#I know some might argue it’s just becoming my brand

[theswedishpajas]

FINALLY breaking myself free from the chains that are rendered Fords… STANLEY, MY LOVE, I AM HERE TO AT LAST APPRECIATE YOUR FACE HOW IT DESERVES!!!!!

[monzabee]

two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

2018 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 

“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 

2021 

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 

“Maybe I should.” 

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 

“Female intuition.” 

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 

“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 

You nod your head, “Yes.” 

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.” 

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”

[enditen]

birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.



“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.



“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”



“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”



The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.



He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.



Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck. 



“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse. 



“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.



That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.



"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.



Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.



"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."



"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."



Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.



"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "



A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"



You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.



"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."



"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."



The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."



If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."



You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.



This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.



It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.



You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.



His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.



Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.



"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."



Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.



"I—" He starts before you shake your head.



"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.



"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."



You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"



You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"



A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."



His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"



You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"



His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.



"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."



"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.



"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."



"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"



"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"



"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"



"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"



"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."



A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."



You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"



A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.



He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.



"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.



A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"



"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."



You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."



What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.



You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.



"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.



You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.



"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.



"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."



He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."



You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."



"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

[fandomspacenqueue]

Transformers One has been living rent free in my brain for the last few weeks. It's definitely one of my favorite movies of the year and I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it. I just wanted to ramble about some cool things that caught my attention here. Spoilers for the entire movie, and also I am pretty much completely unfamiliar with any other Transformers media apart from one or two of the live action movies, so everything in this post applies to Transformers One only.

First, the juxtaposition between Orion Pax and D-16's respective ascensions to becoming Optimus Prime and Megatron. Orion is deemed worthy by Primus, the god of the Cybertronians himself, due to his act of self sacrifice for the greater good. D-16, on the other hand, takes Megatronus Prime's cog by force, essentially deeming himself worthy. Which isn't inherently a negative thing, except his actions both before and after doing so are incredibly self-serving. He brutally kills Sentinel Prime without any semblance of trial or due process, prioritizing his own desire for revenge over rebuilding their society, even killing his own best friend who was pleading with him to consider the bigger picture. Megatron then doubles down on this when he orders the destruction of the city's infrastructure, putting innocents in harm's way and even looking like he might kill Bee and Elita, his friends, when they try to intervene. In fact, this makes him a direct parallel to Sentinel Prime, who also seized power for his own sake and whose actions were also destructive toward other Cybertronians. Like sure, tearing down every vestige of a corrupt regime might feel cathartic, but in the end it isn't constructive. It doesn't do anything to make the world better. Revolution is only as good as what it intends to install in the place of what was formerly in power.

In fact, there were already hints of where D-16 and Orion would end up in the scene after they see the truth of Sentinel Prime. Orion says he's focusing on what their next move should be, but D-16 berates him for getting them into this situation in the first place, accusing Orion of only thinking about himself. D-16 frames Orion's attitude negatively, but I would argue that this is precisely what makes Orion a good leader. Prioritizing the things that one can control, namely one's own actions and responses to external circumstances, is how we can change our future, whereas merely focusing on what happens to us or what others do to us, which we can't control, is an exercise in futility. Sure, Orion might be a little reckless at times, but his heart is always in the right place and he always takes responsibility for his own actions. He tells Darkwing that he was the one who broke protocol in the mines and he tells Sentinel that joining the race was his idea, fully expecting to be punished both times. And while doing the right thing can lead to negative consequences, especially in an oppressive system, they're clearly still worth doing. Even Elita, who got demoted because Orion broke protocol to rescue Jazz, eventually admits that saving Jazz's life was a net positive and rightfully took precedence.

That scene also showed something interesting, that D-16 might actually prefer living a comfortable lie to knowing the terrible truth of his reality. He gets angry at Orion for leading them down the path of learning the truth, despite the objective misery of their and the other miners' lives, because he was apparently advancing within the ranks of the system by following the rules and is upset that it's now revealed to have been all for nothing. He scoffs at the idea of revealing the truth to the rest of the city, claiming that no one wants to know the truth, but it's clearly just him projecting when it turns out that everyone immediately turns against Sentinel when the truth is revealed in the climax. This goes a long way to explaining why he persists in setting himself and the newly branded Decepticons against Optimus Prime at the end, despite himself acknowledging that Optimus is very much the real deal with Primus' undeniable approval in the form of the Matrix of Leadership. Megatron is so convinced of his own righteousness that he'll invent a conspiracy that doesn't exist to avoid confronting the reality that he might've been in the wrong. (Not to mention it's a little hypocritical for Megatron to go "No leader can be trusted. Except me, you should all follow me.")

