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

[hoomanexploded]

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

[schrikes]

it’s quite literally her day today and we should all be saying thank you

[italictext]

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

[rainingincale]

.

[indigo6f00ff]

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

[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.

[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

[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.

[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 :)

[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 💋

[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

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Can I please request a Yeosang x reader smut where she runs into him after the concert and send off and she's a virgin. But he notices her lost and asks her to come back to his hotel room since she didn't know the area. Seeing her in her concert fit he asks if she wants to take a bath and he'll give her some spare clothes. Noticing she been in there for a while he enters to make sure she's ok to notice her getting out and she gets so embarrassed but he is staring at her body. Then makes a move. That's when she tells him she's a virgin and he teaches her and creamiest her. She bleeds and he comforts her. Etc?

I got some Yeosang lovers in my inbox ooh lala~ He was my bias before Yunho wreaked me keke. But here you go hope you like it.

Unprotected sex. Mature. MDNI

You run into Yeosang after the concert and he takes you back to his hotel (M) ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You were still buzzing with excitement after the concert, hardly able to keep still. The performance had shaken you to your core, and you were grateful that the send-off was still ahead. You longed to see them just one more time; the thought was exhilarating.

As you lined up for the send-off, the anticipation made your hands tremble. Getting close enough to see the members face-to-face felt so personal, and you couldn't help but check your makeup and outfit one last time. Suddenly, cheers and screams erupted from the far end of the line—the members were making their way down the hall! You tiptoed as best you could, trying to peek over the heads of other fans, but you could only catch glimpses here and there. Soon, the section of the line you were in buzzed with energy as the members drew nearer. They paused to wave and take pictures with fans, and you called out in hope for a little interaction.

When Hongjoon turned to wave at you, he pointed to your outfit and gave you a thumbs up. You felt your heart explode with joy. Then Mingi approached, and your excitement peaked.

“Mingi! Mingi!” you called out, surprised when he turned to wave. You held up your phone, recording the moment, and he noticed. With a quick flip, he turned the camera to face himself.

“Hii, I like your smile,” he said playfully into the lens before handing the phone back with a wink.

You thought you might faint—two interactions already! You could hardly believe it.

As other members passed, waving and smiling pleasantly, your heart raced and then you spotted Yeosang. He was your ultimate bias, and suddenly you were starstruck. You fumbled to express your excitement.

“I love you, Yeosang!” you yelled, the phrase tumbling out in a rush. It was all you could think to say, and you mentally facepalmed at your awkwardness.

Yeosang had been interacting with another fan but turned at the sound of your voice. He flashed a warm smile into the crowd and replied, “I love you too.” Though he didn’t see who had called out, you were certain those words were meant for you.

In that moment, you felt like you’d died and gone to heaven.

As the crowd gradually thinned and the members began to leave, you felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. All you could do was smile, replaying every precious moment in your head. Yeosang had said he loved you! You couldn’t contain your excitement and let out a little squeal. Clinging to the bliss of that evening, you lingered outside the venue, not ready to leave just yet. You wanted to savor this moment for as long as possible.

Watching fans depart one by one, you decided it would be easier for your Uber to find you once the crowd had thinned out. You took a seat on the steps, relishing the warmth of the memories you made tonight. Finally, when it felt like enough time had passed, you pulled out your phone to call for an Uber, only to be met with the horror of a dead battery. You sucked in a sharp breath. This couldn’t be happening!

Looking around, you realized you were completely alone. The evening had grown late, and the area felt less inviting. You didn’t feel safe just hanging around by yourself, so you decided to walk until you found a café or store where you could sit inside. 

The streets felt eerily dark, and the cool night air cut through your earlier elation. While you had loved your bright and cute outfit during the concert, now, walking alone, you felt exposed and vulnerable. You had no idea where you were, and without your phone, you felt increasingly uneasy. You wandered for what felt like an eternity, unsure of how long you had been walking, until you finally spotted a restaurant that was still open. The neon sign read “Ssong Korean Hotpot,” and you sighed with relief as you entered.

You took a seat at an empty table, and a sweet older lady approached to take your order. 

“What can I start you with?” she asked kindly.

“I’m sorry, nothing for now,” you replied, feeling embarrassed. You hadn’t brought your wallet along because you typically relied on tap-to-pay methods. The lady smiled reassuringly and moved on to the next table.

Once alone again, the tears you had been fighting off began to flow. You had tried so hard to maintain a positive attitude, but the stress of your situation weighed too heavily. You cried quietly in your booth, wiping your eyes quickly when you heard rustling from the booth in front of you. You didn't want anyone to see you crying.

Two figures stood up to leave—a middle-aged Korean man and a figure behind him that made your breath catch. 

It was Yeosang.

Quickly realizing the other person must have been his manager, your heart raced at the sheer coincidence. After a performance as electrifying as the one he had just delivered, it made sense that he would want to go out for a late meal. You held your breath, your heart fluttering with the unexpected turn of events, hoping this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

You catch his eye, and a spark of recognition flares in his expression. "Oh, are you an Ateez fan?" he asks sweetly, his voice warm and inviting. "I saw you earlier"

You nod silently, unable to trust your voice as you fight back fresh tears. The last thing you wanted was for Yeosang to see you at your lowest. But the weight of exhaustion and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, and tears begin to spill over.

