#I DREW HER FROM MEMORY OK?!?!?

[hoomanexploded]

Doodles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[italictext]

Desperately fighting back the urge to reread the land of stories :( So here have some doodles I made :>

[indigo6f00ff]

my friend posted an online whiteboard in our discord server so i went and put this on it,

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

sick of clones who are "fake" or "evil" or "imposters." clones exist in real life and are simply unusually genetically identical to their parent/genetic donor. here is the evil clone you are looking for:

"clones" identical twins? you are describing identical twins with a birth delay

[crushpunky]

drew tells a story about actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this one’s a bit short, but it was suggested and i thought it was really cute so yk i had to write it. based off of drew’s recent esquire interview <3

“Your audition tape for Queer was a slam dunk, can you tell us what you did for the tape?” Drew read the question card.

“Oh, this is actually a funny story.” Drew laughed to himself, crossing his legs. “The first one I had my good friend Rudy Pankow help me tape it. I usually have my girlfriend help me, but she was shooting at the time.”

“One of the scenes was me in bed, I believe, and so Rudy came to my apartment,” Drew explained, speaking dramatically with his hands, “and I had my camera and tripod set up and I was laying in the bed, kinda sort-of framing myself and he came in was like… ‘so what are we doing’?”

Drew laughed, “and I told him, ‘just trust me, ok, I need your help’. Then, as if it couldn’t get any more suspicious, my wonderful girlfriend, y/n, gets back from shooting and walks into our room to find me and Rudy on our bed with the camera set up.”

“I was like, ‘babe I promise this is not what it looks like, I’m just filming an audition’, but she was already like on the floor, crying and laughing.” Drew grinned at the memory, the site of y/n’s smile and adorable laughter playing in his mind.

“But, I appreciate him for helping me with that… and y/n for not freaking out at the strange site she walked in on.” Drew laughed, flipping to the next card.

“Oh, speak of the devil, your good friend y/n y/ln was quoted saying, ‘Drew is probably the scariest sweetheart you’ll ever meet’,” Drew blushed as he read, “what is it like finding the balance between ‘scary’ and ‘sweetheart’ roles?”

The quote was from an interview when someone asked y/n if she ever felt intimidated or even scared working opposite Drew as the big bad Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks. While the scenes between their characters on OBX would certainly get intense at times, it wasn’t very often she was “scared” of Drew. After all, she knew her boyfriend better than anyone else and knew the big heart hiding behind his imposing exterior.

“Wow, I’d like to thank my ‘good friend’ y/n y/ln for that wonderful quote.” Drew grinned, scratching his jaw bashfully. “Well I certainly like to challenge myself, and y’know depending on where I am, that could come in the form of more intense roles or more grounded or more kinda… soft? I don’t know. Y/n says I need to be in a rom com, so maybe that’ll be the next step after this.”

[betterthanyalls]

Can u do a Reader x epic various where y/n is apart of Ody's crew and during the end of thunder bringer Zeus kidnaps y/n and takes them to Olympus instead of letting them either drown or get washed up onto Calypso's island?🥰🥰🤩🤩 It'd be cool if during God games or something Athena finds out what Zeus did and now instead of the games being just to free Ody from Calypso's island, it's ALSO about freeing y/n from Olympus and reuniting them with Odysseus?? Sorry if this doesn't make sense or if it's too much work lol, just write this however you want if you even wanna write it at all teehee ^^"

blinks i think i went through 37 different emotions while writing this, most of them were bad. Ok so, I'm not sure how good this is but please don't kill me😇 TW: Zeus gives reader Ganymede treatment

Part 2

Masterlist

Stolen Soldier

Various (kind of) x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Angst

Words: 1.6K

Published: 11-4-2024

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

Thunder roared, winds whipped, and waves rocked the lone ship back and forth. Standing on the bow of the ship was a figure of divine power and presence, waiting with a wicked grin. “Choose,” the king of the gods demanded harshly.

“Choose?” Odysseus muttered, looking at Zeus in fear. “Someone’s got to die today, and you have got the final say. You,” he pointed to Odysseus before gesturing to the rest of the crew, “or your crew.”

The captain looked to his crew, locking eyes with Y/n—his best friend, his rock, his shelter. He took a shaky breath, looking back to Zeus in desperation.

“Please don’t make me do this; don’t make me do this,” Odysseus begged. His mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. Looking back at his crew, he saw a range of emotions: anger, hurt, terror, grief, and more. Taking a daring glance at his closest friend, the soldier felt his heart shatter. Holding back tears, Y/n gave him a hesitant nod to show it was ok.

Then, a new voice tore his gaze away from his crew. Looking out over the sea and to the clouds, a figure of familiarity seemed to take place within the clouds. Illusion or not, that was his wife.

Penelope. Odysseus took staggering steps across the shaking boat and to the edge. Both of his hands latched to the wooden railing, his eyes never moving from the clouded position of his partner. Memories flooded his judgment, from his crew and Y/n, to his family waiting for him. “Captain?” A voice of uncertainty spoke up. Eurylochus. The said captain couldn’t even dare face his right-hand man as the sky darkened and Penelope faded back to the clouds.

“I have to see her," Odysseus whispered, tears brimming in his eyes as he finally looked back at his crew. The general saw all of the hurt and betrayal in his men’s expressions. The fear hurt the most to see. “But we’ll die,” Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus knew he would regret this option until his final breath. Once he got home, how would he tell Ctimene he was the cause of her husband's death? “I know,” Odysseus’ voice broke, a few stray droplets not belonging to the storm washed down his cheeks. 

At the end of those words, the thunder roared, and Zeus grinned evilly. Zeus rose above the clouds, lightning moving to gather in his raised hand.

“Thunder, bring her through the wringer.” The crew drew their weapons in defense, charging towards Odysseus with murderous intent. Y/n stood away from the fight, not daring to lift any sort of weapon against her best friend.

“Show her I'm the judgment call. The one who makes her kingdom fall. Lightning, wield her, use and yield her.” 

As the crew closed in on their captain, the air started to become tense and electrified. Y/n took a step back from the chaos, looking up to see a phenomenon of heavenly power. “Show her what she can’t conceal; her true nature will be revealed.”

A bright light enclosed the surrounding sky, ripping down to the center of the ship. In an instant, a deafening crack sounded, and all light faded to black. Y/n felt like her soul was being ripped apart as she opened her mouth to scream her pain, but no noise came out. Then she felt a drop, only to be brought into a suffocating embrace of cold. Finally, her mind cut out. ~~~~~ Y/n felt different. She didn’t sense the shivering water anymore, but instead a subtle warmth. It took a few minutes, but eventually she managed to peek open her eyes. Y/n wasn’t on a ship in the middle of the sea with the night sky above anymore, but instead there was a grand painting on the ceiling of white marble overhead. Looking around slowly, the young woman saw an unfamiliar scene.

A lavish bedroom surrounded her, furnishings a king could only dream of sitting like average decor in each nook and cranny. Moving her hands, Y/n felt the silk sheets of a glorious bed below her. Ivory blankets fell from her body as she slowly rose up from her position. Placing her feet on the cold marble flooring, the mortal stepped through the room. It wasn’t long before she found herself in front of a floor-length mirror. 

White and gold fabric draped down on her body—a dress fit for a goddess of divine origin. Confusion clouded her eyes as she scanned her new attire. That puzzlement was quickly replaced with fear as two wooden doors opened, revealing an even more confusing sight.

A tall man wearing a white toga entered the room without a care of knocking. Striding to where Y/n stood, she instinctively took steps back from him. “My dear, why do you back away?” The smile on his face was unnerving, especially with the nickname. Y/n recognized that voice immediately, terror coursing through her veins as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

“Zeus.”

