#but i’ve been laughing all day. they gooned his ass. AGAIN

[yamarvel]

obviously we all are aware that comics writers kill off and resurrect characters with such insane frequency and such little actual impact on the story that death as a plot device has been rendered pretty much useless. however. bear with me. killing jason todd off again is maybe the funniest fucking thing dc comics has ever done

[persephones-wren]

hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗

Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?

Genre: angst to fluff

Word Count: 1910

To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.

Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.

You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.

When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.

“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.

Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”

“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”

“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”

“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”

“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”

“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”

“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”

You still. What?

He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.

Does he want to break up?

Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.

But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.

“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.

Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.

You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.

Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.

I’d take information over your safety.

You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.

He might’ve meant every word.

You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.

You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?

“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”

His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.

“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”

He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.

“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again.  “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“Why the hell would he be upset?”

“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”

“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.

“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”

“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”

“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”

“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.

Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?

Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.

“What do you need?”

“Apologize.”

“For?”

“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”

Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.

“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.

Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.

Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?

What did he do for you to look like that?

“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”

“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”

He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.

How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?

“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”

You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

The sound echoes through the silent room.

You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.

You let the guilt win out.

“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”

“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”

You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.

“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”

“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.

“Not too tight?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”

There’s another silence between you.

“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”

You know it’s his way of saying sorry.

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.

Jesper must’ve really shaken him.

“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”

It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”

“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”

A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”

[imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend]

I’ll Take Care of You, Chapter 23: Goodnight

chapter title sounds like the end but it is not! i wrote this in bits and pieces, distractedly, not sure if i've read the entire thing through, honestly! my anxiety is kicking my ass right now but i'm hoping for some serotonin when i read this again later, and when i read your comments!

Fic Summary: Reader works in the hospital where Billy Russo keeps his mother. They’ve caught each other’s eye. But she thinks he is the devoted son… little does she know what hides behind a handsome face and expensive suits.

Posted on my ao3 as well :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Chapter Summary: reader deals with being Billy’s prisoner and learns about more of Billy’s past lies, and even more terrible things he’s about to do

Warnings: swearing, being held against will, poisoning, murder

Words: 2.3k

Masterlist ~~ Chapter 22

~

You stayed in Billy’s room, refusing to let his goons see you when you were down. You thought about dumping all of Billy’s expensive cologne, smearing his hair gel all over the mirror, breaking everything made of glass. But you didn’t want to risk it. After learning that he let his best friend’s family get slaughtered, you were sure he wouldn’t hesitate to kill your friend to punish you.

Billy was gone for a few hours before he came back. He had the decency to knock on the door, but let himself in anyway. You were perched at the head of the bed, knees to your chest.

“There you are. It's time for dinner. I picked something up.”

That would have seemed like a sweet gesture had it been under normal circumstances. You looked away from him. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be difficult, Y/N. It’s your favourite.”

You didn’t speak or move.

He sighed. “Don’t be a brat. I’m sure you remember what happened last time you were a brat, when you hung up on me?”

You did remember. You remembered it very well. Your body betrayed you and you felt a pulse to your clit and a dampening from your core.

You begrudgingly got up and followed Billy into the kitchen. You sat down on a bar stool, a display of food from your favourite Mexican restaurant on the island counter.

Billy handed you a fork but no knife. You shook your head and rolled your eyes in annoyance, but accepted the fork.  

“Jack told me about the glass.” Billy said, looking at your carefully.  

“It slipped.” You said nonchalantly, after a second.

Billy chuckled, taking the seat to your left at the end of the island. “Slipped all the way across the room?”

You shrugged, poking into your enchilada.  

“But then you sent yourself to our room like a good girl.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You said venomously.

“Ooh, baby.” He feigned being stabbed in the chest. “Why would I do that when I’ve got you?”

“You think I’d let you touch me? After everything you’ve told me about you?”

“You’ll get over it eventually. And I’ll be back between your pretty thighs soon enough.”

You laughed humorlessly. “You’re insane.”

Billy just smiled.

“Where’s my friend?” You asked.

“She’s fine. But I’m keeping her at Anvil, so she doesn’t go running to Homeland Security.”

“So, she’s a prisoner, too.”

“Just until we’re out of New York. Then I’ll have her released, unscathed.”

You chewed on your lip again. “Do you promise?”

“If you behave, yes.”

You eyed him warily before getting back to your meal. You remembered when Billy first brought you Mexican food and you had wondered if you told him about it being your favourite. That pushed you to ask a question that had been bothering you all day.

“How long have you had my phone bugged?”

Billy swallowed his forkful, and kept his gaze down as he answered, “Since our first date at the bar.”

“What? That was months ago and we barely knew each other! That’s so fucked up!” You said incredulously.

He shrugged and met your eyes. “I barely used it.”

You ignored that. “So, you could just read all of my messages, hear all of my conversations?”

“I could see texts, yes. Things you had stored on your phone. And I could hear your phone calls, but that’s it, I couldn’t hear anything when you weren’t using the phone. And obviously I had your GPS. But I only ever looked at your stuff when I had... concerns. Or when I wanted to make you feel better.”

You remember when he brought you roses to apologize after your friend had asked if he’d given you any.

“That’s not a good reason to fucking spy on me.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

Billy gripped his fork tightly. “I’ve done good for you, baby. How do you think that little bitch Tessa got fired after she almost got you fired?”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

“You know she’s not the kind of person to steal meds. I got someone to hack in the system and make it look like she did.”

Holy shit. Sure, you didn’t like the girl but it didn’t mean you wanted her to never work as a nurse again. “You do realize that you probably ruined her life.”

Billy shrugged. “She almost ruined yours, and I wasn’t going to allow that.”

You rubbed your forehead. “Shit, Billy.”

“I know you didn’t like her, anyway.”

“It doesn’t mean I wanted her to get fired!”

“Oh well, I thought I was doing you a favour.”

“Jesus. Any other insane things you want to tell me about, then?”

“No. Nothing I can think of, anyway.”

You just shook your head and tried to eat what was on your plate.

The food was delicious but you hardly had an appetite and it did little to improve your mood. You grabbed a bottle of wine and headed straight back to Billy’s room, ignoring his calls of your name.

You put the bottle on the dresser and opened the drawer with your clothes in it. You pulled out some pyjamas and started to strip so you could put them on. When you turned around, you saw Billy leaning against the doorframe and you jumped.

“Jesus, Billy.”

He smirked. “Sorry, I was just admiring the view.”

You said nothing and grabbed the bottle of wine and opened it, flicking the lid in his direction. He caught it and winked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

You turned around and took a deep swig of wine. You walked over to the window and stared out at the city lights.

“Are you really going to abduct me from New York?”

Billy scoffed. “I don’t have a choice. If DHS has all that shit on me, I can’t stay here. And I can’t leave you behind, Y/N. I love you too much.” He sounded like he was closer to you now.

“If you love something you’re supposed to set it free.”

“They could use you to get to me. I can’t let that happen.”

You took another drink. “DHS or your boss? Will your boss even let you leave? Wouldn’t that screw over your illegal little empire?”

“He’s getting out of dodge, too. Anyway, I know how much it upsets you so I told him I was out.”

You turned around in surprise. “You expect me to believe that?”

Billy shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“After all those lies, how can I really know when you’re telling the truth, huh? That one night when I cleaned up your fucking knife wound you were lying to my face, and then you did the same a few days later when you were pretending to tell me the truth.”

“I don’t have anything to gain from lying to you now, little lady. This doesn’t have to be unpleasant unless you make it that way.”

“You’re going to steal my life from me!”

“We’ll build a new life, together.”

“I like the life I have now! My job, my friends, my place! I have parents and family that are going to worry about me, Billy!”

He stepped closer and snatched the wine from you. “That’s not something I’ve ever had the luxury of worrying about.” He took a swig from the bottle.

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for you when you’re literally trying to ruin my life.” You snapped.

“Baby, I can’t leave you here. People will try to hurt you to get to me. I’m doing this to protect you. I know it’s hard but it’s what we have to do.”

“Why would DHS try to hurt me?”

He huffed in irritation and ran his fingers through his hair. “Not DHS. Rawlins isn’t exactly pleased that I’m leaving. We were lucky to get ahead of DHS, it means Rawlins can keep his operation going elsewhere. But if I leave, he’s going to be down a... business partner and obviously that’s not ideal. He won’t let me leave quietly. He’s the one I’m worried about, and that’s why you’re coming with me.”

“Why couldn’t you have asked me, though? Instead of making me feel like a prisoner?”

“You wouldn’t have said yes even if I explained.”

“I guess we’ll never know, because you didn’t fucking ask.”

“You really think I could have done this any other way?”

“Yes! If I knew that my life would be in danger, I’d probably be more willing to get away from here!”

“I didn’t want to scare you!”

“Well, you are scaring me! I’m already fucking scared, Billy!”

Billy rubbed his forehead, letting out a harsh sigh. “Don’t you know how fucking hard this is for me? It’s my life that’s getting turned around too. I have to leave Anvil, a company I built from nothing-”

“Blood money.” You interrupted.

“It may have started that way but Anvil ended up paying for itself. I made myself something, Y/N. No one else did.”

“You didn’t need money to be somebody, Billy!”

He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “I disagree. I wouldn’t have been able to afford that hospital for my mother, and then I never would have met you. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of the stuff I have for you. And I’m sure knowing that I was a CEO of my own company was one of the reasons you fucked me in a supply room.”

Your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe that he said that. “That’s not- Billy, I don’t care about your money! I care about you! I love you, not your money or your title. You cared for your mother and donated money to the hospital taking care of her. That’s why you caught my eye.”

He said nothing, just looked at your wearily.  

You were mad that he thought so little of you, that he thought so little of himself. “Nothing to say to that? Not even a ‘sorry’?”

“I have something to tell you about that, too.” He said hesitantly.

“What, that’s not really your mother?” You said dryly.  

“Oh, no. She’s my mother.” He looked at you thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s one more loose end I need to tie up. And you’re coming with me. Get dressed.”

“Are you joking?” you asked incredulously, watching him walk over to the door.

“No.”

You huffed in annoyance. “Fine. Get out and I’ll change.”

“Why? I’ve seen it all, baby. Nothing new.”

“Give me some privacy, please. You’ve lost your privileges after being an asshole.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned against the wall. “My place, my girl.”

You clenched your teeth in frustration. You grabbed some clothes from the dresser and slammed the drawer shut. You held Billy’s eyes defiantly as you changed out of your pyjamas and into clothes more fitting for public.

“Good.” He said when you were fully dressed. “Let’s go, shall we?”

***

Billy drove, which surprised you. You figured he’d get Jack or one of the other meatheads to do it. The car rolled to a stop outside of the hospital.

“What are we doing here?” You asked. “I thought you were going to talk to Dr. Beck for me.”

“Yes, that’s all been taken care of. We’re here for something else. We’re gonna go up together and we’re going to pay a last visit to Mother. And just remember that your little friend isn’t out of the woods yet.”

You stared at him.

He leaned over and took hold of your chin. “Do you understand, little lady?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

You nodded.

“Good.” He let you go and got out of the car. He opened the door for you and put his arm around you so you were tight to his body.

You felt like your heart was in your throat as you got in the elevator. When the elevator door opened, Billy simply held onto your hand as he led you down the hallway. There was no staff in sight, no one you could silently beg to help you. You were steered over to his mother’s room and Billy shut the door behind you. You looked over at Carla, who looked absolutely terrified. Billy closed the blinds and then took his time walking over to his mother. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“Did you ever wonder why Mother’s condition never seemed to improve?” Billy asked. It didn’t sound like he actually wanted an answer, so you remained quiet.  

“Well,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a syringe, “that may be my doing.”

“What is that?” You asked in horror.

“It’s like what’s been keeping her so pathetic and helpless, preventing her from ever getting a true recovery. But this is actually much worse.”

“You’ve... you’ve been poisoning your mother?” You were in disbelief. You thought he had cared about her. You looked at Carla, and there were tears in her eyes.

“Every single visit.” Billy said, pausing between words.

You covered your mouth in horror. “Oh my god. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He ignored you and spoke to his mother now. “Now, this isn’t what I normally give you. But I won’t be able to give that to you anymore. I’ve got to go away but you’ve become my responsibility. And this is what I believe you deserve after what you did to me.”

Billy took the cap off the needle and you couldn’t help but gasp. “Billy, what are you doing?”

He ignored you, still. “It’s time to say ‘Goodnight’, Mother.” And then he stuck the needle in her arm.

~

Author’s note: oh shit. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Tell me what you think! :)       please

Taglist

@quellmythirst @princess-miaa @catherinnn @kahlanmars @tnrthings @loubombshell @slut4benbarnes @booksandbenbarnes @adriennebarnes @nothinkingonlycrying @whattheforks @musicalggirl @bxtchopolis @restingbitchsblog @nerds4life246 @hydrogen-in-our-veins @insssanemind @thegreengoop @springtimesimmer @dragon-of-winterfell @misscaitygrace @sweetwritingfanficfriend  @asgardian-sapphire @kayleev-07

Chapter 24

[mae-gi-writes]

Calling... | Juyeon (tbz)

Juyeon tbz! x f! reader 

Summary:

Long distance is hard, even for people like you and Juyeon. 

Genre: angst, some fluff, LDR relationship

A/N: some self-indulgent angst because I’ve been feeling low these days and have nowhere/no one to vent it to. 

-----

"We’re going to get through this, Y/N. I promise.” 

That promise. You’re not sure whether that’s a curse or a blessing. Every single day becomes a torturous game between wanting to give up everything that you’ve built with the man of your dreams and pushing forward towards the happy ending you’ve always hoped for. 

It was easier in the beginning. Maybe because you were both so new to the prospect of love, that you didn’t know what you were missing from each other. It only grew harder the more the years went by and though some people said that the pain gets easier, you’re not quite sure whether they’ve supposedly missed out the part where you keep falling deeper in love with him every day. 

Maybe if you didn’t love him so much, it would hurt less. And god, you wished that would happen. You wished a miraculous cure would numb the swell in your chest every time you had a spare moment to think of what Juyeon was doing. You wished that it would stop the familiar burn of tears tearing your throat apart every time you forced yourself to keep down your choked cries for the sake of not crying. Because you were sick of that too.

This kind of pain is toxic and unsurmountable, to an extent that you start wondering whether life would be easier without Juyeon around. 

"A few more months Y/N,” Juyeon says, face taking up your phone screen as you put the device onto your nightstand in favour of curling your knees up to your chest. You’re trying very hard not to cry, and hope that he can’t see the silent tears slipping past your lids, “it’ll go by quickly, I--” 

“Yeah yeah, I know,” you mumble out, having already heard this mantra over a thousand times. It’s the same thing, after all. A few more months, a little bit more time, just a little-- you’re so fed up of all this waiting, of everyone telling you the exact same thing. 

You’re so sick of it. You can’t even look at the camera anymore.

"Where...Where do you think we stand?” comes his question. A little hesitant, but without any stutter. And when you look back at his face, you notice the downward cast of his eyes, the saddening turn of his lower lip. 

It’s hurting him just as much and you hate it. You hate how guilty you feel about dragging him into this when he’s only just a victim. 

“What do you mean?” you ask softly. 

Juyeon takes a soft breath, exhales, “like...do you think we have a hundred percent chance? Or...fifty percent? Or...” 

He trails off, but you understand what he means, and shrug while scratching the back of your head, “definitely not a fifty,” you say, biting your lip, “and...there’s nothing that can make me say we’re less than a hundred, but...” 

You’re not certain what to say there. It’s touchy, and you don’t want to hurt your boyfriend more than you are at this particular moment. 

If you had been asked a question a year earlier, there is no doubt your answer would’ve straight up been a hundred percent. And you’d say it with confidence too, Juyeon knows that.

But it hurts so fucking much.

It hurts so much that it’s the only thing you can think about every day. 

It makes you sad. It makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry because there is literally nothing else you can do to take your mind off it. 

"Do you...are you--" his voice wobbles, then breaks off without courage of actually saying the words out loud, "I--"

You shake your head, lips trembling as you murmur, "I'm not--I`m not gonna do that, Juyeon."

You fear that saying the words out loud might make it come true. And you don't want to imagine what that would be like, even if you entertain the possibility at the back of your mind.

The silence overcrowds the distance between you and the phone. For a minute, you can't bear to meet Juyeon's eyes. Your fingers start picking your nails apart, a nervous habit you've manifested whenever you get anxious.

When Juyeon speaks next, his words are laced with pain and he doesn't even try holding back a sob, "please," he exhales shakily and even from your tiny screen, you can see the redness lining his eyes, "please don't break up with me."

Your heart aches at the sadness etched onto his features, "I'm not," you repeat it more firmly then, "I won't."

He doesn't answer. But then again, you've probably shocked him to the core.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," you say quietly.

"No, it's okay. I--" running a hand through his dark locks, you note his jaw clenching, "I didn't know you felt this way. I'm the one that should be sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is, though isn't it?" He chuckles emptily, "I guess I...I'm not doing enough."

"That's not it, Juyeon. It hurts a lot. This, everything. And I'm just tired. I'm tired of always crying. I'm just so fucking tired."

And then you burst into ugly sobs.

----

The weather has gotten warmer now that June is in full swing. Your final semester is over and that means a little bit of freedom before starting your job search. It is enjoyable and peaceful, walking across town with your friends, meeting up at odd hours of the day and finding new treasures that your town has to offer.

You are currently in the middle of parking your bike next to the harbourfront when your phone suddenly buzzes in your pant leg.

"Hey," you say as you pick up the receiver, "what's up?"

"Hey," there's a little bit of static before Juyeon'a voice comes through, "I'm good. What about you?"

"I'm at the harbourfront. Getting some air."

"That's nice," a pause, then, "how was it?"

"I think I might have enjoyed it more than I should've," you tell him as you walk up to the edge of the harbour. The water lolls peacefully against the edge and it calms you down, as the talk has earlier, "it helped. A lot."

He breathes out softly, "that's good to hear. How...how do you feel?"

"Surprisingly serene."

"Woah, fancy description."

You can't help but laugh at that, "thanks. I try."

A comfortable silence fills the air and you lean down, hand outstretched to catch some of the waves lapping up along the edge, "and you?" It's been a while since you've managed to speak to Juyeon properly. You miss him, "how have you been?"

"Oh you know," you hear him shuffle, "keeping myself busy. I started working at a skateboard shop. It's been...interesting."

"Do you even know how to skateboard?"

"I can stand straight on one. Does that count?"

You giggle, "no, you goon. You actually have to be able to skate on it."

You talk for a little while longer as you enjoy the peace and quiet that comes with a breathtaking view. Even more breathtaking as the sun slowly sets over the horizon and giving bloom to hues of orange and salmon pink bleeding into the clear blue sky.

