

“I bet she likes to get loud. Maybe she's even a screamer. How are you gonna feel, Scott... When she's screaming my name?”

Fallon and Stiles grip onto each other as the tray finally snaps in half, causing his plate to fall with a loud crash onto the table. Pretty much every head in the lunch room turned to look at them. Fallon’s lips form in a tight line as she raises her hand to dismiss their new audience.

“Proceed with your business,” she says. “We’re fine… everything is just fine,” she mumbles the last part quietly, but Stiles and Scott know that they are so far from fine.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“I don’t understand why my presence is required for you to look up what Allison’s pendant means,” Fallon tells Stiles as she enters his room behind him, flopping down on his bed like she usually does.

“Because you’re better at taking notes than I am,” he shrugs as if it’s obvious. “And I didn’t wanna do it by myself… so there’s that.” He waves his hand in the air, “And I’m feeding your sorry ass, so don’t act like it’s that big of a burden.”

“True,” Fallon sighs contently. “I suppose I can’t complain.”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “Y’know what’s really funny? Normally dogs are either food or toy motivated, but it seems I’ve found a human that’s also motivated by food.”

“Are you calling me a dog?” She sits up, glaring daggers at him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m just saying you have dog-like tendencies.”

“You may be right,” she admits gruffly. “I’m starting to get the urge to attack.” The two of them make prolonged eye contact before she surges forward making the boy flinch with a small yelp. She throws her head back, cackling loudly at his fear of her.

She’s still laughing when Noah calls out for his son, “Hey, Stiles!”

Fallon sits up from her spot, but her eyes turn as wide as saucers when she sees Derek Hale staring directly at her, “Holy shi–” she tries to scream.

She’s swiftly cut off by Derek picking her up from the bed and pulling her out of sight behind the slightly ajar door. He slaps a hand over her mouth, pushing her body into the wall. He cages her in, one arm on the side of her head while his one hand remains on her mouth. She squirms under his hold making him tighten his grip.

“Relax,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Don't say a word.”

Stiles barely turns, not even hearing the sudden commotion behind him. “Yo, D–” He jumps slightly when he sees his best friend pinned to the door, “Derek?”

The brooding man moves his free hand in front of his lips, using his finger to signal Stiles to shut up. He could have easily done that to Fallon, but apparently that would’ve been too easy. He uses the same finger to point to the halfway open door as the sheriff comes up to talk to his son.

Stiles sends Fallon a panicked look before stumbling over to the door, shutting it a bit more behind him so his father can’t see the poor girl being shoved against his bedroom wall. The door rattles on its hinges making Derek roll his eyes.

“What’d you say?” They hear the sheriff say.

Stiles tries to play it cool, “What? I said, ‘Yo, D–Dad,” he scoffs out a laugh as if it was obvious.

“Is Fallon here?” He wonders. “I thought I heard the two of you come in together.”

“Uh. Y-Yeah, she’s here. In my room…” Stiles stutters awkwardly. “Just studying and stuff. Y’know, ‘cause she’s smart.”

Fallon cringes at his rambling. Sheriff Stilinski sends his son a small grin, “You ever gonna tell that poor girl how you feel about her?”

Fallon and Stiles’ eyes shoot wide open at the sentence. Stiles splutters profusely while Fallon simply glares at Derek who has an amused eyebrow raised. Still not a hint of a smile though.

“I’m sorry, what?!” His son shakes his head. “No. No, no, no, no. Fallon and me– just friends. No feelings. In fact, I don’t even think she’s a girl. She doesn’t count.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods skeptically. “That's what they all say.“ He shakes off the playfully tone before sighing, “Anyway, listen, I’ve got something that I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight,” he promises. “I mean, your first game!”

Fallon huffs under Derek’s hand which still hasn’t moved. It’s Stiles’ first game, and the semifinal, and he ends up getting stuck trying to figure out all this werewolf drama for Scott. He deserves a chance to play in the spotlight for once. Scott better get that necklace, if not for himself, then at least for Stiles’ sake. At this rate, especially with Derek here, she doesn’t even think she’ll be able to play tonight.

Stiles nods his head up and down, “My first game!” Stiles repeats with a small fist bump into the air. She couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or actual excitement, but knowing Stiles and their current situation, it’s probably the former. “Guh– it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you,” Noah smiles genuinely. “And I’m really proud of you.”

Fallon expected Stiles to just thank his dad or say ‘I love you,’ but she should’ve known better. “Thanks… Me too. I’m happy and proud… of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?” Noah asks unsurely, still having a hard time grasping the concept of his son being first line.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, Dad– I’m first line. Believe that?”

Noah nods, “I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me too,” Stiles says with a rushed smile. “Again, I’m–”

Sheriff Stilinski leans forward, pulling Stiles in for the most awkward hug Fallon has ever witnessed. They pay each other on the back, “Huggie, huggie…” Stiles mutters weirdly. “Huggie.”

“Idiot,” Fallon says, still muffled by Derek’s hand.