I've also seen some speculation on why the High Guard didn't interfere when D-16 was challenging Starscream but tried to help Megatron fight Optimus, that maybe they just really believed in Megatron's strength or were themselves disillusioned with the "Age of Primes" as Megatron had put it. I think there's a simpler explanation: Megatron is a clear believer in their "might makes right" philosophy and was playing by their rules when he challenged Starscream. Whereas Optimus might well be mightier than Megatron, but he definitely does not subscribe to their beliefs and would not allow the High Guard to push anyone around no matter how tough they are. And it's hardly like they were knights in shining armor when they were first introduced, appearing more than a little like bullies to be quite honest. Just fighting against the bad guy Sentinel Prime doesn't necessarily make them good guys.

Honestly, Orion Pax/Optimus Prime is just so good. He's the one who goes back for Bee when the latter stumbles while they're all running from the Quintessons, he's the only one to protest when Alpha Trion tells them to leave him behind while they flee, and he never holds himself above anyone, willingly allowing Elita and D-16 to take the lead, kneeling down so he can speak to the other miners as equals after he's gained a cog and became a "transformer," and expressing his sincere gratitude to Elita and Bee for all their help and acknowledging that he'll continue to rely on them. His very first act as a Prime after defeating Megatron and the High Guard is to restore the flow of Energon and the miners' stolen cogs. He declares that "freedom and autonomy are the rights of all sentient beings," proclaiming himself a protector for all his people, no matter which faction they might've belonged to, against the Quintessons and any other external threats. Truly there could be no worthier successor to the title of "Prime."

I love this movie so much. Definitely looking forward to any sequels that might follow.

[moon-and2saturn]

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter one

Series Summary: As a local jazz pianist in Nashville, you never fear being in the spotlight. Living in the same city, you’ve become very familiar with Sam Kiszka, a young musician who’s managed to gain a bad reputation in the city and throughout the country within his band’s fanbase. You’ve always just ignored Sam’s promiscuous and impulsive ways, but when you’re approached by the band to help repair his image, you’re given an offer you can’t refuse.

Word Count: 6k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of smoking (tobacco & marijuana), flirting, arguing, sexual tension… you get it ;) (no smut… yet)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited to share this series with you all. The idea came to me and I think it really ended up so good, I can’t wait for you to read it. Let me know in the comments or in my messages if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! See you soon :)

Listen to the playlist here :)

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

The club was dark and crowded as you entered through the front door and made your way backstage to begin setting up. Your shoulders brushed past other people in the crowd, making it difficult for you to get to the back. On your way there, you paused for a moment, deciding to stop at the bar first for a much-needed drink.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you said, leaning over the bar as you greeted the bartender. You’ve been playing here for so many years, these guys were some of the closest friends you’ll ever have.

“Y/N, hey! Need a pick-me-up?” he said, turning his attention to you fully for a moment as the bar was bustling with other customers. Better make this quick.

“Can I just get a double rum and coke? Only a little bit of ice in it,” you asked, smiling politely as he nodded and began making your drink.

You take a second to look around the club as you wait, feeling a bit nervous as you take in how many people are actually there. You’ve played big crowds before, sure, but tonight felt extra intimidating for some reason.

You had sensed for a few months now that your big break might be coming soon, at least that’s what you’d hoped. You’ve grown to be quite popular in the greater Nashville area, but your reach hasn’t gone much further than that. You hope to branch off and move to New York one day, to play there professionally full-time.

For now, though, you make your living by playing gigs weekly, posting your music online, and taking a few brand deals here and there. It’s working well, and you make enough money to get by, but you’re not entirely fulfilled.

“Double rum and coke for the lovely lady,” Sebastian said, sliding your drink across the bar toward you with a smile. You return his smile and take it in your hand, tipping it toward him as a thank you.

“Thanks, Seb. I’ll be back later, you know I’m gonna need it,” you muttered, taking a long swig of your drink before squeezing your way through the rest of the crowd and finally making it to the backstage door.

Pushing the door open, you turned the corner toward your usual dressing room and started to set yourself up. You take your coat off, place it on the small couch with your tote bag, and then turn to the mirror to touch up your makeup before you take the stage in 15 minutes. You hear the door crack open, so you turn your head to look and see who it is.

“There you are, Lucy!” you exclaimed, moving to the door to greet her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been? I didn’t see you at the bar before.”

“Sorry, babe, Seb had me refilling the kegs downstairs for him… lazy bastard,” she scoffed, moving past you to plop down on the couch. “That’s a man’s job! That shit is so heavy!” You chuckle at her, finishing off your drink and then turning back to the mirror to finish applying your lipstick.