It has been nice to talk to someone. As per Juyeon's request a few weeks earlier, you had decided to sign up for a free counselling session. You weren't a big fan of people poking around your thoughts and feelings, but the consultation had actually been really enjoyable. To unleash everything that you've been carrying in your heart is a weight that has suddenly lifted off your chest, and you feel shades lighter as you spend the reat of your evening roaming through town, getting your groceries, walking along the pavement back to your flat.

"I gotta go now," Juyeon says as you unlock your front door, "Changmin's been bugging my ass for thirty minutes."

"Well please tell him I have nothing to do with this."

"You had everything to do with this."

"Lying will get you nowhere."

"And I will tell him anyway," he singsongs, causing you to chuckle good-naturedly. That is, before the next words come to shake up your heart a little.

"I miss you."

You smile softly, sadness combing through your chest, "I do too, Juyeon."

"Stay safe, okay?"

"You too."

"Talk soon Y/N," his voice is filled with a gentleness that makes your heart sing, and you repeat back the said words, a mixture of melancholy and fondness blooming inside your chest.

Ending the call and setting down your groceries atop the kitchen counter, your eyes find the date circled in red.

Your lips curl into a smile.

----

"Flight A472 has arrived. Travelers, please make your way to the luggage section.“

The intercom buzzes with static to repeat the earlier statement and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as you slowly get up from your seat. You've been waiting at the nearby fast food joint until now, and it's no surprise that your butt feels numb and flat.

Stretching your limbs and picking uo your bag, you sling your navy coat over your shoulder and make your way towards the arrivals. The airport is deserted at this time of night and you're grateful, for it gives your heart more time to prepare for the man you haven't seen in over eight months.

Eight months. Eight months is a long time. It's almost the time it takes for a baby to be born. You flush at the thought, wondering whether Juyeon sees you in his future just as permanently as you see him.

"Who are you waiting for?" Your head swivels to see an older woman, in her late fifties, with a handbag slung over her shoulder and a burgundy scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Oh, uh--" heat travela up the back of your neck, "someone close. And you?"

"My daughter. I haven't seen her in over two years," the woman smiles fondly, "it's hard, isn't it? Not being able to see your close ones every day."

"Yeah," you mumble, "it sure is."

Your gaze is now fixated on the sliding doors now that people have started walking out. One by one, you watch as strangers hug their families, laughing and smiling. A couple is embracing in a nearby corner. And the old woman brightening up and waving at the sight of her daughter pulling up her luggage.

Your chest can't help but swell with emotion. What a beautiful thing to be admire the magic of a reunion. Tears rush to your eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of love radiating through your veins and bathinf your limbs in warmth.

"Y/N."

You freeze. Slowly, you turn around and see Juyeon.

Your Juyeon.

He stands there, backpack on his shoulders and hair ruffled. A luggage at his side and sporting a grin.

Your heart explodes.

Heat rushes through your face, mouth opening in a soft 'oh'.

"Juyeon," his name rolls off your lips.

You're breathless. Everything falls out of focus.

Juyeon. Juyeon is here.

Everything happens so fast. You blink and you're in his arms, his warmth engulfinf you, his scent making you light-headed, his lips permanently pressed against your temple as your hands unconsciously scrabble to hold on to his hoodie like he's a dream you don't want to let go.

It's magical. It feels like a goddamn miracle.

You can't help but burst into tears.

"Oh god," Juyeon's chuckle echoes through your ear. He tightens his grip ever so slightly and kisses your forehead, the corner of your eye while stroking your back.

You cling to him like he's your only lifeline, "I missed you," you sob into his shirt, "I missed you so much."

"It's okay," he cooes into your ear, one hand coming up to smooth over your head, "I'm here now, Y/N."

"I--" emotions rush through you like a dam broken down by the tides and suddenly you're babbling everything you've kept hidden in the grooves of your heart, "I'm so sorry for everything, I-- I was hurt and scared and lonely. I didn't think about how this distance affected you too and I'm sorry I made you go through all this when you did nothing wrong, I--"

Your words get muffled by his lips pressing onto yours to stop any other protests and you melt into him like coming home with open arms. His arms pin your middle to his chest, parting your mouth with his and taking your breath away with every suckle, every nibble. It makes you gasp, clutching his shoulders and returning his kisses with just as much vigor.

"You," he breathes against your parted mouth, "are everything I want," pulling back to press his forehead to yours, he continues, "so don't you dare think for one second, that you're in this alone. You're never alone, Y/N."

"I love you," you murmur, nose brushing his. He kisses you once more, heat lingering between you and claiming your affection for him, "I love you too."

You know that this isn't the end. A path of tears and pain and struggle still await you. The mountain is high and steep, a tough climb that makes youe legs tremble.

But you know now, looking into Juyeon's eyes and seeing the magic in there, the dripping affection that makea your fingers tingle, that this is it. There's nobody else, nothing else you want than Lee Juyeon.

Because if there's one thing for sure is that Juyeon's hand is the one you want to take, to make that climb happen.

"Wanna get out of here and tell me everything I've missed out about you?" Juyeon whispers upon finally detangling himself, though still holding on to your shoulder as he gently pulls you towards the exit.

"Only if you tell me everything I've missed about you," you reply.

He chuckles, before pressing another lingering kiss over your cheek, "deal."

[just-an-aussie-fandom-hermit]

Some #Only in Gotham posts because I’m stressed and this is my coping mechanism

Guys guys guys

So I was in Central City today visiting some friends earlier this morning, and then the city gets attacked by these... aliens? Weird reptillian cryptids?? Who knows, but they were not happy nor friendly. We were all at this nice cafe just vibing in the outdoor area when this bipedal, green-gray reptile thing pops out of the manhole outside the cafe and goes absolutely feral. He was super close to my group so I grab my croc repellant (for non gothamites, its’ basically pepper spray but really bad-smelling to ward off croc if he ever shows up) out in an instant and I sprayed it right in the face.

Then I grabbed the nearest thing—some poor old guy’s metal walking frame—and whacked the reptile in the back of the head and it crumpled basically instantly.

And after the JL had stepped in to deal with the rest of them (not many, from what I’ve heard, but better safe than sorry I guess), heaps of people were freaking out about it because, well, this is Central City, they don’t get this kind of crime, they’re not prepared for this, yada yada.

Then that manhole pops up and everyone freaks out again because “oh god they’re back” but it’s just Batman dragging a bunch of tied up reptiles out of the sewers using some kind of winch set-up. It was almost comical—a daisy chain of reptiles being lifted out of this manhole in Central City by our favourite Goth Cryptid.

The cops were completely floored. The civilians didn’t know whether to be more scared of Bats or the reptiles. I mean, it was literally the middle of the day, and it’s rare to see Batman in daytime in Gotham but I guess this was an extenuating circumstance, so I guess I see why they were scared.

Batman just looks down at me standing over an unconscious reptilian holding the can of croc repellant and he’s just like “I’m guessing you’re from Gotham.”

I was like “yeah. Can’t escape the damn cryptids wherever I am.”

And tHEN he LAUGHS. Like, it was a small and quiet snort but it happened and I’m still shook. I have officially joined the “I made Batman laugh” squad. I can ascend peacefully now.

He seemed super embarrassed but asked if my friends and I were okay before he turned on his heel and stalked over to Flash and Woner Woman, a daisy-chain of reptiles in tow.

#lmao #onlyingotham #Batman #IMadeBatmanLaugh #ITookDownAReptileCryptid #GothamIsWeirdOkay #WeGottaBePreparedForAnything

———

I just heard this Metropolis guy try and trash Bruce Wayne to his friend at this diner and like five seperate people (myself included) turned around to roast the hell outta him. Like, yeah, he’s a billionaire, which is a whole can of worms I don’t wanna open right now, but he’s basically the only reason this city’s still standing and functioning (especially after the quakes and the no-man’s-land bs). His kids—most are poc and would not have thrived in the system—are all successful and work with their communities to better other people’s lives. Bruce Wayne is basically the only reason I got through high school (and am now in college); a scholarship is the only reason most of my friends have enough money to make rent. He “accidentally” spilled wine on Lex Luthor when he made a sexist remark. Also, didn’t it come out recently that he’s basically been funding the JL o at least is a major financial backer? An icon. You can shut your mouth, Jeremy.

One girl Instagram lived the whole exchange (she was filming beforehand I think) and it was magical.

Later on, Robin (the newest one, with the swords) shows up and he’s like “thank you for defending the honour of Mr Wayne”. I was like “kid,,,, you don’t need to thank me but you’re welcome”. he just kinda looks at me for a second and says “you eat free tonight” and chucks a bunch of dollar notes at me and disappears into the wilderness (ie. an alleyway). It was so surreal.

#GiveWayneABreak #BruceWayne #LetTheManLiveHisLife #GothamitesProtectTheirOwn #EvenTheBatkidsAreProtectiveOfHim

———

Yeah so....... I just saw some of Two-Face’s goons about to enter a bank, weapons drawn, and I’m scared because their boss is in Arkham, and the Rogues’ most loyal people always get antsy and trigger-happy when their bosses are off the board. I’d dialed 911 when I first saw them and ducked into an alley.

But then I see one of them stop dead in their tracks—Goon A we’ll call him—and says “hey, Wayne’s in there”.

Goon B: “Oh, we’re not meant to go after Wayne. Pack it in fellas.”

Goon C: “Huh? why not?”

Goon A: “Boss-man said so. Wayne used to be his best bud. Helped him campaign to be DA and stuff. Went to college together. Nice man.”

Goon B: “Got no problem wth that. Wayne’s the only reason my boys got through school. Besides, we mess with Wayne, the boss and Harley will be on our asses.”

Goon C: “Huh. Fair enough. We’ll go to the other location then.”

And then they just,,,, left.

#EvenTheRoguesWannaProtectHim #BruceWayne #HarveyDent #TheGuysGotCaughtAfter #IToldDetectiveMontoya #AndSheJustSighedForAReallyLongTime #OnlyInGotham #GothamIsWeird

———

Today I was in a Zoom call with some of my coworkers on the other side of the world, sitting in the kitchen facing the living room, when Red Robin comes crashing through my window. I just kinda turned around to see if he was badly injured (he wasn’t, couldn’t even see any blood) so I just continued on with what I was saying and he sheepishly left through the same window.

My coworkers are looking at me like “Jacob are you okay??” And I’m like, “yeah man, that was just Red Robin, he has unfortunate luck with windows. Soon enough one of the other Bats will come knocking with a replacement or a cash refund. Though, I should probably just invest in plexi-glass.”

One of my coworkers went on a bit of a rant about “vigilantes causing property damage and disrupting the peace” and i’m like “Mark I’d rather Batman crashing through my door or window once a month to getting buried in my twenties in his abscence,” and he was like “yeah, fair enough” so we just continued with our call.

After my call, Blonde Batgirl shows up and apologises for the window. I ask about plexi-glass and if Red Robin is alright.

She’s like “yeah he’s fine but he’s getting Bat-Lectured for being reckless which is why I’m here. Also from what Oracle can tell you should be able to get plex-glass installed within the week.”

#OnlyInGotham #GettingBatLecturedDoesNotSoundFun #ThanksOracle #BatmanDontBeTooHardOnTheKid #Gothamite #MeanwhileInGothamCity #GothamCity #RedRobin

———

So, Red Hood piggy-backed me up to my apartment yesterday because my heel broke when I was fleeing from these guys trying to mug me (or worse) and I sprained my ankle. He carried me up four flights of stairs and helped me get into my apartment and wrap my foot properly.

I told him to take some of my nana’s lasagna (because our local vigilante needs to keep his strength up! Man’s gotta eat, and from what I hear he’s not swimming in cash) and he got real quiet for a while before saying “yeah, sure”.

So he ate some lasagna while I called in sick to work (who were very understanding, surprisingly).

Then after a little while he’s like “bye” and jumps outta my window.

An icon.

#RedHood #OnyInGotham #WeStanALegend #IHopeYouLikedTheLasagna #MyNanaSaysSheWillMakeMoreForYou #GrowingUpInCrimeAlley

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

Prev

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[whoacanada]

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year —  a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees —  Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother. 

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute. 

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle —  but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

.

[theeslytherinslut]

A Shit Tutor (1/4)

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader, 

Word Count: 1,903

Warnings: language, Draco’s an ass (surprise)

Request: “Can you write a fic where draco is asked by a professor to tutor a fellow student but he falls for her? Thank you and I absolutely LOVE your work!!”

A/N: This is just the first part of what will likely end up being a 3-4 part-er! Hope it’s intriguinggg :) Also this is clearly a sort of alternate universe in which there’s no war, no Slughorn, and Snape still teaches the N.E.W.T.s class 

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With an exasperated sigh, you shoved the cauldron away from you, pulling your hand back as it spilled and destroyed the table beneath it. 

“Oh, come on!” you hissed, more colorful words longing to leave your mouth. 

“Y/L/N? I don’t recall instructing to burn through the table,” Snape sneered, coming to stop at your table as he swept through the room. Snickers could be heard from the other side of the room, and you seethed in your chair. 

A Slytherin who couldn’t make a simple decaying drought to save her life. 

A Slytherin who seemed to be in the wrong place in Potions. 

“It was an accident, sir,” you breathed, forcing yourself to bite your tongue. 

“I should hope so. This is your,” Snape paused and thought for a moment. “fourth try? Is it not?” 

“It is,” you said through clenched teeth. It seemed his House favoritism only extended to those who excelled in his class. 

“How you managed to scrape an O and squeeze into my N.E.W.T.S class I’ll never understand,” Snape shook his head, his voice drawling. 

“Me neither, Professor,” you said--really, it had been luck. The potions you had been tested on you just happened to be actually decent at, that, paired with intensive studying and an aptitude for testing, you’d scraped an O. 

“Malfoy!” Snape suddenly barked out, causing you to jump. 

“Sir?” he called from the other side of the room--the side from which the snickers sounded. 

“Come and help Ms. Y/L/N before she burns through this very floor,” Snape sneered before, thankfully, whisking away to another table. 

Draco then began packing his things into his bag, and seconds later, was sliding into the seat next to you, his smoldering pine-like scent filling the air, making your head spin. 

“Sweet Salazar, what the bloody hell did you do?” Draco laughed, peering into the cauldron. 

“Evidently not the right thing,” you grumped, struggling not to enjoy the light sound of his laughter as it was at your expense. 

“Clearly; I mean, I’ve seen mistakes, but that is just embarrassing,” he scoffed. Shocked at his blunt curtness, you were stunned silent.

“Scourgify,” he said, and with a wave of his wand, your cauldron was cleared of the bubbling goop you’d managed. 

“Y/N? Right?” he asked, pulling out his scale and setting it on the table. 

“That’s right, only been in the same house for 6 years,” you said scornfully. 

“There’s a lot of people in Slytherin, can’t expect me to know everyone's name,” Draco shrugged, looking unbothered. You just rolled your eyes at him, not wanting to speak with him any more than necessary.

“Here, split these vertically,” he said, pushing a pile of caterpillars at you. Pulling your onyx blade from your bag, you did as he asked. “If you can manage that without fucking it up.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” you sneered at him, narrowly avoiding slicing open your finger as your hands shook with anger. “I did manage to get into this class, you know. I’m not completely helpless.” 

“I’ve no idea how. Longbottom could do better than that mess.” he sneered.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” you hissed. 

“Whew, language, Y/L/N,” he grinned. Rolling your eyes and gritting your teeth, you resolved to silence for the rest of the class unless absolutely necessary. The next few minutes were quiet work, Draco pausing to give you instructions every few minutes, his long fingers working quickly. And before you knew it, it was over; the massive bell reverberating throughout the castle, signaling the next period. 

“Alright, that’ll be the bell. We’ll pick back up here tomorrow. Leave your cauldrons. I’ll deal with them,” Snape commanded. At his words, Draco began packing quickly, looking back at Zabini, who seemed to be mouthing something at him. 

“What?” Draco said quietly, leaning forward and looking intently at Blaise, evidently trying to read his lips.  

“See you tomorrow, then,” you said, turning to him. But Draco was already halfway across the room, having left without a second glance. Stung, but knowing you were ridiculous for expecting any less, you shook your head at yourself and quickly left the room, your emerald-lined robes billowing behind you in your haste. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the dungeons the next day, your foot anxiously jumped up and down, dreading Draco’s comments about your ineptitude with this potion, and dreading Snape’s snide remarks. You watched him as he jostled Crabbe across the room, grinning about something. His pearly teeth gleamed against his pale skin, lit sparingly by the fire bubbling beneath the cauldron in front of him. 

“Wands away, Goyle,” Snape snapped, pulling your attention from Draco. The paper airplane Goyle had been supporting with his wand fell pathetically, and with a wave of his own, Snape set it ablaze and it disappeared in seconds. “Well, go on—no need to wait for instructions. I gave them at the end of last class. Get your cauldrons and get to work.” 

Draco rose from his spot next to Blaise and strutted his way over to your table, smirking as he did so. 

“Hello,” he said, almost politely. 

“Er, hi,” you said cautiously.

“Didn’t manage to develop some actual talent overnight, did you?” he sneered, pulling out his things. 

“Not really. Didn’t manage to develop some decency either, I see,” you tossed back--determined not to let him get at you again. Sure, he was a Slytherin, but he wasn't the only one. 

“Ooh, touchy today, are we?” he grinned spitefully. 

“Just tell me what to do,” you spat, wanting to get the class over with. 

“How very submissive of you, I do like that in a girl,” he said thoughtfully, winking at you. 

“Godric, you’re an ass,” you breathed. “If you’re looking for submission, perhaps you should go back to your goons; I’m sure the both of them are utterly lost without you. Or Pansy, I know the simpering slag could think of nothing better than being bossed around by you all day. Personally, I can’t think of a more proper hell, but we all have our differences, I suppose.” 

“I think you just managed to insult four people at once,” Draco said, looking thoughtful. 

“I’m pleased you can count. Now, what am I supposed to do?” you sneered, crossing your arms. 

“Whatever I say, love,” he grinned, winking. “Chop these up, finely, and stir them into the potion, stirring counterclockwise five times.” 

“Alright,” you said, taking the pile of seedlings from him. His pale hand stopped yours and held it still. 

“Ah, ah,” he chided, shaking his platinum blonde head at you. “Repeat it back to me.”

“What?” you scoffed, incredulous. 

“Repeat what I said back to me; should I say it slower?” he said, cocking his head to the side. You were so angry, a hysterical laugh bubbled from your lips; your chest positively on fire with anger. 

Seconds from exploding, you saw the knowing smile growing on his face and closed your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, willing yourself not to take his bait. A surely insane smile on your face, you opened your eyes. 

“Chop these up, finely, and stir them into the potion, stirring counterclockwise five times,” you repeated word for word. 

“Excellent, you might have hope yet,” Draco taunted, meeting eyes with Blaise from across the room and grinning. 