"Hey, don't cry," he says, concern etching his features. He quickly turns and exchanges a few words with his manager, who gives a nod before leaving the restaurant. Yeosang then scoots into your booth, his presence both comforting and nerve-wracking. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly, genuine worry in his eyes.

You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. “I… I just got lost, and my phone died. I didn’t want to make a scene... I’m okay, really!” you stammer through your tears, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.

Yeosang leans in, his gaze warm and understanding. “It’s really late, and I can imagine how scary that must be,” he reassures you. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Do you want to head back with me? We can figure it out on the way.”

“No, I don’t want to be a bother, really,” you protest.

“You’re my fan; it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re safe. Not to mention Hongjoon would kill me if he found out something happened to an Atiny,” he says with a comforting laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

Finally, you decide to give in. He leads you outside to where his manager is waiting by the van. He helps you inside, and the three of you head back to his hotel.

During the ride, you engage in small talk, and slowly but surely, the tension eases. When you arrive, you thank his manager as you exit the van and follow Yeosang up to his hotel room.

As you step inside, your breath catches at the luxury of the space. It’s a beautiful suite, and it seems like he has it all to himself.

“I have a charger here; you can use it,” he says, plugging it into an outlet. You nod and pull your phone from your purse, handing it to him. “You must be tired. Do you want to take a shower? I can lend you some extra clothes. I know that after a long day, the first thing I want to do is wash up and take my makeup off,” he adds.

He was right—your makeup was probably smudged from crying, and your clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable. 

“I don’t mean to impose, but if you don’t mind, I would love to freshen up,” you say, your voice meek.

“Head into the bathroom; I’ll bring you some extra clothes and makeup wipes.”

Following his command, you make your way to the attached bathroom. If his hotel room was grand, the bathroom was even more stunning. This was going to be the most relaxing shower you’d ever taken. 

There was a large soaking tub and a separate shower room with two showerheads. Your heart fluttered; this had to be a dream. You turn on the water and begin to undress. 

You enjoy the complimentary soap losing yourself in the steam and the soothing sensation of the warm water cascading over you. Every muscle in your body begins to relax, the heat seeping into your bones as you let the dual showerheads create a gentle rain that felt like a tropical oasis. Time passes unnoticed until you finally decide to step out.

As you turn off the water and search for a towel, a sudden noise startles you. The door swings open, and Yeosang walks in. 

“I’m sorry! I was just bringing extra clothes and some makeup wipes if you still needed them,” he says apologetically, his face flushing a deep red when he sees you. “You had been in here a while, and I was just checking to make sure you were okay.” 

You scramble to cover yourself with your hands, awkwardly realizing the towel is on the other side of the room.

“It’s okay; you can just leave the clothes there,” you squeak out, embarrassed.

A beat of silence passes. “You’re beautiful,” he calls out.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you can’t help the flutter in your heart at his compliment. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, trying to regain some composure.

He sets the clothes down on the counter but doesn’t leave right away. “I want to see all of you. Are you okay with that?” He asks, his tone straightforward and sincere.

You look up in surprise at his boldness, your heart racing. The room grows quiet, and you feel the intensity of his gaze, making it hard to think straight. The inviting atmosphere seems to pulse with unspoken possibilities, and you find yourself at a crossroads, unsure of how to respond.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you meet Yeosang's gaze. The sincerity in his eyes is both exhilarating and terrifying, and your heart races as you process his bold invitation. You’ve admired him from afar, and now here he is, right in front of you, making you feel seen in a way you never expected.

“I… um,” you stammer, unsure of what to say. You could feel your pulse quickening, the air thick with a heady mixture of nervousness and excitement. Your instincts tell you to retreat, but your heart whispers something different.

“I know this is sudden,” he says softly, his voice low and soothing. “But you don’t have to be afraid. I just want you to feel comfortable. You’ve had a long day, and I want to make it better for you.”

His words wash over you, and the sincerity in his voice starts to dissolve your anxiety. 

“Okay,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay with that.”

A smile spreads across Yeosang’s face, relief and amusement lighting up his expression. “Really?” he asks.

“Yeah, really,” you confirm, a mixture of pride and vulnerability swelling within you.

Yeosang steps back into the room, and you follow him inside. He sits on the bed, and you walk over to position yourself between his legs as he gazes up at you. His warm hands glide along your sides, and he leans in, placing a tender kiss on your stomach.

You're so soft," he says with a smile, leaving a few more kisses on your skin before pulling you into his lap, encouraging you to straddle his waist.

"Yeosang," you call out nervously.

"Hmm?" he replies sweetly, showering your face with gentle kisses.

"I don't quite know how to put this, but... I'm a virgin," your voice trails off as uncertainty washes over you, unsure of how to continue.

He pauses his gentle exploration and leans back, looking into your eyes. His hands stay on your hips, tracing soothing circles into your skin, offering comfort. “Do you want to stop?” he asks softly, making sure you feel safe and comfortable in this moment. His concern for your feelings is clear, and you can sense his genuine care.

“No! No, it’s just…” you rush out, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I don’t really know what to do,” you admit shyly, looking down for a moment.

He smiles reassuringly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to do anything, baby. I’ll take care of you,” he says warmly, his voice steady and calming.

You nod your head, feeling the tension melt away as you relax against his touch again. “Okay, then I’m ready,” you say, a hint of determination in your voice as you meet his gaze.