“He’s building up your strength, Luce! What happened to equal rights?” you laughed, making eye contact with her in the mirror as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Whatever, Y/N. I don’t see you lifting any heavy things,” she mutters, crossing her arms and throwing her head back.

Lucy was probably your best friend in the whole city. You met her in high school, being in the same jazz band class together, and immediately clicked. She works at Seb’s jazz club part-time as a bartender and server, which is how you started playing there. You play plenty of gigs at other places too, but this place became your regular haunt, thanks to Lucy’s help. She asked Sebastian to give you a chance to audition 4 years ago, and you’ve been playing there ever since.

The two of you live together in a little apartment in Midtown, only a couple blocks away from the club. After graduating high school, Lucy decided to go to Belmont for journalism while you ended up just starting to work on your music full-time. You made ends meet and helped pay rent while Lucy went to school, and she’s worked to make it up to you ever since.

She’s in her last semester of graduate school now at Vanderbilt, getting a business degree with hopes of founding a newspaper of her own one day. At 24, she seems like she’s finally getting her life together, but for you, it feels like you’re only just getting started. You try not to compare yourself to her or anyone else, which was something your mother always nagged you about. You knew she was right, but you can’t help it.

Despite all of that, you’re sure that you’ll break into the industry soon. Seb had planned to hook you up with his buddy who works in one of the recording studios downtown to get you in and record your own stuff. He’s just waiting on your word to tell him that the album is ready, but you haven’t been able to finish it for the life of you. You’re not sure if it’s fear or perfectionism, but it just doesn’t feel finished to you yet. For now, you’re filling your time with gig after gig, hoping to find inspiration.

“Stop sulking in here and get back to work, I have to be out there in 5,” you say, turning around to give her a stern look. She scoffs at you and then stands up, walking out the door.

“Break a leg!” she shouts as she rounds the corner, leaving you alone once more.

You have to admit that you’re feeling nervous. You compiled a few originals to test out tonight with the crowd, hoping to get some excited reactions to some stuff that you planned to include in your record. You had a few classics in the setlist too, including your favorite arrangements of Misty and Lullaby of Birdland, to make sure that the crowd doesn’t get too lost. But you hope that you’re new stuff will keep them captivated.

You take a deep breath, brushing your hands down your dress a few times to straighten it out and taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the dressing room and heading toward the stage. You hear Seb announce your name as you turn the corner and stride onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at the crowd before sitting down at the piano.

The crowd hushed as your fingers plinked out the first few notes, and then you started your first piece. Your hands glided across the keys with ease as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the music. Your first original piece went off without a hitch, the crowd cheering loudly at your extensive solo. They were enraptured by the covers you chose and your confidence was truly shining brightly off of you.

The set ended as quickly as it began and the club erupts in applause as you played the last note and stood up to take a bow. You look out into the crowd and see your friends back at the bar, flashing them a wide smile. Your eyes pan across the rest of the room, seeing all of the people cheering for you. This was what you were made for, you were sure of it. This is what you’re meant to do.

As your eyes stop at the back corner of the room, your expression quickly drops when you see the group at the large booth. It was a group of men from a band that you were very familiar with, bumping elbows at all the music venues in Nashville. It wasn’t the band specifically that you had a problem with, but just one specific man who always gave you trouble. Sam Kiszka.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, flashing one more smile at the crowd before rushing backstage to your dressing room. You were so not in the mood for his antics tonight, not after putting on such a good show. The rest of his brothers, you could deal with, but not him. You refuse to let him tear down the confidence in yourself that you only just built up.

You grabbed your things in your dressing room and then hurried back out to the bar, needing to get a refill on your drink before even attempting to socialize with anybody.

“Seb– another, please. Pour it heavy,” you lament, resting your elbows on the bar and putting your head in your hands. You hear him chuckle as he starts your drink and you let out a low groan.

“I take it you saw them, then?” Lucy said, leaning against the bar next to you. You nodded as your head still sat in your hands, not bothering to look up at her. “Y/N, they’re really not that bad, I don’t understand what your problem is.” Your head shot up and you glared at her frustratedly.

“Not that bad? Sam takes every opportunity he can to belittle my music and talent every time I see him,” you scoffed, taking your drink from Seb and taking a long sip. “And when he’s not berating me, he’s trying to get in my pants.” Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping behind the bar to grab some drinks and put them on her tray.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low. That man’s been in bed with every single woman in Nashville. Probably even taken women, too!” you ranted, crossing your arms and taking another sip.

“Just ignore him, babe. I know the rest of them would like to see you,” Lucy said, lifting the tray to rest on her shoulder. “These are their drinks. Just come with me.”