Noah looks at his son oddly but nonetheless nods, “See you there,” he waves at his son before taking off down the stairs. Fallon lets out a breath of relief as Derek lets her go. She lightly pushes him out of her way, glaring at him as she goes to move. She gasps though as Stiles closes the door, Derek taking the opportunity to then pin him to it.

She gapes at him, “What is with you and pinning people to things?”

Derek ignores her, snarling at Stiles as he goes to open his mouth. “If you say one word–”

“Oh, what? You mean like, ‘Hey dad, Derek Hale’s in my room. Bring your gun?!’” Stiles cuts him off sassily. Derek falters for a moment, realizing that Stiles does technically have the power in this situation. They told him to hide, but he chose to come to the Sheriff’s house. The only thing protecting him right now is Stiles’ silence. “Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass, it’s my house,” he slaps Derek’s chest cockily making Fallon smirk, “my rules, buddy.”

Derek clenches his jaw. He remains silent, but eventually he slowly nods, releasing his tight grip on Stiles. He pulls down the boy's jacket to rearrange it from where he pulled it out of proportion during his attempt at threatening him. Stiles huffs out a laugh, and being his usual self, does the same for Derek's leather jacket

That earns a menacing jerk of the head from Derek causing Stiles to flinch similarly to when Fallon pretended to surge at him earlier. “Oh my God!” He says fearfully before returning to his desk.

Fallon stays on Stiles’ bed, glancing at Derek every few seconds to make sure he doesn’t try to pin her to the wall again. Her mind is still a little fuzzy from the first time. Whether it be from the lack of oxygen or because she secretly enjoyed it, they’ll never know.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asks, following Stiles over to his laptop.

“No. He's still working on it. But, there's something else we can try.” He spins in his chair to face Derek. “The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there.”

“So? Derek shrugs, not seeing how that pertains to their current issue.

“So…” Fallon leans forward in a patronizing tone, almost as if she were explaining it to a child, “It wasn’t Scott.”

Derek glances at her like he wants to throw her through a wall rather than pin her to it. “Well, can you guys find out who sent it?” He questions aggressively.

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. “At least not one of us,” he points between himself and Fallon. “But I think I know someone who can…”

Stiles pulls out his phone and as soon as she sees the smirk on Stiles’ face and the words “lab work” come out of his mouth, she already knew who he was calling.

Danny.

He probably has no clue that Stiles knows about his previous run-ins with the law. The only reason Fallon knows is because he and her are really close. She’s pretty sure the only people he’s told are her and Jackson. She groans, “Stiles, you can’t just ambush him like this.”

“Do you have a better idea?” He scoffs.

“Uh, yeah,” she nods. “Just tell him you need a favor and that you’ll owe him one. He’s a pretty easy going guy if you haven’t noticed.”

“This is more fun,” Stiles shrugs. His phone pings with a message from Danny, “I’ll be right back. He’s here.” Stiles runs out of the room, leaving Derek and Fallon alone until he returns.

She gazes at the man, “So… that was a pretty aggressive greeting,” she says sarcastically, recalling the way he didn’t even say hello to her when he came in.

Derek’s eyes flicked to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that intense gaze that always seemed to see right through her. Fallon forces herself not to look away, refusing to be intimidated by his silence.

“I heard your heartbeat rising,” Derek finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

Fallon feels her cheeks flush slightly at his words, and she quickly covers it with a scoff. “Oh, please. You had me pinned against a wall with your hand over my mouth. My heart was racing because I thought you were going to suffocate me, not because I enjoyed it.”

Derek’s lips twitch, just barely, but it’s enough for Fallon to notice. “Sure,” he said, clearly not buying her excuse. He pushes off the wall and took a step closer to her, his presence once again filling the small space between them. “You’re not as good at hiding things as you think, Fallon.”

Her eyes narrow at his words, her stubbornness flaring up. “And you’re not as unreadable as you think, Derek.”

This time, it was Derek’s turn to scoff, though it was a much quieter sound. He takes another step closer, and Fallon finds herself involuntarily pressing herself further into the bed. “If that were true,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when I grabbed you.”

Fallon swallows hard, her heart beating a little faster as he looms over her. The girl knows he’s only saying that to get under her skin, to rattle her so she stops talking. She wasn’t going to let him win though. Fallon’s never been one to step down from a challenge. “You’re assuming I was flustered because of you,” she counters, trying to keep her voice steady. “Maybe I just don’t like being manhandled.”

Derek’s eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before meeting her gaze again. “Keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs.

Fallon’s breath hitches slightly at the intensity in his voice, but she quickly masks it with a smirk. “I will.”

Before Derek could respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the tension between them. He quickly steps away, putting some distance between them as Stiles returns with Danny in tow.

“Fallon?” Danny tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” she purses her lips, “nothing worth noting. Just kind of here… taking up space.”

“Are you gonna help us with lab work?” He asks curiously as Stiles plops back down in his chair.

“Actually,” Stiles gets his attention with a shake of his head. “We’re not doing lab work. I need you to do something else for us.”