He sends you a comforting smile and lays you down against the bed before stripping of his own clothes

You lay down and watch him as he exposes himself to you, you drink in the sight in front of you. “Spread your legs for me,” he commands

You do as he says and he perches himself on the space next to you, “Touch yourself, show me how wet you are,” and you trail a shaky hand down to your core. You play with yourself, spreading your juices and coaxing a moan from your lips. “Just like that,” he praises

Your shy under his gaze but you dont stop as you watch him lay down between your legs and grip your thighs. He presses a few kisses on your inner thighs  before licking at your core. Your hand falls to your side as you let him take over. He presses two fingers into you, stretching you open. He takes his time with you, making sure you are completely relaxed and enjoying yourself as he eats you out. He finally lets up and kisses you with his slick-covered lips and you can't help but moan at your own taste. 

You feel him line up against you, nudging his tip against your entrance and you whine for more. “Tell me what you want,” he says with the sweetest eyes you have ever seen. He was such a tease, looking so pretty while making you say such dirty things.

“I need to feel you”

“You are,” he corrects

“You know what I mean,” you whine embarrassed

“Use your words, or you get nothing”

“I want you inside of me,” you say

He smiles and reconnects your lips.

He pushes inside of you and you cringe at the feeling. It's an uncomfortable fit at first but he coaxes the pain away as he peppers your shoulders and face in kisses. He moves his hips slowly, gauging your reaction, and gradually, the initial discomfort begins to transform. The way his body presses against yours, the way he stretches you open, the sharp jolt of his hips as he fucks into you—it was all too much. The hungry way he had eaten you out had already had you close to the edge and now with the way he thrust into you, you were even closer. He breathes hotly against your neck, groans sounding throughout the room as he enjoys your body. You came after a particularly deep thrust that made your toes curl. He leans back at the way you convulse around his length and drives into you a little more desperately until hes pulling out and coming on your stomach.

It isn't until you catch your breath that you notice the blood on his tip and you sit up quickly and look between your legs and your heart crumples up in embarrassment as you notice the spot of blood on the covers.

Yeosang notices your distrss and reaches for you, “It's ok, its normal. Don't be scared. Ill get you cleaned up” He moves into the bathroom, cleans himself up and comes out with a damp towel and your spare clothes. He wipes you down and you get dressed. 

“Thank you,” you respond, still feeling a touch of embarrassment.

“It’s perfectly fine,” he assures you with a warm smile. “How about you stay the night? You can head out in the morning.”

You stifle a yawn, relieved by the invitation. Before you settle in, he changes the sheets, making everything fresh and comfortable. 

Once everything is ready, he slips in beside you. As you drift to sleep, a soft prayer escapes your lips—a hope that when morning comes, it won’t have just been a dream.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Home for Christmas

Written for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six -Ber Month Fanworks Challenge, thank you so much for organizing this, Lex! Prompt: Haunted House.

Also on Ao3.

"How is the turkey?"

Eddie peeked inside the oven and frowned at what was soon to be come their dinner. "I'm sure it's not feeling great," he said slowly, and then dodged a kitchen towel thrown at him. "Hey, I don't know what you want me to say. You can't ask me things like that! You know I don't cook!"

Steve rolled his eyes. He had that expression he'd perfected over the years, the one saying I'm suffering from all the stupidity in the world. Eddie loved it. "I thought you knew colors. We all learned them in the kindergarten, right? Is the turkey less pale now? More golden?"

Squatting in front of the oven again, Eddie did his best to assess the state of the unfortunate bird. It didn't have feathers anymore, which counted as good enough in the Munson household. "Look, Steve, I'm really trying, and I can tell you the thing is darker than before. Looks crunchier. But gold...how are you even able to tell? The light in the oven is yellow."

In a few quick steps, Steve was next to him and nudged him away from the oven. Of course, the turkey was still pale. "Out of all people in the world, I had to fall for a clown," he sighed.

Sneaking behind him, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's middle, smooth, perfect. "You love me," he whispered in his ear.

Steve didn't need to answer that, but he decided to do so anyways.

--

"Do we have potatoes?"

"Not sure. Things keep moving around here. Who knows where she put them."

One desparate and thorough search later, Eddie and Steve were standing in the kitchen, empty handed. "OK, unless she buried them in the backyard, I'm pretty sure we're potato-less," said Eddie, rubbing his eyes. "Do you want me to start digging?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah. I think...let me try. Sometimes it feels like she knows we want to contact her, so...uh. Hey, El?" He involuntarily looked upwards, as if she resided somewhere in heaven. Even if he knew it wasn't true. "Could you...uh. I know this is a really bad time and all, but we really need some potatoes.  Would you by any chance-"

He didn't even need to finish speaking. The cupboard doors flung themselves open, and in the place that they'd checked at least twice, there was a bag of potatoes. On it was a bright sticky note with a wobbly handwriting that said Sorry, forgot. Merry Xmas!! and the world's most crooked smiley face.

"Thank you, the same to you!" smiled Steve. "Do I...uh. Can I ask how is everything? I know you don't-"

He was interrupted again. Another set of cupboard doors moved, but this time it just swung from side to side, as if it was a head, shaking in a silent "no".

"I thought so. Thanks, El."

--

They pinned the sticky notes next to the other ones, on the fridge. Steve absentmindedly stroked his fingers over the tiny drawing, lost in thought, or maybe a memory. But then he remembered Eddie, the Christmas dinner they were making, and he turned away from the fridge. What was it that Robin once said? What I can't change, I have to let go. Or something like that.