Draco Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin, what a complete and utter sodding wanker. It’s no wonder the little shit didn’t have any true friends; who the hell could stand him? Catching your friend's eyes from her seat across the room, you mimicked stabbing yourself in the throat with your knife, earning a snicker from her. The little interaction with a friendly face calmed you immensely. 

“Now what?” you asked, turning to Draco and steeling yourself for another smart remark. 

“The last step. I’ve ground up the moth wings already,” he said, standing to tip a container of fine, shimmering dust into the cauldron. With a whoosh, it turned an inky blue, and he smiled. It was rather nice, his smile. He was almost handsome--alright, he was downright gorgeous--when he wasn’t being an absolute prick. 

“Staring, Y/N?” he grinned, his grey eyes flitting to yours and winking. A flush of embarrassment flooded your face, and you dropped his steely gaze, your silence answer enough. 

“S’Alright, if I saw me, I might stare as well,” he shrugged, grinning cockily at you. 

“You’re disgusting,” you whispered, seconds before Snape appeared soundlessly behind you.

“Ah, much better, excellent, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape praised suddenly, causing you to jump slightly. 

“Thank you, sir,” Draco simpered, smirking proudly. Several sets of eyes rolled around the room, and you found comfort in that you weren’t the only one he caused to do this. 

“Do you see how it’s an inky blue? How it’s not corrosive? How it isn’t burning through the table?” Snape snided, turning to you with a malicious glint in his eye. 

“Yes.” you seethed through clenched teeth, unable to trust yourself to not mouth off if you opened your jaw. 

“So, what did you do wrong? What catastrophic mistake did you make to produce the most abysmal potion I’ve yet to see in my N.E.W.T.S class?” he asked, eyes alight in your anger.

You could feel every eye in the room on you, and to your complete horror, you felt angry tears pricking at your eyes. Blinking rapidly, determined not to show such weakness, you tilted your chin up and glared into the blank, black eyes before you. 

“It was the moth dust, sir. It wasn’t ground fine enough, and she only stirred 3 times,” Draco answered for you. Despite your shock, you held your ground and glared up into Snape’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe I asked Y/N. If she can’t make a proper decaying drought, I should hope she’s at least intelligent enough to recognize her mistakes,” Snape said, his voice icy. 

“If I knew my mistakes, sir, I wouldn’t make them. Would I?” you seethed, unable to hold it back any longer. As if you were going to let Draco Malfoy protect you. Surprised hisses and gasps sounded throughout the classroom, and you knew you’d fucked up. 

“Detention. 3 days. With Filch,” he sneered, getting closer to you as he spoke, daring you to say anything else. 

“Delightful,” you quipped back, a fake smile on your face. 

“And 10 points from Slytherin for cheek. Making me take points from my own house, disgraceful,” and with a billowing wave of his cloak--he was heading back up to the front of the room.

“Tuesday, we will begin working on a lovely, tricky little potion known as Felix Felicis; you’ll be in partners,” he said, looking around the room before stopping on a pair of tittering Ravenclaws, “And I’ll be choosing the partners.” 

The small class visibly deflated at the prospect of Snape choosing partners, causing Snape to grin lightly, and with that ominous note, he ended the class. 

Desperate to get away, you left everything on your desk, only ensuring you had your bag before racing from the room, the frustrated tears falling freely now. 

“Y/N!” you thought you heard Draco call--but surely you were mistaken, unless he wanted to further embarrass you or rub it in. Before he could do either, you burst into the girl's restroom and out of sight.

[moonlit-reveriee]

Hey there Moon, if your requests are still open, could you do a C!Techno x Female! Reader who’s a total badass with weapons? Like she’s quick and agile with a bow and sword?

Hope you have a wonderful day/night! ^^

A Lover, and a Fighter

technoblade x fem!reader

this story was really fun to write, and i think it came out pretty cute. thank you for your request, and your patience. i hope you enjoy!

content warning // SFW, mention of drinking alcohol, description of fighting (no mention of blood or injury)

listen to this while you read: Notos by The Oh Hellos

───※ ·❆· ※───

***this story takes place during & after the revolution against Dante, with the headcanon that Hypixel takes the form of a medieval kingdom within the same universe as the dsmp***

It had been a long time since Techno had visited Hypixel, and even longer since he had taken the time to observe any of the fighters being trained there. He wasn’t surprised to see many unfamiliar faces amongst the crowds battling against Dante. But one figure in particular grabbed his attention.

As he soared through the air, launched upwards by the shockwaves of Dante’s movements, he noticed someone standing on top of a nearby building. A warrior with bow and arrow held upwards to the sky, their aim remaining steady despite the tremors that shook the earth. They leapt to the ground, swiftly pulling out a sword and began chopping down several of Dante’s goons with a single swipe.

Even in the heat of battle, he couldn’t help but be impressed. There was a deadly accuracy to all of their movements. It showed tremendous skill, and dedication to honing their abilities.

Once Dante had been defeated, Techno stayed behind to aid in Hypixel’s recovery. He walked around the battlefield strewn with debris. He shook the hand of every revolutionary he could find, secretly searching for the warrior he had seen upon the rooftops.

After a while, he was able to spot them in the crowds. A woman helping clear rubble from the destroyed community center, familiar bow and sword strapped across her back.

“Thank you for your aid in the revolution”, he said as he approached, offering a hand for her to take. She accepted it with a grip strong enough to rival his own.

“I would do anything to rid Hypixel of Dante’s corruption”, she spoke with confidence. She released his hand and turned her attention back to the rubble, lifting a wooden beam over her shoulder with ease.

“I noticed the way you fought”, he continued, bending over to pick up a piece of broken cobblestone, “you seem very skilled.”

She glanced at him from the side, mouth curving upwards into a very slight smirk.

“That’s quite the compliment coming from the blood god himself.”

“I understand good fighting when I see it”, he said with a shrug. She squinted her eyes at him, almost suspicious.

“It would be foolish of me to turn down such a compliment”, she said as she walked off towards the pile of discarded wood. He chased after her, watching her drop the beam off her shoulders with a heavy thud.

“What is your name?”, he asked when she turned to face him. She paused, quickly looking I’m up and down. She seemed skeptical of his interest in her, and maybe that was fair.

“y/n”, she said, crossing her arms.

“Would you like to duel, y/n?”, he blurted out impulsively. Her eyes widened, noticing the way he was blushing out of embarrassment.

“Are you flirting with me, Sir Blade?”, mischievous grin spreading across her face.

He sputtered, blush deepening on his cheeks while she laughed boisterously.

“Let’s clean up first”, she clapped an armored hand over his shoulder with a loud metal clank, “meet me at the duels arena in a few days.” She walked past him, leaving him to twist around and watch her back as she left.

Techno ended up seeing her again before their duel. Members of the revolution were meeting in a local tavern to celebrate, and he found her lounging in a quiet corner of the bar. Tankard in her hand, she happily watched the other members of the guild drunkenly trip over themselves. He didn’t approach her, at least not at first.

Later in the evening, a man sidled up to her table. Techno couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed like she was trying to politely shoo him away. Clearly drunk out of his mind, he reached out a hand and forcibly cupped her cheek. Techno stood up from his seat, ready to yank the man back by his collar. Before he could, she grabbed his hand and bent his arm backwards behind his head. The man was sent to his knees, wincing in pain.

“I said don’t touch me”, she sneered, “learn to follow my words when I say them nicely.”

She released the man’s hand, allowing him to stumble away with a steely glare. Once he was throughly out of her sight, she turned her attention to where Techno had begun to approach her.

“I appreciate your help, even though it was unneeded”, she sighed heavily.

“Does this happen often?”, he asked.

“Not really”, she said, “I guess the guys here think plate armor is attractive.”

“It’s probably the only clothes they’ve seen a woman in”, he joked. She chuckled lightly, the sound surprisingly sweet compared to her demeanor.

“Would you like a drink?”, she offered once her laughter had subsided.

“Ah, I would”, he sighed, “but let me cover it, I insist.”

“No”, she said firmly, “I’m sure everyone here wants to buy you a drink. Allow it to be me for tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the flash of determination in her eye. He gave her a nod, surrendering to her wishes. She bought two pints of honeyed ale, sweet and subtly floral. They drank in comfortable silence, watching the absolutely wasted tavern goers make fools of themselves.

Time passed, and day of their duel arrived. The damage from Dante’s attack had finally been cleared and construction of the destroyed buildings began. Techno felt calm as he strode through the familiar courtyards of Hypixel’s training grounds, which surprised him. For some reason, he expected to be nervous. But at the same time, there was nothing to be nervous about, right? This was just a friendly duel between friends. Just friends who have only known each other for a few days.

His felt his stomach twist. Maybe he was nervous.

When he entering the arena, he found her already waiting for him, clad in a simpler set of armor than the one she wore to fight Dante. She waved her arm upon noticing his entrance, bright and crooked smile on her face.

“Are you ready to duel, Sir Blade?”, she called across the field. Something about that nickname made his heart glow.

“Only if you are, y/n.”

“Oh, I’m ready to get my ass kicked.”

“Hey now”, he retorted playfully, “I think you will put up a good fight.”

“We’ll see”, she shrugged, stretching her arms to warm up the muscles.

“Standard kit?”, he questioned, “diamond armor, sword and bow?”

“As long as it’s not a crossbow. I haven’t figured those fuckers out yet”, she muttered.

He nodded, donning a set of armor to match hers. They took stances at opposite sides of the arena. She already had a bow in hand, arrow cocked and ready. Techno had dueled one on one many times. Some more stress-inducing than other. The anticipation of this fight made his fingers tingle with excitement. A bell began to toll. Standard practice for training duels: on the fourth chime, the fight began.

An arrow whizzed from its string, narrowly missing him as he strafed right and began moving in a wide curve towards her. She switched to her sword, ready to meet his in a clang of metal against metal.

They traded blows almost evenly. While Techno’s sword swung with immense strength behind it, hers was agile and precise. When she landed a hit, it was because she could aim her sword exactly where the armor was weakest. When their swords became interlocked, she made eye contact and grinned wildly. His concentration fell, and she seized the opportunity to disengage and put some distance between them.

From her newfound position, she returned to her bow and began firing shots with a deadly accuracy. When fighting with others around his skill level, Techno liked to wear them down. Hiding and running away, giving him a chance to recover while they chased. Now, however, his strategy was being challenged. Her skill with a bow was outstanding, even at very long distances. There were very few places he could hide that she couldn’t hit.

Their reached a point where the battle was at a stalemate. They had returned to sword combat, a heavy sheen on sweat on their brows. She parried a blow from him, but he pushed back with any remaining strength he had left, sending her staggering back wards. She gritted her teeth, running forwards suddenly with a ferocious scream. It surprised him so much he barely reacted as she slammed into him right at the waist and tackled him to the ground.

He twisted to land on his side, causing her to fall on the ground next to him. They both panted, making no move to stand up.

“I-“, she gasped, “I’ve never done that before.” He huffed out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows and offering a hand to help her sit up as well.

“That was a good fight”, he said after they’d both caught their breath.

“Thank you”, she said, removing her helmet and wiping away the strands of hair that stuck to her face, “I didn’t expect to win, but a draw is good enough for me… Thank you for giving me the chance.”

“You fight very different from me”, he said while shaking the hair out of his face, “I was curious to see how it would go. You’ll have to show me some of those sword techniques, they’re great.”

She smiled, puffing up a little bit at the praise. Her hand came up to brush away some of the dust that stuck to the side of his face. She seemed to do it subconsciously, because her eyes widened at the realization and she moved her hand away quickly. In a heat of the moment decision he grabbed her hand in midair, holding it in his own. Her eyes met his and the seconds seemed to stretch.

Something drew him, like a magnetic force, to lean in and press a kiss to her lips. It was relatively quick, but it felt so much longer to him. When he pulled away, she blinked at him. Her cheeks were pink, but he was unsure whether it was from the kiss or the fighting.

“I should have asked first, shouldn’t I?”, he said after clearing his throat.

“No, no”, she replied, still slightly dazed, “you’re fine.”

“I don’t know why-“, he stuttered, “I doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, we can just forget it happened.”

“I-“, she paused, “… I think I’d like to remember it actually.”

The grip on his hand tightened, and Techno felt butterflies in his chest.

“I think my mind’s going a little foggy”, she continued, “could you remind me?”

It took far longer than it should have for his brain to process her words. When the gears finally clicked, a dry laugh escaped his lips.

“Are you flirting with me, dear?”, he retorted.

She laughed, a joyous and melodic sound. He cut her off before she could finish, causing her to giggle against his lips. Sitting in the middle of an empty battle arena, various weapons strewn around them, they allowed themselves to share in each other’s presence and be happy.

───※ ·❆· ※───

AHAHHAHAHA i just wanna say thank you again for this request because it ended up being such a joy to write. it was so fun to write the reader with this kind of personality

plus, it gave me an excuse to give this story a medieval fantasy aesthetic, which, in my humble opinion, is the superior aesthetic for techno

i can’t stress this enough, thank you to every anon who’s submitted a request for being patient with me! i’m trying to get through them chronologically while still giving myself enough of a break that i won’t get overwhelmed or burnt out. regardless of any wait, i hope you enjoyed!

thank you for reading <3

-moonlight

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

5 minutes with Bucky

You’d been pinned down behind a crumbling wall for most of the fighting, unable to even attempt to pick off any of the enemy. The sniper covering you was unbelievable.

“Have you been hit?” Sam’s panicked voice came through your earpiece, and you shook your head before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“The sniper is up on the east tower is unrelenting. I can’t move. They even shot my boot,” you complained. “I need you to take them out. You know, in your spare time.”

Sam’s cackle reassured you. “Let me see if Redwing can take them out.” A few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of the drone exploding made your shoulders tense, and then release in defeat.

“I’m on it,” Bucky growled. Bucky was no fan of yours. He treated you like he found you a burden to the team, and was always short with you. You’d say he was cranky about you, but cranky was a description you reserved for toddlers. Your dislike for one another was mutual.

“Don’t put yourself out. I know I’m just deadweight to you, Barnes,” you growled back.

“Easier to get you to walk out than carry out your sorry ass,” he snarled. There was a grunt, and thud and the distinct rapport of his gun. “Sniper is dead. The sooner you contribute to this clusterfuck, the sooner we can leave.”

You scrabbled up to your knees and peered over the wall, and thankfully, no shots came from the east tower. You dashed between obstacles, keeping hidden, until you were back to the main action, and quickly picked off a few goons. You heard the enemy trying to sneak up on you, but weren’t fast enough to stop the blade that slipped into your back with enough force to prevent you from crying out. Thankfully, your instinct wasn’t to collapse, but shoot the bastard. He slumped at your feet behind you, pulling the blade from your back as he fell. Your tac jacket was tight enough that it compressed the wound, and you fought on until you were able to escape back to the extraction point.

XXX

When the helicopter arrived, you pushed yourself off the tree you were leaning against and dropped heavily onto the floor of the vehicle, grimacing.

“Get us out of here, Sam,” you groaned.

“Hard day’s work, princess?” Bucky rolled his eyes. You flipped him the finger and closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain in your back.

XXX

“Go hit the showers,” Sam suggested when you landed. You nodded and pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling across the helipad toward door to the stairs. You faltered a little on the top stair, but made your way down to your floor and into your room before you peeled off your uniform and headed toward the shower. You stunk, the mixed fragrance of sweat, blood and whatever chemicals had been in the plant clinging to your skin. 

You turned the shower on and stepped in, the heat making you dizzy. You slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind you, and closed your eyes. Just a quick nap in the warmth of the shower, and you would feel tip-top again.

XXX

Bucky squinted in the mark on the floor inside the helicopter. There was a dark stain where you’d been laying. He reached down with his bare hand and rubbed his fingers across the sticky fluid, holding it up to his face. It smelled metallic. It only took a split second to realize it was blood. Your blood.

“Sam! She somehow got hit!” He took off at a run, skipping three and four stairs at a time as he vaulted down to your floor. Using his left side, he smashed through your door. He only paused long enough to hear the shower running, and notice the absence of your usual offkey singing before dashing toward the bathroom.

He pushed into the shower stall and found you. Your blood pooled around the drain, mixing with the water and you were pale. You looked so close to death, he didn’t even notice your nudity, scooping you up in his arms.

You roused just for a moment. “Bucky?”

“Why didn’t you say you’d been hit?” He growled, looking in the mirror to figure out where the blood was coming from. He pressed a towel against the wound and carried you out of your rooms, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“Buck, I’m naked,” you mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you? I bet you look amazing. All those muscles. Your abs especially. You should be naked if I’m naked. It’s only fair.” You were rambling. Bucky’s heart jerked, panicking. Rambling was bad.

“Sweetheart, you’re injured.” His voice vibrated against your chest and you leaned into him. 

“Just be gentle then,” you murmured before losing consciousness completely.

XXX

It was overwhelmingly bright, making you think maybe you were dead and in some cosmic waiting room. You opened one eye, and squinted against the brightness. You tried to reach up to rub your face, and got caught on something, a sharp quick pain to your hand making you flinch.

“Ow, fuck.”

“You gave us a scare, kid.” Sam’s voice was smooth and soothing.

“I got stabbed.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Hold tight, I’m gonna go get Bucky.”

“Why?” 

“Dude is over 100, and you scared another twenty years off him,” Sam laughed. “He’ll want to know you’re awake.”

You opened your eyes and took in the infirmary room. You found the controls on the bed and raised your head, squirming up a little so you weren’t so uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed Sam leave until Bucky dashed in. 

When he saw you sitting up, he stopped and walked the rest of the way to the bedside slowly. He dropped into the seat Sam had vacated and stared you down.

“You should have told us.” His opening was on point.

“As if you care.” There was a cup full of ice chips on your overbed table, and you took a mouthful

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” he snapped. You choked on your ice, and he jumped up, leaning you forward to pound on your back. You pulled out of his hold, still coughing and threw the cup at him.

“Jesus, Barnes, if you hate me so fucking much, why are you even here?” You pushed him away and he fell back into the chair, looking surprised and hurt.

“Who said I hate you?” He asked, his voice quiet, and for the first time probably ever, gentle. 

“Every goddamn mission we go on, you treat me like I’m deadweight that you have to babysit. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you can’t stand me. What I can’t figure out is if it’s because I’m a woman, and you’re some oldtimey gentleman misogynist or if it’s something about me specifically,” you snapped. “You should leave, Barnes. I’m tired.”

Bucky shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you’re listening, princess.”

You closed your eyes, for some reason wanting to cry. “I don’t hate you. You take unnecessary risks in order to prove yourself when you really have nothing to prove, and that scares me. You’re more frustrating than Stevie was. You do crazy shit, and suddenly I can’t breathe because I think you’re going to die.”

You opened your eyes, narrowing them as he spoke.