“What?” Danny furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean we’re not doing lab work?” He scoffs. “That's why you invited me here.”

“That was a lie,” Siles shrugs nonchalantly. “Fallon and I need you to do something mucho importante. We need your crazy hacker skills to trace a text for us,” he blurts out, typing fervently on his computer.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Danny shakes his head in disbelief.

“Trace a text,” Stiles enunciates condescendingly, as if Danny doesn’t understand the request.

Fallon feels bad for Danny. He genuinely came here to do lab work and Stiles just exploited his crime record. In the grand scheme of things, Danny doing this is going to be a big help, but they way he was manipulated into coming here might bite them back karmic wise in the future.

The brunette girl rolls her eyes, pulling Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. She should’ve been on the sixth book by now, but with all the supernatural issues going on, it’s been hard to find downtime. Her eyes gloss over the pages, immersing herself in the fictional world. The only issue is that as she tries to delve deeper, she can feel Derek’s stare on the back of her neck. It’s almost as if he expects her to conversate with him. She thought he’d love the fact he can just stand there in his broody silence, not being bothered by anyone.

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do,” Danny tells him, growing increasingly more annoyed.

Stiles groans, running a hand through his buzzcut. “And we will! …Once you trace the text,” he says, making an ultimatum out of it.

Danny glares at him, “And what makes you think I know how?”

Stiles turns sheepish, stuttering slightly. Fallon doesn’t bother looking up from her book, “He looked up your arrest report,” she reveals monotonously, flipping the page.”

Danny’s face falls defeatedly, “I-I was thirteen,” he says defensively. “They dropped the charges.”

Stiles puts his hands up, indicating with his gesture that he’s not accusing Danny of anything. “Whatever,” he shrugs.

Danny looks like he considers it for a moment, but ultimately huffs and determinedly sets his backpack down. He takes a seat next to Stiles, “No. We’re doing lab work,” he insists.

Fallon sighs, finally looking up from her book. “Please, Danny…?” She begs nicely. “If you do this, I’ll seriously owe you one. I’ll even do your guys’ lab work,” she proposes.

“Wait, seriously?” Stiles spins around causing Fallon to narrow her eyes at him. “Nevermind…” he mumbles.

Danny looks like he wants to say yes, but his need to be a good student seems to be winning. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to Stiles’ computer. It doesn’t last for long though as his attention is pulled over to where Derek is sitting, reading Fallon’s copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. She lends him a copy of whatever book he is on. He’s a pretty fast reader, she's noticed. He should be further along too, but with having to pretend to be dead for a bit, he fell behind. Fallon glances in Danny’s direction, noticing him slightly ogling Derek, not that the werewolf noticed.

“Who’s he again?” She hears Danny whisper to Stiles.

Derek slipped his jacket off a few moments prior, laying it next to Fallon’s spot on the bed. He’s in a tight-fitted light gray t-shirt. His muscles bulge out of the fabric, the lightness of the color really making his eyes pop. The top of his chest peeks out due to the buttons being undone, but no one in the room seems to mind.

Stiles tries to find a believable answer. He glances back at Derek before slowly turning back to Danny, “Um, my cousin…” he pauses, “Miguel.”

Fallon snorts rather loudly at the lie. She covers it up with a cough as all three boys turn to look at her. Derek’s glare stays on her the longest, not appreciating how humorous she’s finding the situation.

“Is that blood on his shirt?”

Fallon’s eyes widen. Sure enough, as she looks over at Derek, there’s a nice and noticeable blood stain right on his t-shirt. She shoots him a pointed look, “Where did that come from?” She seethes through clenched teeth. “What have you even been doing?”

Danny and Stiles can’t hear her though. “Yeah. Yes, well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds,” Stiles effortlessly excuses. He glances back at Derek with false politeness, “Hey, Miguel… I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?”

Derek closes the book in one swift motion, never taking his glare off Stiles. With an unnecessary amount of aggression, he tosses it onto the bed as he stands up jerkily and walks over to the dresser. Fallon watches as he pulls his shirt over his head angrily, tossing it onto the ground.

The girl bites her lip as she watches him rummage through Stiles’ drawers. His back muscles flex with every moment, showing off the large tattoo that takes up most of his back. She tries to keep her focus on the book, but she’d have to be a nun to ignore the attractive man in front of her. If her father saw the way she was looking at Derek right now, he’d probably be sent into an early grave. Or go after him with a shotgun. No previous hunter training required.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably–”

“Uh, Stiles,” Derek interrupts the boy who is still trying to convince Danny to contribute to their cause.

“Yes?” Stiles bats his eyelashes innocently.

He holds up a tiny black and white striped t-shirt. He pulls it in two different directions with his hands to emphasize his point, “This… no fit,” he says irritably.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Then try something else on.”

Fallon looks up at Derek, “Sorry,” she mouths at him. If she could help, she would. But there’s no way with Derek’s physique that he's going to find something that fits him in Stiles’ room.