The turkey was taking forever, but neither of them minded. There was no rush, everything else was ready, and so Steve decided to whip some egg whites to prepare Eddie's favorite meringues for when the oven would eventually be free. From time to time, a small amount of sugar would get dropped into the bowl, even before he could tell Eddie he needed his help. "I appreciate it," he muttered, "but don't you have better things to do?"

In the flour spilled from their earlier baking, an invisible finger drew a sly smiley face, and then - NO.

"That's okay then."

--

The tree was ready. Well, almost. Eddie was running around the house, looking for the last, most vital piece. He was one hundred percent sure he had seen it somewhere. Maybe in their room? No? What about the storage room? In the washing machine? His short term memory wasn't great, but this was a bit too much even for him.

There were still sounds of whisking coming from the kitchen, but that had to stop eventually. And Eddie didn't want to put more on Steve's plate.

He glanced at the familiar looking electrical tablet thingy that they used what seemed ages ago to communicate from the Upside Down. Had that always been there? He decided not to worry about it. Steve worried enough for the both of them. "Uh...hey, El?" he asked, glancing around the room. "Wasn't there a star for the top of the tree somewhere? Did you...did you maybe hide it?"

A moment of hesitation, and then - YES.

Eddie curled a strand of his hair around his finger. "Okay...but, why? Can we have it back?"

Another moment, then another message. NOT YET.

Eddie wanted to repeat himself, ask why, because El wasn't malicious, so there was obviously something else. But before he could speak up, the lights revealed another word. VISITOR.

--

Normally, Eddie would leap down the stairs, superhero landing style, but now he was walking down slowly, lost in thought. "Hey, Steve. Please don't freak out, but. Uh. Apparetly we're gonna have a visitor. Or something."

Steve's face grew pale. "Do we know who?"

Eddie shook his head. He didn't want to think about it too much, and he didn't like putting another worried frown on Steve's pretty face. "Nope, but hey, now we know what we need to do, right? A third plate!  I bet they're hungry. And the turney smells so good. You'd better guard it, Steve, or I'll bite into it right as it comes out of the oven!"

Just like magic, Steve's frown disappeared. He grabbed a kitchen towel and slapped Eddie's outstretched hand. "No, you absolute goblin! It's for the Christmas table. And you'll burn your mouth!"

Eddie fake gasped, hand clasped over his mouth. "He knows goblins! I have spoiled the pure, formerly incorruptible paragon of jockery, Steve Harrington! He's a Dungeons and Dragons nerd now, oh what a joyful days, what an achievement-"

"I'll give you a nerd-"

This time, the kitchen towel slapped Eddie's ass, and he lunged to the side, cackling. "There's no changing that now, Steve! I have ruined you for everyone else!"

And wasn't that the truth?

They had just finished preparing the third plate when their doorbell rang. Hearts wildly beating in their chests, they opened it. And there she was, with the same scowl, same snark, in her light blue jacket and jeans.

Max was wringing her fingers, looking anywhere but at them. "I think..." she said in a unusually quiet voice, "I think I got lost for a while. It's that stupid fog. Sorry it took me so long to get here."

As she got pulled into a tight and "absolutely non-consensual hug, Steven, what are you doing?!", and Steve just muttered "I don't see you letting go of me either, Mayfield!", Eddie closed the door behind them, just as he too got pulled into the same hug.

When they finally let go of each other and looked towards the table, the star was there, gleaming in the light.

Max kept walking around, exploring, touching the table, the plates, even the turkey with awe. "How the hell did this happen? I have so many questions-"

The cabinet doors did their usual no-no routine.

Eddie laughed. "It seems our hostess thinks that Christmas should come before your questions. Let's finish the tree, and then-food! And then maybe we can fit some of your questions into our inevitable food coma. Did you know that Steve cooks? I mean, really cooks. Deliciously. Stylishly. And he's hot when he's doing it."

She gave him a deer-in-headlights look. "He's what?"

Steve clicked his tongue and ushered them into the living room, grabbing the star on his way. "I knew you two together would be insufferable."

The star was placed on top of the tree. The dinner was delicious and question-free, except for one - "how the hell did this," Max said, pointing her fork at the two of them, "happen? When did this happen?"

Steve squeezed Eddie's hand. "It happened...after. And how...do you really, really want the details, Mayfield?"

She immediately dropped her gaze to her turkey. "Ew. No. Thanks, no." But even over Eddie's cackling, Steve could make out her next words: "But good for you two, I guess."

After the dinner, Max wished them good night and retreated into her new room. Eddie wanted to note that he was pretty sure the door wasn't there before, that he'd never seen it, but Steve shook his head. "Gift horses and all that," he smiled at Eddie and pulled him into their own bedroom. He hoped, for Max's sake, that the magical walls were soundproof too.

--

They unwrapped the presents together, with hot cocoa and quiet carols playing in the background. There was one for Max too, because Christmas miracles were a thing now, even if Steve and Eddie knew it hadn't been there before.

When Max tore the wrapping paper off and saw the Wonder Woman comics inside, she may have cried a bit. But Steve and Eddie won't confirm nor deny that, because they value their lives.

Clutching it to her chest as if it was the holiest of books, Max turned her eyes upwards, just as Steve had done, and mouthed a quiet "thank you."

The cabinet door waved at her. "It was nothing", it seemed to say.

--

They talked afterwards. Not too much, not about everything, but enough to understand.