“And maybe I am a backward old man? I don’t think I am? Nat’s probably the best assassin I’ve ever seen, and she’s a woman. And the Dora, the Dora are the best military unit in the world hands down. I think it’s just you. You bring it out in me -”

“I bring out your World War Two sexist dames are just for keeping at home shit?” You interrupted. Bucky laughed.

“No, princess, you don’t get it. I want to protect you. I want to make sure you come home,” he sighed.

“Why?”

“So that maybe someday I can tell you how much you mean to me,” he blurted out.

“And why would you tell me now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“When I carried you here, you told me you wanted to see me naked. I figure, no one wants to see someone they hate naked, so maybe you have some complicated feelings too,” he shrugged. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and he reached over to wipe it away. “I was scared you might die. And I’d never told you. And you’re the first dame- first woman I’ve felt like this about since I can’t remember when, and -”

“Do you think there’s enough room in this bed for you to climb in?” you interrupted. He dropped his sweatshirt on the chair and kicked off his shoes. You wiggled a little trying to make space for you. He slid in beside you and tucked his arm up behind your neck, allowing you to curl into him.

“We’re idiots, Buck,” you murmured, laying a hand on his chest. He grasped the hand in his and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm.

[buttterknifeee]

An Introduction Pt.3- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2

Requests for this series is now open!!! You can request for ships, episode inserts, and headcanons for this series!!! More info can be found here

Summary: You guys are like the "Friends" of the crime-fighting world. Robin's totally Ross and if this was one of those episodes, it would be called "The one where aliens get their asses kicked"

Ships: none, see info above

A/N: Once again this is a reader insert for the Teen Titans 2003 show season 5 episode 10 (the one where they all meet!) I also added an epilogue for funzies.

You found yourself in a dark bubble of Raven’s magic, floating up to the alien ship. You had offered to water jet all six of you up, but you weren’t even sure if you could create that big of a geyser. Besides, a quiet bubble is much better than a large geyser. Beast Boy, however, disagreed.

“That dark energy stuff gives me the--” He was cut off by a glare from Raven. ”Uh...I mean, it's cool!” He gives a guilty grin.

Robin tells us to go to the firing control room, and you all crept through the hallway in a single file line: Robin, the pink-haired girl, Beast Boy, You, Cyborg, and Raven, who you noticed was still near the entrance. Cyborg gave you a look as if to say Keep going; I’ll handle this. You nodded and continued walking forward.

You were walking near Beast Boy, when you noticed a cut on his arm, with that part of his suit torn open. You pointed at it.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked, referring to the gnash.

“Oh this?” He replies. “This is nothing. When you’ve been a part of the DOOM patrol, a little cut is nothing.” He smiles confidently, patting his wound. You realize that he was totally bluffing when a comical tear springs from his eye and his arm tenses.

“Here I can help.” you say softly. Concentrating on the air between your hands, you condense the liquid in the air, forming a small bubble of water. You move that bubble of water onto his arm and it begins to glow. You let go of the water, revealing Beast Boy’s arm to be completely healed.

“Dudeee,” he stares in awe of your handiwork. “That's so cool-” He’s interrupted by your stumbling; healing really does take a lot out of you. He lets you lean on him, and the two of you continued walking forwards. After a few seconds, he stops.

“Uh, guys?” he says. And that's when you noticed it too. The six of you were surrounded by alien soldiers, and they seemed really out for your blood. “I think they know we’re here.” The six of you charged at the fleet of soldiers. But Robin seemed to have an idea.

“Raven!” he yelled. “Take out part of the floor!” Raven looked at him with confusion, but then nodded and did as she was told. With a large SMASH, she removed the part of the bottom of the ship, revealing the water below. The water below you realized, suddenly understanding Robin’s plan.

“Aquagirl! Now!” he yelled, holding off a soldier with his staff.

“On it!” you yell, punching another alien out of the way. (Apparently with water powers came enhanced strength, which you found out at that moment.)

Concentrating on the water below, you raised your arms, allowing the ocean to shoot up from below. Instead of blasting the water through the entire ship, you carefully controlled it to grab onto the aliens that were attacking your friends, pulling them through the hole and causing them to fall into the ocean below.

You looked at the door to the control room, which was locked shut.

“I got this.” Robin said, placing something shaped like a birdirang onto the door.

As the bidirang counted down, you heard Trogaar talking from behind the door. “The Earth scum shall learn it takes more than six juvenile heroes to defy the mighty Lord Trogaar!” he said, most likely with a smile on his face. You all looked at each other, prepared to prove him wrong.

The door exploded, and Robin was the first to get through. “We’re not six heroes,” he declared. “We’re one team.” Him considering the six of you a team sparked something inside of you. You all split up to take down Trogaar and his guard, with Robin at the lead. You took on a guard, kicking him in the stomach and sending him flying towards a wall.

You noticed that Robin was on the shoulders of Trogaar, and you sent a jet of water to his face to knock him off balance. That didn’t work and he threw Robin across the deck. Luckily, he landed on his feet. The two of you joined to fight Trogaar, taking turns to land punches and kicks. However he overpowered you and Robin, throwing you both across the room. You landed on your back, but Robin hit the wall with the back of his head and fell to the floor.

“Robin! Aquagirl!” The alien girl yelled. You got up as quickly as possible and helped Robin up from sitting position as she and Cyborg tried to take on Trogaar, only to be thrown in your direction as well.

Still leaning on you, Robin looked at Cyborg’s arm. “Can you rewire that into some sort of weapon?” he asked.

“I can try,” he said, getting up. The four of you were in a fighting stance, despite being injured and surrounded by Trogaar and his goons. Suddenly, you hear a voice, as clear as day.

“Get away from my friends!” It was Raven, supporting an injured beast boy. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” she chanted. Part of the ship exploded, sending it crashing into the ocean.

You found yourself standing in the ship, the roof torn off and making a slow descent into the ocean. All of the alien soldiers were groaning on the ground, but Robin, Cyborg, and the alien girl were all unharmed. The four of you watched in horror as Trogaar aimed to attack Raven when BLAM! You turned to see Cyborg standing next to you with a smoking sonic blaster in place of his arm. He grins.

“Alright I’m only gonna say this once. Boo-Yah!”

“Yo, is it just me or are some of these guys starting to move again?” Beat Boy points out, still slumped in Raven’s arms. He was right; a few of the aliens began to twitch, making attempts to get up. You turn to the other 5 people.

“You guys don’t worry. They’re in the ocean now, meaning that they’re in my territory.” You cracked your knuckles, your eyes glowing blue.

.

.

It’s the next morning and you find yourself sitting with Robin, Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy, looking at a view of the bay and an island

“Thanks so much for the new suit Cyborg!” you say, fiddling with your brand new outfit. You were wearing a cropped short-sleeve rash guard and swim shorts, both with deep cyan and black patterns. He also gave you black gauntlets with curved spikes ‘To protect yourself from bad guys and still be aerodynamic!’ according to him. Robin gave you one of his old yellow belts, since he figured you’ll probably need something to carry stuff in. Finally, you found some black scuba shoes from the swimwear store that allowed you to walk and swim with ease.

“Its no problem AG! I figured you needed a new outfit if you’re gonna be a superhero now” Cyborg chuckled, calling you a new nickname that he probably made up just then. Superhero, you thought. I like the sound of that.

Raven had a far away look in her eyes.“That's quite a view.” she said, still staring that the scenery

“Somebody oughta build a house out there,” Cyborg agreed, his voice now softer.

“Yeah, if you like sunshine and the beach.” Beast Boy added, making an obvious dig at Raven.

“You know, you're kind of funny.” Raven said to your surprise, smiling softly at Beast Boy. This was obviously too much for the guy’s ego.

“You think I'm funny?” Beast Boy sat up straight, looking at Raven. “Dude! I know some jokes!”

You laughed at Raven’s face of pure regret, before a familiar voice brought your attention to behind you. It was the alien girl, now in a purple outfit similar to the one before, but this time it seemed to really suit her.

“I look .. nice?” she asked, obviously insecure. You took her hand again.

“You look amazing,” you reassured her, causing her cheeks to flush.

Robin stepped forwards. “I still don’t know your name,” he said.

“In your language, it would be ‘Star Fire.’” she says with a smile.

“Welcome to Earth, Starfire.” Robin said.

She looked at you all shyly, certainly different from when you first met. “ I thank you all for your bravery and help, and I wish to ask permission...to remain here. Where the people are most strange ...but also most kind.”

“You don’t need our permission,” Raven said calmly.

“But if you want our friendship, you've got it.” Robin added.

“I could use a new friend,” you say with a wink.

“Guess we could all use some new friends.” Cyborg agrees.

“Besides, we kind of made a good team.” Beast Boy says proudly.

“I thought we might want to keep in touch, so Cyborg and I designed these.” Robin fished out four black and yellow communicators. You, Raven, Beast Boy, and Starfire each took one and observed them. They were similar to flip phones, but they were circular and had no logo on the front.

“Made ‘em outta my own circuits, '' Cyborg said proudly.

“When there’s trouble, you know who to call,” Robin said. You all smiled at one another. You were a team.

Epilogue

While everyone else was still smiling at one another, you excused yourself and walked a few feet away. You opened your new communicator, dialing in a phone number you know by heart. You waited for the person on the other line to pick up, and began to speak.

“Heyyy dad. It’s (y/n); you must have been worried sick, I’m sorry… Yeah no I’m fine, really. I’m in uhhh Jump City and I made some of the coolest friends and I was wondering... if I could stay here? I’ve been spending the whole night wanting to go back home, but I think this might be home for me. I understand if- oh? Really? You’ll let me stay? Wow, thanks dad. I-I promise that I’ll be careful and that I’ll go to school here, I know there's this high school called Murakami School I’ll try to… I love you too dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

You flip your communicator closed, and walked back to your new friends. Raven looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked, noticing your change in mood.

“Yeah,” you say, a smile forming on your face. “I’m great actually. Just had to call home.”

“You're going home???” Beast Boy asked, a frown falling on his face.

You chuckled, “Of course not.” You lightly punched his shoulder. “Besides, this is my home now.”

“Awe Yeah!” the green guy cheered. You laugh, feeling extra cheerful. Now that you’re in a team, you really do feel like you belong. You looked at your new team.

“Anyone up for pizza?”

[charming-charlie]

Tornado Warning

Title // Tornado Warning

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Panic attacks, I guess? Also fear of tornados. This is a clean, wholesome little story.

Summary // There is a tornado warning and you are freaking out. Guess who you call for comfort.

Word Count // 1.5k

Marshmallows, check. Rice Crispy cereal. Check. Stove ready. Check.

Your head went back and forth from the television to the spread of food on the kitchen counter. You were not much of a cook but decided to try your hand at something simple. Rice crispy treats were about as simple as it could get. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize just how messy such a simple treat would be to prepare.

You were watching a cooking show and following along, taking breaks during the commercials to assess your job so far. You used far more mixing bowls than you needed, bought three bags of marshmallows, and broke one wooden spoon. This was not turning out as well as you thought it would.

Suddenly, a loud noise. It was a shrill, piercing alarm. You jumped and the spoon you were using clattered to the floor. The noise was coming from the TV, interrupting the cooking show.

You walked over to the TV and stared at the words as they flashed across the screen. There was a tornado warning in effect. You felt the bile in your stomach rumble, threatening to come up. Your heart raced at the white words against the red banner, flashing brightly enough that it made your eyes hurt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Panic rose inside and you abandoned your mess in the kitchen. Immediately, you started searching for your phone. Your hand patted every surface until you found it, hidden under a bag of unopened marshmallows. Your hands were shaking so bad as you tried to pull up his number. He was one the recent contacts you sent messages to, so he was easy to spot since he was near the top.

If it wasn’t for Evan Buckley, you wouldn’t even be in Los Angeles. He was one of your longest and bestest friends. The two of you went to college together and met through a couple of classes before taking separate career paths. However, that didn’t mean the two of you lost touch. It was the opposite, really.

And it helped that he was a first responder. He could calm your ass down in a heartbeat.

You texted him quickly, fumbling over the letters. In the end, you sent him a message that said town ado each goons crazy thanks to the beauty of autocorrect. Buck replied with a lovely wtf are you talking about before he decided to call you.

The phone buzzed in your hand, scaring you out of your mind. It took several seconds for you to calm down enough to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you asked in a whisper. You felt if you talked louder than that, the words wouldn’t make sense, like autocorrect of the brain or something.

“Are you having a stroke? Do I need to send Chim and Hen over to check on you?” Buck’s voice was light and sweet in your ear. How was he not freaking out about the impending tornado that might rip through the town and kill everything in sight?

It just then occurred to you that, again, he is a first responder and he’s seen worse things. Like that giant tidal wave, for instance. A tornado warning might actually be nothing to him.

“That’s not funny, I’m going to die.” You turned off the TV, no longer wanting to hear the shrill alarm playing in the background. What did people do in tornado warnings? Seek shelter or something, right? Kind of hard to do from the fourth floor. Does your building have a basement? What is the protocol here?

“Calm down, you are not going to die,” Buck said. You could tell he was trying not to laugh but you didn’t find any of it funny. If he wasn’t worth the phone call, you would’ve hung up on him, but you needed his voice as a source of comfort.

“How do you know? Are you a weatherman?” you shot back suddenly as you looked outside. The streets seemed quiet. No one was running around or looting for supplies. Maybe that was a good sign.

You heard him chuckle on the other end, and you heard the phone shuffling around before his voice came back as clear as day. “No, but I see emergencies all the time. Trust me, you’re fine.”

Trust him? Trust him? He didn’t know how the weather worked. A tornado can crash through at any given moment. He would be the one to fish your body out from the rubble, and here he is saying you are fine?

“Okay but this is a tornado warning, not a watch. There is a huge difference here,” you tried to argue for whatever reason. You didn’t want to be in the wrong and you felt your fears were justified. They were, right?

Buck sighed, and you could practically see his face right now. Sometimes you had to wonder how he put up with your ass.

“Look,” he said as reassuringly as possible, “I’m gonna come over. You’ll see there is nothing to worry about.”

“You are not driving through this weather.”

“What weather? It’s in the eighties and it’s sunny. Shut up, I’m coming over.”

He hung up on you without saying goodbye and you stared at your phone in frustration. That man certainly knew how to work your nerves, sometimes for the good, but right now, you were worried about your life and his. He would be solely responsible if you died of a heart attack right now. Should you pen a note in case you do?

You know what? That’s a good idea.

In the time that it took you to find some paper, a pen, think about what you wanted to say, and write it down, there was a knock on the door. Either he was in the area or he did a little bit of speeding because he arrived a lot quicker than you predicted.

You walked over to the door and opened it, revealing his sweet yet sassy smile. You rolled your eyes and shut the door on him, but he put a foot out and stopped you.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be like that.” He walked in and his eyes fell onto your kitchen. The sass moved from his smile to his face. “Looks like the tornado already stopped by. I’m so glad you made it out alive.”

You pushed him, but that didn’t faze him. Curse those stupid muscles and the in-shape body he has.

He walked into the kitchen and, having eyes like a hawk, he spotted the note you wrote earlier. He held it up and read it and ended up laughing as he looked over at you. You could see your messy handwriting on the white paper, smudged a bit from being around the kitchen.

“You look good for a dead person,” Buck said as he placed the note back on the kitchen counter.

“Shut up, I’m really scared here,” you said softly.

He saw your face and instantly, his face melted into concern. Sure, he may have just been playing around but now that he saw how serious you were and how scared you actually turned out to be, it wasn’t all fun and games anymore.

He made his way toward you and reached for your hand. You surrendered it slowly as he gripped your fingers within his. “I’m sorry. You are really freaked out, aren’t you?”

He pulled you in and hugged you. Suddenly, you felt a thousand times better. This was all you really needed, a stable and solid hug. Just the feeling of being protected was enough because now, the thought of a tornado warning was so far away from your mind, it no longer seemed to matter or seemed at all important.

“Okay so we will get through this together. This is nothing, I’ve been through a lot of tornado warnings before. You could not be in safer hands,” Buck said gently.

His tone was relaxing. He led you over to the couch and the two of you sat down. Just for good measure, he kept an arm around you and held you close. You really liked the feeling of being pressed against him, especially turning times of terror, but you would never let him know that. People like you don’t really go out with people like him. It was best to keep your mouth shut.

And that was okay. You didn’t mind liking him from afar. At least, for now.

He held you and you gripped his shirt tightly, feeling that slight panicky feeling rise back up. Only this time, you were not afraid of the tornado warning. You were afraid of this moment ending when the world went back to normal.

There wasn’t much you could do. All good things must come to an end. For now, you just needed to sit back and enjoy being in the arms of a man you cannot have. No matter how much it hurt you inside.

Hopefully the tornado warning lasts as long as possible, perhaps even days, if it meant being comforted by him.

You could only hope.

[curious-menace]

Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.

SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .

i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah

post asswoop riddlers getting loves

Arkham riddler

He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is  bad news.

I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.

when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.

He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.

he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.

he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long. 

Blacklight Riddler

He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough. 

even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.

he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better. 

He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.

He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.

 if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.

BTAS Riddler

he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.

i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care. 

He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.

he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong. 

if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.

He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.

Original Riddler

this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.

actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”

good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.

he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are. 

he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage  him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.

i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient. 

Telltale riddler

this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs

he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.

after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.

i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.

the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.

its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.  

Zero year riddler

INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.

he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has  no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.

he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.

he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just  cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?

one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido? 

he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies. 

nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.

theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”

someone needs to stage an intervention

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[writingsbychlo]

fakers | alpha!void

word count; 13,813

summary; you just need someone. topretend to be your alpha until you can graduate, and unfortunately, the only applicate candidate is Eli, your best friends void twin.

notes; stick with me, okay? Void’s name is Noah in this, but he goes by ‘E’ or ‘Eli’ for his reputation. He’s Noah Eli Stilinski III, named after his dad’s grandfather since Stiles was named after their mom’s grandfather, just roll with it.

warnings; smut, a/b/o themes throughout, mating, marking, blood play, reference to harassment, reference to cheating.

The minute you took your seat at the lunch table, Scott’s nose was twitching, his eyes flicking to you as he politely tried to ignore the scent but it was hard, and you gave him a small smile in thanks. Your eighteenth birthday had been a curse, in your opinion. Only two months prior had you hit the big number, and you once reasonably diluted omega scent had shot up to incredibly potent, even betas being able to smell it.

By eighteen, most omegas had found an alpha, a relationship to be in and the scent of their mate would cover their own, their body reacting to the affection even if they hadn't been given a mark yet, but not you.

It wasn’t unheard of for omegas to still be single and unmarked at eighteen, it was becoming more and more common as the modern-day evolved, but it still sucked to be a high school senior and have almost every alpha within your vicinity leering at you constantly because their own pheromones decreed that upon sniffling out an omega who was ready for a heat that they should immediately jump on that.