She walks away with the tray toward the other side of the club to find their table. You linger for a moment and then let out an annoyed groan, throwing back another sip before reluctantly following behind her.

You followed Lucy with your head down, trying not to look too eager or willing to go with her. As you approached the table, Josh was the first one to catch a glimpse of you, a toothy smile growing across his face.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Josh remarks, opening his arms wide to pull you in for a hug. You accept, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. You smiled shyly as the others greeted you as well, except Sam, of course. He was distracted, seemingly complimenting the top Lucy had on. Barf.

She’d already been there, done that, which isn’t exactly surprising. Your best friend always had an affinity for one-night stands, never really wanting to settle down or get too serious. You never cared at all, until she told you one morning that she went home with Sam after a show one night. She promised that she didn’t plan to do it again, claiming she used him just as much as he used her, and you left it at that.

She kept her word, never going home with him again, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every time he came in here. You rolled your eyes as you watched him glance down at her cleavage subtly, but not subtle enough for you not to notice. He finally notices you standing there, turning toward you with a smirk. Here we go.

“Y/N… that was quite the set,” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to their booth. Josh and Jake excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke, and Danny takes a seat back in the booth, scrolling on his phone. Alone, great.

“Thanks, I think,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your drink as you look up at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust that look on his face one bit, and you were determined to find out what he was up to.

“Oh, that wasn’t a compliment,” he said smugly. “If you’re gonna arrange music, at least write a song where the chord progressions actually make sense together.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back to take a sip. You scoff at him, trying to take a deep breath before you blow this entire thing out of proportion.

“Samuel, you wouldn’t know a good arrangement even if it hit you in your smug face,” you bit out, still doing your best to hold yourself back. You swing back the rest of your drink, letting the cold ice hit your lips before slamming it down on the table next to you. “It was a B flat and E flat blues. Who crowned you the king of jazz composition?”

His smirk grew wider across his face as his back left the wall and he began to tower over you. You sucked in a deep breath, wondering if you should've just kept your mouth shut, but frankly you didn’t care. His long hair frames his face as he looks down on you, his eyes dark and cold.

“I did,” he answered, his face growing uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” His tongue skims his bottom lip as his eyes bore into yours. No. No. He is not gonna win this round.

“Is that why you enjoy bothering me so much?” you asked, keeping your eyes locked on his, insistent on not backing down. His lips turn upward into a smug smile as he leans back away from you, placing his back on the wall once more.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s fun,” he answers, smirking down at you.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” you scoff, crossing your arms. You notice a change in his eyes at your words, and you start to wonder if you took it too far.

“You’ve got no idea, sweetheart,” Sam says, stepping forward again to stand over you.

“Gross,” you mutter under your breath, looking up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

“Now, I don’t think you mean that,” Sam whispered, leaning down further to speak into your ear. “I think you like it, actually.”

“You wish,” you state, still maintaining eye contact. His mouth twitches and turns up into a smirk as one of his arms snakes around your waist.

“All that blushing you’re doing says otherwise, doll. Even in this dark club, you can’t hide it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. You watch silently as Sam puts his beer bottle down on the table and then reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a lighter and a blunt. “C’mon Daniel, let’s go outside.”

Sam shoots you a wink before nodding his head in Danny’s direction and the two of them walk toward the front entrance. They pass the twins on their way out, who both turn to look at you with puzzled expressions as they sit down at the booth. You sit down next to Josh as you try to adjust the annoyed look that is so clearly plastered across your face.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrow at you and taking a sip from his glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, not even having an answer to give.

“The usual, of course. Can’t seem to leave me alone,” you muttered. The two of them let out a breathy laugh as Josh reaches over to put his arm around you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him, darling,” he offers, smoothing his fingers along your shoulder. “It’s all just show.”

“For it just being show, it sure does feel pretty insulting,” you say, fiddling with your fingers atop the table.

“You’ll adjust eventually,” Jake says. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t run off just yet.” A smile grows across your face at Jake’s subtle attempt at an olive branch.

“I’ll tough it out, I promise,” you answer. You suppose you can adjust to Sam’s antics to spend time with them. You could use all the friends in the industry as you could get.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Josh asks, taking a sip of his tequila soda.

“Oh, I started lessons when I was 6,” you answered with a smile.

“That’s sick, I started pretty young too,” Jake replies, resting his arms on the table. Bonding with successful musicians has been your dream and the fact that you’re getting along so well made you really happy.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard! Believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a fan of your band. Casually, of course,” you smile, trying to be chill about it. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you are just a casual fan, but you’ve definitely watched an interview or two as well, leading to you knowing more about them than you intended to.