"It started with me," said Steve, clutching his mug. "I...well. You know what happened. I mean, not the details, but...it was two demogorgons for me. And I mean, it was fine, I figured it would end that way eventually, but...then I heard her. El. She told me-"

"You're not going," whispered Max. "She told me the same. After the Creel House."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. And then I found myself here. It was beautiful, but...I was alone. And I think she knew I couldn't handle that, because the next thing I knew, Eddie was at the door."

The other man scratched his head, wincing. "It was wild. One minute I'm demobat feast, it's going dark and all that. I can't remember much, but then I see a light, which, wow. Great, I think, I made it to heaven. But then I see the light is coming from an open door and it's none other than Steve Harrington greeting me. I thought the pearly gates were supposed to be different, but hey, I'm not complaining. And that's it. We've been here for a while. Nowhere to go. No one to fight."

"I mean, we tried, at first," laughed Steve. "Broke a window. Tried to climb up through the chimney. Couldn't get anywhere past the backyard. We thought it was all a trick. But then El started leaving us notes. This is her work. Her way of saving her world, that's what she said. She must have been trying to guide you here ever since."

Max's fingers were restless on her mug. She was tapping it, almost spilling the hot liquid. "So you're telling me that when there's other people-"

"Yes."

"And we can't do anything. Anything to prevent it."

Eddie shook his head. "Nope. We can't prevent it. We were talking about it a lot, you know. We wanted to help, but in the end, the best we can do is give El what she wants us to have. A future. I don't know what she did, if she just," he wiggled his long fingers, "did some magic and created a piece of reality for us, if we're in another dimension, if this is our personal afterlife or something, but I won't waste my second chance wondering."

"The one thing we can do," continued Steve and, despite her glare, put his hand on Max's shoulder, "is to be here for the others when they arrive. With a warm bed and a good meal."

Max dropped her head and blinked. There were more ripples in her cocoa mug, even if her hands were still. "Then you'd better teach me how to cook, Steve," she muttered.

--

There would be more, of course. Some older, some younger. Some beaming like the sun itself, some crying. A lot of them would do both.

One day in the future, Eddie would barely be able to speak through his sobbing when Wayne appeared on the doorstep. Moments after that, a small collection of very strange mugs would find their way into their kitchen.Another day, Steve would greet Hopper, with his beard now fully grey. They wouldn't talk much, but Steve would see the pride in his eyes when Hopper learned what his daughter did for all of them. "I knew she couldn't just let you guys go," he'd mutter and pour himself another cup of coffee.

The house would remain warm and loving, with the number of rooms still growing. Everyone would have a place there.

Finally, the hostess would come home one day, her hair long again and hopefully grey, with crow feet from a fulfilled and happy life. She would knock on the door, unsure what she'd find, but she wouldn't need to wonder for long, because there would be many voices saying the same thing: "Welcome home, El."

And then...who knows?

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: mentions of blood, mdni

Chapter Three

"We gotta to take her to the hospital."

"You know we can't do that."

"We can because she's fuckin' dying!"

My body felt like it was floating before my focus settled on a steady throb of pain in my lower stomach.

"Butcher, she's not dying. Her pulse is strong, and since I stitched her up, she hasn't bled whatsoever."

"Then, why the hell ain't she wakin' up?"

"Because she's exhausted. She lost a great amount of blood and wore herself out trying to fucking wrestle you in the van."

Blood.

That word caught my attention. I remembered blood and lots of it as it painted Butcher's knuckles a deep red.

"If she's not up in thirty minutes, I'm takin' her to the emergency room, end of story."

"Butcher, you, and I, and fucking Jesus Christ himself, know that if we step one foot into any medical facility, we will be taken into custody. It's not worth the risk."

"She is. She's worth the risk.

It was quiet for either a few minutes or a few hours. Both timeframes felt the same in my hazy state.

A long sigh broke the spell, followed by more dialogue. "Jo is ok, I promise you. Now, I need to grab the bag of fluids that I left in my room. While I'm gone, don't you dare think about running off with her. I am the only medical professional she needs right now."

Footsteps trailed off as my eyes slowly blinked open to take in my surroundings. I was in the basement of the pawn shop, on the couch that I was still convinced had bed bugs.

"Mornin', sunshine."

The Cockney accent drew my attention, and I looked up at Butcher's tired face. His hazel eyes bored into mine, and memories from earlier flooded my brain.

"Here ya' go," Butcher said, offering me a glass of water.

Upon attempting to sit up and accept the drink, I gasped as my abdomen screamed in pain.

"Woah, there. It's a little soon for you to be up and at 'em, doll. Here, lemme help ya'," Butcher said gently as he laid me back down on the couch and eased a hand under my head, propping it up so I could drink.

Grateful, I eagerly gulped the water, finishing the whole glass in mere seconds and earning a chuckle from Butcher.

"There, ya' go. Down the hatch."

He slowly lowered my head back on my pillow and placed the empty glass on the coffee table behind him before turning back to face me, studying my face in great detail.

"You gave us a right scare there, love."

"At least I know you guys care," I shrugged. "Now, when I do actually drop dead, I'll be expecting a funeral with the works—fireworks, I mean. See if you can get Celine Dion, too. I heard she's available."

I expected another laugh from Billy, but instead, he looked more solemn than ever. His eyes trailed down to where my shirt, a clean one without blood, rode up on my stomach, showing the gauze that MM had wrapped me in.

"I thought I had lost ya'," He mumbled.