Stiles slung an arm over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple and doing his best to spread his own scent all over you, not that it would help much, he too was an omega, but unlike you, he’d found an alpha. Four weeks before Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, alpha and deputy-in-training Derek Hale had shocked everyone by stepping up and asking Stiles on a date, the two still happily together

He did his best to spread his own scent on you as often as he could, but since your birthday the act had practically become irrelevant. Your friends did the best they could to protect you, shield you from the alphas that often tracked you through the corridors and attempted to convince you to go out with them, but you didn’t want any of them. What you wanted was to graduate, and go to college, and find someone who liked you for you, not because their genetic chemistry told them they did.

“You should get a fake alpha.” Isaac joked, your eyes snapping up to shoot him a false glare but Stiles shrugged beside you, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“I hate to agree with the person who wears scarves in August, but it’s not a bad idea. Find someone who you can trust, and ask them to scent you until graduation.” Your gaze flicked to your best friend, eyes widening as you looked at him and he sipped at the straw fixed through his drink, his own stare unwavering as you studied him for any sense of a joke, your shoulders deflating under his arm.

“Yeah? And which alpha am I supposed to ask? Jackass Whittemore? Or perhaps that one guy over there who’s been undressing me with his eyes since I sat down?” Stiles followed your gaze, flipping off the boy with a protective scowl, a sigh sounding from him. The same sigh bounced all around the table, and Allison snickered, Scott shooting you a pitiful look as his girlfriend opened her mouth to speak:

“Isn’t Stiles’ brother an unbonded alpha?”

Stiles’ jaw clenched at the mention of his brother, and Lydia’s jaw clenched at the mention of her rival for highest GPA and grades. She worked her ass off every day for those grades, she studied and she showed up to every class, even when she was sick. Noah ‘Eli’ Stilinski skipped half of the days, was often put in detention for being caught smoking behind the gym, and got into regular fights.

Lydia hated that he so effortlessly managed to keep up with her and Stiles’ top averages.

Chatter then picked up once again as Lydia made a crude comment about the aforementioned boy, Stiles jumping in to defend his ‘evil twin’ - as Lydia so eloquently called him - and yet even Stiles couldn't help but cringe in the onslaught of bad deeds and acts voiced all around the table. Your mind drifted from the conversations though, a huff on your lips as you balanced your chin on your hand, the chatter becoming background noise as you got lost in your thoughts.

You watched as the blue jeep pulled up, silently cheering to yourself as you noticed two passengers int he vehicle instead of one, and you bounced over to the car, Stiles waving at you spastically with a wide grin as he yanked the key from the ignition, hopping from the car in unison with his brother. Your eyes locked with that of the second Stilinski boy, and he sent you a lopsided smirk, his eyes scanning over you slowly as he rounded the vehicle, slinging his bag up onto his shoulder.

“You smell fuckin’ fantastic today, sweetheart.” He shot you a wink, licking his lips as he walked past you and Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, a scowl on your face as the boy commented on your evident and alluring scent, but you took a deep breath, Stiles asking if you were ready to head inside, but you shook your head.

“I need to talk to your brother for a moment.” The pair stilled, your best friend looking at your cautiously and Noah glanced back over his shoulder, raising a brow at you and his usual cocky smirk was back as you shot him a pleading look, Stiles gasping beside you as he clicked in.

“No! You can’t ask him!”

“I have to!” You hissed, your fingers locking around the other boy’s wrist as you dragged him away, and he let himself be pulled along with a cocky look on his face as he followed after you, and you eventually released him, rubbing your hands together nervously as you avoided his gaze.

When you looked back up, he was watching you carefully, a coy glint in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “I don’t like when people talk about how good I smell. I don’t like being looked at all the time, I don’t like the attention.” His gaze moved over your face, his brows furrowing a little, and your eyes left his as heat rose to your cheeks. “I need someone to scent me and pretend to be my alpha, just until graduation. I trust you, I’ve known you since we were five, and who else understands the struggle more than someone who’s brother is an omega, y’know?”

You punctuated your words with a little laugh, shaking your head as you tried to steady your racing heart, your body feeling like it was on fire as you stood before the taller boy.

“I mean, it’s not like you want to settle down any time soon anyway, so y-” You cut your words off as you watched his fingers jiggle, his eyes directed over your shoulder, and as you turned to look, you noticed a beta from your English class gigging as she pouted at him, as though you weren’t even there, and your breathless laugh of disappointment was mixed with a scoff as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, never mind. This was a bad idea.”

His eyes snapped back to you as you spoke, his lips parted as you moved your bag back up your shoulder, one of his hands reaching out to grasp at your elbow but you jerked out of his reach. “Wait, what? I’m listening, I swear.”

“You can’t even give me your attention two minutes to have a conversation, Noah, h-”

“Don’t call me that here, someone might hear you.” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at his aversion of his first name. He dubbed it too old-fashioned and biblical for his tastes, choosing to go by his middle name ever since he started high school and you’d never bothered to get into the habit.

“Sorry, Eli.” The word was practically spat from your tongue as you held your hands up, taking another step away from him. “No other alpha would believe you were in a relationship anyway, it was stupid. I’ll find someone else.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, choosing instead to walk away, looping your arm through Stiles’ as you walked into the school alongside him, never once bothering to look back.

The idea only festered in your mind, your embarrassment bubbling over as you thought about the conversation and the failure of the plan lingered in your mind all throughout your first to classes. It wasn’t long until Lydia had pried the information on your dull mood out of you, exactly halfway through first period English to be exact, and she’d given you a glare for bothering to talk to her academic archnemesis for a good five minutes before she caved and comforted you.

The rest of your classes were spent trying to decide between other alphas you could go for. Jackson Whittemore was ruled out immediately, he was a jackass and wouldn’t do anything to help you, and neither would any of the other goons on the lacrosse team. Other than the boys in your friendship group, they were all a bunch of sweaty assholes, and the alphas were the worst of them. The alphas you knew that were nice enough to want to be with were all with a beta and in happy relationships, and Stiles was the only other omega you knew of.

The search seemed to be entirely pointless, your options dwindling back down to none, and despite her attempts to cheer you up as she reapplied a layer of pastel-pink lipgloss in the mirror hung up on the inside of her locker, you were still in a dismal mood, and desperately trying to ignore the burning gaze of the blond boy down the corridor from you. As she closed her locker, she opened her mouth to give you yet another pep talk to help you get through the day, her freshly plumped lips sealing into a thin line as she glowered at an unknown source over your shoulder, and you turned in time to see the boy who had caused your morbid embarrassment of the day coming stalking down the corridors toward you.

His eyes locked with yours, his feet carrying him directly toward you without a sign of dodging or stopping, and your eyes widened as he got closer and closer to you. With heavy hands on your hips, he pushed you backwards and into the metal of the lockers, your body colliding with the cool surface as a surprised squeak left your lips, his nose running along the underside of your jaw, tipping your head to the side as you went pliant under his hold and the front of his body was almost pressed against yours, a wet kiss being placed to your jaw as he nuzzled into your neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your voice was practically squeaked out, and his hand squeezed your hips, before sliding around to sit on your back as he pulled your body flush up to rest against his, his arms snaking around your waist and his cheek rested against the top of your head. You were limp in his arms, shocking filling your body and he chuckled, the sounds rumbling in his chest and you could feel it pressed to your own as he dipped down, lips brushing the shell of your ear and hot breath fanning over your skin. “I said, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m scenting you, sweetheart. You’re not going to find anyone else to play alpha for you until graduation. Might as well be me.” You sighed, your eyes connected with Lydia’s as she wore an equally wide look of shock, and you lifted your arms, your hands holding onto his forearms carefully as you relaxed a little bit, and he rubbed his face into your neck one more time, before pulling back enough to look at you. “Lydia, you are burning holes into the side of my fucking head. Stop staring at me.”

His words were growled out, his eyes locked on yours and you swallowed thickly under his intense gaze, your lips sealed shut but your red-headed friend scoffed, the toes of her heels clicking on the ground in agitation, her retort being shot back without hesitation. “Stop leeching on my best friend and I will.”

He finally turned to look at her, the usual stormy expression he wore was plastered on his face and he rose a solitary brow at her, and she stared him down, unwilling to be the first to cower. “Why don’t you go on ahead, we have things to discuss. I’ll walk (Y/N) here over to the table when we’re finished, she won’t be alone. I swear it.”

Her eyes flicked to you, and you sent her a small nod, which she accepted, snarling at the boy still holding you tightly before she was walking away, her heels clicking on the floors as she left and the Stilinski twin turned back to you with a gleeful grin.

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” You narrowed your eyes at him, but gave him a lone nod in signal for him to continue with his words, and he nibbled on his lower lip, before jutting his chin out toward you a little as he held his head high. “I’ll act like your alpha until graduation.”

“You will?”

“You’re awfully surprised by my reaction. You did ask me, and you know how hard it is for me to say no to you.” He dipped his head down, taking a low sniff and humming happily under his breath, when you frowned.

“I don’t want you to say yes to this just because I’m an omega and it’s all instinctual for you to want to help me. I want you to say yes because you want to help me.” You mumbled, and he pulled back to look at you, his eyes studying yours carefully.

“I’m not doing it because an omega asked, I’m doing it because you asked. I do want something in return, though.” Your face crumpled as you blushed, pulling away from him a little as you stiffened in his hold, and he shook his head profusely as your mind spun. “No, not what you’re thinking. I’m a little offended at your reaction, but it’s not that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Your voice was cautious and unsure, and his grin dimmed into a small smile, his fingers reaching up to tuck loose hairs behind your ear. “I have a lot of college applications and interview letters. You have to help me apply, and proofread them all.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Your jaw dropped, before a wide smile took over your features and you searched his face for any signs of deceit, his features reading true and you dropped your forehead forwards to rest on his shoulder, a relieved laugh leaving you and you felt his hands smooth along your back reassuringly in slow circles. “I can’t believe that’s all you want. You’ve totally got a deal.”

He chuckled in your ear, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he pulled away, guiding you toward the lunch hall as you both thought over the bargain you had just made.

On your side, you had never felt safer than you did in this moment. Your best friend’s brother had his arm wrapped around you, his scent already lathered over you and for the first time in months, you didn’t have the piercing gaze of desperate alpha’s watching your every move. Unconsciously, you curled into his side a little more, the familiar smell of the boy you’d known ever since going for your first playdate at the house of the boy whose name a five-year-old you couldn't pronounce brought you a much-needed comfort. Noah Stilinski Jr had never treated you as a possession, or belittled you for your omega state. Perhaps it had been because his mother wouldn't allow it, or perhaps it was simply due to having a twin who was the only other omega in your year group, but he treated you with respect, even if he was a player, and it was only three months until graduation; you could survive until then.

On his side, he was holding you protectively close, the long-buried crush he’d held on you since he’d turned twelve and watched you bounce into the joint birthday party he and Stiles had while wearing a pretty and sparkly dress was beginning to poke its head up once again, and he brushed the tip of his nose against your temple, no idea what he was getting himself into, but he wasn’t willing to let any other alphas near you, whether the relationship was real or fake.

The next morning, you were anxiously waiting outside of the school building, Allison on one side of you and Lydia on the other as they chatted between themselves, the nail of your thumb caught anxiously between your teeth as you tried desperately not to bite it off, simply holding it there for reassurance. The scenting you had been given yesterday was superficial and had worn off the second you had changed your clothes and slept overnight, and you knew from experience with Stiles that it was a while before an alphas scent would start to really cling to an omega.

Eyes were back on you, watching you with steely gazes as both boys and girls alike around you watched don carefully, your heart racing as you waited for the blue jeep to pull up. When it finally did, minutes before the bell rang to signal homeroom, the dirt-smeared vehicle pulled up and haphazardly into a parking space. Your anxiety only seemed to spike as you watched both of the identical boys’ exit and make their way toward you. Stiles had a wide grin on his face. Practically bouncing along as his hands grasped onto the straps of his bag, and his brother walked along beside him, face pulled in a neutral expression, his hands clutching a small bundle of material as his own bag hung from one shoulder.

Your eyes were sealed on him, and he allowed the edges of his lips to flicker up in a barely present smile as he approached, his features softening just enough to ease your worries, and Stiles reached your first, his arms wrapping around you in a hug as he greeted you, before quickly moving on to chat to Lydia and Allison, shepherding the girls inside without even a glance over his shoulder as he allowed his brother to talk to you.

He stood closer to you than he ever had before, bar the previous day’s locker encounter, and he still for a moment, his eyes scanning over you, before he was making some form of grunting noise in the back of his throat, his free hand reaching up to take your bag in his hand as he slipped it from your shoulder, offering you the bundle of grey material he was clutching. “Put this on, and wear it until it doesn’t smell like me anymore, and then I’ll give you a new one.”

You took it from him, shaking it out and looking at the pale grey hoodie before you, and his brows raised as he watched you pause, before you were tugging the baggy material over your head, smoothing it down over your shirt, the oversized jumper hanging slightly loose on you, sleeves falling to the middles of your hands and you ran your palms over the front of it, smoothing it down and admiring the softness of it under your hand. Reaching over, your head snapped up when you felt his fingers brush along the back of your neck, scooping your hair out from under the collar so that it could fall freely down your back once again.

He checked his watch, fishing into his back pocket as he deemed the time to be appropriate, before producing a small and battered cardboard packet. Popping a single neatly wrapped roll from within, he balanced it between his lips, the lighter from within the box clicking a few times as he shielded the flame from the breeze before the end took up an orange ember and immediately began to burn down to ashes, glowing brightly when he inhaled. His hand dropped or yours once he had folded the packet back away, lacing your fingers together and pulling you closer to his side, the other hand with two fingers holding the cigarette on either side.

Letting out the deep breath he was holding, smoke curled into the air as he released it slowly, angling his head upwards as not to blow a mouthful of smoke straight into your face, and you were grateful for it, despite how much you may despise it. Instead of complaining, you chose to twist into him, burying your face into his shoulder and scrunching up your nose as the smell that clung to his clothes, knowing he must’ve smoked in the car on the way over here too, but his arm looped around your waist, holding you to him tightly and letting his fingers draw patterns on your back as you stood in silence.

It was odd, being so comfortable with him. You were well aware of his reputation, of all the bad habits he kept up, and perhaps it was just the fact that you were finally getting the physical attention from an alpha that your body screamed at you to get, but you were happy, and it didn’t feel wrong to let your own arms come up to wrap around his waist as you tried to cover yourself with his scent as much as you could.

You were grateful for the bell ringing, and you hadn't realised you were holding your breath as much as you were until you took a deep breath, watching as he dropped the nearly-finished cig to the floor and stomped it out, guiding you toward the building with slow steps. He could almost feel your hesitancy and nerves, choosing to squeeze your side in comfort to let you know that it was okay, and the action let a surprising amount of calm wash over you.

He walked you all the way to your first class, as he peered inside the classroom, glaring daggers at every pair of eyes hat scanned along your body lustful from within. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

“You will?”

He chuckled at your surprise, nodding down at you and shuffling to the side to allow other students to shuffle into the classroom and past the pair of you in the doorway. “I hate cafeteria food, but it’s curly fry day, so it’s not so bad.” He shrugged, dipping his head to press a kiss to your cheek before he was walking away, and you rubbed at the spot with the sleeve of his jumper on your body the moment he was out of sight, and you slipped inside to talk to sit in your usual seat beside Stiles, who offered you a pensive look, your thumbs up reassuring him that the plan was going well.

“I can’t smell you as much, the alphas probably still can but at least it’s not quite as..”

“Strong? Overwhelming? Irritating?” You offered, and he chuckled, leaning back in his seat as Coach Fistock walked into the room, scowling and setting up at the front, a coffee mug all but slammed down onto the desk as he mumbled to himself.

“I wouldn’t say irritating. You smell good, it’s just.. powerful.” He gave you a dazzling grin as you rolled your eyes at him, choosing instead to focus on Coach as he began to command attention with a range of vague insults and shouts into the room. Each of your classes had been a little easier, you’d found, as even when the alpha wasn’t with you, the jumper on your body offered you a little protection as he dulled your natural scent and mixed it with his own. Lunch was rolling around before you knew it, and you were adding an extra portion of curly fries to your tray as you lined up with your best friend, listening to his chatter about movie night and how last night him and his brother had told his dad all about the deal that had been made, so it wouldn’t be weird if anything happened between the two of you when you came over.

“You remember that this is just for the public eye, right?”

Stiles glanced over at you as he paid for his food, nodding at you with an expression on his face that read as ‘duh’, but he shrugged anyway, moving out of the way to let you pay for your own food.

“Yeah, but Dad said it might be a good opportunity to scent, you know? My dad also said he was proud of my brother - I know, I was shocked, too - he said my mum would be proud of him for helping you out, and I swear I heard him sniffle for a second. I called him out on it and he punched me.” That made you laugh, your friend glaring at you as the two of you walked back over to the table where your friends were waiting, and the second twin had stuck to his word, his face appearing in the doorway as he looked around for you, quickly weaving between the tables.

The seat beside you had purposefully been saved empty, and he sunk down into it with a slouch, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he glanced at your meal. “Hungry, sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes at him, pushing a tray of curly fries over to him as you shook your head, snapping the seal on your water bottle and lifting it to your lips, his brows furrowing as he looked at them. “You bought me fries?”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“We already have a deal. You don’t have to butter me up.” He mumbled, but didn’t hesitate in digging into the potato treat, and you followed suit, shaking your head at his words.

“I’m not, I just wanted to buy you some fries.”

He stared at you for a minute, his eyes narrowed on you before his shoulder sagged and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Thank you.” He paused, before leaning in, rubbing his nose along your jaw and running a hand along your back, making sure to be obvious for any onlookers that might see you. He sat quietly as you chatted with your friends, busying himself with his phone, texting and playing games, slipping outside for a while and coming back smelling of fresh smoke and burnt tobacco, before sitting with you for the rest of the lunch break.

Your days rapidly fell into a new routine that involved him, the days turning to weeks and the little things all became easier. Conversations came without effort to the pair of you, and he even made the effort to reach out to some of the others. Around week two, he started to talk and join in with the conversations at lunchtimes, and his number had become one of the most frequented in your texts list. The physical affection had become more natural, and despite how much he scowled about it, he no longer complained when you called him by his real name in public. It came to being after a very snappy “I have known you since we were five, I’m not calling you ‘E’ when your name is Noah!” to which he merely huffed, dropping his shoulders from their defensive position before allowing a small smile to break through.

To almost everyone's surprise, he’d managed to reign in his flirting to a few small comments that were let slip while aimed at you, and as far as you were aware, he hadn't been with anyone else since your agreement had begun. He was showing up to school more, and actually attending his classes, and the stress you had felt had been deeply relieved.