She looks back down at her book, managing to finish the page she was on before Stiles’ voice pulls her back into the conversation. “Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” He says nudging him to look at Derek.

Fallon’s jaw drops when she sees the bright orange and blue shirt covering Derek’s body. While the fit of it does bring out his… well, everything. It doesn't look very comfortable, nor is it his style. Derek clearly hates it as well as his usual scowl deepens. If Lydia were to see this monstrosity, she would throw Stiles in jail for even possessing a shirt that looks like that. She’s pretty sure Stiles has never even worn that in his life.

“Huh?” Danny shifts uncomfortably.

“The shirt?” Stiles continues to push on his opinion.

Danny looks at Derek, either finding him extremely attractive or extremely scary, Fallon couldn’t tell which. “It’s… It’s not really his color,” he says, swallowing thickly.

Danny’s gaze lingers for a moment as Derek takes off yet another shirt. Stiles leans over to the goalie with a smug smile, “You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you Danny boy?” He whispers menacingly, calling his lab partner out.

“You’re a horrible person.”

Stiles looks up at his curling as if actually pondering his terrible behavior, “I know. It keeps me awake at night.” He sleeps like a baby pretty much every night. It takes Fallon, Scott, and the aroma of chocolate chip pancakes to get him to wake up at sleepovers. “Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, his temper now officially snapped. He holds another shirt in his hands, but it’s obvious that one won’t work for him either. “None of these fit!”

Danny immediately turns back to the computer, not able to look at Derek change anymore. He begins typing, “I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of text.”

Fallon and Stiles make eye contact, quietly celebrating their little victory. Fallon jumps up, hugging Danny from behind, “You’re the best. Seriously, I meant what I said. I definitely owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy waves off. “Just lend me copy off your history notes and we’re even.”

“Done,” she nods happily.

They allow Danny to work for about thirty minutes in complete silence, which has to be a new record for Fallon and Stiles. The two of them collectively struggle to stay quiet for more than ten. But it was already enough of a struggle to convince Danny, they didn’t need to piss him off anymore than he already was. She watches impressed as information flies across the screen, all by Danny’s doing. Suddenly, he stops.

“There,” he points to the screen, causing Derek to walk closer so he can get a better look. He stands directly behind Fallon, his breath faintly hitting her neck causing chills to run down her spine. She shuffles over a bit to have more room, earning a curious look from Derek himself. “The text was sent from a computer.” He points towards the name, “This one.”

Fallon, Stiles, and Derek stare at the screen in shock and confusion. How could this be the computer the text was sent from?

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asks skeptically.

“No,” Fallon shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“That can’t be right,” Stiles breathes out.

On the bright screen in front of them reads the words Account registered to: Beacon Hills Hospital– Melissa McCall.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sits in the backseat of Stiles’ jeep, Derek taking up the passenger seat. She knew better than to argue with him, either way she would’ve ended up in the same spot. Just one scenario he’s mad at her, and the other he’s not. Hence why she chose the latter. Her leg bounces up and down nervously as she checks the time on her phone. The game starts in less than thirty minutes. She has never missed a game out of her own free will, and Coach is gonna kill her when he realizes she’s not there already.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asks Stiles through the phone. Fallon can hear the faint cheering from the crowd through the speaker and a pout crosses over her face. She should’ve gone with Scott to steal the necklace.

On the bright side, at least he found the pendant. He sent the group of three a picture of it, the real thing matching up with the sketch Derek showed them pretty well. All the important details seemed to be there. She might’ve made it a little neater if she drew it, but that’s just her inner artist's need for perfection.

The unlikely trio sits in the parking lot of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital Long Term Care facility. Derek forced Stiles to drive them there, but didn’t explain why. Said he would tell them when they got there.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing,” Stiles answers.

Derek grabs Stiles’ wrist with no remorse, pulling it at an awkward angle so he can talk into the phone. “Hey, is there something on the back of it? There's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…”

“No, no, the thing's flat,” Scott says, much to Derek’s disappointment. “And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you guys? You're supposed to be here. Coach is gonna go ballistic when he realizes neither of you are ready.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” The hear Coach shout through the phone. Suddenly his voice becomes impossibly louder, “McCall! Where’s Donovan?” He asks, his tone of voice angry, and from what she can tell, a bit nervous. “Why isn’t she out here running drills? Is that her on the phone right now?” They hear a small scuffle go on, “Donovan! You better get your ass out on this field toot sweet or you’ll be running sucides until you actually commit suicide, do you understand me?!”

Fallon’s eyes shoot open. That definitely was not a bluff. The rest of her lacrosse career is going to be a living nightmare. Scott sighs, finally getting his phone back. “Stiles, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start,” he says sadly. “And Fallon, Coach might actually combust if you don’t show up.”

The girl groans, putting her head in her hands. “I know,” she mumbles.

Stiles feels an immense amount of frustration, throwing his hand up. “We know,” he sighs, realizing that they're sacrificing what could lead them to the semi-finals. “Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there. We’ll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and hands it to Fallon. “He said he needs to tell you something.”