It was quiet between us due to the fact that I didn't know how to react to Butcher's surprising words.

"I guess I can relate to the feeling," I finally said as my face hardened. "Since you left me for three months with no goodbye. I thought you were dead."

Butcher bowed his head, "Jo, you have no idea how much I fuckin' regret leaving ya'. But I had no other choice."

"You always have a choice, Butcher." My voice grew louder as my emotions rose in powerful waves. "And you didn't leave me. You fucking abandoned me!"

He cupped my face, but I turned my head, rejecting the physical affection. "Don't," I whispered. "It's too late. You can't just walk back in here and act like nothing happened. Like you didn't fuck me, and then throw me away like garbage the next day."

Butcher's nostrils flared as he rose to his impressive height, towering over me. "Now, listen here-"

"Ok, I'm breaking this up," MM called, reentering the room. "Jo is very weak right now, and I cannot allow her to undergo any extra stress."

"I'm not weak," I quipped back, whipping my head to gaze at MM as he leaned over the back of the couch.

Unconvinced, he asked, "Really? Let me see you try and stand up then."

When I didn't move to rise from the sofa, MM shook his head. "You need fluids and rest. Luckily, neither is hard to obtain." He held up a bag of fluids before hanging it on an IV stand next to him.

"Now," he continued, doling out commands. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll check your stitches in a couple of hours."

"But I'm not tired," I argued.

"The bags under your eyes say otherwise."

"Well, this couch is uncomfortable," I grumbled. "It hurts my back."

"Alright, we'll get you to your room then," MM sighed.

Before I could stop him, Butcher scooped me up into his arms, and I protested loudly. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oi, shut your pie hole," he whispered harshly, fanning the side of my face with his breath that stank of whiskey and dominance. "I'm takin' care of you whether ya' like it or not."

I fought an internal battle before closing my lips and fixing my eyes into narrow slits.

"Good girl."

Air was quickly expelled from my lungs as I exhaled, willing myself not to rub my legs together as an ache settled between them.

But it was no use. Butcher knew the effect he had on me, and from the corner of my eye, I could see a smirk plastered on his face as he carried me to my room, full of arrogance after winning our little quarrel.

"Dontcha worry, darlin'. When you're on your feet again, you can beat me up for being the bad man that I am."

I didn't respond because I refused to be baited into another argument with Butcher. Instead, I kept a pout in place and stared straight ahead, thinking of all the ways that I could cause him physical harm. After all, he had just given me permission to, and it was proving to be quite invigorating.

"And maybe when you're all done, you'll fancy bending over and lettin' me enjoy a meal or two. Because if my memory serves me, you seemed to enjoy it last time."

"Well, the last time was the only time," I curtly informed him as Butcher gently dropped me down on my bed. I inwardly chastised myself for falling for his trap when he flashed his crazy eyes above me.

"Mhm, that's what they all say."

"Well, I mean it," I snapped, pulling my blanket up to my chin as if it would shield me from Butcher's snarky words.

"Sure ya' do," Butcher said condescendingly as he patted me on the head before leaving the room.

I was relieved to be out of his company and was disappointed when he returned, the IV stand with the bag of fluids still hanging from it in tow and other needed supplies grasped in his hand. I watched as he prepared the IV tubing before he sat down on the edge of my bed and huffed, "Give me your arm."

"Why can't MM do it?" I sulked.

"Because I'm doin' it," he replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

I grumbled under my breath, clearly displeased. As I reluctantly drew my arm from under the blanket's coverage, Butcher looked at me with a bushy brow raised. "What? You don't think I'm a suitable nurse?"

"Well, your bedside manners leave much to be desired."

"That's funny. All my other patients think I'm perfectly charmin', especially the older ladies. I didn't know I appealed to nans so much," he snickered, running a calloused finger over my arm, searching for an appropriate vein.

"I'm surprised you appeal to anyone."

"I guess ya' should be questionin' your own taste then, eh?"

"Believe me, I am."

Butcher didn't reply as he wrapped a small piece of fabric around my bicep, creating a makeshift tourniquet.

"Don't look, ok, doll?" he instructed, swiping a cotton ball covered in rubbing alcohol over my arm. My nose wrinkled at the strong smell, and I coughed.

"I don't need an IV," I said, trying to negotiate at the last minute. "I'll drink lots of water. Even that gross electrolyte shit MM buys."

"I don't think that's gonna to cut it, sweetheart," he stated, sliding the needle inside of the small catheter.

I bit my lip, trying to resign myself to my fate but failing miserably.

"M'not gonna hurt ya', ok? Just look at the ceilin' so you don't maul me to death."

"It's not like you wouldn't deserve it."

Butcher closed his eyes as I began to tread on his nerves. "Princess, you outta think before you speak that way to someone who's holdin' a very sharp object inches from you, yeah?"

"But you won't hurt me. You just said so yourself."

"Doesn't mean I'm not tempted."

I rolled my eyes and held my breath as I followed Butcher's wishes and looked at the ceiling. I winced slightly when I felt the needle initially enter my arm, but Butcher gently ran his free hand over my shoulder, distracting me.

"Atta girl," he breathed. "You're doin' so good."

My body trembled as I floated down from my last orgasm. I was vaguely aware of Butcher as he pulled me to lay on his chest, both of us panting.

"Y'alright, sweetheart?"