You no longer felt like you were being watched when you walked through the halls, or worried when you walked alone that a particularly brass alpha might make a move. Even when they did, as much as you hated it, Noah would step in at every opportunity he had, leaving you to frown at him and patch him up after he threw the first punch and started a fight, getting himself battered and bruised in your name.

His hand in yours, kisses being pressed to your cheek or forehead, became a staple in your life, and you quickly found yourself missing the touch, seeking it out as soon as you could, in every free moment. His efforts to scent you had become almost instinctual, even when the two of you were alone. You often found yourself with his hands on your shoulders when you sat at the Stilinski dinner table doing your homework with Stiles, or his body pressed up close to yours when he joined you to study.

When your month marker had rolled around, you’d had a hiccup in the fifth week of your agreement, one that had panicked you greatly for the future of your deal. You’d been waiting at your locker today, Stiles bouncing up to you with pure excitement as Noah fidgetted and stood stiff, a moody expression on his face. His hand had found yours and you’d leaned into his side, his body stiff and he didn’t look at you as you did, never returned the attention or made an effort to acknowledge them.

He had walked you to your class, but was still of a bad temper, his response short and gruff, growing in increasing frustration as he merely grunted and gave you one-word answers, and eventually, you had given up. Lunch was almost over when he excused himself from the table, going to swap out his books at his locker and you turned to Stiles, your eyebrows raised. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“He’s in an awful mood! What did you do?” You pressed, and Stiles pouted, sipping at his chocolate milk and frowning at you.

“It wasn’t me! Actually, it sort of was.” Your brows furrowed, and you pinched his arm as you encouraged him to keep speaking, a yelp leaving him as he rubbed at the patch, scowling at you. “I may have let it slip that you hate the smell of his cigarette smoke the other day, and he’s been on the patch since last night.”

Your eyes widened, and Stiles covered himself for the assault he thought to be coming, but your body slumped, eyes wide as you thought about it. Reaching idly for your bag, you swung it up onto your shoulder, abandoning your half-eaten meal as you jogged quickly from the lunch hall. When you found him, he was glaring into his locker, white-knuckled grip on the door making you think it may actually dent.

Placing your hand over his, he jumped in surprise, looking over you once before closing the locker door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be having your lunch?”

“You gave up smoking for me?”

His body went rigid and tense, his lips pursed before he let out something between a sigh and a groan, shaking his head. “Fucking alpha instincts to look after you.” He was irritated by the action, and rubbed at his arm, your eyes closing in on the space as he lifted up his sleeve to show you the white patch stuck to his pale skin, and a smile found its way onto your face.

“You gave up smoking for me.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond, before you were standing up on the tips of your toes and pressing your lips to his cheek, your forehead bumping against his temple and he hummed, his arms wrapping around your middle to hold you as close to him as he could possibly get you. Your face ended up pressed into his neck, your giggle muffled by his skin as he squeezed at you, his hands holding you so you couldn't get away for him.

After that, the weeks rapidly flowed into months, the connection between the two of you only growing. Along the way, the lines between what you were and what you could be had become blurred, the affections you shared had spread to when the two of you were alone, even if you didn’t need to be scented. More and more of your trips to the Stilinski household had been to visit your alpha, as well as your omega best friend, and Stiles was still hanging the time he’d come home from Derek’s to find the two of you curled up together in a nap over your head as blackmail.

His kisses were now placed regularly on your face, his softer side coming out and only showing for you as he peppered you with affections whenever he could. At some point, you had shifted from your usual place between Stiles and the Sheriff on the couch to squeezed onto the lounge chair beside Noah, his arm wrapped around your waist. Stiles had smirked at you each time, until the week that Star Wars had been selected thanks to it being Stiles’ week to choose, and Noah had spent the entire movie mumbling jokes and comments into your ear, which you couldn't help but laugh at. Stiles told you to take the movie seriously, but you just couldn't.

An ever-revolving collection of his hoodies had begun to build up in your bedroom at home, and you regularly found yourself wearing them, just to feel comforted and closer to him. On the rare occasion, he would place a small kiss to your lips. Those times were rare, and the first time you hadn't even realised it had happened until a while later.

You had spent the day helping him write out all his application letters, one by one until they had all been sent off, the darkness having rolled in as the early hours of the morning ticked by, Stiles snoring loudly beside the two of you as he was surrounded by print outs and forms for GWU, the Sheriff walking through the door and staring at the three of you in your hurricane of sleepy yawns and envelopes, papers spread out around you.

He had offered you a lift home, choosing to wait out by the cruiser as you gathered your things and his son walked you to the door. It had been a simple gesture at the time, and neither of you had thought too much about it when his hand had cupped your cheek, his eyes dropping tiredly as he pressed his mouth to yours in a small peck, and you had eagerly returned the action, your body melting into his for only a moment.

At first, it had only happened again when you were alone. When you had been hanging out at his place, the two of you sitting on his bed and watching a movie on his laptop, or when he’d meet you at your lockers between classes when no one else was around. Scott and Allison were the first two to actually see you kiss, you hadn't even realised they were in the area when you had run up to him, waving a letter of invitation to an open day at one of your n his face before wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his for a split second before you’d caught Allison’s squealing near you.

Isaac had been next, and he was where the truth had really slipped out, because he had spilled the news to Stiles and Lydia, the former of whom had called you as he had dinner with his boyfriend and demanded you tell him whether Isaac was lying or not, and the latter of whom had simply started smirking at you each time it happened. Everyone else finding out had been a slippery slope, the two of you eventually having given up hiding on the occasional times you wanted to kiss the boy protecting you, or when he wanted to kiss you.

Some of the colleges you had helped him apply for had matched your own, and only two months after you had sent off all your applications, the time for open days and stay-overs at your colleges' choices had rolled around. You were nervous, to say the least. You had gone to elementary school, middle school and high school with Stiles, your best friend and your only omega support. The open days had been exciting, the parties thrilling and the people welcoming, and you’d found that even when you were alone, you weren’t looked on as an omega outsider. The fact that you were unmarked seemed to slip by without bother, and it only built up your excitement to go to college, to join the real world and find your place.

Your last college was the one you were looking forward to the most, and you were practically bouncing with joy as you held onto the hand of the alpha Stilinski, both of you having been invited down to this college for the look-around weekend celebration. Stiles had lent you the keys to the jeep, very reluctantly, and you’d driven down together, matching hotel keys tucked into each of your pockets to the room you were sharing, his fingers flexing around yours as he held you tight.

The activities fair was bright and colourful and loud, and you had already gathered a handful of coloured leaflets, most for you and a few for the man beside you, and he simply pressed himself up to you and stood protectively by your side as you socialised and talked to the owners of each booth, letting him place kisses to your temple and the sides of your head as he waited each time.

You had seen almost every stand as you made your way to the end of the rows, your eyes flicking over the last cluster to see if there was anything you were interested in, when you were suddenly jumping in excitement. “That one says ‘omegas’ on it, I want to know what it is!” You left his side, dashing through the crowds quickly and leaving him to follow, his chuckle barely reaching your ears as you disappeared into the swarms of people.

‘Single Omegas & Omega Support Group’

You swiped up a leaflet, flicking through the pages with a wide smile, immediately writing your name down on the ‘interested’ sheet and filling out your details. When you spun around to find your man, he was standing only a few feet behind you, his eyes narrowed on the sign as his hands stuck in his pockets, his once playful expression now twisted and sour, and he didn’t lighten up as you jumped back into his view with a wide grin.

“What’s up with you, grumpy?”

You leaned up to peck his lips, his head turning to the side as your lips met his cheek and you frowned, pulling away and looking at him. “Single omegas support group?”

“No, single omegas and support group.”

“Same thing.” He growled, and you stepped back, your eyes wide as you looked at him and you rose your brows, lifting a hand to rest on his arm but he jerked away from your touch. You couldn't understand his anger, and you swallowed thickly, tucking your collections of brightly coloured pamphlets into your bag, glancing around the two of you as you felt the tension between you build.

“I just figured it would be good for m-”

“Because you’re single?” Your jaw gaped, opening and closing as you tried to find words. You had never put a label on what you were exactly, but it hurt to hear him so quickly jump to that conclusion. In your mind, you were a couple, you had long since passed the time of dancing around your idle affections, choosing to indulge in them together, but apparently, your answer didn’t come fast enough for him as he scoffed, and he stepped away from you. “Right, I see how you feel then. It’s fine, ‘bout time I got my sexual freedom back anyway. Just in time for college.”

With that, he was storming away from you, your eyes watching him go as he slipped into the crowds, not looking back, and you merely shook your head, knowing he’d get over whatever he was hung up on eventually, and you could explain to him why you had actually been interested in the group. Instead, you pulled your itinerary from your pocket, unfolding the piece of paper and checking your schedule, choosing to give him time to cool down as you went about your day and continued with your activities. You figured he’d just catch up with you at some point.

Next up was taking a tour of campus living and sorority houses, and you had loved every second of it. You weren’t overly interested in joining a sorority, but it was nice to meet all the girls there anyway, and it was especially nice to get a real chance to look around the dorms you might be staying in. They were roomy, both the individual, pairs and group ones had a lot of space. Each building had large communal kitchens and dining rooms that were fully decked out, and they weren’t the well-worn and dirty places, but instead clean and stylish, they weren’t destroyed or gross but the sparsely furnished places were somewhere you could actually see yourself living in, and you were sad that the alpha you felt so deeply for wasn’t here with you to look around them.

A sweet girl in a green shirt with the university insignia was standing outside of the building when you left, handing out leaflets and chatting about a welcome party being held at one of the sorority houses, and you took one, smiling politely and stepping aside to check the time on your phone. Your notifications were empty, and you lifted the device to your ear after clicking on his name in your call logs, and it rang for a few beats before being cut off and sent to voicemail, telling you that he was ignoring your calls.

If he wanted to play that game, then fine.

Instead of lingering on the thought, you chose to check the address on the paper, making your way through the large campus and eventually finding where you were supposed to be, music pumping through the air loudly before you’d even finished walking up the front garden of the large house. You had sent him a text a while ago informing that you were going to a party, and where it was, hoping that he would come and meet you. Hours passed by, many drinks being consumed and many conversations being had but you never caught onto his familiar face. The lingering sadness of your argument faded away as you found yourself slightly tipsy, giggling with two omega girls you had found, before piling yourself into a taxi and slurring the address of your hotel to the driver.

The drive was short, or perhaps that was just what your drunken mind had left you believe, but you were soon leaning against the walls of the elevator and watching excitedly as the floors clicked up to your level, joy buzzing through you at the thought of crawling into the large double bed with the man you cared so deeply for, and putting this stupid disagreement behind you.

Your card swiped across the reader beside the frame, the door clicking open for you and the dopey smile soon fell from your face as you took in the sight before you. Naked, hot and sweaty was your alpha, buried deep within another woman, her legs wrapped tightly around her waist and his lips locked on hers as he pounded into her. The door slammed against the wall as you lost your grip on it while stumbling, and his eyes widened as he saw you there, but you were soon enough just backing out of the room, far too tipsy and tired to actually deal with what you were seeing.

So, that’s where your ‘relationship’ stood with him.

The door slammed shut behind you as tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not bothering to look back as you made your way back down to the lobby to request a second room for yourself. The morning brought a hangover and regret, sadness welling within you and the bed you were sleeping in alone felt cold and unwelcoming, when you should have been in the arms of the boy you had come with, but he’d been fucking another girl in your shared bed.

Eventually, you had dragged yourself from between the sheets, working yourself up to going to the original room to collect your things, and you thanked whatever higher power there was that he was still passed out in the sheets with his latest whore when you arrived, leaving you free to gather your belongings and sneak back to your new room in peace.

A hot shower had barely cleared your thoughts, and your eyes still stung from tears, but at least you were fresh-faced and ready for breakfast. You ate alone, in silence, choosing to text him and tell him in the simplest terms you could muster that you would meet him at the car at eleven for the journey home. Halfway through your food, Stiles had texted you, asking how it went, and you felt nauseated, abandoning your food in favour of calling him, breaking down in tears the second you heard your best friend’s voice over the phone as you spilt everything that had happened to him.

At ten forty-five, you returned to your room, gathering your suitcase and returning the keycard to the desk, thanking the attendee and making your way out to the car. The source of your emotional turmoil was already sitting in the vehicle, radio turned on with low volume as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel, and he made no effort to get out and help you when you loaded your bags into the back. He didn’t greet you when you climbed into the passenger seat, he didn’t even look at you, his jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road and turned the key in the ignition, silence filling the car.

His neck and jaw were littered with dark purple hickies, his hair still messy and he was wearing the same clothes he had been yesterday, the smell of cheap perfume still clinging to him, and you turned away, your body facing the window as your head rested on the door, and you chose to put your earphones in and crank up the music to drown out your feelings, not a single word being spoken between the two of you on the drive home.

Barely two weeks had passed since you had spoken to him, and your heart was aching for him, your body screaming at you to return to your alpha, but he was avoiding you at all costs. He was missing school again, getting plenty of detentions when he did show up, and the smell of him was wearing away.

It was clear that he was no longer your alpha, and others were beginning to approach you again, the freedom and security you had found when you were by his side was slipping away as you once again became timid and scared, nervous about the people surrounding you. Stiles was struggling to keep an eye on you more than ever as graduation closed in and more and more alphas began to desperately proposition you before you went to college, wanting to claim you and make you theirs, their natural instinct being to do so.

He was elated when his letter from GWU had arrived, and you had a small bundle of letters to open, including one to the college that you so desperately dreamed of attending, and he was busily setting up two glasses on the coffee table, takeout menus ready and a stack of movies loaded up for the two of you as he buzzed around, awaiting your arrival.

“What are you moving about so quickly for?”

“I forgot to set up!” Stiles snapped, glancing up at his brother who was dawdling on the stairs, and one lone eyebrow raised as the other stayed solitary.

“Date with Derek?”

“No, (Y/N) is coming over.” He stiffened at that, his glare fixed on his hyperactive brother as he scoffed, and Stiles looked up at him hands on his hips as he paused, an angry expression on his usually joyful face, and he tutted. “I’m not going to stop hanging out with my best friend in my home, just because you fucked up and fucked someone else.”

“Can’t fuck up something that never was!” He retorted, walking the rest of the way down the stairs and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl Stiles had set out, and the former twin huffed, hands twitching by his side.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Noah.”

“No, I’m not, Mieczysław.” Stiles scowled at the use of his real name, watching his brother retreat back to the stairs, and though he knew it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn't help but open his mouth, the words pouring out before he could stop them.

“She didn’t like the group because she thinks of herself as single.” His brother paused his ascent of the stairs when he was only two from the stop, and Stiles stood at the base of the stairwell, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m the only omega she’s known for her entire life, and when I went to GWU to check it out, I met this guy from an omega support group who was really nice, and it was an easy way to meet other omegas. She didn’t want advice on being single, she just wanted a chance to meet other omegas. I encouraged her to look for one of those groups too, because she’s going to need new omega friends when I can’t be with her, and you didn’t even give her a chance to explain that before you were hopping into the sheets with someone else.”

The news hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt as though he’d been winded, his body twisting to sit on the tops step as he looked at Stiles, not getting a chance to say anything when the door was suddenly being knocked upon, loud and frantic and Stiles disappeared from his sights to open the door.

“Hey, you made it a-” He paused, the door quickly slamming shut and he leaned down, peaking between the bannisters of the railing to see you clinging onto Stiles, his brother holding a hand to the back of your head as the other wound around your waist. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

When you pulled back you were shaking, and you didn’t notice the other twin lurking at the top of the stairs, too busy blinking back the tears that lined your eyes as you let out a nervous and relieved laugh.

“You smell like cheap beer, weed, and random alphas?” His nose scrunched up as he held you at arm’s length, and the hidden twin could smell it all the way from the top of the stairs, rage twisting in his gut as the word ‘mine’ played on a loop within his mind, unable to stop it from happening as biology took over.

“I was walking over and there was this group of alpha guys, they were sort of drunk and some of them were smoking pot and they just got a little confident, because my scent has been coming back stronger. They made a bunch of comments and came over to me, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so I ran the rest of the way here.” Your words were spoken through deep breaths as you tried to calm both your nerves and your racing heart, and both twins frowned, one filled with concern while the other filled with guilt.

“I should have come and collected you, instead of letting you walk.”

“Hey, what can you do? That’s just the life of an unmarked omega, right?” You joked about it, brushing off the incident as though it was nothing and it only made him feel worse, because he had abandoned you over his own impatience, jumping to conclusions and leaving you to fend for yourself. He watched as Stiles guided you to the living room, letting you put down your belongings as he spoke to you about getting a bath, and you never even noticed when Noah slipped from the house, boiling with rage and practically seething as he walked along, but Stiles did.

Your best friend ran you a bath, making sure to tip far too much scented bubble mix into it to ensure the smell would leave your skin, and he’d left a small pile of clothes out for you on the counter for when you finished as he threw yours into the wash to get them clean for you once again. You were feeling better, you felt fresh and rejuvenated and pure joy was flooding through your veins as the two of you poured over takeout menu options as Indiana Jones played in the background on the tv screen, the door opening and slamming closed shocking you so much you almost fell from the couch.

“You’re wearing my sweater.” You pinche the fabric between your fingers, having grown so accustomed to borrowing clothes from either of the Stilinski boys that you had lost track of which item of clothing belonged to whom, and your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a second, widening as you took in his bloodied knuckles, grazed cheek and a bruised jaw.

“My clothes will be done soon. I’ll give it back in a minute. I didn’t know.” Your voice was scratchy and full of emotion as you spoke, your gaze leaving him when he could only muster a nod in response, before he was taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing upstairs. Your jaw dropped as you turned or his brother, a smirk on his face and you slapped him on the arm for giving you the wrong hoodie, but your eyebrow raised too. “What happened to him?”

“Well, I think - I think - he got in a fight.”

Your face dropped at his sarcasm, and you scowled at him, flicking him on the tip of his adorably sweet nose and his face scrunched up at the action, his tongue flicking out to prod at the tingling tip of his nose, his eyes crossing as he pulled a face at you and the action prompted a giggle from you, but you whined at him as you encouraged him to tell you what happened.

“Fine! Fine. If I’m taking a wild guess here, I’d say that he wasn’t too happy about the fact that you got borderline assaulted by some random alphas on your way over here, and so he headed out and got himself in yet another punch up for your honour.” Stiles paused, glancing at you carefully, before continuing on; “He’s miserable without you, he misses you.”

“Oh.”

Silence sat between the two of you, and you picked at your nails, choosing to snuggle into the couch and watch the movie, ignoring Stiles’ burning gaze on the side of your head, before he snapped, pausing the movie and groaning loudly when five minutes of silence, bar the tv noise, had passed by and you still hadn't budged. “Oh, my God. This is killing me, please just go and talk to him?”