The god in question continued to walk towards her with that two-faced smile until he backed the mortal into a wall. “Mmm, you’re as smart as you are beautiful,” he took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Y/n shuddered in disgust and fear; her heart raced faster than a chariot racer's steeds. She wanted to push him away, but her body felt locked in place. Y/n tried to speak, but her lips were closed tightly like a stone wall. “Hm, dear, I think I know a dress that’d fit your body much better. Let me help.”

~~~~~

Within only the second morning of the Heavenly Palace, Y/n had the overwhelming urge to jump off. But she wouldn’t be allowed such a pleasure with the god at her side. Zeus had taken it upon himself to guide the mortal on a tour through Olympus, which only influenced her thoughts. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Zeus every second. Not out of intrigue or anything of that sort, but of apprehension. Each movement of his that was near her direction, the mortal would tense up and pause everything. Soon enough, the king of Olypmus noticed and grinned with faux comfort. “Dear, you seem tense. Allow me to ease you.” ~~~~~ Day after day. Weeks after week. Zeus never let Y/n leave his side, threatening any god or goddess who even dared to give her a sympathetic glance. The woman was a shell of who she once was. Her eyes sunk and her soul depleted; she felt her life draining by the day. Not in mortality-wise, no Zeus would never let her perish. But in consideration of her spirit.

Each night she would cry until no more salt would leave, leaving only choking sobs. Each night she was infiltrated by the king of Olympus. Y/n would stare at herself in the mirror, vomit building in her throat as her eyes trailed down to every mark on her body. No spot was untouched. No matter how hard she tried, Y/n could never wash off the sin. The mortal would scrub her skin until she was raw and bleeding, but the phantom touches remained.

Each night she missed her home and friends more and more. Where was Odysseus now? Did he forget all about her when he returned to Ithaca? What about Penelope? Would she miss her best friend? 

Seven years. Seven years of misery, force, and agony. Seven years of physical and mental torture she endured to no fault.

But soon, like all stories, her savior arrived. ~~~~~

Athena stood in front of her father, spear and shield in hand, while staring into the king’s eyes murderously.

“I’ve played your game and won. Release them,” the goddess of wisdom demanded, shifting her gaze to where Y/n stood anxiously beside Zeus’ throne. The mortal had gone through so much, and Athena was determined to save her. 

Zeus glowered down at his daughter, rage covering his expression. “You dare to defy me? To make me feel shame?” He growled, his fists clenching so tight that his knuckles turned a bright alabaster. “No one beats me; no one wins my game!”

The lightning god stood up threateningly, his hands glowing a static yellow. “Thunder, bring her through the wringer!” The air was caught in Y/n’s throat at the familiar words, her eyes wide in horror. Zeus rose up, the electricity in his hands growing as the woman noticed the alarmed looks on the other god’s expressions. “Show her I’m the judgment call, the one who makes her kingdom FALL!” With a vociferous burst, he threw the lightning at his daughter, forcing her back onto the floor. Once the light faded, everyone looked to see the warrior lying face down, her body still as ice. “Is she dead?” the voice of her brother Ares asked hesitantly. Y/n thought back to every moment her and Odysseus had been with Athena. They were an unstoppable force together. Now though, Y/n only wanted to rush to the goddess side.  Before anyone could do anything, Athena struggled to her feet, holding her aegis in defense while pointing the spear tip to her father.

Zeus’ look of utter shock soon turned to rage at her defiance. In response, he sent a barrage of bolts towards his favorite child. Against this attack, the war patroness held her shield strong and pushed against the force, making her way to her father.

Finally, at the feet of the king, she grabbed his arm and fell to her knees.

“Let them go, please. Let them go.” Her plea was finished as the goddess collapsed, her breath slowing to a stop.

[hotchnersangel]

SPORTS CAR

Aaron Hotchner.

a/n: obsesseddddd w this song and Hotch recently soooo… first upload pls don’t judge me ok ily

warnings: allusions to sex, age-gap, richhhh hotch (yummy), idrk what else just enjoy.

Seeing the bau in casual clothing felt foreign, it was such an odd feeling to see the professionals you spend majority of your hours in the day with less professional and more… humane. More so with Aaron Hotchner, the teams unit chief. Goddamn was he a vision in his suits, but my god, you never knew how much you needed to see him in jeans.

The bau had planned a day out together, to create some time and memories not involving horrific crimes. They arranged to meet at Rossi’s mansion and so thats where you were, gathered outside chatting to Em and Rossi when a sleek all black sports car rolls into his driveway, you eye it skeptically, expecting Morgan to appear but when it stops and you see who gets out, you freeze.

Aaron Hotchner, in jeans, like you were, strolling up to the group of you. Rossi and Emily whistling as he neared, pressing the lock button without even looking. The breath was knocked out of your chest, damn that was hot. His sunglasses perched perfectly on his face.

“Damn Hotch, sweet ride.” Emily praises, gawking at the car.

“Thank you,” he says courteously, nodding at her.

“I think i need some of this pay check you’re getting,” you joke, smirking at him. He looks so very rich right now.

“We don’t have a large difference, darling.” He shoots nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he stands opposite you.

“Honey,” you shoot back giving him a look, “I certainly don’t have the disposable income for this baby.” You admire the car.

“I can give you a ride later if you’d like,” he shrugs casually, “I’ll drop you home.”

You agree, no way are you declining a ride involving Hotch.

After a lovely evening spent with the team, you were content and happy with the outcome of your day. Though you couldn’t stop thinking about Hotch, every time he spoke, everytime he laughed, when he smiled you had to squeeze your thighs together subtly. The evening drew to a close and Aaron continued his offer to give you a lift home.

You walk out of Rossi’s mansion and follow Hotch to his car. He opens the door for you. “After you, ma’am.”

You bite your lip as you get in, looking around at the luxurious interior which somehow even felt humble despite this car being worth more than your apartment probably. “I feel extra luxurious today. A mansion, a sports car, i could get used to this.”

He smirks as he gets in, turning the engine on. “The FBI has clearly been doing well this year.” He jokes and you huff a laughter.

“I never thought you were the type for a sports car,” you say, looking over at him. He looks back.

“How come?” He implies, his hand on the gears, making you salivate a bit more than usual. “Hm?”

“You just- you’re so rich and you never show it.” You shrug, looking how dangerously close his hand is to your thigh.

He laughs, genuinely laughs. “It was my dream car as a kid, I thought if i could buy at least one thing for selfish reasons- it can be this.”

“Damn right, it’s hot.” You say boldly.

“The car? Or me?” He smirks and catches your eye again as he pulls into a drive through. “See, I’m keeping humble.”

“You.” You breathe out and look as he enters the drive through.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks you with a smirk.

You order your meals and sit in the parking lot, an isolated lot but he still parks in the shadows. You sit and eat your meals, occasionally looking over at Hotch who keeps stealing dips from your sauce. One time however, he spills it on the seat of your chair.

“Fuck, Hotch.” You panic, getting ready to apologise.

“No worries, I’ll get it cleaned.” He says calmly, counteracting your panic.

“But-“

“It’s literally my mess, sweetheart.” He gives you a pointed look and smirks.

“Well, now i have to sit in the sauce.” You shoot sassily and he smirks.

“There’s hardly anything on it.”

“Yeah there is,” you point at it and shift in your seat. “Guess we will have to share one seat.” You smirk at him, his eyes darkening.

“We can share one seat, honey.” He moves his food out of the way, patting his lap. You smirk as you climb over the centre console and straddle his waist, resting all your weight on your knees. His hands grip your waist and slowly make their way to your face, sensually dragging over your sides. Your knees go weak, losing all composure which makes you drop onto his lap. Your core touching his. At this, you both let out a sigh.

“Fuck.” You sigh, moving your hands to his chest. “Cute jeans by the way.” You smirk at him.

“Thank you.” He nods curtly, pulling you closer.

You arch your back until you’re close to his ear. “Take mine off me.”

You pull back, biting your lip. His eyes widen with surprise at your boldness, but soon fade into a large smirk as his hands move into your hair. “You want this?”

You nod desperately, not meaning to come across so needy. “For a while.”

“Me too, baby.” He says pulling you closer to him and brushing his lips against yours. The kiss started soft and emotionally connected but soon turned passionate. His hands move over your spine and then back into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail then tugging at it. This action made you gasp into the kiss where he then let his tongue slip into your mouth.

You both pull away for some air and he looks up at you, “you wanna do this here?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I don’t care, in the alley, in the back- in the center of a room, with all of these windows rolled down.”

He looks up at you, pecking your lips. “And which would you prefer, darling?”

“Boy, don’t make me choose.” You retort, giving him a look and he pulls you closer by your top.

“I’m far from a boy darling,” he looks into your eyes.

“Show me then.” You retort.

He pulls you back into a kiss, his hands falling down your back, groping at the skin until they fall on the lower side and push you forwards, his hands resting on your behind, occasionally groping at the skin. You let out a small moan into the kiss and he stops.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He mumbles but doesn’t move.

“Have you got a girlfriend or something?” You shoot back, concerned to his answer at the positioning of you over his hardened crotch and the tight grip he has on your ass.

“No.”

“So you ain’t got no Mrs? What is holding you back then?” You ask, whispering in his ear again and placing a kiss on his neck. He sighs at the feeling.

“I’m your boss.” He says and you kiss his neck again.

“Mhm,” you hum into his skin and you gently suck at the skin.

“I’m almost double your age.” He states, and you don’t pull back but more desperately lapse your tongue on the skin.

“Carry on…”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I sure hope it is.” You giggle against his side earning a stifled laugh.

“I’m serious. I think you just think you want this, but you won’t actually.” He says seriously.

“Yet your hand is still groping my arse.” You say looking at him. “I think you wanna…” you trail off and roll your hips over his, grinding against his clothed erection.

You both let out a strangled moan, realising how much you are in need of this.

“Unless… you wanna do it on your own while you’re looking at me.” You look up at him innocently and flutter your eyelashes.

You’re cut off by Aaron’s hands desperately pulling you closer and certainly there was a few rounds in this ride for you both.

————————

[arcana-greenleaf]

Ok, ok, I hope you don't mind another. Your writing is just amazing and the way you write the characters is just PERFECTION!!

I've had this one idea floating around and I'm itching to share it!

A girl ends up in Volterra after deciding to go on a solo trip. She's mated to either Alec or Demetri or maybe even Felix(I'm open!) BUT the twist is this: she is Aro's great(however far down the line) niece. I'm thinking something about her triggers his memories of his human family(I know Marcus was with his sister but I'm thinking one sibling survived and stayed human).

I'd love for her to be a bookwormish type of girl again, maybe she traveled there to see the historic sites or something and ends up being pulled into something supernatural!

I hope this makes sense! I appreciate all you've done so far! 😭😭😭

Hey hey!! I’m so sorry for the long wait I got super busy with exams, Valentine’s Day, and some family things. Hopefully, this chapter meets your expectations! As a history student, I really enjoyed writing the historical elements hehe. :) I focused mostly on Aro and his long-lost niece because I loved the concept and wanted to establish it properly, but I’m totally open to doing a part two where I explore the romance between the reader and their chosen character. That’s all from me for now and thank you so much for requesting, as always! <3<3

The cobbled streets of Volterra were everything she had dreamed of. Ancient, winding, whispering with the ghosts of the past. Ivy clung to weathered stone, the scent of fresh bread and aged parchment drifted from open-air cafés, and the warm Tuscan sun bathed the city in gold. She adjusted her glasses, brushing a stray curl from her face as she studied the guidebook in her hands. She had spent years dreaming about this solo trip, pouring over history books, sketching maps in the margins of her notebooks. It was an escape and an indulgence in everything she loved. History. Literature. The stories that old places told if one only listened closely enough. And Volterra, one of Italy’s most ancient cities, promised plenty of stories. The city was steeped in history, dating back to the Etruscans. She had always found herself drawn to ruins, to places where the past lingered in the air. This was her chance to walk in the footsteps of scholars and poets, of conquerors and commoners, of those long forgotten yet eternally present in the walls that surrounded her. She had spent the morning exploring the Museo Etrusco Guarnacci, marveling at the funerary urns and their intricately carved lids depicting figures frozen in time.