I could barely reply as my eyelids fluttered open and closed. My mind was full of various thoughts, but none of them made sense as my head floated somewhere above the rest of my body.

"Look at me, doll," Butcher said, running a hand through my hair. "Lemme see them pretty eyes."

I mustered all of my strength to peel my eyes open as I looked up at Billy with a lazy smile on my face.

"There she is. Atta girl," Butcher whispered. "You did so good for me."

Even in my delirious state, I keened under his praise, and Butcher chuckled at my reaction.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured as I nuzzled into his neck, nodding off in the arms of someone I loved.

Yes, I loved Billy Butcher.

He just didn't know it yet.

I held my breath as I forced myself to count the questionable yellow spots on the ceiling and not get lost in yet another memory of Butcher pretending to cherish me. I had just reached the twelfth discolored splotch when Butcher sat back and said, "All done, love."

I looked down at my arm and furrowed my brows in confusion when I saw the catheter fully inserted with some tape to keep it in place. Aside from the initial insertion, I hadn't felt the rest of the procedure.

"Told ya' it wouldn't hurt," Butcher said proudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, reading my thoughts, which were clearly displayed on my face.

"I guess you're not the worst nurse in the world," I relented.

Butcher's mouth curled up at the side, and I knew my meager compliment had inflated his already oversized ego.

"Well, ain't that sweet of you to say. But don't tell MM, alright? He prides himself on his medical skills."

Butcher delicately adjusted my blanket, pulling it tighter and tucking me in for the night. "Now you have a little lie-down, love. And dontcha let those manky bedbugs bite."

"Are you going to read me a bedtime story while you're at it?" I inquired.

"The only stories I like to tell aren't appropriate for bedtime," Butcher whispered, winking at me.

He headed for the open doorway before turning around at the last second. "Oh, and if ya' need help countin' sheep, just give me a shout. I'll be on the other side of the wall."

I nodded before curling up on my side, trying not to tug too hard on my IV as the door creaked shut, signaling that I was alone. The light from the living room drifted under the doorway, providing a makeshift nightlight and illuminating the small, dingy room.

Sleep came surprisingly soon, and I drifted off, dreaming of Billy's heartbeat under my ear as he held me in his arms.

༺༻

It felt like only minutes later when I woke up due to the sensation of someone's hands on my stomach, and I flinched as my eyes flew open.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," MM apologized. "I was just checking your stitches," he explained as he pulled the bandage back over my abdomen and quickly did the same with my shirt and blanket.

"How does it look?" I asked hesitantly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"So far, it's holding. But it wasn't my best work with Frenchie going ninety miles an hour and you...evading my help," he sighed.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled sheepishly.

"Hey, don't worry about it, kid. We all have something we're scared of. If I were being held down against my will while someone coughed in my face, I'd have done everything I could to knock their fucking teeth out."

My smile was small as I nodded in gratitude. "What time is it?" I inquired, wondering what day it was as well.

"Noon."

"Noon?" My eyes grew wide as I ran a hand through my matted hair. "Fuck, I must've slept for almost nine hours." Which was rare. These days, I was lucky if I slept for two hours consecutively with the anxiety that ran through my veins and the threats that loomed over our heads.

"Ten, actually. I told you your body needed rest."

I was preparing a comeback when my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting the conversation.

MM rose to his feet. "By the sound of it, it seems you might want some breakfast. Frenchie made you a get-well gift in the form of French toast. Are you interested?" he asked, and my ears perked up at the offer.

"Sounds really good, actually."

He nodded, patting my shoulder. "Ok. Butcher will be in to help you up."

I groaned loudly, and MM couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, kid, but Butcher made us all swear not to touch you. I was only granted special permission on the basis that it was purely medical so I could check your stitches."

"He's being ridiculous," I scowled.

MM regarded me knowingly. "I think I'd probably call it something else."

I rolled my eyes, and MM laughed again as he exited my room, leaving the door open.

I barely had time to prepare myself for Butcher's imposing presence when he glided through the uninhibited doorway with a cheery greeting on his tongue.

"Rise and shine, my love. How are we feelin' this mornin?" His accent was especially thick as he wasted no time in raking my blanket back.

I yanked the fuzzy material back over myself, glaring up at the Brit, but he just retaliated by gripping the blanket in one of his paw-like hands and tossing it across the small room.

I eyed the pile of fabric I was unable to retrieve due to my current injury and whined, "Don't leave it on the floor. I just washed it." But I was soon distracted by the chair that sat in the corner facing my bed. I didn't remember seeing that yesterday.

"Who's chair is that?" I asked, pivoting the conversation.

"Mine," Butcher replied as he carefully pulled my IV out and wheeled the IV stand out of the way. "You'll have to forgive me for bringin' my chair in, but I haven't figured out how to sleep standin' up yet."

"You slept in here last night?"

"Well, I don't have bloody x-ray vision, so how else was I s'pposed to keep an eye on you, eh?"

"Did it ever occur to you that not checking on me at all was a viable option?"

"Not in my book," he responded sharply before changing the subject. "Now, let's getcha up. According to MM, you're fancyin' some of Frenchie's cookin'."

Butcher slid an arm under my lower back and slowly pulled me into a sitting position.

"Easy does it, love," he said as I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed through the discomfort. "You got it."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed so my feet rested on the floor, and I braced my palms on my thighs, trying to steady myself.