You looked over at him, your jaw hung slack and he fixed you with a stern glare, both of you knowing you wanted to, and eventually you were heaving yourself up from the couch, climbing the stairs slowly as you made your way to the bathroom. He was rifling through a first aid kit when you approached, and you clicked the door shut behind you, leaning back against it, and he swallowed thickly when he glanced up and saw you, pausing his search through the small medkit as he cleared his throat.

“Hey.”

He winced at the sound of his own voice, and you simply nodded, moving toward him and plucking items for the box, well experienced in patching him up after fights by now, and he simply allowed you, choosing to lean back on the counter until he was the same height as you.

“What are you and Stiles doing?”

When he eventually spoke again, you were in the middle of dabbing a fresh ball of disinfectant soaked cotton along his grazed cheek and cleaning it up, your movements pausing, and you dropped your hand to look at him. “We were opening college letters together. He got his from GWU and I got my top choice, y’know, the college we went to look at together.” He frowned at your words, but licked over his lips, nodding and putting on a fake smile as you went back to work.

“And how did it go?”

“We both got in.” You got caught up in your thoughts as you discarded the cotton wool ball, squeezing bruise cream out onto your fingers and holding his face, tilting it to the side so you could smooth the paste across the skin and rub it in gently. “It’s great, actually, it means I’m only a two-hour drive from Stiles, so I won’t be quiet as alone as I would have been at any others, y’know? He’s there if I need someone.”

“You never would have been alone.” His words were whispered, and you paused, silence falling over the two of you as you rubbed healing gel onto the cuts and scrapes on his skin, and you packed away the kit, putting it back in the cupboard once the box was sealed shut and the anticipation was killing him, his mind spinning as he tried to find words to get you to talk to him, to talk about what happened, anything. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted those leaflets.”

Your eyes narrowed on him as his eyes widened, your eyebrows pulled together as your jaw ticked in anger. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, well, you didn’t come back to the room for hours an-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you slept with someone else in our bed? I’m so sorry you were forced to have sex with the hottest whore you could find because I was trying to give you space after you stormed off and ignored my calls and texts.” You were growling at him, his alpha instincts kicking up in both rage and lust at your feisty attitude, and yet he hated the way it was making him feel, because he was further fucking up what he had already fucked up, just because he couldn't find the right words to say. “You couldn’t even wait one night during an argument before needing to get your dick wet again?”

“I thought we were breaking up, or breaking off whatever we were..”

“Couples don't just break up after one fight! No relationship would ever last if they did!” His breath felt punched from his lungs as he stared at you, eyes wide as you huffed, cheeks flushed from your shouting and you ran a hand through your hair, because you had confirmed it for him, and he couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his face.

“We’re a real couple?”

“Well, I thought we were, but then I came back to find you in bed with another chick, so..” You prodded at his chest, and he couldn't find it within himself to be angry because his hands were finding your hips and he was pulling you closer to him, even if your hands did flatten against his chest in a very weak and rapidly abandoned effort to push him away. Your arms ended up crushed between the two of you as he pulled you in close, raising a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your own.

“I want that for us. I want that to be us. I want us to be a real couple.”

You sighed, your anger slipping away as you looked up at him, shaking your head fondly, the word ‘dumbass’ slipping out under your breath, as you leaned in, resting your forehead on his shoulder and laughing under your breath. A muffled voice came through the door, smug even through his warm tone, as he told you he was going to go over to Derek’s for a few hours, and congratulating you for working it out.

Once the front door clicked shut, the sound of the jeep starting up, his fingers found yours, lacing your fingers together, he pulled you from the bathroom, guiding you along the familiar route to his bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind him, he picked up a torn open envelope from the desk and waved it at you, your eyes taking in the logo, flicking back up to him, filled with hope. “I got in, too.”

You jumped into his arms, his arms wrapping around your waist as you squealed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he laughed into your ear, spinning you in a circle before placing you back on the ground, ideas and thoughts already spilling from your mouth. You still had all the brochures for clubs you’d thought he might like, and you were waving excitedly as you told him all about the tours he’d missed, that there were joint dorm rooms, and how maybe the two of you could get one together.

Slipping a hand into your hair and one on your hip, he silenced you, his mouth closed over yours mid-sentence and cutting you off as he pressed a loving and passionate kiss toy our lips, his finger straightening in your hair and on your hip when your lips pressed back to his with just as much vigour. Your arms wrapped around his neck, stabilising you as the depth of the kiss made your legs shake, his tongue tracing the seam of your own and you happily parted them for you, his head tipping to the side to allow himself deeper access to your mouth.

“You’ve never kissed me like that before.” Your words were spoken breathlessly, your eyes still closed, his too, his lips barely brushing against yours as he took a deep breath, and he hummed lowly, the sound rumbling from his chest as he squeezed at your hips. He licked over his lower lip, catching against yours too, and you chased his lips a little, a chuckle on his lips as he gave you a sweet but short kiss, indulging you just enough to gain a little sigh from your lips as you rocked back from standing on your tiptoes to on the flats of your feet. “Why have you never kissed me like that before?”

“It’s not for a lack of wanting to.” He teased, and your hands slipped down from his shoulders to grip at his waist, tugging needily on the edge of his shirt to pull him closer to you, a needy whine on your lips as he indulged you, pressing the front of his body up to yours. “People who are faking it don’t kiss like that.”

“I really wouldn’t have complained.”

“Good to know.” He smirked, dipping back down to once again kiss you, his tongue slipping straight between your lips to toy with your own, your body going pliant in his hold as the slow kiss took your breath away. Your feet were moving beneath you in stumbling steps, until the backs of your legs met the silky fabric of his bedsheets, and you tore your lips away from his, taking a deep breath as you did, lips wet and slightly swollen as you looked between him and the mattress. You’d been on his bed before, laying across it with books and laptops spread out around the two of you. You’d been in his bed before, his arm looped around your waist and your back pressed up to his front as you took a peaceful nap, and yet this context was entirely different.

His hands slipped to your jaw, guiding your face back to his, and his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks as dark eyes stared into yours lovingly. “Tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours.”

You licked your lips, looking down and nodding as you tried to clear your thoughts, your hands tugging the ends of his t-shirt and lifting it up, your hands slipping under the thin fabric to brush over his skin, his muscles tensing under your touch, rippling as your trailed your fingertips from his sides to the happy trail covering the loosely defined abs under his shirt. “First of all, I really want you to take your shirt off.”

He grinned cheekily, his head tipping to the side and he let you push the material up his sides, before he was reaching behind his neck and peeling the top from his body, dropping it to the floor and letting you smooth your hands over the hard planes of his chest. He flexed the muscles under your touch, your lips clamped between your teeth, and his hands found the edges of the jumper that belonged to him, hanging around your mid-thighs and he tugged it up to your waist, catching your eye as he looked for confirmation from you. Lifting your arms up above your head, he dragged the material away from your body, a growl sounding from him as your body lay bare beneath the fabric, his eyes darkening and he skimmed his hands over your sides, a short pant leaving him as he watched your nipples pearl in the cold air, standing taut for him and just begging to be licked at. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“What I want.. like, really want, is to not go to college as an unmarked omega.”

A sound you had never heard him make before rumbled from him, the vibrations of it practically carrying in the air as the deep sound shot straight to your core and your whole body shivered as his face flicked with a range of emotions. It was borderline pornographic; the possessive, aroused and purely desperate noise he had made and your knees buckled under you in submission, his arm catching you around your waist and pulling you in close to him as he used his other hand to tilt your head to the side, allowing him to nip and bite along the flesh of your jaw.

Licking a wet stripe along the skin at the base of your neck, goosebumps coated your skin at the feeling and he took a deep breath, holding your gaze on his once he pulled back. Placing a sloppy and frantic kiss to your lips, he pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you quickly and caging you in on the mattress, the tip of his nose bumping yours. “You’re my omega.”

Everything possessive in him made everything instinctual in you needy, your hips rolling up into his, your breath punched from your lungs and he met your rolls thrust for thrust, his cock hardening in his jeans, a hand on one of your thighs, lifting your leg up so he could slot himself between your legs. “Going to mark you up, make you mine so everyone knows. My pretty little omega, all mine.”

“All yours, alpha. Make me yours.”

Some kind of cross between a whimper and a groan from him was muffled by his lips on yours, and he trailed his kisses along your jaw, sucking and lapping at your skin as he went, ensuring that he was leaving hickies dotted along your flesh as he went, taking his time and holding you softly. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, your back arched up into his mouth, the rough pad of his tongue swirling over it, pleasure jolting through your body at the stimulation, one hand coming up to lace into his hair, tugging a handful into a fist.

Giving the other the same stimulation, his fingers danced over your ribs and sides as he moved down to slip his fingers under the elastic of the large sweatpants on your hips, wet kisses moving along your navel before he paused, blowing cool air streams over the shining trails left on your skin.  

“You’re not wearing any panties are you?” He grumbled deep in his throat when you shook your head. “I can fucking smell you, baby, I bet you’re just dripping for me.” Placing a light at the outside of your thighs, your hips lifted for him, feet planted flat on the mattress as he peeled the fabric away, dropping them to the carpet to join your top and his already there. With a hand on each knee, he parted your thigh, inhaling deeply and kissing at the inside of each thigh, fingers massaging your flesh as he worked his way up to your dripping core. “You want my mouth, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Anything for you.” With that, he dragged the tip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sealing his lips around the bud and sucking harshly, a squeal leaving you as your back arched. He repeated the action, twice, before he was settling more comfortable on the bed, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs to hold you still as he lapped at the delectable taste of your juices sliding from you.

He was taking his time, teasing your entrance and occasionally dipping his tongue into you, his teeth scraping over your clit and your toes curled as he slurped and sucked, your walls squeezing around him as his fingers dug into your skin. Slipping one hand up, he pushed the pad of his tongue down on your clit, rubbing slow and delicate circles into the bud and you tugged at his hair, moans spilling from your lips as the languid stroked of his tongue sparked a fire to start curling on your stomach, a climax slowly beginning to build as your muscles began to tighten.

With a particularly harsh suck, your toes curled, a whimper leaving you, your hips rolling into his face and he picked up his speed and force, your thighs clamping around his head, his hair tickling against the skin and you could feel his sharp jaw moving quickly, before he pried your legs back open as far as he could get them, growling into your pussy as the vibrations shot along your nerves.

Raising one of your own hands to paw at your tits, you tugged on your nipples, groping at the mounds as you dragged yourself into a climax, your back leaving the bed as you rolled your hips into his face, his name leaving your lips in a mantra, body shaking and tensed as your eyes squeezed shut. He continued his ministrations, dragging your orgasm out for as long as he could, until he was pulling back with shiny marks on his chin and a filthy smirk, wiping his chin on the back of his hand before leaning over you and planting a hot and open-mouthed kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself briefly on his tongue.

“You taste fucking delicious.” He whispered the words to you, bumping your noses together and running his hands gently over your body, your own finger catching around his wrists to still his movements and he looked at you curiously, a brow raised. Leaning up, you caught his lips with your own, nibbling on his lower one and he growled, pulling back to give you a mock glare as he took your hands, pinning them to the bed above your head and chasing your mouth, your lips meeting in a rough collision. “Such a pretty girl for me, all flushed and fucked out.”

“I’m not fucked out yet, you’re taking too long.” You retorted, and he huffed, pinching at your side as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, wrapping with your own as they visible played between your quick and needy kisses, your body already building back up as he slipped a hand up to swipe at your core, chuckling at the wetness that was already building.

“I’m trying to be a good alpha and look after my beautiful omega.”

“Well, could you look after your omega by fucking me senseless until I’m screaming?” His jaw dropped, a loud and unashamed moan leaving him at your words, his eyes only getting darker as he gaped at you. Lifting a hand from where it supported him above you, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tugging down your lower lip from a second as he licked at his own and thought about his actions.

“Since when did you have such a filthy fucking mouth on you, sweetheart?” You grinned, shifting just enough to suck the digit between your lips, a breathy sigh leaving him as you swirled your tongue around the pad, sucking lightly and grazing his finger with your teeth, winking at him and his eyes glazed over and went half-lidded as your actions. “I thought you were cute and innocent, huh?”

“I could be dirty just for you.”

“You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, and you raised a brow, taking one of your hands from the spot he pinned them too and dragging your nails across his torso lightly, before cupping at the prominent bulge in his jeans and squeezing tightly, his hips bucking down onto your palm.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You teased, and he grinned, kissing you quickly before rocking back to kneel between your legs, popping the button on his jeans and tearing the zipper down.

“Tell me how you want it, baby. Tell me what you want from your alpha.” Standing up, he dropped the denim, palming at himself through the black cotton of his boxer-briefs and kicking the restraining material from around his ankles.

“I want it hard, and rough. I want you to fuck me so good that I’m seeing stars, and so I know nobody will ever be as good as you. I want you to mark me, make me yours.” He bit on his lower lip, dropping his boxers and stroking at his length, wandering across the room to snatch a condom from the top drawer of his desk. Tearing the top of the packet open with his teeth, he rolled the rubber along his impressive shaft, his cock bouncing in its stiff position as he made his way over to you.

“Nobody will ever get to know, because you’re all mine, for the rest of your life. You’re mine, baby, my omega.” Rolling his body back over yours, your arms looped around his neck, a quick peck being pressed to your lips before he lined himself up, sinking into you quickly and his jaw dropped as your wet warmth encased him, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“I think that’s just the fact that you have a massive cock.”

His arms shook at your words, a loud laugh leaving him and he fixed you with a loving look as he settled still, the environment around you being somewhere between playful and intense, hot and still relaxed, and you’d never felt more loved. Pulling his mouth down to yours, you kissed him deeply, your walls fluttering around him as you conveyed everything you felt, a sweet noise of approval sounding on his mouth. He returned the gesture enthusiastically, before easing his hips out of you, his mouth open against yours as he gasped at the feeling of your walls trying to pull him back in.

Leaning away, he smirked at you, pushing a hand up over your body as he pressed you back into the mattress, his fingers sealing around your throat just tight enough to excite you, flexing against the column of your throat, the edges of your lips tipping up in a grin, flashing your teeth to him as he rocked his hips back into yours, joint moans leaving the two of you. The pace picked up rapidly, the fingers of his other hand clenching in the sheets as he rammed his cock into you, the breath forced from your lungs with each slam he made into you.

Your walls squeezed around him, cursed hissed out between his teeth as his jaw clenched, a whimper falling from you as you watched the man above you pound you into oblivion. His eyes were locked on yours, a thin sheen of sweat on your skin as your name fell from his lips on repeat, your back arching up and chest rubbing against his as he fucked you.

Hiking a leg up higher onto his waist, he sunk into you further, quickly dropping himself down from his palm to his forearm, his nose bumping against yours, hot breath from his pants washing over your skin and you dipped your tongue from your mouth, licking at his lips teasing and he growled, his mouth slanting over yours as he slowed his pace.

Scooping you up under your shoulder blades, he pulled you back, until he was sitting back on his heels and you were perched in his lap, his pulsing cock buried within you deeper than ever as you sat on his thighs and your hands tightening in his hair, pulling on fistfuls. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your chests pressed together tightly as slick skin slid against slick skin, and his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold as he bounced you on his cock, your eyes rolling back. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Tight and wet for me.”

Once the pace was set, your legs tightened around him, and you did your best to meet his movements, one of his hands slipping down to palm at your ass, short nails scraping over your skin. Pulling his hand back, he slapped down on your skin roughly, your hips jumping into his and you whimpered, pushing his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh and you pushed back into his hand, a breathless chuckle released against your mouth as he groped at the flesh, repeating the action as your skin burned and flushed red, the sweet sound of his name in a cry leaving you, and he moved across, kissing down your jaw.

Tipping your head back, your hair fell away from your shoulder as you exposed your neck to him, your stomach twisting when he licked over the slightly sweaty patch, scraping his teeth over the place he would mark you. The high inside of you was building, your hips rocking down into his as he assisted you. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

He swallowed thickly, slamming you down onto his cock and holding you there tightly as he bit down onto your skin, your body flashing with heat and pure bliss as you exploded around him, shaking in his arms as you came, your eyes rolling back in your head and the dull and throbbing pain of the bite mark he gave you was overruled by the feeling of pure love coursing through your body. He dropped your bed back to the mattress, an animalistic sound leaving him as he hiked your leg up onto his shoulder, loud shots and grunts spilling from him as he fucked himself into you so quickly that your eyes were rolling back and you were seeing stars.

Licking the pads of two fingers, he dropped them to your swollen clit and rubbed harshly, screams tearing from your lips as you trembled in his hold, your eyes rolled back as you came from a second time, your core flooding his cock with arousal, ecstasy flooding your veins and walls clamping around him. His body dropped down onto yours as he came, thrusting weakly into you to prolong your peaks as much as he could, your body quivering under him as you caught your breath.

Your arms wrapped around him tightly, holding his body to you despite the fact that his weight was crushing you and he made a happy sound, nuzzling into your neck and kissing over the mark on your neck, a deep sigh being let out before he pulled out of you, a groan on his lips as he got up from the bed, tying the condom off and dropping it into the bin before grabbing a handful of tissues, kneeling beside you as he wiped the stray blood from the bite mark on your shoulder.

He trailed a finger around it, a smile on his lips as he looked at you. “You have my mark.”

“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled at your words, and tipped your neck to the side so he could admire his work, and you shuffled backwards up the bed, his body following you, your head finding the pillow as you snuggled into the plush cushions happily.

“You’re perfect, absolutely perfect.” Dropping down beside you, his fingers brushed through your hair, smoothing it away behind your ears and you grinned at him, letting him adjust you carefully as he tucked the covers around you, a giggle on your lips as he fussed over you. “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re in alpha-overdrive.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, scowling at the smile on your lips as you let him fuss over you. “I’ve been suppressing my urge to go ‘alpha-overdrive’ on you for fucking months.” He settled himself under the covers beside you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, a yawn on your lips as you nuzzled into his body.

“I wasn’t complaining, I like it.”

“Good, because I’m going to be looking after you for the rest of our goddamn lives, little omega. I’ll be the best alpha the world has ever fucking seen.” He kissed at your cheek, arm tightening around you more as the two of you laid back, bodies aching and tired but thoroughly satisfied. “So, why don’t you tell me all about those college dorms, hm?”

“You’re going to absolutely love them.”

[tailorvizsla]

You didn't think I wouldn't ask for some Boba Fett though now did you? (Of course not, he is the new shiny for me iuwhei) ✨ HC Of my Choice... What about having your first kiss with Boba and he doesn't #know it is your first one till part-way through or after? Am I projecting? Yes, yes I am.