Now, she wandered aimlessly, allowing the city to guide her. What she never imagined was stepping into a story of her own. The feeling started subtly at first – a prickle on the back of her neck, the uncanny sensation of being watched. She dismissed it as the natural unease of being alone in a foreign place, but the weight of unseen eyes never left her. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, but the bustling streets carried only tourists and locals, none of whom paid her any special attention. Still, the feeling persisted. She chalked it up to paranoia. Or maybe jet lag. She had barely slept the night before, too giddy with excitement. That, combined with the heavy heat, was bound to play tricks on her mind. Her feet led her through the Piazza dei Priori, the heart of the city. She let her fingers trail along the cool stone of an archway, pausing before an iron-wrought gate leading into what she assumed was an administrative building. The emblem above it was an ornate crest that drew her in, the design strangely familiar in a way she couldn’t place. She turned away, intending to continue her exploration, when she collided with something, or rather someone, solid. A chill raced down her spine. The man before her was unnaturally still, his crimson eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He was tall, statuesque, with dark hair and an aristocratic air that made him seem like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting. “I- ” she began, but the man tilted his head, lips curving in a way that sent every nerve in her body on high alert. “Interesting,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “You have quite the resemblance to someone.” As he spoke she could feel it – some tether snapping into place, something irrevocable settling in the marrow of her bones. His gaze darkened, nostrils flaring as if drinking in her very essence. She didn’t understand the weight of the moment, but he did. “You should come with me,” he said, voice gentle, but there was no mistaking it for anything but a command. She took a step back. “Excuse me?” Before she could blink, another figure materialized beside the first, this one even more regal, draped in flowing black robes. His skin was translucent, his long fingers steepled in thought as he studied her. “Aro,” the first man murmured, as though she were an offering presented before a king. The second man, Aro, gazed at her in silence. Then as if compelled he reached for her hand. She jerked back on instinct, but something in the way his expression flickered made her pause. “You…” Aro whispered, his voice barely audible. His crimson eyes burned with something she couldn’t name. “I know you.” A cold dread settled in her stomach. “That’s impossible.” Aro’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and in that moment, she knew her fate had already been sealed. She had come to Volterra to touch history. She hadn’t expected history to touch back.

______________________________________________________________

In the hours that followed, she found herself swept away and led through a labyrinth of hidden corridors beneath Volterra. The walls dripped with age and the air was thick with something ancient, something beyond time. She should have been afraid, should have been struggling, screaming, demanding an explanation but instead, she walked in silence, her mind whirring. They finally arrived at a vast chamber where two more men were waiting. The silence in the chamber was suffocating. Aro stood before her, fingers still tingling from the momentary contact with her skin. His expression remained unreadable, though a storm brewed behind his red eyes. He turned slightly, exchanging a glance with Marcus and Caius, who observed the scene with varying degrees of interest. “My dear,” Aro’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “Do you have any idea who you are?” The question sent a shiver through her. “I’m just… me,” she answered hesitantly. “I came here for a vacation, to see the historical sites.” Aro let out a low chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, fate is truly a fascinating thing.” He stepped closer, tilting his head. “You are more than a tourist. You carry the blood of my family, the last thread to a past long buried.” She shook her head, heart hammering. “That’s not possible.” “Oh, but it is.” His voice was velvet and as he circled her his robes whispered against the marble floor. “Centuries ago, before I chose this life, before immortality, I had a family. A sister.” His eyes darkened. “She did not join me on this path. She remained human. And her bloodline, it seems, has endured the test of time.” The words hit her like a blow. Aro, this ancient, powerful being was claiming her as kin. “You are my descendant, my blood,” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “How extraordinary.” The weight of his words sank in, a dizzying sensation overtaking her. Her entire reality had shifted in an instant. She wasn’t just another tourist. She wasn’t just a visitor admiring Volterra’s beauty. She was tied to something far older, far darker than she had ever imagined. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe. This had to be a mistake. “I don’t-” She struggled to form the words, to make sense of the impossible. “I don’t understand. How can you be sure?” Aro’s lips curled into something resembling a smile, but there was something almost wistful in his expression. “My dear, I have seen many things in my years but there are certain truths one does not question.” He lifted a pale hand, as if tempted to touch her again but refrained. “When I took your hand, I saw pieces of the past, fragments of what once was. The resemblance alone is uncanny, but the blood… it does not lie.” Marcus, who had been watching in silence, shifted slightly in his throne. His expression was unreadable, yet his eyes bore into her with a depth that made her uneasy. “It has been a long time since Aro has spoken of his human ties,” his voice barely above a whisper. “This is… unexpected.” Caius, on the other hand, did not look as pleased. His lips curled in distaste, his crimson gaze sharp with suspicion. “Blood does not always make one family,” he murmured barely sparing her a glance. “What does it matter? She is human. Fragile.” Aro didn’t seem perturbed by his Caius' dismissiveness. Instead, he clasped his hands together, his eyes still locked onto her. “Oh, but this changes everything, dear Caius. She is the last of my mortal lineage. A thread connecting me to the past I had thought lost forever.” His voice filled with admiration, and it made her stomach twist. The sheer gravity of the situation was suffocating.

This morning, she had been an ordinary traveller exploring the streets of an ancient city, marvelling at its history. Now, she was standing in the heart of something far older, something secret and dangerous. “I- I don’t know what you want from me,” she admitted, voice unsteady. “I’m not… I’m not special.” Aro chuckled, shaking his head as if the very idea amused him. “Oh, but you are, dear one. You are proof that my past did not die with my humanity. You are a living remnant of a life I thought lost to the sands of time.” His gaze softened, something almost warm flickering in his ancient eyes. “And I would see you protected.” Protected. The word rang in her ears like a warning. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Protected,” she echoed warily. “From what?” Aro exchanged a glance with Marcus before answering. “From the world, my dear. And from those who might seek to exploit what you are.” A chill ran down her spine. “And what exactly am I?” Aro stepped closer, his presence both commanding and unnerving. “You are my kin,” he said simply. “And that is not a thing I take lightly.” She searched his face for any sign of deception, for some hint of ulterior motive, but all she found was certainty. Whatever this was, whatever he saw in her, he truly believed it. And that terrified her. Alec and Felix, who had been standing in silent observation after entering the chamber, finally moved. Alec’s curious gaze lingered on her. Felix, on the other hand, exhaled sharply and smirked. “So, what now?” he asked, his deep voice breaking the tension. “Do we add ‘long-lost niece’ to the official Volterra records?” Caius scoffed. “This is a distraction.” Aro only smiled, clearly unfazed by his displeasure. “This is an opportunity,” he corrected smoothly. Then, turning his full attention back to her he gestured toward the grand chamber. “You must be exhausted, my dear. We have much to discuss, but you will need time to process all you have learned.” She hesitated. Was that an order or a suggestion? Her body screamed for rest, for a moment to breathe and process the sheer impossibility of what had happened. But the logical part of her mind, the part that still clung to reason, knew she wasn’t leaving. Not yet. Maybe not ever. With a deep breath, she nodded. “I… I think I need to sit down.” Aro’s smile widened, his crimson gaze gleaming with something unreadable. “Then allow me to extend my hospitality, dear one. You are, after all, family.” And as the doors to the chamber closed behind her, she knew with unsettling certainty that her life would never be the same again.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hey Jude

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: based off of 12x11, but you lose your memory instead of Dean.

You cried out in pain and surprise as the witch blew a strange dark powder into your face and you staggered back into the wall.

“Hey!” Dean turned suddenly when he heard your distress, and he lifted his gun and fired off three rounds of witch-killing bullets into the woman that hurt his little sister.

“You ok?” Sam asked, helping you straighten up and glancing down at the witch to make sure she was dead.

“Fine.” You shook yourself and did a once over—no extra limbs, no pain, nothing. “I’m fine. The witch is dead, so whatever she threw at me won’t work.”

“We should get going,” Dean said. “If you’re sure you’re ok.”

“I’m sure.”

…

“This place isn’t half bad,” you spoke up as the Impala pulled into a motel. Your brows drew together in confusion as Dean pulled up in front of a room. “Don’t we need to check in?”

“We’ve…been here for two days,” Sam said, turning in his seat and frowning at you. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh…nothing,” you mumbled shyly, suddenly both confused and embarrassed. Why didn’t you remember? “Never mind.”

“I’m gonna give Rowena a call,” Sam said as the three of you entered your motel room. “She said there was a whole coven here, but we’ve only taken out two witches—maybe she can help us track down the rest.”

“Who?” You asked, trying to wrap your brain around the name, familiar yet somehow foreign—was it another hunter?

“Rowena…” Dean said, seemingly baffled by your question. “Red head witch? Irish, or Scottish, or whatever?” Dean goggled at you, but you just stared back blankly. “Seriously, are you joking?”

“No…” you were confused. Clearly your brothers couldn’t know this “Rowena” too well, otherwise you would remember her. So why did Dean care so much if you did? “Am I supposed to know her?”

“We saw her just last week,” Sam said, watching you carefully. “You know, Crowley’s mother?”

“Crowley?” This name felt more familiar to you, but still you couldn’t quite grasp it. “Crowley…” you mumbled again, as if repeating it would somehow bring a face to mind.

“Now I know you’re kidding,” Dean scoffed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t understand,” you said, looking from Sam to Dean and back again.

“You know Crowley,” Sam said. “You know Rowena, too. Why can’t—“ Sam’s eyes widened suddenly in horror. “That…that stuff the witch threw at you.”

“You mean Rowena?” You remembered that Sam—or was it Dean?—has just said that Rowena was a witch.

“What? No,” Dean said to you before turning to Sam. “What about it? You think maybe it messed with her memory? Made her forget about witches, or something?”

“That doesn’t explain why she forgot Crowley,” Sam countered. “Maybe it’s made her forget the supernatural world.”

“Supernatural,” you spoke up, desperate to prove that you hadn’t forgotten. “Like ghosts. We hunt ghosts. I haven’t forgotten, see?”

Dean’s brows crinkled in confusion.

“Then I don’t understand…”

“Let’s call Rowena,” Sam suggested. “She’ll know what this is.”

…

“Oh dear,” Rowena’s sigh of disappointment got the attention of the Winchester brothers; however, you were distracted playing with Dean’s gun on his bed.

“What is it?” Dean demanded.

“It’s definitely a memory spell.” Rowena sighed again. “This spell…it will make her memory fade piece by piece, until she can’t remember anything.”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“Anything. Not you, not even herself. Soon enough she’ll forget how to eat, how to…how to breathe. And then…” Rowena let her voice trail off, her point having been made.

“Ok, then fix it,” Dean insisted.

“It’s not that simple. I need the grimoire—the spell book used to make that powder—if I’m going to be able to undo it.”

“And how are we supposed to find that?” Dean growled.

“It’ll be with the rest of the coven,” Rowena said confidently. “You said you only got two witches, right? A coven must be at least three. Any remaining will have the grimoire.”

“Is this thing loaded?” Dean whirled around to see you pointing his gun straight up at your own eye.

“Hey, hey!” He yelled, rushing to you and yanking the gun from your hands. “That is not a toy!”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze going from Dean to Rowena. “You’re our witch friend, right?”

“I…suppose,” Rowena said slowly.

“Cool!” You exclaimed, jumping off Dean’s bed and going straight for Rowena’s bag. “Is this your witch bag? Do you have cool stuff in here?”

“Hey now!” Rowena grabbed your arms and pulled them out of her bag. “Stay out of that, you’ll set off a curse or something!” Rowena took one look at your pouting face and sighed, reaching into her bag. “Here,” she said, coming out with a voodoo doll. “Play with this.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt someone?” Dean spoke up.

“She’s fine,” Rowena insisted, waving her hand dismissively as you returned to Dean’s bed, examining the doll with a grin. “Now, we need to find that coven.”

…

“We can’t just leave her here alone,” Sam hissed as Dean packed his bag for the hunt.

“Well we’re not going to take her with us,” Dean countered.

“Are you going somewhere?” You spoke up suddenly.

“We’ve gotta take out that witch,” Dean said.

“What witch?” You asked. The brothers ignored you.

“Look, she’ll be fine for just a few hours,” Dean told Sam. “And when we’re back, Rowena can break the curse.”

“Whose curse?” You asked. “Are you cursed?”

“Alright. Let’s go.” Sam sighed.

He and Dean headed for the door, but both stopped when you grabbed onto Sam’s arm.

“We’ll be back soon,” he promised.

“Don’t,” you pleaded. “Please don’t. I’m—I’m forgetting everything…and I don’t want to forget you. If you go, I’ll forget.”

“Hey, that’s not gonna happen,” Dean spoke up. “We’re gonna break this curse, and you’ll be ok.”

You still looked scared and unconvinced, so Dean continued.

“I want you to do something for me. Just keep repeating the most important things to yourself—it’ll help.”

“Ok…” you said slowly, then froze as you wondered where to start.

“Start small,” Dean instructed.

“My…my name is Y/N.” You glanced at Dean, then Sam. “Sam and Dean are my brothers. Rowena…is our witch friend. Castiel is our angel friend. My dad is John Winchester.”

“You’re doing great,” Sam insisted. “If you keep doing that, you won’t forget us.”

You didn’t think that that was how the curse worked, but you couldn’t honestly remember. You would have to take De—no, Sam’s—word for it.

“Are you sure?” Your voice faded to a whisper as Sam and Dean walked out the door before you had even started the question. You took a deep breathe, steeling yourself. “Ok. My name…my name is Y/N Winchester…”

…

“Well that was a bust,” Dean groaned as he pulled the Impala back into the motel. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just head to the next possible location?”