She furrows her eyebrows but takes the phone anyway, “Hey Scotty, what’s up?” She greets, placing the phone next to her ear.

“Fall, I’m really sorry, but I may or may not have made a huge mistake,” he starts off, immediately making her nervous.

“What kind of mistake?” She asks, sending a worried look to Stiles.

“Chris caught me sneaking out of his house this afternoon when I went to steal the necklace. He started asking me questions about Derek and why I talk to him, and I may have mentioned that the two of you tend to talk a lot too. I promise I didn’t mean to. But you need to be careful, he–”

“Scott, why the hell would you tell him that I talk to Derek?” Fallon asks angrily. “I was the only one out of the three of us who had a decent relationship with that family!”

“I was under a lot of pressure, okay?” Scott tries to defend himself. “He just kept pushing for information and I just accidentally let it slip. I’m sorry…”

The girl groans loudly once more, a migraine slowly seeping its way into her head. “Okay, whatever. I-It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out if he asks. Just try to keep Coach from losing his mind. We’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

Fallon didn’t have time to think about the future lecture from Chris Argent. He’s a really nice guy, despite the fact he’s been hunting one of her best friends since third grade and her other friend who happens to like taking her books. He’ll no doubt tell Michael about her secret relationship with Derek which means her father will actually send her to Azkaban. And by that she means, lock her in her room with cameras, only allowing her out for school with the occasional visit from Scott and Stiles. She’ll also probably lose her motorcycle privileges.

“You guys aren’t gonna make it,” Derek says bluntly.

Stiles nods with a sigh, “Yeah, we know.” Both of them were more than bummed, but Fallon felt worse for Stiles than she did herself. She’s gotten to play first line since she was a freshman. Scott also got a free ticket to first line due to the bite, but Stiles had to work his butt off to get to this point. She might love to read him for his lack of hand-eye coordination, but Stiles practiced pretty much every day up until all of this werewolf business started happening. It's sad watching him give up so much.

“And neither of you told him about his mom either.”

“And we’re not going to,” Fallon shakes her head. “Not until we find out the truth. Because I know Melissa would never do that. She couldn’t have. She’s not in the know about any of this. Hell, for a while, she didn’t even know about Allison, let alone her phone number.”

“Plus, last week, I saw her struggle to change the channel on the TV in the living room. Which she’s had for almost three years. Not exactly tech savvy enough to send a message from Scott’s phone through a computer,” Stiles adds.

Derek nods his head along with their words. “By the way, one more thing…” Stiles turns to look at the man but immediately regrets it as Derek takes the back of his head, harshly slamming his face into the steering wheel.

Fallon jumps as Stiles groans in pain, clutching his face. “Derek!” The girl screams, reaching up to slap his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh God!” Stiles rubs his forehead which is now throbbing. “What the hell was–”

Derek cuts him off with a stiff point from his finger, “You know what that was for! Now go!” He gestures towards the doors of the care facility. “Both of you.”

Fallon rolls her eyes at his bossiness, pulling out her ”volunteer” ID. She’s starting to feel like maybe this was the only reason she was needed for Derek’s plan. Easy access into the hospital.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stays closely behind Fallon who leads them through the hallways of the hospital. The brunette girl has her phone pressed to her ear, talking to Derek who is telling them what to do as they go. Her confusion is growing more and more as she notices the odd abandonment of this branch. There should be more nurses walking around. She’s been in this unit before, even helped some paralyzed patients with physical therapy. Despite their terrible circumstances, the patients here are usually pretty Iively. This is one of her favorite parts of the hospital to do rounds in, so it’s concerning to see it so empty.

“Derek there’s no one here,” Fallon tells him. “We can’t find one nurse, let alone whoever you’re talking about.”

“Look, just ask for Jennifer,” Derek instructs strictly. “She’s been looking after my uncle.”

“Who even is your uncle?” Fallon questions. “Maybe I’ve checked in on him at some point.”

“No,” Derek denies. “They’ve only ever allowed Jennifer to work with him. That’s why you need to find her.”

Fallon trudges exasperatedly over to the room number Derek tells her. Stiles tries to listen in on the conversation so she decides to put the call on speaker. Once they arrive at the room they’re met with nothing. His bed is empty and freshly made, no one is occupying the wheelchair, nothing. It’s almost as if he disappeared into thin air, which isn’t exactly common for a comatose burn victim.

“Derek, he’s not here,” Fallon voices. “Like nowhere to be found. This room looks like it’s prepped to bring in a new patient, not like it’s been lived in.”

“What?” Derek asks, completely befuddled.

“He’s not here,” she enunciates. “It doesn’t look like he ever was. There’s no trace of anyone.”

There was a moment of silence, making both Stoles and Fallon grow increasingly more anxious. The tension becomes almost too much to handle until Derek bursts out into a yell, “Fallon, get out of there right now!” He screams. “It’s him! He’s the Alpha! You both need to get out!”