Title: HC – Boba Fett and First Kiss Pairing: Gender neutral Reader x Boba Fett Word Count: ~1700 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Boba Fett is a grumpy bastard, but you hold your own against him. Boba also gets injured, but there aren’t any graphic descriptions of the injuries. Author’s Notes: Okay, my Angle, I’ve been thinking about this one for as long as it’s been sitting in my inbox. I’m not familiar with Boba Fett’s character, so I wanted to make sure this was good for you. So, without further ado, here we go with the Big Green Grumpy Jerk who has somehow inexplicably charmed his way into my heart with a few gruff comments.

Tagging @princessbatears because chaos? :>

📚 My Master List 📚

Boba Fett isn’t a man of many words. It’s not that he’s shy or anything – he just doesn’t like talking to people beyond what is necessary. He has worked alone his entire life, so the sound of others’ voices just sort of grates on him. He especially does not like being crowded by people.

So, one day, while doing his thing, he ends up injured. It’s not even due to combat. His jetpack just…sputters out. His beskar’gam turns what should have been a fatal fall into a very painful one. He knows he has broken a lot of bones, but Boba refuses to die like this. He crawls his way back to his bike, calls for medical aid, and prays to the Maker that someone in town will come help him.

You are the only person who does come to help him. Most other people are too afraid of the Imperial remnants to work with a Mandalorian. Others are too afraid of Mandalorians to work with a Mandalorian. You? You are not afraid of much. He is not sure if you are brave or stupid. After splinting the worst of the damage, you get him onto the bike and get him back into town. It is at this point that Boba finds himself leaning toward thinking you are stupidly caring and trusting.

You inject him with bacta – the good kind that makes him giggly, sleepy, and numb – and get to work. When he wakes up, he’s wrapped in an annoying number of casts and splints, but at least he’s still alive. However, you then give him the bad news: the fall has damaged many of the delicate nerves in his back. If he fails to undergo physical therapy, there is a real chance he may never walk again. He’s no medical expert, but when he looks at the scans you took, he knows you aren’t lying.

So, Boba resigns himself to having to deal with you on a regular basis. The first physical therapy exercises are simple, yet they exhaust him to the point where he just passes out. As the days go by, he starts putting up the walls to keep you out. (Spoiler alert: you manage to find your way through the cracks in the wall, annoying him with barely any effort on your behalf.)

Now, under ideal circumstances, this shitshow would end with Boba Fett getting back on his feet, paying you handsomely for the amount of time you have spent getting him put together, and going back to bounty hunting, never to think of you again. But of course, the universe throws an even bigger wrench into his carefully thought-out plans. Someone finds out that you’re taking care of him and a whole bunch of angry townspeople converge on your little clinic. He grabs you and the two of you run. The last thing you see is your clinic going up in flames. (Boba can’t believe the shortsightedness of these people – they’ve driven off their only competent medical professional. What are they going to do next? Kill their only competent mechanic? Di’kute, every last one of them.)

And so, the two of you go off on a merry adventure, annoying the absolute shit out of each other on a regular basis. Boba especially is concerned at how easily you have managed to find every single weak point in his defenses – physical, mental, and emotional. You are a fair shot with your blaster, so when he got fresh with you that one time, telling you that your ass looked downright edible in the trousers you had borrowed from him, you drew your blaster and fired a shot off at his feet. He laughed so hard his bucket nearly fell off. (You are not sure if you are disturbed that he finds being shot at amusing. He does scold you a bit, but you do notice that he does not talk about your ass anymore.)

With your knife? You’re lethal, and he learns that the hard way when he fails to announce his presence behind you. One moment Boba is reaching to touch your shoulder and the next moment, he’s got your elbow in his face and your penknife embedded in his flak vest. Fortunately, the blade’s too short to cause serious damage, but he does not let you forget that you kriffing stabbed him when he was only trying to ask you what you wanted for dinner.

Even though Boba would rather cover himself in tiingilar sauce and crawl back into the sarlacc pit headfirst than ever admit it, the two of you make a damn good team. He goes off to hunt bounties, you stay in town to provide your medical services for a fair fee. Sometimes, when your services are not needed, you’ll hang back at the ship and do some basic accounting to keep him within his budget.

Boba grumbles when you ask to accompany him on a hunt, but he figures you really do need to learn how to defend yourself if anything should happen to him. When the two of you were surrounded by goons, you naturally fell into place behind him, your back to his, covering his shebs while he provides the heavy firepower. When the numbers are thinned to something more manageable, he sets you loose on them, letting you practice your knife skills. And by the Maker, he is impressed with how much you have improved since the last time you stabbed him.

Between hunts, you get his shebs back into fighting shape. Hell, he thinks he’s even better than he was before. The exercises you insist on forcing on him have made him more flexible than he was before, and his bones no longer creak first thing in the morning. One particularly hot, muggy day, you try to make him drink that vile green vegetable concoction you call a smoothie. Smooth his shebs, there are chunks in that liquefied animal feed. Sometimes he wonders if you’re trying to kill him on purpose.

(You don’t know this, but Boba has already arranged for everything in his possession, ships and banking accounts included, to be transferred to you in the event of his death. Hell, he has even started negotiating with a friendly Tribe to make sure you have a home to go to and your pick of their warriors for marriage, should you be interested. Boba justifies it this way: the last time his jetpack mutinied, he ended up several hundred thousand credits in debt to you by his estimation. By ensuring you have a safe place to go, and a family ready to welcome you, he can offset the immeasurable debt he owes you. It hurts to think of this, but Boba genuinely cannot bear the thought of you being alone in this cruel galaxy, the same way he had been when he was a child. So, if he ever does piss you off to the point where you off him in his sleep, you’ll be fine.)

You keep pushing and pushing, insisting that he needs B-vitamins or some other bantha-shit he’s sure you’ve made up for the sole purpose of annoying him. When you start going on about macronutrients and essential vitamins, Boba loses it. He tosses his cutlery down and goes stomping off toward the cockpit. You follow him, blathering on and on about the last blood panel you had pulled – HDLs, LDLs, and a whole slew of acronyms later, he loses it. Rather than snap at you, he shuts you up the only way his poor sleep-deprived brain can come up with.

Boba pushes you up against the wall, gently to avoid hurting you. You don’t seem at all phased. In fact, you start waving the paper at him as you try to draw his attention to his sodium levels. Boba leans in and presses his lips to yours. You finally stop talking, your entire body going stiff in response. He takes a moment to nibble along your lower lip before parting your lips with his, tongue probing a bit deeper in, and you still aren’t responding. Boba draws back and stares down at you. You’re wide-eyed and clearly in shock.

He leans in again. This time you respond clumsily, your hands clutching at that stupid piece of paper. He gently wrestles it out of your grasp and crumples it up. Then he tosses it over his shoulder, not caring where it lands. He cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss. Still, you’re not responding the way he wants, so he draws back.

“What, never been kissed before?” he asks.

Before he can say anything else, he realizes that that was your first kiss. While Boba has never wanted to be anyone’s First Anything, he realizes that he wants to make an exception for you. There’s no one in this entire galaxy who can annoy the shit out of him in one breath and then worry about his health in the next. You are his little baar’ur. After you have wormed your way under his plating and so selfishly made yourself a fixture in his life without his permission? Oh, no, no, you are not going anywhere.

He cuts off your stammering with another kiss. He takes this one slow, moving your hands to where he wants you to touch him – one at his nape, the other at the small of his back, right over that spot that makes his knees weak.

This time, you respond. Slowly, hesitantly, but as you grow more confident, your hands begin to stray. You worm your fingers up the back of his shirt and dig your nails into the sensitive skin there, making him gasp in pleasure. Then you dig your fingers into his long hair and tug lightly, earning a low growl from him. You freeze and stare up at him with wide eyes until he leans back in.

Fortunately, your big smart science brain learns his likes and dislikes very quickly. When he finally pulls away, he finds that he really likes what he sees – your shirt’s rumpled, your hair is sticking up, and your lips are red and swollen from his kisses. Then and there, he makes a vow to make sure you always look like a mess.

(Spoiler alert: quite a few more of your firsts happen right here in the cockpit.)

[gar0uu]

changed by the unchangeable (part 1/?) story will be continued on my wattpad!!

word count: 2,112 or sum

My stomach was in knots as I walked through the cafeteria. Every. Single. Time. 

It was always the same, the stares.  

Mom says, “They’re curious.”  

Well, Mom can go fuck herself.  

Of course, I had gotten used to it now. The prying eyes, the fucking snickers.

“Why does she walk like that? Does it hurt? I feel bad for her.” I hear a laugh.  

One) It doesn’t hurt. Two) Fuck your pity. My whole life I've been pitied. Pity can suck my dick. And so can they.  

I looked straightforward. You know, after looking at your feet your whole life, it gets tiring. I stared those motherfuckers right in the face, raising my eyebrows. This is when they all look away.  

I smile to myself. They’re so confident until I make eye contact. It’s laughable. A bunch of cowards.  

I made my way over to a table with two boys. Only empty table.  

“Hey,” I said. “Can I sit here?”  

“Oh, I don’t know...there’s a line waiting to sit at this table. We’re pretty popular, you know,” one of the boys spoke. His eyes were playful. He was pale, had chocolate brown hair. He looked weak.  

The boy next to him was staring at the table, hunched up. Trying to make himself look invisible. Knew that feeling all too well.  

He looked up at me, and he had that look in his blue eyes. Fear. He had a scar on his upper lip, when he saw me looking at it, he self-consciously reached his hand up to cover it.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not judging,” I smiled.  

He stared and I sat down.  

The other boy, the weak one, said, “that’s Eli. A man of few words. I’m Demetri.”  

“Nice to meet you guys.” I said my name.  

“You know,” Demetri smiled, his eyes glittering. “Eli was talking about you before you came over here. I think it’s fate.”  

Eli groaned. “Shut up, Demetri! I was not!”  

A quiet, cowardly voice. I was that person once.  

I chuckled. “It wasn’t mean, was it? If it was, I might have to beat your ass.”  

I raised my brows at the blue-eyed boy.  He shook his head quickly.  

“No! I wouldn’t.”  

Demetri laughed. “Nah., He thought you were pretty, though.” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.  

Eli quickly covered his face with his hands. “Demetri!”  

I held back a smile. “You’ll have to take a number, then. I got men and women linin’ up for me.”  

I leaned back against the chair, laughing at my own joke.  

“I’m sure,” Demetri rolled his eyes.

“Hey! You don’t believe me? Loser. Tch.”  

I heard a chuckle and looked over toward Eli. He was laughing.  

My heart jumped. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. He’s just a boy.  

“Oh, did I make the man of few words laugh? Guess you’ll have to pay me now.”

“Pay you? For what?” Eli shook his head, still laughing.  

“For my comedic services, obviously. It’s hard being this funny.”  

He smacks his teeth. “Oh, yeah? So, there isn’t a 101 Funny Jokes book in your bag?”  

I gasp, pretending to be hurt. “How could you? Getting my amazing jokes from a book? I’m just natural.”  

I looked over to Demetri, waiting for his sarcastic reply. Instead, he was silent, looking over my shoulder. He elbowed Eli.  

“Shh! Kyler’s coming over here.”  

Eli went silent as well, going back to his shell.  

I laughed. “Kyler. Who the fuck names their kid Kyler? Kinda feel bad for the dude.”  

Demetri made pleading eyes with me, mouthing, “shut up!”

“I see you guys have made an addition to the loser table,” a voice said behind me, laughing.  

I turned. “Who the fuck you calling a loser? Have you looked into the mirror lately?” I sneered at him. He had a pathetic Mohawk, black hair. His face looked punchable.  

“Hey!” Demetri whisper-yelled. “You’re gonna get your ass beat.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” I dismissed him with my hand. “Like to see this bitch try.”  

“I see you have an attitude, bitch. Looks like I need to put you in your place,” Kyler said and I stood up, grinning.  

“I’ve heard worse, from better.” I spat. “Fuck outta here.”  

“I don’t take orders from cripples.” He laughed, signaling his goons. “Get her.”  

Cripple. Cripple. He called me a cripple. I’ve heard that word so many times you’d think it wouldn’t affect me by now.  But it does.  

“You’re DEAD!” I snarled, with such hate in my voice, they all took a step back. “Fucking dead.”  

I walked towards him; his eyes full of surprise. Someone must’ve never told him off.  

I reared my fist back, using all my might and hit him square in the nose. He stumbled back, surprised and fell on his ass. While he was down, I straddled him, making sure he couldn’t get up. I balled my fist again, this time hitting the side of his face. I planned to break his teeth.  

I don’t know how many times I hit him. Next thing I knew, I was staring at a white ceiling. I looked around blinking.  

My head was pounding and my left hand felt broken.  

“What the...”  

“You’re awake. You passed out after the fight. You broke Kyler’s nose and knocked out three of his teeth. Suspended on the first day of school,” a woman said next to me.  

I looked over and saw a name tag, Nurse Kathy. An old lady, her hair graying. Her eyes were tired.  

I smacked my teeth, sitting up. “Only three teeth?”  

She gasped. “Are you serious? You did some serious damage, young lady! You should apologize to Kyler.”

I looked at her, and scoffed, “he’s a damn bully. I’m not apologizing for shit. When someone calls me a... cripple...” I grimaced. “They deserve everything they get from me.”  

“It’s just a word,” she replied.  

I whipped my head towards her and stood up. “So, if I call you a cunt, it’s just a word, right?”  

Her mouth formed an O shape and I ground my teeth together. “I'll take my leave.”

“Hey!” She yelled, “you can’t just leave!”

I ignored her, walking out. I had to find Eli and Demetri anyway.  

===

“Hey! Eli, Demetri!”  

They were standing at the bus stop, talking quickly.  

 “What the fuck was that? Now they’re gonna be aft-”  

“Demetri, shut up. She saved our asses. You should be thanking her.”  

I was surprised at Eli’s interruption of Demetri, and even more surprised when he put his arms around my waist, hugging me.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “Thank you.”  

“Y... you’re welcome? Um... I...”  

“What is it?” Eli separates himself from me, his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”  

I nod my head. “Yes. I just wanted to say, I know what it’s like.”  

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, so I continue speaking.  

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of every person around you. Thinking they might make fun of you. I know what it’s like to want to give anything to change, one, single part of you. You’d give anything and everything, I know.”  

He brings his hand up to his lip again, but I grab his wrist.  “Don’t. It’s cool.”  

“You don’t know anything,” he sneers and I step back.

“Eli-”  

“Get away from me! You don’t know shit!”  

He turns and grabs Demetri’s arm. “Let’s go.”  

Demetri looks back at me, worried. I smile and jerk my head, signaling for him to go. I sigh.  

“Alone, once again,” I mumble.  

Do things ever change?

Eli

The girl’s words swirled in my head while laying on my bed. I was restless.  “I know what it’s like to want to give anything to change, one, single part of you.”  

My mind went back to her leg. Is that what she was talking about? Her limp? Kyler’s face comes to view in my mind. “I don’t take orders from cripples.”

When he said that... I almost got up. I was angry. But then, I saw her face. I saw that flash of grief in her eyes before it turned to rage. A rage that scared me to the core. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt horrible for saying those things to her. I should’ve known better. She’s probably the only person in the school who understands how I really feel.  

Sure, Demetri relates. But he doesn’t understand. To not be able to cover up something you’ve had your whole life. You’d give anything and everything. Like she said.  

I groaned and rolled over, her face occupying my dreams.  

===

“Hey! Lip! Fuck-face.” I heard Kyler’s voice and groaned internally, but kept walking through the halls.  

“Guess your little cripple girlfriend isn’t here to help you now,” he mocked. I was pulled backward and my back slammed against a locker. I looked down.  

“She isn’t a cripple,” I mumbled.  

“What’d you say?” Kyler taunted.  

I thought for a moment. When she fought against Kyler, I was jealous. Jealous of how confident she was, how she carried herself as she walked over to our table. How easily the word fuck and bitch came out of her mouth. I thought of what she said.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not judging.”  

“Don’t. It’s cool.”

I thought of her eyes. The fire in them, that immediately drew me in, like a moth to a flame. I wanted to have that flame too.  

I want that flame too.  

“I said, she isn’t a cripple. You, on the other hand... she crippled your fuckin’ face.” I grinned.  

Kyler’s eyes widened, at least he tried to widen them, he had a black eye, the side of his face purple. His bottom lip was swollen.  

“I’m gonna fucking ki-”  

“Hey! Do I really gotta beat you to a pulp, AGAIN? Have you not learned your lesson, boy?”  

I looked over Kyler’s shoulder and saw the one and only. Was it just me, or had she gotten prettier overnight?

I shook my head.  

Kyler was silent as he ran off. She flicked him off behind his back before turning to me and I looked down.  

“Where’d that boost of confidence come from, Eli? I like it.” She grinned at me, putting her hand under my chin to lift up my head.

“Did he hurt you?” She examined my face with her prying eyes, and I went hot.  

“N-no...” I turned my neck, to get away from her curious look.  

She frowned. “What’s the matter? Your face is all red.”  

I took a deep breath and looked at her. She was inspecting me. “You aren’t, um, mad at me for yesterday?”  

She beamed at me. “No, dummy. I probably... went too far. I mean, I had just met you and I was already scrutinizing you. So, I’m sorry.”  

“No, don’t apologize. I was rude. I should be sorry.” I smiled sheepishly at her.  

She chuckled. “Nah. Let’s get to class. No apologizing.”  

“But-”  

“No buts either!” She laughed.  

I laughed with her. “Alright. Can I at least thank you for saving my ass?”

“You can pay me. No, I’m kidding. But seriously, where’d that confidence come from? ‘She crippled your fuckin’ face?’ That was cool as hell.” She looked at me expectantly.  

“It came from you.” I spoke. “The confidence. I’m honestly jealous of how confident you carry yourself. How do you do it?”  

She burst out laughing. “Hmm... A magician never reveals their secrets.”  

“Oh, come on! Please...!” I playfully pouted, making puppy dog eyes and she giggled.  

“Who cares? We’re all gonna die, you know. So, why give a flying fuck about people who won’t matter in 5 years... Except they’ll remember you, as the person who put them in their place.”  

She grinned and her eyes, honestly, scared me. They were cold and dark.  

She raised her eyebrows. “Hell, in a few years, those same people might even be working for you. They’ll call you Boss. And you’ll give them their pay. Bullies are pathetic and insecure. Are you really gonna let little bitches affect you? Put them in their place.”  

I stared at her.  

“You are the coolest person I’ve ever met.” I blurted.  

She looked surprised before chuckling. “I know. Anyways, I gotta get to class, mmkay? Think about what I said, real hard. It’ll be hard, at first, changing your mindset; but once you do, it’ll be the best thing you ever did, you know, besides meeting me.” She giggled and I scoffed playfully. “Adieu.”  

I watched her walk away.  

Time to flip the script.  

~~~

yes this is sort of a self insert cuz no one writes for bitches with limps. except me cuz i am one. yea, ur welcome. also im in love with hawks. *punches him in the face with love*