“Oh, yeah? Which one of us is your favorite, huh?” Josh asks smugly, raising an eyebrow at you hopefully. God, the amount of testosterone in this room could be cut with a knife.

“Hmmm… Danny,” you jest, elbowing Josh softly. The three of you break out into laughter before you check your phone to see the time. 12:32 am. Yikes, it’s late.

“Well, I gotta head out, unfortunately,” you say, standing up from the booth. Before you had the chance to walk off, Josh stopped you.

“Hey, uh, we’re gonna be in the studio on Monday for a few hours to work on some new music… would you wanna stop by?” Josh asked, looking up at you hopefully. “It could be a cool way for you to get exposed to how the recording process works.”

“Oh, wow, that would be incredible!” you smiled. “That’s such a kind offer, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details,” he says with a smile, and you wave goodbye to them both and walk over to the bar to find Lucy.

“Ready to head out?” you ask, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Sure, let’s go!” she answers, turning around to grab her jacket and bag.

“God, I have so much to fill you in on…” you say as you walk out the door toward your apartment. You told her all about your brief run-in with Sam, and then Josh’s invitation to the studio as you walk down the street. She quite literally squeals when she hears the news.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N this could be it! This could be your big break!” she exclaimed as you turned the corner to the path to your building. “If you get in with their producers, this could really get you started! You have to make a good impression.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m freaking out! I really can’t screw this up,” you said as you turn the key in the door.

“You could never screw it up, babe. They’re gonna love you, I promise,” Lucy reassured you, hugging you tightly before branching off to her own bedroom.

All you had to do was get through the weekend, and then the day of your dreams will be all yours. Fuck, you don’t have anything prepared! As you shut the door to your bedroom, you rushed to sit down at your keyboard, turning it on. You pulled out your phone and opened the voice memos app, pressing start and then setting it down. You have to get a good demo down if you want to impress the producers at the studio and book a session there.

You spent all of Saturday and Sunday recording a few of your originals on your phone, taking dozens of takes to make sure each of them was perfect. This is it, it’s your moment.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Your alarm goes off at 8 am, giving you two hours until you’re meant to meet Greta Van Fleet at the studio. Josh texted you yesterday with the time and address, emphasizing that you shouldn’t overthink it. He knew that you’d be freaking out, and he was right.

You’re hoping that a cool shower will wake you up and help you shake the nerves off. You get up out of bed, rub your eyes, and then grab your towel and walk out of your bedroom to the bathroom.

As the cold water hits your back, you start to think over the day that you have ahead of you. If everything goes the way you planned, then you might leave today with a record deal, or plans to meet up to make a deal. You appreciated Josh’s help so greatly, you really weren’t expecting it. He’s always been so kind to you, more so than the rest, but you figured that it was just the way he was. Now, it feels like he really has your back.

All you had to do was make it through today without any incidents with Sam. You hope that the other guys have already briefed him and told him to be on his best behavior, but you doubt that he’ll abide by that. You can hold your own, though, and you doubt that he’d pull something too obscene while working.

After drying off and getting ready to go, you find that you still have about 20 minutes until you need to leave. To pass the time, you sat down in your bed and opened up Instagram to scroll mindlessly for a little while until you had to drive downtown.

As you scroll down, your eye is caught by a post by The Nashville Fiddle, which is a local magazine. The Fiddle posts mostly about drama and celebrities, and you usually ignore everything they post, since you try not to give gossip the time of day. But this time, your eyes were stuck on their post, with a video of Sam Kiszka, belligerent and wasted outside of a club downtown Saturday night.

In the video, you can see Sam flirting with a girl outside of the club when a big, burly man comes up to him angrily. Clearly, this girl was taken, and her boyfriend was not happy. You can see Sam hollering back at him, getting in his face as he slurs his words before the man takes a large swing at him. Then, you see Danny show up behind him and pull him back, dragging him down the street, far away from the scene.

How could he be so stupid? Flirting with girls with boyfriends is bad enough, but it’s even worse to get into an argument and get caught on camera. He should know that he’s a public figure and that people can spread this kind of stuff around. What was he thinking?

You check the time and see that it��s about time to go, so you grab your tote, pick up your keys, and then head out the door. As you drive downtown, you take a few deep breaths. It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the studio and put your car in park. 9:59 am. Just on time. You get out of the car, throw your keys into your bag, and then head toward the front door. After opening the door, you walked in and told the person at the front desk that you were meeting the band, and they directed you to the right studio.

As you enter the studio, you walk in to only find Danny sitting there. He looks up from his drum set and waves, standing up to greet you.

“Hey, Danny… where are the others?” you asked, hugging him and then taking a seat on a chair nearby. Danny lets out a long laugh, trying to compose himself before answering.