“I want to check on her,” Sam insisted. “I don’t want her to be scared.”

Dean didn’t respond, he just parked the Impala and led the way into the room. The boys hadn’t taken two steps into the room before Sam caught sight of you ducking into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

“Y/N?” Dean called out. “Sweetheart, are you ok?”

Silence greeted his question.

“Y/N?” Sam knocked on the door. “Please answer me.”

“Go away!” Your voice was tight and squeaky, even through the door.

“Kiddo it’s us,” Sam assured you.

“How-how do you know my name?” There was more confusion in your voice than fear now.

“Y/N—“ Dean’s voice stuck, and he cleared his throat. “It’s us, it’s your brothers. You know us, remember?”

The lock clicked on the bathroom door, and Dean could see half of your face as you peered up at him. After a moment, you swung the door open all the way, but you remained in the doorway hesitantly.

“I know you,” you mumbled. Dean held his breath as you stared first at him, then Sam. “My…brothers…” you were rubbing your arm now, anxiously glancing at your brothers as you wracked your brain for more information. “You’re…you’re S-S…D…” you were breathing hard now, terrified that you couldn’t remember their names. “I-I know it, I know who you are, I know it!”

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Sam soothed. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“No, no, I know it,” you insisted. “I know this, I-I have to know this.”

“It’s…it’s ok if you don’t remember,” Dean spoke up. “We’re here, we can help you.”

“No, it’s not ok!” Your outburst startled the boys, but they didn’t show it. “It’s not ok, I have to know this! You-you’re my big brothers, and I have to remember you!”

“Commere.” Sam couldn’t stand to see you start to cry, so he pulled you into his arms. “It’s gonna be ok…we’re going to fix this, we are.”

“I-I have to…I remember, I have to…” you were babbling almost incoherently. Sam looked at Dean over your shoulder, and they shared a moment of painful panic before Dean spoke.

“I’m gonna get us some food.” And he rushed out the door.

Sam stayed with you for several minutes before you slowly disentangled yourself from him.

“I can’t remember,” you whimpered.

“I…I know.” Sam sighed. He was about to speak again when he spotted the Impala out of the corner of his eye through the window—Dean was sitting inside, not moving; he hadn’t left. “Um…I’m gonna go talk to him.” Sam started for the door, but you stopped him.

“Let me,” you said. “I…I want to.”

So Sam stood back as you went to comfort your brother whose name you couldn’t remember.

…

He just needed a minute. He would go out, get food, come back, and be ready to help you again but he just needed a minute.

He turned on the radio, cursing himself for it a moment later when Hey Jude started playing. He reached up to turn it off—it was just too painful to hear this, your favorite song—but he stopped when your favorite part started playing.

“And any time you feel the pain,

Hey Jude, refrain

Don’t carry the world upon your shoulder.”

The words brought back a thousand memories, a thousand little moments between you and Dean that he knew he would remember forever. A few precious moments stood out above the rest—

…

“Hey little sister.” The first words Dean ever said to you. You were just a toddler, crying in the doorway of a filthy motel room while you watched your mother—some random hookup of John’s who’d gotten sick of taking care of a kid—drive away. She’d stayed long enough to hear that Dean was John’s son, then she’d snapped, “This is for him,” and shoved her daughter forward before rushing to her car.

You were utterly inconsolable, sobbing until your face was bright red and you could barely breathe. If Dean didn’t calm you down quickly, you might pass out, crying yourself into exhaustion.

“Hey Jude…” Dean had barely even made the decision to start singing before Hey Jude came to his head—the song his mother used to calm him down. “Don’t make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better…”

…

Dean would’ve done anything—anything—to undo the last ten minutes. He wanted to go back and change it all, to tell you a different story, to say “monsters aren’t real, they’re just stories, and of course dad doesn’t fight monsters, of course he’s not in danger, of course he’ll come home.”

But he couldn’t.

You were scared now. Maybe you always would be, in some capacity. You would always carry that little voice inside that said—“there are monsters out there, and they want you dead.”

Dean hadn’t wanted to tell you. Why did you have to be so curious? Why did you have so many questions, questions that you demanded answers for?

You were crying now; sitting by the motel window, waiting for dad to show up, and you were crying. Dean had done this—he’d made you so scared that you cried by the window, hoping that dad was coming home.

You flinched when the wind banged a tree against the window, and Dean decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat beside you, and you latched onto his arm instantly, leaning on him for support. Dean did the only thing he could think of—

“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid…”

…

Dean’s memories retreated to the back of his mind when the Impala door opened and you climbed in. He stopped his gentle singing—he hadn’t even realized he was doing it—when you turned to look at him. He looked from your eyes to the radio, almost as if he were begging you to remember—not just the song, but everything it meant to both of you. You just blinked up at him with that blank expression that had been haunting Dean since you started to forget.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” you whispered. Dean smiled painfully.

“You don’t even know my name.”

“But I know that I care about you.”

Dean’s breath hitched.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, little sister. I’m gonna fix you, I promise.”

“But what if you can’t? I still don’t want you to be sad.”

Dean was struggling to hold onto his resolve—to his strength.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

The both of you lapsed into silence, the closing notes of Hey Jude still playing.

“I like this song,” you said quietly. “It sounds nice.”

Dean clenched his jaw tightly to keep his lips from quivering.

“Kid, please go back to Sammy.”

“Sammy,” you mumbled to yourself, as if trying to put a face to the name. Dean’s fists clenched as he blinked rapidly.

“That room-“ he pointed- “go knock. Sam is in there, he’ll take care of you while I get us some food.”

You stared at Dean for a long moment; he knew that you were worried about him, but the blank expression on your face hurt more than he could take.

“Sweetheart, go. I need you to…please. Please go.”

You left without another word.

…

“I found it.” Rowena’s outburst came just after you swallowed the last of your fries—Sam and Dean had barely picked at their food, but you had forgotten so much that you were no longer sure what they were worried about, so you felt fine.

“Found what?” Dean demanded.

“The coven. I’m sure of it. It’s the perfect place for a witch to hide. You take the last remaining in the coven out and get me their grimoire, and that curse will be gone before we know it.”

“What about her?” Sam’s eyes darted to you before looking back at Dean. “I don’t think she should be alone, she’s forgetting more and more.”

You glanced behind you to make sure he had looked at you, and not someone else. Dean noticed this and sighed.

“We don’t have much choice.” Dean stepped over to the tv and switched it on. “Commere Y/N.” He had to stare at you for several seconds before you realized that that was your name.

You jumped up off the chair and went to sit on Dean’s bed so you could get a good view of the tv.

“Ok, sit here and watch this,” Dean instructed, gesturing to the cartoon playing. “Don’t move, don’t leave, ok?”

“Why can’t I go?” You wondered.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” Dean asked. You pondered this.

“Witches…covens…your lumberjack outfits…a Halloween party?” You guessed.

Dean glanced down at his red flannel, seemingly offended, before he waved it off in annoyance.

“Yeah, you’re definitely staying here.”

“Well can I play with this then?” All three turned to see you with a—quite possibly cursed—dagger that you had somehow gotten from Rowena’s bag, along with a—definitely cursed—witches’ spell book.

“Hey now!” Rowena cried out, snatching both items from you. “How many times do I have to tell you, my things are not toys!”

You ignored this loud outburst and instead stared at Rowena as if you had never seen her.

“I like your dress,” you said suddenly. “It’s so…it’s like a queen’s dress.”

“Why…thank you,” she said with a sudden smile. “I think I like you better this way.”

“Rowena.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes yes alright,” she huffed. “Let’s go.”

…

The witches were surprisingly easy to kill, but when Rowena went to use their grimoire, Sam stopped her.

“How long will this spell take?” He asked.

“Maybe an hour.”

“I want to do it back at the hotel,” Sam insisted.

“It’s faster to—“ Dean began, but Sam interrupted.

“She’s gotta be terrified right now, with how much she’s forgetting so quickly. I want to be there for her, I want her to know that we’re fixing this.”

“It’s not far,” Rowena said, taking Sam’s side. “Let’s go.”

…

You were much harder to coax out of the bathroom this time, and even when you were sitting on Dean’s bed with a brother on either side of you while Rowena worked on the spell, you looked unconvinced.

Sam was trying to calm your nerves by showing you pictures and telling you names and facts.

“And this, this is Bobby—“ he’d shown you Bobby’s picture at least three times, but your short term memory kept getting worse, so you didn’t notice.

“Um…” Sam stopped talking when you started, but you didn’t get far before your face screwed up, and Sam knew you were trying to remember his name.

“Sam,” he supplied, hating to see you in distress.

“Sam,” you said with a breath of relief. “I just…I for-I forgot, what’s…what’s my name?”

Sam barely heard Dean’s sharp intake of breath over his own shattering heart.

“It’s…you’re—“

“Y/N.”

Sam was confused when you answered your own question, until he looked from you to Rowena, who wore a triumphant smile.

“Did you—does she—“

“Sam.” The wide grin on your face was unmistakable, as was the spark in your eye. “Dean.”

“Oh kid,” Dean breathed, wrapping you in his arms a split second before Sam could. Sam didn’t care though—he grabbed both his siblings in a group hug that had Rowena rolling her eyes, although the smile never left her face.

“You’re back.” Sam grinned.

“Did you ever doubt it?” You questioned with a laugh.

“I admit, a few moments gave me pause,” Sam chuckled.

“Didn’t doubt it for a second,” Dean insisted. “I knew you’d come back to us.”

“Well I’m sure that that would’ve comforted me—if I coulda remembered your name.”

You knew Dean was gonna throw that pillow at you before he’d even grabbed it—you didn’t need your memories to tell you that.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley

[mini-minish]

nathaniel wesninski & andrew doe au i picked up from a 2021 sketch 🪓🖤🔪

notes under the read more!

• andrew doe gets adopted into the wesninski family when he's just a little older than nathaniel, who hasnt been sent to edgar allen tryouts yet, and andrew doe is trained to be his bodyguard since childhood

• mary doesn't like it, he becomes a weakness for her son and when she leaves she refuses to take andrew with them, so nathaniel stays, and in that mary never really gets to leave

• on the same day she fails at running away and nathan finds them, nathaniel loses his eye lolastyle

• one time when he's a little older, andrew receives a letter, from a boy who claims to be his twin. andrew minyard doe throws it to the fire, and nathaniel picks it up while he's turned, before it burns completelly

• from the day nathaniel gets injured because he refused to leave andrew behind, they go from annoyed acquaintances to inseparable friends

• he calls andrew "drew" and andrew pretends to hate it. later when theyre older the name "nathaniel" starts to weight, starts to sound weird, so he asks andrew to call him something else, and andrew calls him alex, stefan, adam, until they get to neil

• but he only calls him neil when theyre alone, when its a secret, when nathan cant hear them

• "nathaniel" takes up the axe. he's as good a hitman as the little devil of baltimore has to be. he hates it, hates the color red, the color of his hair

• one of andrew's first memories at the house is of nathan cutting a man to pieces and making him watch, making him learn not to flinch, but red is the color of neil's hair, soft, safe, soothing

• before that, though, theres little league. theres learning andrew is talented at exy, theres kevin day, and riko moriyama, and theres jean moreau

• i want jean and andrew to be funny about each other just for some levity here ok

• the reynolds are a renowed fashion brand, far from them to refuse big mafia money, so they work on suits, on silk shirts, on tailored pants, and allison reynolds is always joined by her friend renee when she goes with her parents for fittings

• renee walker meets andrew doe, and andrew thinks shes silly enough to keep in touch.

• kevin day leaves them, and neil realises he doesnt have to be kept either. kevin day gets to get out and nathaniel wesninski gets quieter.

• neil finds his uncle's contact among some of the things his mother left behind. from stuart he gets to ichirou. from ichirou he starts to make a plan

• riko moriyama is going to make a big announcement soon, something about the perfect court, something that will finally brand the rest of them as his, and well, andrew has always told neil how much he hates that the pen's ink makes the skin of his face break out

• and neil still has the address of a boy who claims to be his andrew's twin

• for whatever reason the moriyamas and the wesninskis have one of those rich people dinners planned. neil gets kevin to show up, nathaniel gets andrew to leave, kicking and punching and a promise broken

• later in the night, a little after the first course is served and they begin the socializations, neil gets kevin to leave, leave, run as far as possible, *now*.

• he sees jean, grabs his wrist, and takes him outside. theyre walking fast before neil starts running, and then the explosion comes from inside the house, from the basement, and knocks both of them out before they turn the corner. the hathford's men long gone from the scene.

• all renee walker and andrew doe see from where he's been waiting for the little voice at the back of his mind to make sense, is the house bursting on fire, believing that it does so with what he's supposed to protect still inside

• but since i can't bring myself to do this to them, andrew finds him, finds jean, and at the hospital finds stuart, who takes his nephew in

• he gets contacted by a man called david wymack, who was convinced by kevin day to offer them a place among his foxes :)

[mapiforpresident]

Most Likely To

Alexia x reader

warnings: none