Fallon’s blood runs cold. She stumbles backwards, trying to push her and Stiles out of the abandoned room. The exit. That’s all that runs through her mind. Stiles catches her before she trips over her own feet. They both breath heavily as she grabs his hand, getting ready to bolt for the doors. But before they could even make a full turn, they are met with a looming figure. Derek’s uncle, Peter. The Alpha. He stands tall above them, a long trench coat covering his form. She wants to run away, scream even, the same feeling from the video store coming back. Especially when that smirk comes across his face. The same one she saw when he touched her with his claws. Her heart stops.

She’s absolutely terrified. This man could kill her without even thinking twice about it. But she knows she would throw herself into a pit of fire if it meant protecting Stiles. She takes a small step forward, pushing the boy behind her protectively. Peter looks almost amused by her action.

He smiles sinisterly, “You must be Fallon and Stiles.” The brunette girl couldn’t help but sympathize at the burns on the side of his face. They’re red, swollen, and discolored. No doubt one of the most painful injuries anyone could receive. She knows it’s wrong to feel even slightly and for the man as he’s killed so many people as well as having turned Scott, but after being wronged this way. Perhaps it’s not completely unjustified.

Fallon grips Stiles’ hand tighter. She tries to even her breathing as she spins them around to run in the other direction, but they are met with the angry scowl of who they could only assume was Peter’s nurse, Jennifer. Of course, now they find her.

“What are you doing here?” She interrogates aggressively. “Visiting hours are over.”

Fallon drops her phone to the ground, not even cringing when the screen falls face down. She clenches her fists tightly, getting ready to beat the living daylights out of the woman in front of them. Until Stiles decides that now is the perfect time to have an existential crisis. Or epiphany, whichever one he’d like to classify it as.

He points to Jennifer with a slack jaw, “You…” He gasps loudly before looking back at Peter. “And him… You're-you're the one who-- Oh, my-- and he's-- Oh, my God, we’re gonna die.” He looks like he’s going to cry, just without the tears. “We’re gonna die,” he mumbles again.

Fallon feels a sudden surge of bravery. She turns her head towards Peter, nose flaring with anger. He has been non stop terrorizing her. Her thoughts plagued with the memory of him invading her space the way that he did. “That night at the video store… you sniffed me. You touched me. Why? Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance?”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he looked at Fallon. "There’s something different about you... something worth keeping around.” A dark gleam appears in his eyes, “Why waste such potential, such… power, when it’s staring me right in the face?” Her confusion and fear makes him glow, “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Fallon felt as if every part of her had been violated simply by his words. He thinks she has potential. Why would he want to keep her around? He does have a plan for her, something she doesn’t and would never want to be a part of. Before she could say or process anything else, a loud crack is heard as Derek smoothly slides into the hallway. He elbows Jennifer in the face, causing the red head to fall to the linoleum floor, hitting her head and knocking her out cold.

Peter cocks his head to the side with a faux frown, “That’s not nice,” he feigns offense. “She’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people,” Derek corrects, getting ready for a fight. “Get out of the way,” he orders the two teens.

Stiles looks like he’s about to pass out as he glances between the two werewolves. Fallon’s eyes meet Derek’s and she feels the urge to fight with him, to tell him that they can help, but the pointed look he gives her makes her surrender that foolish notion. She grabs Stiles’ arm and pulls them down to the floor, crawling out of the way of the upcoming brawl.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose?” Peter stalks closer to Derek, ignoring the teens who are pushing themselves against the wall below. “One of my own family?”

Derek roars loudly, his eyes shifting to their bright shade of blue. This probably isn’t the family reunion either of them were expecting. The brunette pushes Stiles further down the hall as she watches Derek bounce off the wall to tackle Peter. The Alpha grabs his nephew by the collar of his jacket, throwing him directly into the wall next to Stiles and Fallon.

“Shit!” The girl screams, rolling over in the other direction.

Paint and drywall crumble off the spot of impact. She and Stiles run the other way, trying not to get caught in the crossfire. Fallon watches Derek with worried eyes, but he doesn’t falter in the slightest from the rough impact. Despite the wall now having a Derek sized dent in it, the man himself appears fine.

Fallon flinches as Stiles yanks her away from the unconscious nurse. Peter reaches down, grabbing Derek by the neck as he drags him down the hallway. She wants to help in some way, but Derek specifically told them to get out of the way.

“My mind, my personality, we’re literally burned out of me,” Peter monologues dramatically. “I was being driven by pure instinct.” He drops Derek’s body on the floor with a loud thud before reaching over to his nurse and taking her keys.

Derek grunts, forcing himself to stand after being manhandled. “You want forgiveness?” He asks breathily before cocking his fist back and slamming it into Peter’s jaw. Fallon flinches from the contact, Peter’s head jerking in the other direction.

Peter takes the opportunity to grab Derek by the collar again, head butting him with an excessive amount of force. “I want understanding,” he answers.