“Oh, they are never here on time. This is considered early,” he answers, smiling widely as he goes to sit back down at his set. “I wouldn’t expect any of them for at least another thirty minutes, if not longer.” You laugh along with him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, Josh should have told me! Now I feel embarrassed for being so early,” you say, looking down at your phone for the time. 10:11 am.

“Nah, he just can’t admit that he’s always chronically late. He’s in denial,” Danny jokes. “Do you want anything while we wait? There’s coffee and tea over there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually,” you answered, standing up to walk over to the coffee cart. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a morning person.” Daniel laughs, standing up to walk over with you.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a jazz player that was,” he says with a smile. “I think it’s just part of your DNA.” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“You might be right. It’s not our fault, we play at night!” you say, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sam’s the same way, y’know. Stays up ‘til ungodly hours of the night, and then doesn’t roll out of bed until after noon,” he notes, laughing to himself. You laugh awkwardly as you add cream to your cup, cringing at the possibility of having anything in common with Sam Kiszka.

Almost as if he read your mind, Sam walked through the door, sunglasses blocking the dark bags under his eyes. He’s clearly hungover, rubbing his temples as he waltzes over to the cart and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into his own cup.

“Rough weekend, Samuel?” you asked teasingly, having already read about his escapades from this weekend. You can see his eyes roll behind the tint of the sunglasses as he takes a sip of his black coffee.

“Don’t start with me today, sweetheart,” he mumbled, pouring more coffee into his cup to make up for what he already drank, and then walking over to the corner to sit down on the sofa. He puts his feet up on the cushions as he takes a sip and then lays his head back against the armrest.

“See what I mean?” Danny asks, laughing as he walks over to his set and starts playing on his own, seemingly practicing. The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Could you and Sam be more similar than you thought? No, no way, you thought to yourself.

Not long after, Josh and Jake walk through the door and things can finally start moving. Josh walks over to make a cup of tea and then takes a seat on a stool, taking a slow sip. You walk over to him, hoping that his usual cheery disposition would calm your nerves.

“Good morning, lovely,” Josh smiled, patting your shoulder softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you answered nonchalantly with a shy smile.

“Good. We’re still waiting for our manager, Jodie, to arrive, so just hang tight,” he says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hey, you know what? How about you play us something?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Could be a good way to wake us up, huh?”

Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room at the rest of the guys. Danny is nodding excitedly and Jake walks over to his guitar stand, picking up his Gibson SG and slinging it over his head. Sam isn’t paying attention, his sunglasses have come off and his eyes are shut as he reclines on the couch.

“Well, okay… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered, walking over to Sam’s keyboard next to the drumset. You turn it on and adjust the settings, giving it a funkier sound before taking a deep breath and starting to play.

You decide to play Higher Ground, by Stevie Wonder, falling into the groove of the intro of the song as your fingers move across the keys. Danny’s face lights up as he listens closely to what you’re playing, then starts playing along. Jake follows suit, adding his guitar into the mix, and playing along with you. Of course, everyone knows Stevie Wonder, but being able to play with a band was just so cool to you.

People keep on learnin’

Soldiers keep on warnin’

World keep on turnin’

‘Cause it won’t be too long

Josh sings along, his voice fitting perfectly in the range of the song. The four of you are really grooving now, and it is so fun for you. It’s been years since you’ve played with others, and you loved it.

You watch as Sam lifts his head from the couch, opening his tired eyes to look over at you all. For a moment there, you almost think that he might be smiling, but you shake it off. You’re surprised to see him rise from the couch and walk over, grabbing his Rickenbacker off the stand and putting the strap over his head. Oh, he’s gonna play along…

Sam starts plucking his bass, along with the rest of the song. You knew that they’d all played in jazz bands before, and this song was a staple, but it surprised you how easy it was to join together and play. It was almost like you belonged there.

As you start a short piano solo, their manager walks through the door and sits down on the couch. She seems to nod at you to keep going, so you finish your solo and then end the song. You’re suddenly caught by surprise as Josh starts applauding, smiling widely as he walks over to you. He stands behind you, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You’re an incredible talent, Y/N, truly,” Josh remarked, smiling from ear to ear as he left your side and went to sit back down. You smile shyly and get up from the bench behind the piano to go sit down on the couch with Jodie. The rest of the guys start talking cacophonously as you start your conversation privately with her.

“It’s true, you’re really good,” she says honestly, reaching out to shake yours. “I’m Jodie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, you have? Thank you so much, it’s great to meet you. I assume it was Josh who told you about me, he’s the one who invited me today,” you answer, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I first heard about you from Sam actually… he had a lot to say about your talent on the keys,” she says, catching you completely by surprise. Sam? Is she being serious right now?