~~~

It was currently almost Valentine's day, so Barcelona was having all the team couples do some short interviews to post on the actual day.

Alexia was not a fan of this, but she saw that you were excited, she reluctantly agreed. She wanted to maintain her professional captain persona, but she also knew that it was important for people to see that she was also a normal person at the end of the day and that it was ok for her to be dating a woman.

~~~

"Hey, how was your interview," you asked Mapi and Ingrid as they walked out of the media room. They had their interview right before yours.

"It was really good we had to see who knew each other better and Ingrid won. I forgot her first pets name." Mapi told you. "I think you guys are doing the who is mostly likely to challange. I am excited to see if we learn anything new about big tough Ale over here that we didn't know." You laughed at this agreeing that you would make sure the fans learn how much of a softie Ale is for you.

~~~

You and Alexia then walked into the room as the media people explained how it would work and set up your mics. The interviewer then got started facing the camera, "Ok today we have special guests Alexia and Y/n. Today they will be playing the who is most likely to challange. They each have a paddle with their face on one side and the others face on the back. I will ask some questions and they have to show the face of who they think it fits better. At the end we also have a couple questions sent in by fans. Let's get started with the first question.."

"Ok we will start off very easy. The first question is who is most likely to forget their boots at home?"

You both immediately held up the side of the paddle with your face.

"I may have forgotten them before the champions league final. Luckily someone had an extra pair in my size. Ale always asks me three times if I have my boots now before we leave the house." You responded laughing towards the camera.

"She is very forgetful, she even forgot her passport before a game onetime and had to fly in the next day. I definitely made her run extra laps for that." You definitely gave Alexia a few heart attacks from all the times you forget things.

"Who is most likely to cry during a sad movie?" the interviewer queried with a grin.

You both exchanged a glance. You raised Alexia face as she reluctantly did the same. It was no secret to you or the team that Alexia had a soft spot for emotional films, often shedding a tear or two during particularly touching scenes.

As the interview progressed, the questions delved deeper into your relationship, sparking laughter and fond memories between you and Alexia.

The interviewer grinned as she posed the next question, her eyes flickering mischievously between you and Alexia. "Alright, who is most likely to hog the blankets in bed?"

You both hesitated for a moment, exchanging playful glances before simultaneously flipping the paddles to reveal the others face.

You chuckled, nudging Alexia playfully. "Come on, admit it. You're the blanket thief."

Alexia raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, please. You practically cocoon yourself in the blankets every night."

As the interview drew to a close, the final question sent in by fans brought a sense of warmth to the room. "Who is most likely to surprise the other with a romantic gesture?"

Without hesitation, you both raised your paddles, a shared smile of affection passing between you. Despite the playful teasing and occasional disagreements, there was no doubt that your love for each other ran deep, evident in the small gestures of kindness and thoughtfulness that defined your relationship.

As the cameras stopped rolling, Alexia pulled you into a tender embrace, her voice soft with sincerity. "You know, despite my initial reservations, I'm glad we did this. It's nice to show the world a different side of us, to be able to share our love openly."

You returned her embrace, kissing her cheek lightly, feeling a surge of gratitude for the woman standing before you. "I couldn't agree more, bebé."

The fans absolutely loved the video and seeing this more personal side of Alexia and seeing more into your relationship.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

I need more ian hecox in my life!!

can I please get a fluff of them revealing feelings somehow through shayne's guess your celebrity crush video 🙏

or maybe ian winning their what would *blank* do? video (because he knows them so well 😊) and someone else in the cast making reader realize that he has big o'l feelings for them!!!

I love your work so so much!! 🫶

Celebrity Crush || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you have liked ian for some time now and despite your cast mates attempts at telling you that ian feels the same way, you don’t believe them. that is, until some interesting things are revealed through a video

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

a/n: ahh i hope you enjoy this darling!! i kinda went with both of these ideas so i hope you like what i did 🤭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “And for the win—or, for second place, because Ian is in the lead by eleven points—if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, what would it be?”

     You smiled at the contestants, waiting. You were almost done filming ‘What Would (Y/n) Do?’ and Ian was smoking the other two competitors.

     Spencer and Courtney sat on either side of Ian, thinking on your most recent question. Ian was already writing something down on his whiteboard.

     So far, he had known almost everything about you. What your worst memory was, what item of clothing you’d want to wear if you weren’t scared to, what kind of cereal you most identified with. 

     You hadn’t known he remembered all of this stuff—some of it being things you’d only mentioned once or a really long time ago. You had known Ian for years. But, then again, you’d known Courtney and Spencer just as long.

     “Okay,” Courtney said, “I’m ready!”

     “Why don’t you start us off then,” you turned to her. “What food would I want to eat for the rest of my life?”

     “I said that one thing you get from Starbucks because I see you with it every morning,” they said, flipping their board. “And then I drew you at the bottom, see?”

     “Good answer,” you nodded at them. “And good artistry. Spencer?” 

     “I wrote pizza ‘cause your basic,” Spencer shrugged and everyone off-camera laughed. “And I think this game is bogus and rigged and also Ian cheated.”

     You giggled. “Guess who’s not getting any points this round? Anyway, Ian, last but certainly not least?”

     “Ok, remember back in 2017 when we went to that buffet for Keith’s birthday? You had that sandwich there that you said you’d sell your soul to eat for the first time again, so I went with that.”