"Take your time, ok? I don't need ya' rippin' your stitches under my watch," he advised as he laced our hands together and pulled until I was standing on my own two feet. My vision blacked out for a second as the blood rushed from my head down to the rest of my body, and I teetered forward, falling into Butcher's muscular chest.

"I've got ya' sweetheart," he assured me as he held my unstable frame against him.

I pulled back when my vision returned, and I looked up into Butcher's attentive face. "I'm dizzy," I mumbled.

"S'ok. MM said that's normal," he assured me softly, tucking my tangled hair behind my ear.

I wanted to chastise myself for enjoying Butcher's tenderness, but I simply didn't have the energy as I nodded, trying to turn toward the door.

"Do ya' think you can walk?" he asked, resting a protective hand on my back. I'm more than happy to carry you."

"I don't need a chauffeur. I'm perfectly capable of walking," I said, stumbling forward a few steps. I was determined to do something on my own after being coddled for the past twenty-four hours.

Butcher didn't reply, but he didn't remove his hand either in the event that I should fall again. That only increased the pressure I felt to walk faster and show him I was strong enough to move about without any help.

I finally made it out into the open area of the basement and was greeted by everyone. Hughie, Kimiko, and MM wore encouraging smiles as Frenchie placed a tall plate of French toast topped with whipped cream on the coffee table.

"Pour toi, Mademoiselles," Frenchie announced, and I thanked him profusely.

Under Butcher's watchful eye, I eased myself down on the couch, and he quickly followed suit. He placed a supportive arm around my shoulders, and I would've made a snarky comment about him being clingy, but his arm was the only thing keeping me upright at the moment, so I kept my mouth shut.  

Butcher placed my breakfast in my lap and whispered in my ear, "Do ya' need me to cut it for you, princess?"

I used all my energy to elbow him in his side, and he breathed out a laugh before addressing the room. "Alright you twats. Let's have a little chin wag about tonight."

My head shot up in confusion as I chewed the first bite of my French toast. The wonderful medley of sugar and cinnamon coated my tongue. However, I couldn't focus on Frenchie's superb culinary skills when the group began discussing a mission to which I was not privy.

"Ok, so after a little bit of trouble due to a very annoying firewall, I was able to hack their systems, and I found a blueprint of the building, so we'll be able to locate her office quicker than just going in blindly," Hughie said, squatting next to the coffee table and spreading out the blueprint that he had just spoken of.

"Who's office?" I interrupted.

Hughie looked confusedly at Butcher, who had remained silent beside me. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" I asked skeptically, turning my head to look at Butcher, and he sighed.

"We're breakin' into Raynor's office to have a look around before the CIA cleans it out. Word on the street is that they're doin' it tomorrow, so we've gotta go tonight."

"And you decided this without me?" I asked incredulously.

"You were knocked out, love. Was I s'pposed to wake ya' up in the middle of the night? You're always moaning about how ya' need your beauty sleep."

"Well, that wouldn't have been difficult considering you were two feet away watching me like a fucking peeping tom," I snapped before glaring at the rest of the room. "I'm coming with you."

"No," Butcher said sternly. "You aren't goin' anywhere."

"Yes, I am," I pressed.

I felt Butcher's fingers tighten around my shoulder. "Let's talk about this later, yeah?" he suggested.

"Talk about what later? The mission that I was unaware of or the fact that you won't fucking leave me alone?"

I should've seen it coming, but I was still thrown off when Butcher suddenly stood from the sofa, leaving me to crumple against it without his support. He then stomped to the other side of the basement, only stopping when he reached the corner and sneered at me. "Is this better?"

"Expanetuily," I bit back, clutching my abdomen as it tensed up under the new strain as I stood as well, not finished with what I had to say on the matter. I thought I was holding up well until MM swore, rushing to my side and forcing me to sit back down.

Bemewsed by his behavior, I tried to question him, but when he pulled up my shirt, I saw blood seeping through the gauze, and my heart plummeted.

I had ripped my stitches.

"Hughie, go into my room. On my desk, you will find some supplies. Bring them to me," MM instructed as he made quick work of pulling back the now-damp gauze.

"Fuck, it's worse than what I thought," he sighed. "Nice going, Butcher," he said, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder at his boss, who had remained standing in the corner.

The dig forced Butcher into action as he footed it over to us. "Fuck you. Clearly, I didn't do it on bloody purpose."

"Just get out," MM barked as he accepted the supplies from Hughie.

"No, I'm stayin'," Butcher argued obstinantely.

MM pinched the bridge of his nose. "Butcher, Jo is clearly upset by you being here. So stop being a stubborn motherfucker and get the fuck out."

Butcher's gaze fell on me as lines formed between his thick brows in concern. I knew he was waiting for me to beg him to stay, but I wouldn't do it. His comfort was something I craved like a drug, and it was about time I got clean. Plus, I couldn't deny the sick urge I had to hurt him, to push him away like he did to me when he left for three months.

"Fine," Butcher uttered slowly when I remained silent, "I'll let you other cunts dry this one's tears when she's fuckin' beside herself over a goddamn needle and a little bit of blood."

He pivoted around and swept up the stairs. Seconds later, the old building shook as Butcher forcefully slammed the door.

It was quiet after Butcher's dramatic exit, and MM shook his head, running a needle through a lighter. The deja vu I felt was painfully prominent.

"You ready to try this again, kid?"

₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊

tag list: @weallhaveadestiny

@im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

@mandossillyriduur

comment to be added to the list!🖤

abandoned masterlist

[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.