“Did he now?... Interesting,” you replied, your tone feigning confidence. “Well, I’m honored to be here today. I’ve been meaning to finally get into a studio here in Nashville.”

“Yes, I heard from Josh that you plan on recording an album of original songs,” Jodie remarks. “I’m happy to have you here! Hopefully, we can get you to work a bit! Not to mention, it’s quite nice to have a bit more of a gender balance.” You laugh together for a moment before she gets up to greet the guys, going over the agenda for the session.

They go through a few new songs, trying to get it all down perfectly. You just sit and watch, absolutely mesmerized by watching the professionals work. You even escaped to the booth for a while to see the mechanics of the equipment, talking to some of the sound techs that work there. It was a really rewarding learning experience for you.

“Okay, that’s a wrap, guys! Good work today, we’ll be back here at the same time on Friday,” Jodie says. “Sam, can you hang back for a sec?” She walks back over to sit next to you on the couch, nodding her head to motion for Sam to join you. Once she’s certain that everyone else has left the studio, she starts talking.

“So, I’ve had an idea. Just hear me out,” she started, somewhat apprehensively. “Y/N, I was thinking about how highly the guys speak about you, and how much untapped talent you have.” Okay… this is getting weird.

“And Sam, I’ve been thinking about ways to improve your public image and get you out of your rut,” she finished, trailing off as she saw Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Okay, first of all, I am not in a rut,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s not the point,” she snapped back. “My point is that I think I might have thought of a way to solve all of our problems.” You raise your eyebrow at her, still not really understanding what she’s getting at.

“What could possibly solve both of our problems?” you ask suspiciously.

“Like I said, just hear me out…” she says, but Sam interrupts her.

“Jodie, just spit it out already,” he groaned, growing frustrated.

“I think you guys should pretend to date!” she finally spat out, looking nervously at your reactions. Your jaw dropped as she finished her sentence, unsure that you even heard her right. Sam, however, already shot up out of his seat and stood angrily above you both.

“No, fuck no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous,” he starts ranting, but she cuts him off.

“Just listen to me, Sam. You’d improve your reputation by having a charismatic and talented girlfriend, the fans would love her! And Y/N, you’d gain followers and fans for your music career, and our label can get you started in our studio. Boom, both problems are fixed.”

“No! How could I even pretend to be interested in him? It’s impossible,” you complained.

“Woah, okay, try not to sound too disgusted,” Sam said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the exact same way, you asshole,” you scoff, staring daggers into him.

“Whatever, it’s not the same thing,” he spits back.

“Whatever, this isn’t productive,” you admit, crossing your arms in your seat.

“Exactly. It won’t even be that bad. Besides, you’re both benefiting here! It’s perfect,” Jodie says proudly.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I guess it does kind of make sense…” you muttered, looking up at Sam nervously. He raised an eyebrow at you, walking toward you.

“You want to be my fake girlfriend, Y/N?” he teased. You roll your eyes and stand up to be more level with him, hating him towering over you.

“Shut up, Sam,” you replied, a hint of pink tinting your cheeks as your eyes locked on his.

“So? You guys are in?” Jodie asked hopefully. You and Sam exchange a look, then look back at her and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re in,” Sam answered, looking over at you with a smirk before walking toward the door. “Now, are we done here? I’ve got places to be.” You roll your eyes and reach down to grab your bag.

“We’re done here, go,” you mutter, slinging your bag over your arm. Sam walks out the door as quickly as he had came in, and you follow soon after him.

As you drive back home from the studio, you think about all of the day’s events. You almost can’t even believe that you agreed to be Sam’s girlfriend, fake or not. But you have to admit that it’s going to be great for your career, this is exactly the big break you need. You feel confident that her choice to ask you was based on your talent, so the unconventional means of gaining popularity didn’t bother you.

It kind of excited you to be included with such a famous rock band like theirs– going on tour, going to the studio, seeing the magic happen. Having to spend time with Sam was just the price you had to pay to jumpstart your music career and get into the music industry. You’re not sure what type of a commitment this arrangement is going to entail for you, but you’re honestly kind of looking forward to it. You have to admit that “Rockstar’s Girlfriend” kind of has a ring to it.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

chapter two

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories! See you soon :)

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

[negrowhat]

For the Ask game can you do both Black and White from Not Me 😊

I'm excited! This is my first one! Also sorry in advance but as much as I loved Not Me I've only ever seen it once and that was the year it came out so I might be a bit fuzzy on some details.

White from Not Me

How I feel about this character.