     “I quit,” Spencer put the cap on his pen. “Courtney, you wanna go get some lunch?”

     They laughed, sharing a look. 

     You were too busy being shocked. You couldn’t believe he had remembered that. You hadn’t even remembered that. 

     “Wow Ian, I have to give you, like, 10 points for that because even I would’ve forgotten that but you’re so right!”

     “Courtney,” you continued. “I’m giving you 5, because I do love Starbucks. And Spencer gets none.”

     You smiled sweetly at Spencer and he flipped you off. You rolled your eyes at him.

     “And that means,” you finished. “With a total of 207 points—which might be the most we’ve ever had on here—Ian wins!”

     Everyone clapped and you began to do the outro, going on autopilot as you told the viewers to subscribe and click on the videos at the bottom of their screen.

     When the shoot was over, everyone began to disperse, all busy with different videos to film and edit.

     “Congratulations,” you told Ian. “I can’t believe you knew some of that stuff.”

     “Hey, what can I say,” he shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “I pay attention. And you’re a very interesting person.”

     “I think we learned from all of the deatails here today that I’m not an interesting person,” you joked. 

     “Well, call me boring because I’m interested,” Ian said.

     You smiled, trying your hardest not to blush. You might have had a teeny, tiny crush on Ian ever since you had begun working at Smosh. 

     You stayed like that for a moment, before Ian said something about having to film a video and you said your farewells.

     He walked away and you turned around to find Courtney and Spencer waiting for you.

     “Um, what was that?” Courtney gestured to the set. 

     “What was what?” You asked them.

     “I think Courtney means the fact that Ian basically just wrote your biography,” Spencer added, putting his hands in his pockets. 

     “He knows you better than you know you!” Courtney exclaimed. They waggled their eyebrows, saying in a sing-song voice,  “I think he likes you.”

     “Dude’s obsessed,” Spencer piped in. 

     You shrugged. “What? No! We’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all.”

     “I’ve known you for a long time, and I wouldn’t have known that the item you wish you hadn’t gotten rid of was the necklace you wore to VidCon in 2018,” Courtney put their hands on their hips. 

      Okay, so they had a fair point. How did Ian remember all of this stuff about you? You refused to believe it was because he had feelings for you. Both Court and Spencer knew about your long-time crush on Ian, and they were probably just being nice.

     “He’s our boss, remember? He has to know his employees well,” you defended.

     “(Y/n), he didn’t know my first name was Charles until like last week,” Spencer said. “And yet he knows what you almost called the fish you won in second grade—which, by the way, Rover? That’s a dog name and I think Kevin is much better.”

     “Spencer’s right, my guy,” Courtney patted your shoulder. “Not about the fish thing—but Ian does, in fact, have a good, old-fashioned crush on you.”

     “This is ridiculous,” you said. “Just because I like him, doesn’t mean he likes me. And after one video of him knowing some facts about me, you think you have it all figured out?”

     “Oh it’s not just this video,” Courtney said. “You think Ian leaves little notes on all of our desks? Do you think he gets all of us coffee every day? Do you think he smiles that big when all of any of us enter a room?”

     You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped. You kind of had thought he did all of those things for everyone. You just thought he was a nice person—it was part of what attracted you to him—but you didn’t equate it to him thinking you were anything all that special. 

     “And you guys are sure?” Was all you said.

     Courtney smiled knowingly. “Yes. It’s honestly adorable. Trust me, from our perspective, Ian totally has it bad for you.”

     “That or he cheats at games, which we still haven’t completely ruled out,” Spencer teased. 

     Could all of this really be true? You tried to think back on all of your previous interactions with Ian. He had always been kind to you, interested in what you had to say, complimentary and supportive. In truth, you had mostly been blinded by your own attraction to Ian to every really focus on how he acted towards you. 

     “If Ian has feelings for me,” you stated, “which I’m not saying I think he does, what would I even do?”

     “Ask him out,” Courtney shrugged. “It’s about time, you’ve been in love with each other for years now.”

     Were you really going to do this? You felt your heart beating faster, your stomach already flipping at the thought of telling Ian how you feel. But, if your friends were right, then maybe he would feel the same way. 

     “Okay,” you looked at both of them. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

     “Yay!” Courtney cheered.

     “Go get ‘em,” Spencer added.

     You walked off the set, and as you left you heard Spencer talking to Courtney as they made their way in the opposite direction.

     “I’m just saying, I think I should have at least gotten a couple points for Kevin!”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Finding Ian was a lot harder than you had thought. He was busy filming all day, and you could never find a foot time to catch him in between shoots.

     Whenever you did see him, he would smile at you shyly and then suddenly need to be somewhere. You thought he was acting a bit weird, and it might have just been his busy schedule and the tiredness that accompanied it, but he almost seemed…nervous for something? 

     Finally, you gave up trying to talk to Ian and sat down against the wall to watch as they filmed the ‘Can Shayne Guess our Celebrity Crush?’ video.

     From the sound of it, Shayne was nearing the end of the video. You only partially listened as you scrolled on your phone. 

     “Well, damn,” you heard Shayne say. “Really thought I had that one. Then again, did I really except to get someone from art department right?”

     “Moving on to the next set of crushes,” he continued. “We have Bridget Mendler—good choice. Kesha—I think I know who this is already. And…”

     Shayne paused, and the whole studio became quiet. You looked up.

      “…(Y/n),” Shayne finished. You looked towards the monitor, seeing the images of the two other celebrities and yourself on the screen.

     Shayne looked at you off-camera. “This list is crazy. I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is Ian.”

     His eyes landed on a spot in the distance and you followed them, seeing Ian leaning against the wall, a ways away from you. You searched his face, but he was looking anywhere but you.

     “Is it Ian?” Shayne pointed at the screen and, sure enough, a picture of Ian’s face popped up. 

     You felt the breath leave your lungs. What had just happened? Had Ian just admitted to having a crush on you through a video? 

     Back on set, Shayne was running his hands through his hair, saying, “Well, that’ll give the fans something to think about…”

     But you could only watch Ian, making your way to where he was standing. You were aware of everybody’s eyes on you.

     “Really?” Was all you said once you reached him, your voice coming out as a whisper.

     Ian smiled at you. “Hey, you’re on famous birthdays, I think that counts as a celebrity.”

     That was all the encouragement you needed. Just like that, you kissed him. And he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you. 

    “Yeah baby!” You heard someone shoot, and you pulled away to see Courtney beaming at you.

     “I promise I didn’t know that was going to happen,” Spencer grinned, holding his hands up from his spot by the computer. “I don’t actually go through these things before we shoot.”

     You giggled, turning back to Ian. 

     “Did you really not know?” He asked you. “I always thought I was kind of obvious.”

     “To everyone but me, I think,” you told him, chuckling. “I was to busy having feelings for you.”

     “And look at us now,” Ian joked, putting his arm around your shoulder. You couldn’t stop smiling. 

     “I just wish I’d had the guts to put you as one of my celebrity crushes,” you told him. 

     “Who would I have beat out?” He asked you. “Austin Butler?”

     “Let’s not get hasty,” you teased. 

     But suddenly you had an idea. You walked over to where Spencer sat. “Hey, Spence? Have you guys done my list yet?”

     “Not yet,” he whispered so Shayne wouldn’t hear him. 

     You turned back to look at Ian, who was watching you like he had finally found you and didn’t want to lose you. 

    “Can you still edit those things? Because I have a last minute adjustment,” you told him, smiling as you showed him a picture of Ian. 

     “Let’s give the fans even more to think about.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you had fun with this one. check out my other ian fics if you want more like this 💋

[howi99]

Lost Ones Memories chapter 2

Nora: *looking at the weird marks on her hands with a grin* You think i was chosen for an ancient prophecy to save the world?

Pyrrha: *shrug* Maybe, or maybe you drew them on yourself when we were doing homework. *Chuckle* You know how distracted you can be sometime.

Nora: *chuckle* True that!

_ _ _

Jaune: What do you mean she was chosen for the holy grail war?! She's not even aware that magic exists, let alone what a grail war is!

Jeanne: *panicking* I-i don't know, ok!? She just woke up with the command seals on her right hand!

Jaune: *annoyed* Not only did the ritual fail this morning, but now Nora is the one who has taken my place? *Scratching his head* This doesn't make any sense!

Jeanne: *confused* Wait, the ritual failed? How?

Jaune: *sit down* Someone tempered with the flow of mana. That and the circle had some modifications which Viv- i mean Morgan is looking into right now.

_ _ _

Adam: *looking at his own command seals* ... *Looking at Cinder* Was this supposed to happen?

Cinder: *trying to find an answer* No! I was supposed to get a servant, not you! It doesn't make sense!

Adam: *looking at his servant* Sooo.... How do you feel about racism and inequality?

Edmon Dante: *dramatically posing* The abyss clouding mankind's heart shall be cleansed by our hands. *Making his cloak float in the wind* We shall break the chains of oppression and drag the perpetrators to hell!

Adam: ... *Smile* I like you.

_ _ _

Penny: *smiling, Voyager on her shoulder* I made a friend! I made a friend!

Ironwood: ... *Sigh* Winter-

Winter: *reading through her family's grimoire* Sir, i'm trying to find an explanation as well, this doesn't make any sense at all!

_ _ _

Merlot: *working on a beowolf* Dear, could you pass me the screwdriver?

Abigail Williams: *extending a tentacle from the void, picking the screw driver up and giving it to the mad scientist*

Merlot: *pat her head* Thank you.

AW: *smile*

_ _ _

???: *sigh* Aw, there is still no Ruler... *Chuckle* Maybe i should derail more summoning? *Smile* This world is still full of mystery after all, it's even funnier than earth!

[shellshocklove]

Maybe a blurb about Peter freaking out on trying to find a gift for reader for Christmas cause he waited until the last minute and all reader cares about is that he makes it home safe? 👀

that was the worst christmas ever! | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: christmas stress, self-deprecating peter, fluff

a/n: ok so hi! It’s been a while. these last few months have been hectic af– like on another level of hectic. i’m trying to get back a little to writing now that things have calmed down a little bit– so this is me dipping my toe into writing again. i hope there’s someone who’ll like this and merry christmas if you celebrate <3 (btw the title isn’t really connected to the story but gold star to the people who recognize the song)

main masterlist / ao3

Slow. Sweaty. Loud.