He lifts his leg up, connecting it with Derek’s chest as he sends the man flying across the hallway. Fallon jumps out of the way, pulling Stiles behind her. “We need to get out of here,” she whispers urgently. Stiles nods in agreement, the two of them rounding the corner to head towards the doors. They can hear Peter in the distance.

Peter menacingly tilts his head towards his nephew, “Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years?” Derek spits out blood onto the floor, using his arms to push himself off of the floor. “Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to imagine how hurt Derek is. Flashes of his brutally beat up body from the night at the school enter her mind, but Stiles manages to keep her grounded as they try to find the best escape route.

“Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can't help that.” Derek stands up, swinging at Peter who dodges his punches with scary precision. “I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.”

The moment Stiles and Fallon rush out of the exit door, they hear the loud sound of glass shattering. The brunette hesitates, but is pulled forward by Stiles. She looks back with only enough time to see Derek crawling away from Peter, the older man getting ready to abuse his nephew’s body again. She ignores the grunts and sounds of colliding fists, not knowing who is winning at this point.

And truthfully, she doesn’t want to know.

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329

[elsweetheart]

when the stress of your college assignments get too much, abby makes it all better.

🎀 random little smutty drabble for my babes who r stressed abt assignment szn😣

it started off with you crying, breaking down as soon as you got into her dorm. she was so fast to pick you up, letting your legs wrap around her waist with furrowed brows — concern overtaking her as she bounced you a little, rubbing your back.

“gotta talk to me, pretty girl. what happened?” her voice is low and comforting and it makes your chest hurt.

“got so much work to do n’i don’t even — i don’t know where to start. my head is a mess from my other assignments.” you hiccup into her, arms wound tightly around her neck silently begging her not to let go. she was still in her uniform from her basketball practise, having only arrived back at her dorm not long ago. “and— and i don’t understand any of my essay questions they’re all so long and confusing. m’just so stressed.” you wail, and she’s never seen you wound up like this before.

“okay, okay.” she cooes soothingly, slowly lowering the two of you down so you’re sat on her lap as she perched on the bed. “i can try and help you with your work later baby. but right now you gotta breathe for me, yeah?”

once she’s calmed you, fed you, and managed to get you to relax ever so slightly — the real therapy kicks in. she knows what you need, you need stress relief. you need a factory reset, where you get to clear your mind completely, so that you could go back to doing work as a fresh start. abby needed to quiet all the thoughts, just for a little while.

that’s how you ended up laying back against her chest, her lips pressing soft kisses to you shoulder— your bottom half completely bare, legs spread wide over hers. your cunt is soaked, and she’s slowly rubbing circles over your clit. not rushing you to cum, just slowly applying pressure — getting you to the fucked out, dumb space in your head.

“thats it.” she whispered, dropping a kiss to your temple proudly. you whined, still some fight left in you as it was hard to shake the stress this time.

“c—ant, wastin’ time… need to— mmhgm — need to do work.” you pant, throat hoarse from straining out moans as she worked them out of you.

“shh, shh, shh.” abby hushed, her middle finger dipping down to press onto your welcoming hole. it tensed and flexed around just the pad of her finger, giving her the signal to ease it in. “no thinking, baby. don’t need to do all that. i’m right here.”

she pressed up against something soft and devastating, your thighs twitching upwards as you let out a little cry, face wet once again from tears.

“there it is.” she confirmed with a small smile, thumb reaching up with each reach of her finger, brushing against your bundle of nerves. you felt the bad thoughts slip away as abby massaged your insides, so soaked that it could be heard sliding in and out. “my best girl, taking what i give you.” she spoke against your cheekbone, her hot breath making your skin bloom with warmth. “who’s my good girl? tell me.” she whispered even quieter.

“m’trying t’be.” you shake, barely coherent.

“no, you are. say it. who’s my good girl?” she was stern, but not strict or intimidating, aware of how vulnerable you were to your own emotions in that moment.

“me.” you whimpered, as if it took everything to admit.

“yeah.” you felt her nod right up beside your face, sliding in another finger making your tummy tense up. she didn’t mention it, just slid her free hand across your stomach, rubbing it soothingly to get you to relax. “my good girl, and my smart girl. and my brave girl, and my pretty girl.” she dropped a kiss to the fat of your cheek with each nickname, the pace of her fingers speeding up ever so slightly.

“abb— abby.” you mewled, and you didn’t quite know why — but she seemed to know what you needed. the hand on your stomach slid up, cupping your cheek and urging you to look at her. remind you that she’s there.

“there you go. there’s that pretty face.” her breath was warm and comforting on your face, making your eyelashes flutter. “gonna cum soon, aren’t you? gonna be so proud of you baby, always am.” she was saying just about anything now, and it was working— abby’s eyes trained on the way your eyes glazed over with a fresh batch of tears and your brows furrowed. she leant in so her lips were grazing yours as she continued to finger fuck you. “take it baby. you can have it, sweet girl.”

and you did, gushing over her fingers. abby always knew how to take the stress away.

[trashpandato]

Heist

It’s been three weeks since The Incident.