The buzzing of humming conversations. People’s winter shoes clacking obnoxiously against the tile floor. A distant ‘Ho-Ho-Ho’ from the creepy mall Santa, slapping the thigh of some poor little girl screaming for ‘Mommy’ as the camera flashed with saved memories.

The guilt gnawed at the back of Peter’s neck as he hurried from store to store.

“Sorry, that’s out of stock.”

“If it’s not on the shelf, we don’t have it.”

With every no, Peter’s guilt was starting to mix with panic. His winter jacket was too hot, suffocating him like the thought of you tomorrow morning with no present from him to unpack. He knows he fucked up. Who in their right mind buys his girlfriend her Christmas present on Christmas Eve?

Peter Parker– that’s who.

He didn’t intend to leave it to the last minute – it just happened! He swears!

With a sigh and a shaky hand running over his face, Peter fished out his phone from his pocket. Entering the notes app, he felt his stomach start to turn. Reading over your wish list, he scrolled to the bottom where he hovered his thumb over the red x emoji. Ready to mark himself a boyfriend failure.

Suddenly, his phone came alive in his hands. A picture of your smiling face lighting it up. Guilt’s teeth scratched harder at his neck as he pushed the little green button.

“Hi baby!” Peter greeted, a fake smile spreading over his face even though you couldn’t see him.

“Oh, thank god! Peter– where are you? We’re leaving for your Aunt May’s in half an hour.”

Peter could hear the worry in your tone. He couldn’t help but hear it every time you called. A worry that he wouldn’t answer because something had happened. That he was lying in the street somewhere bleeding out.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut while a hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he nodded to no one, “I know! I’m-I’m on patrol and I lost track of time– But I’m heading back now.”

“Peter,” you sighed down the phone. Peter stayed quiet, just listening to your breathing. He knew you worried about him – how could you not? You had every right to worry.

When you didn’t say anything, Peter drew a shallow breath, “I know– I’m sorry.” And he meant it – he always meant it – even when it felt like ‘Sorry’ was the word he told you more often than ‘I love you’.

“Peter– It’s okay… It’s okay just– just please hurry home.”

“I love you,” he hurried. A band aid over his bullet wound of disappointing you.

“I know– I love you too, Peter.”

Hot air washed over him as he exited through the revolving door of the mall. Out on the street he didn’t linger long. Busy New Yorkers hurried past him, splashing wet snow with every step. Digging his hands in his pocket, Peter made his way down the avenue while the wind bit at his cheeks.

Aunt May’s hugs were Peter’s favorite. The way she squeezed him just a little too tight, the smell of her signature perfume she’d worn since forever, and the wet kiss placed on his cheek. A few years ago, he’d playfully groaned and rubbed the kiss from his cheek with a roll of his eyes, but now as a twenty-something, he embraced them.

You were late, and it was Peter’s fault, but Aunt May didn’t seem to mind. The apartment looked the same as it did the last time he was here, sans the Christmas decorations and the smell of… cooking? Peter couldn’t believe his own nose as he snuck sneakily into the kitchen, leaving you and Aunt May in the hallway to catch up.

“May! Don’t tell me you actually cooked,” he called out with a disbelieving laugh.

Soon he could hear footsteps approaching before Aunt May passed through the doorway with you in tow. Peter caught your eye. Those kind eyes he always got lost in. He forgot to breath for a second. After three years together, you still managed to steal his breath.

“Damn right I’ve cooked,” Aunt May replied, a teasing lilt to her tone, “Don’t sound so surprised, Peter.”

“I’m not surprised– I’m impressed,” he teased, lifting the lid of one of the simmering pots.

A teasing pinch to his side made him yelp as Aunt May shooed him away from her stove.

Your sweet giggle filled the kitchen and Peter’s heart. He turned his head sheepishly to look at you where you were leaning against the door frame. An overwhelming urge to touch you came over him. You’d dressed up a little, it being Christmas Eve and all, and Peter thought you looked so pretty. Walking over to you he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You looked at him with a smile, one that felt warm around his heart.

“Hi, rude boy,” you teased.

Knitting his eyebrows together he gave you his best fake-offended look, “Hey.”

Your only response was that same sweet giggle he loved to hear. Your eyes were soft, with smiling crinkles around your eyes. He loved when you looked at him like that– so much that he couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to your lips. It was short (to spare Aunt May of your PDA), but still tender. When he leaned back to look at you again your smile had grown even wider.

Aunt May’s dinner was surprisingly good. She’d been diligently watching some cooking show every night and gotten inspired to try to start cooking– for real. So, the dinner was great. The laughter hung in the air the whole night, making Peter almost forget about his earlier failure and nagging guilt.

While getting ready for bed, an idea popped into Peter’s head. He finished brushing his teeth in record speed, spitting harshly in the sink.

“Ew,” you mumbled through toothpaste, “Ook at that ig blob,” you pointed to the toothpaste he’d spat out that stuck to the porcelain. He locked eyes with you in the mirror – your teasing smile through the swipe of your toothbrush.

“Shut up,” he laughed and bumped his hip against yours before wiping the toothpaste away with his finger.

“Just making sure you’re not leaving poor Aunt May to clean up your mess,” you winked after spitting out your own toothpaste.

Sneaking away was the hardest part. You loved to snuggle before bed, never able to fall asleep until you’d laid in his arms and talked for at least half an hour. But Peter was patient – even if his eyelids felt heavier than the train he’d stopped that one time. When he started to hear your breathing start to get heavier and those small noises you always made escaped you; Peter crawled as gently as he could out of bed.

The living room of Aunt May’s apartment was bathed in a soft yellow glow coming from the Christmas tree in the corner. A strange forgotten feeling of the past clouded Peter for a moment. Memories of waking up in the middle of the night to sneak into the living room to see if Santa had come pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. This time though, he had to make sure Santa had left some presents for someone else.

“Who’s next?” Aunt May asked.

Outside a Christmas miracle was falling from the sky shaped as heavy white snowflakes.

“I have no presents left,” Peter said from where he sat at the edge of the lounge chair, his Christmas presents taking up most of the space.

“I have one left,” you said from where you sat pretty on the floor. The plaid pajamas adorning your body matched ones he was wearing. Peter watched with a bated breath as you picked up the homemade envelope.

“To my baby, from Peter,” you read his chicken scratch.

“Aw,” Aunt May cooed from the couch.

Peter had to fight the urge to cringe as he watched you open the envelope. His heart drummed in his chest, and it made him feel ridiculous. Digging your hands into the envelope you pulled out a handful of small paper squares. Watching your eyebrows knit together in confusion, Peter pressed his lips harder together.

“What’s this?” you asked, curious hands picking up a paper square to read. “Oh!” you laughed, slightly embarrassed but still sending Peter a mischievous smile.

“What is it?” Aunt May asked.

“It’s…” you laughed again, eyes dancing over the paper squares.

Curiosity killed the kat – or in this case Aunt May – as she leaned forward to snatch a paper square to read. You jumped at her movements before you chased after her.

“No, May,” you pressed, managing to steal the paper before she could read it, “Read this one instead!” You handed her another paper square before sending Peter a chastising but grateful look.

“Oh, it’s love coupons!” May exclaimed, “That’s such a good gift idea, Peter! So thoughtful of you.’1 movie night where you pick the movie’,” May read loudly from the paper coupon.

Dropping all the coupons back into the envelope, you stood to your feet and made your way over to Peter. You cupped his head in your hands and tilted his head to look up at you. Then you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said against his lips before placing another kiss to his lips.

“You liked them?” he asked with uncertainty.

You just smiled before you gave him a nod, “I loved them,” you clarified and sealed it with another kiss. When you broke away you wrapped your arms around him to pull him in for a hug. A relieving warmth spread throughout his chest as he nuzzled his face in your neck. He felt you press a tender kiss to the spot behind his ear that made him weak.

“Can’t wait to cash them in,” you whispered in his ear, “Especially the ones who’ll put you on Santa’s naughty list.”

tagged: @hollandweather

© shellshocklove, 2023

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader play the vanity fair game show

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off the OBX3 interview + suggested by this ask <3

“I am Madelyn Cline and we are here to test how well we know each other.” Madelyn said into the camera, sitting in the “hot seat”. The rest of her OBX costars sat opposite her in two rows, shoulder to shoulder and grinning ear to ear. Drew sat in the back, along with Rudy, JD, and Austin, where y/n sat in the front with Madison, Carlacia, and Chase. Drew wore a light purple blazer, a color the boys had made sure to tease him for all day, but he didn’t mind. Y/n liked the color on him, so of course he was going to wear it.

“... and we’re the cast of Outer Banks!” Madison and Carlacia said, the rest of the cast joining them and waving at the camera. Madison put her head down with a giggle before composing herself and straightening up once more. Y/n could feel Drew’s fingers combing lightly through her hair, playing with the ends as they waited for the game to begin. She looked back at him, grinning at his long, tousled hair. He smiled back, his fingers continuing to run through her hair as they focused back on the game.

“Ok, first question: which astrological sign do I like the most other than mine?” Madelyn said, the end of her marker resting on her lip as she thought. Quickly, the room burst into shouts and guesses, everyone clamoring to win the very first point of the game. Drew stood from his chair, craning his neck to see what Madelyn’s card read.

“Hey, no cheating!” Y/n pointed at him, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face before he sat back down.

“I’m gonna say Gemini.” Drew said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced into the camera.

“Gemini women. Yes.” Madelyn replied, giving Drew the first point. The rest of the cast booed playfully, Drew patting himself on the back as Madelyn’s turn continued. Once she asked her last question, it was Drew’s turn in the hot seat.

“Y/n has to wait to answer.” JD said, the cast turning to y/n, her mouth falling open.

“That is definitely not in the rules!” Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Now they are.” Rudy said with a shrug.

“Ok, what is my secret talent? Bonus, where did I learn my talent?” Drew read, looking over the question card at his co-stars until his eyes met y/n’s. She narrowed her eyes, trying to read into what Drew was going to write on the card, after all, he was a man of many talents.

“Sleeping.” Carlacia said.

“You play piano?” Austin guessed.

“See what’s happening is you're just giving me a lot of ideas.” Drew said, taking the cap off of his marker as he prepared to finalize his answer.

“Oh, write it down, I know it.” Y/n said waving her hand for him to write faster. Once he finished, Drew looked at her to answer.

“Juggling.” She answered, Drew flipping the card around to reveal his answer: juggling/insomnia.

“Question two: what’s my favorite food?” Drew grinned, writing his answer down quickly.

“Mama Jodi’s casserole!” The cast said in unison, Drew nodding as he flipped the card around.

“Almost burned down the apartment complex cooking that one time.” Chase pointed out, causing Drew to gasp.

“That was actually y/n’s fault.” Drew said, pointing a finger at y/n who scoffed.

“You were the one that was distracting me!” Y/n shot back, raising her hands in surrender as she thought of the memory. It had been Drew’s birthday and y/n had decided to surprise him with his favorite casserole. However, the two of them had gotten so entranced in an intense game of Mario Kart that she completely forgot about the food in the oven… until the smoke alarm went off.

“Fine, I will take some blame… only a little bit.” Drew cracked a smile as he shuffled onto the next card.

“Last question: who is my celebrity crush?” Drew scowled, biting his lip as he thought.

“Y/n y/ln.” Rudy said quickly. A small smirk spread across Drew’s lips as he hurriedly wrote his answer down, the rest of the cast hooting and hollering as y/n covered her face with her hands and a flush spread to her cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s correct…” Drew said bashfully, scratching his jaw. “I don’t think she likes me though, if I’m being honest.”

“Definitely not.” Madelyn teased, nudging y/n’s arm playfully.

The game continued, each member of the cast having their turn into their hot seat until it was finally y/n’s turn.

“Drew has to wait to answer.” Y/n said, pointing at Drew. His mouth fell open, his competitive nature kicking in as he groaned.

“The rules, Starkey.” Austin said, shaking his shoulder lightly as y/n picked up her first card.

“What is my favorite movie?” Y/n asked, pausing to think of her answer before writing it down.

“La La Land? The Lego Movie? Moulin Rouge?” Chase guessed, attempting to rattle off as many guesses as possible.

“Pitch Perfect!” Madison said with a giggle, to which y/n nodded.

“Yes, very big Pitch Perfect fan.” Y/n responded. The cast had many memories of watching (and performing) the movie during quarantine when all of them were confined to their shared apartment complex.

“Next question: what is my go-to karaoke song?” Y/n raised her eyebrows as she wrote her answer down on the card.

“Something Taylor Swift, yeah?” Madelyn asked.

“Surprisingly, no.” Y/n laughed. Drew and y/n had hosted many karaoke nights in their shared apartment, the entire cast fitting onto their sofa to sing and dance the night away. The two of them had even gone as far as buying a karaoke machine, complete with mics and lights. It was quite a hit.

“Oh my god, I know it—” Rudy said, snapping his fingers as he searched for the right answer.

“Alanis Morisette...” Drew whispered, to which y/n scowled at him.

“You Oughta Know!” Madelyn cheered, stealing Rudy’s answer with a giggle.

“Yep, that’s right… thank you, Drew.” Y/n said, quirking an eyebrow at Drew who just smiled back. Y/n shuffled her cards for a moment, drawing out the final question.

“Oh boy, last one...” Y/n said dramatically, the cast letting out a string of “ooohs” as y/n cleared her throat.

“What’s my on set snack?” Y/n read, quickly scribbling down her answer as her co-stars looked between each other. Drew sat there, a smug grin on his face as he watched their castmates struggle to answer the very simple question.

“I literally had the same snack every single day.” Y/n said, hoping to direct her co-stars in the right direction.

“I never had the same break time as you two, that’s not fair!” Carlacia said, turning to face Drew who simply shrugged.

“The answer was pickles.” Y/n said, turning the card around to reveal her answer.

“What kind? We need specifics.” JD asked, quirking his brow.

“Dill. The ones in the bag.” Drew answered for y/n, who simply nodded.

“And with that, we are the cast of Outer Banks…” Y/n led, gesturing to her friends opposite her.

“Thanks for watching!” The cast said in unison, waving to the camera.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

On the corner - Chapter 3

Wymack meets Andrew when he's still a kid.

(Trigger Warning - see intro post)

(all chapters)

---------------------------------

The man went into the boy’s room, as he had done a hundred times before. As he had done a hundred times before, he stripped off and bent down to the bed.

Except this time was different. This time a piercing spotlight flooded the room, along with half a dozen voices shouting for him to stop, it was the police, a room full of police, and somehow Coach was with them, tailing behind them grim and unsmiling, and when he caught the kid’s eye he gave him a brief nod, as though fulfilling his end of a promise the boy hadn’t known was made. Then the cops brought out their handcuffs and suddenly the tall terrifying monster was a broken terrified wreck, gibbering with fear as they led him away.

Coach came to stand in front of the kid.

"You," said Drew.

"I told you," Coach smiled. "You’re not alone."

Some of the cops and an on-call social worker stay in the kid's room to interview him. Others have taken the wife into the kitchen. The other, older foster kids aren't home, but the house still feels full of people. An officer holds the door open for Coach.

The kid looks up apprehensively. "Can he stay?"

The social worker, Valerie, glances enquiringly at Coach, who shrugs.

The senior officer introduces himself to Drew, speaking in a quiet and respectful tone. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Coach gives Drew a brief smile. "It’s ok. Just tell them like you told me. They all saw him come for you tonight. They know you’re not lying."

They ask him about it - how often it happened, when it started, when was the last time. Facts and figures as though it was sport stats or something, listening seriously while they write it all down.

It gets difficult again when they ask about his foster-mother.

Drew is silent for a while, then blurts out, his eyes on Coach:

"She’s just as bad. She lets him in."

In another sudden rush he adds: "She enjoys it. She sends him in to punish me."

They take notes until they have enough to go on with, then the officer puts his book away with a supportive smile. "Thanks Drew. You did great."

He gets to his feet. "So how do you know Coach?"

The kid opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Coach says easily: "We know each other from around the neighbourhood. He’s interested in my team."

Valerie half smiles at this. "Couldn’t find an excuse to get away, huh."

The cops grin a bit too. It's a small town, and Coach’s passion for sport is obviously an old joke.

Another cop sticks his head into the bedroom.

"Ambulance is here. We’ll get him checked out just to be sure."

"Ok, good."

"They’ll probably need to do a thorough check," Coach murmurs in an undertone. "You understand? Just let them do their job, ok? I’ll be here when you’re done."

Drew looks worried but nods tensely.

"If you need to distract yourself, look around the ambulance and try to commit all the details you see to memory. You can give me the list later."

"Ok." The boy leaves with the police.

Coach stands up, peering through the doorway to the kitchen. "Are they charging her too?"

Valerie shrugs. "Not sure. But it’s not safe for him to stay here. She’s barely coherent."

"He won’t have to come back here, will he?"

"We’ll make sure he doesn’t."

"He doesn’t seem to have much stuff." Coach glances around. "Maybe we should pack it up." He pulls down a suitcase from a shelf and begins stuffing items into it. There's not enough room for the clothes.

"Can you see if there are some trash bags in the kitchen?" he asks Valerie before she could offer a half-hearted protest. Besides, he doesn't want to go out there. He doesn't trust what he’ll do if he sees that woman.

Valerie returns with a handful of black bags and they stuff the meagre collection of clothes into them.

A battered duffle and two plastic bags. Coach can't believe this is a child’s life.

"Anything that looks like his in the den?"

"No. I think you should leave it at that now."

The paramedic returns with the kid in tow. "He’s fine. A decent feed wouldn’t hurt."

Drew sits down beside Coach.

"How you holding up, kid?"

The boy sends an apprehensive glance towards the kitchen.

"They can’t trouble you any more." Coach is unhappily aware this won't fix the next 'they' he’ll have to deal with. "That asshole will never bother anyone again."

"He was crying." Drew sounds unbelieving.

"Cops probably painted a picture of what prison will be like. Like I said, everyone hates them."

"Coach? How did you know to get here in time?"

"You told me, kid. You told me what he was going to do. The time, the address on your ID." He smiles encouragingly. "You did one of the smartest things a person can do. You asked for help. You trusted your instincts and that takes courage. I’m proud of you."

It’s not hard to imagine those words have been in short supply during his life, but the boy’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t take his eyes off Coach, though.

"What’s going to happen now?"

The social worker answers. "We’ll take you into protective custody for tonight. They'll take more formal statements tomorrow."

Drew freaks. "You mean lock me up? Where he is?"

"Hey." Coach’s voice is reassuring. "You’d be kept separate. It’s the safest place in town. You’ll be completely surrounded by cops."

"No!"

"It's too late tonight to organise an alternative. No one’s saying you’ve done anything wrong. It’s just... there isn’t anywhere else…"

"Can’t I stay with you?"

Coach is at a loss. He turns to Valerie with a question on his face, not sure if the question is Can he? or Can you explain to him why not?

She is silent a moment, then gets up to find her colleagues.

The kid turns to Coach, his eyes desperate.

"I can’t be locked up."

"Well, you can’t stay here. And I’m by myself, you understand. I don’t exactly represent a family home."

"What about your wife?"

Coach’s eyes lower. "My wife died many years ago."

For some reason the kid finds this more reassuring, not less. His foster-mother must have been a piece of work. Or maybe in the kid's mind betraying him to a monster is worse than a monster simply being itself.

Coach goes on, gently: "Seriously, would you want to be alone with a strange man after all this?"

Drew nods. "If it’s you. I’ve been in three other places before this. I always know the ones who are going to be a problem."

Hearing this makes Coach feel sick.

"They don’t just let random strangers take abused kids."

The kid made a face. "Yeah, their due diligence is fantastic. Anyway, they know you, don’t they? Didn’t you say the police work with you, with runaways and whatever? I mean, you got the cops to come here."

"I got them to come here because I told them I was going to investigate an abuse allegation, and if it turned out to be true I would be breaking in and using my firearm against civilians." Coach shrugs. "Like you said, they know me."

Drew’s mouth falls open, but he manages to turn it into a wry smile. "So they knew you were joking."

Coach just looks at him. The smile vanishes. "You weren't."

Valerie reappears at that moment, swinging tiredly in the doorway. "It’s ok with us, Coach. You’re certified for working with kids, and the damn night’s almost over anyway."

She turns to Drew. "You sure you want to go with him?"

The boy nods, then says aloud: "Yes. I do."

Coach gives him a frustrated look.

Drew insists: "Didn’t you say that trusting my instincts and asking for help is smart?"

Coach grumbles, but he knows he’s lost.

"Ok then. Bring him in tomorrow morning, we’ll sort everything out," Valerie added.

"Sure."

—

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