Kara eyes Lena suspiciously across the table. She’s not sure she can trust her, not anymore. Too much has happened. Lena, for her part, appears completely unaffected. She’s her usual self around Kara, complete with soft smiles, reassuring, if maybe more frequent little touches, while talking to Kara about her day, asking about her movie preference for the evening or other mundane topics. The facade is almost perfect.

Almost. There are small indications that maybe Lena senses that Kara knows, like her sideways glances at Kara when she thinks she isn’t paying attention, or moments when Lena’s demeanor seems almost too relaxed to be real.

But other than that, Lena’s good at this, at pretending that everything is fine between them. Kara has to admit that it’s well done, imagines that it’s a result of her upbringing with the Luthors, of having to pretend a lot to keep herself safe. It makes Kara ache for Lena, but then, then she remembers.

“Are you okay?”

Lena’s voice pulls Kara out of her head. She glances up to find a pair of concerned green eyes flitting across her face.

“Sure,” Kara hums, her mind still focussed on cataloging all of Lena’s little tells.

“It’s just,” Lena starts, stops, and then starts again, “I feel like you’ve been a bit preoccupied with something lately. Not fully present.”

And that, well, Kara didn’t exactly expect Lena to ask such a direct question. It doesn’t leave her much of a choice but to address the elephant in the room, call Lena on the charade she’s been engaged in for the last three weeks.

“Preoccupied is one way of putting it,” Kara replies, her tone chilly.

She watches as Lena shifts next to her on the couch, a deep frown on her face.

“You can talk to me about anything, Kara. Whatever’s bothering you, I’m here.”

“Whatever is bothering…are you serious right now?”

Lena must sense Kara’s growing agitation. She holds out both hands, palms up in a gesture of surrender.

“Just tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

Kara takes a deep breath. She can hear Lena’s heartbeat picking up speed, can see a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She seems genuinely confused and concerned.

“Do you really not know?”

Lena shakes her head. “No. What’s going on? Did something happen at the Tower? Is it…is it Lex? Did he somehow figure out how to come back?”

The way Lena’s voice wobbles at this last question pierces Kara’s resolve. Whatever is happening between them, The Incident, none of that matters all that much when she sees the budding panic in Lena’s eyes. She reaches out to grab Lena’s hands, wanting nothing more than to reassure her.

“No, no. It’s not that. You’re safe, okay? I don’t, I mean, I wouldn’t have made it back from the Phantom Zone without you. I don’t think he can come back, ever.”

Lena seems to relax a little at that, but her features are still full of worry.

“Okay, then, what’s wrong? Because something is clearly very wrong. Did I, have I upset you somehow? Because if I did, then—”

Kara interrupts her then. “You stole the last potsticker!”

There are a few seconds of silence and Kara isn’t sure if the lack of reaction is Lena’s attempt to pretend she doesn’t remember. 

But then:

“What?”

“You stole the last potsticker. When we got an extra order from Mr. Chu’s. I know you did, because you were the only other person here with me.”

Lena leans back slowly, her hands falling into her lap as her head tilts to the side.

“Mr. Chu’s. That was…that was last month.”

Kara nods. 

“So you’ve been, what, mad at me for weeks?”

“I mean, not mad mad, exactly,” Kara mumbles. Now that they’re talking about it out in the open, it feels like an odd thing to hold a grudge over. “But, you did steal it. Don’t deny it.”

“Oh I’m not denying it at all. If you say I did, then I’m sure it’s true. I just, you always share your food with me. I didn’t think potstickers were exempt from that somehow. But I promise it won’t happen again. Lesson learned. All potstickers are yours from now on.”

Lena’s tone is firm, clear, and Kara can see that she means every last word. But that’s not actually what she wants.

“No, I mean, we can, we can still share.”

At that, the confusion on Lena’s face is back in full force, and Kara shakes her head a bit to clarify.

“We can share. I just, I like having the last one for myself. It’s, I know it’s weird, but it’s sort of a thing with me. It’s, um, Alex used to steal my food all the time when we were kids. She, she didn’t particularly like me when I first got to Earth. Stealing my food was one of the ways she knew she could get under my skin. And I guess sometimes I still sort of feel like that weird alien kid who no one understands.”

Kara trails off then. She wants to explain more, to tell Lena that she knows it’s stupid, and she knows she overreacted maybe. But when Lena gathers her hands in her own and runs her thumbs across Kara’s knuckles, all of Kara’s words get stuck in her chest.

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

Lena’s smile is a little crooked then, but she nods. “I was the weird kid in a large mansion, remember? I know I have a few odd habits that are all about, well, trying to no longer be that kid. I get it.”

And of course she does. Kara feels even stupider now. She looks down at their linked hands.

“I’m sorry I got mad.”

But Lena shakes her head. “No. It’s okay to get mad. Just maybe, maybe tell me right away next time? Stewing and brooding is sort of my thing, not yours.”

Kara huffs out a laugh, but when she looks up at Lena, she sees only love and understanding.

“Okay. I promise.”