I love him. I thought he was a fantastic character. I love that he was so intelligent but acted more on his feelings than anything else and he had such a high moral compass. I know his heart was in the right place but a lot of times his emotional decisions for sure impacted the group heavily and in dangerous ways.

I thought it was so cool to see how swiftly and almost seamlessly White managed to take over his brother's life. I loved watching him pick up new tasks and easily become skilled in them and a lot of his plans did seem to work out in the end. He was very selfless and humble and he truly cared about the people around him and his community.

And he did change the dynamic of the entire group for the better. There was definitely a stronger sense of brotherhood in the gang with White posing as Black, he had that sort of energy that pulled people in. Also I LOVED seeing him keep Sean on his toes. I know Sean had to be questioning his sanity when out of the blue a guy like Black begin acting amorous towards him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Just Sean and maybe Gram for the briefest of moments.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Black and White?? Hello TWIN POWER! But also GramWhiteYok was a pretty fun trio (specifically that scene when everyone else found out White's true identity.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that White should've worn his glasses when he pretended to be Black. How fucking funny would that have been. And if anyone questioned him about it all he had to do was tackle them...that is very much on brand for Black.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish that we had gotten a follow up about him and Black. I wanted Black and White to stay together after all the dust had settled. I think those brothers need each other even if Black thought that would weaken him. I don't think Black would really ever trust anyone else besides his brother.

Black from Not Me

How I feel about this character

I think Black is badass. Much like his twin he is extremely intelligent, but unlike White he relies heavily on his intelligence. The only emotion he allows himself to express is anger and considering the way he grew up I'm sure it was to keep himself alive. I love that he was about that action. I love that he was so swift and cunning and strong. But he was also so protective, not just of his brother, but also his friends. He honestly had every single right to be mad at the world and I just couldn't fault him for being so hardened on the outside. And if I was doing some illegal, life threatening shit I would want him on my team.

All the people I ship romantically with this character.

TBH I didn't really ship Black with anyone. GASP! I KNOW! I shipped Black with feeling safe lol. That boy needs a hug.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Sean and that's just because of how much they argued. It was fun to watch them go back and forth even though things did get a bit out of hand.

My unpopular opinion about this character

If Black and White were identical in all aspects then his ass should've been wearing glasses too. Unless he was wearing contacts. Was he? He probably was but come on! GLASSES! I know it's not practical considering what he does but I'm bummed about it.

Also he shouldn't have beat Sean up. I know he was in protect mode for White but he beat the crap out of Sean and it was so hard to watch.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish he had stayed. I know he felt like he didn't belong where he was anymore and I know his supernatural bond with White could definitely work against them, but I wanted him to stay. White wasn't the same helpless kid he was the last time Black saw his twin. And like I said, I truly think Black would've been happy with his brother at his side. I think his brother is the only person he truly trusts and he could use someone he knows is on his side. I do hope he pops in from time-to-time to see his brother, and the gang, and to get on Sean's nerves.

GIVE ME A CHARACTER and I’ll break their ass down

[howlsofbloodhounds]

hello! i am brand new to everything about undertale au's, by so i mean maybe two months in. it's quickly become one of my favorite things, and while i mostly focus on the apple twins, i've grown to love killer a lot. i thought this might be a good place to ask, can you explain him to me? from backstory to what the the different stages are (this mostly). i know very little about him, and this is an issue, so feel more than free to go into crazy detail if you want, or even throw in personal thoughts. learning about him pleases me

Hello! I will try to answer, but i feel it is first important to state two things.

1. Killer has a lot of lost media, a lot of his canon information and materiel was deleted—including an entire ask blog. So if someone ever claims something about Killer is true, it’s probably best to ask for some sort of proof for this. Such as a link or a screenshot from his creator, rahafwabas.

2. Rahafwabas has also said that every interpretation of Killer can be canon. She was very loose and free with her character, and just wanted people to have fun. So don’t worry too much about sticking close to what little remains of canon.

What we have of Killer’s canon now is basically his Something New comics (origin), a few more scattered comics and drawings here and there, and some fun facts.

I have links to some of Killer’s canon stuff in the top of my pinned post if you want to give it a look, but if not, here is a link to a Google Doc someone made about canon Killer (I didn’t make it.) It’s also no guarantee that every single thing has been found and archived.

That being said! I will give a summary of the first origin, before the updated one that involved the Player and how we altered Sans’ codes to create kill_sans. Undertale: Something New has multiple endings as well, but I won’t get into that just yet. Because this is just about Killer, not how he met Nightmare or Color or any of that.

In Rahafwabas’ own words, Something New was described as something along the lines of how, after going through so many Resets—being constantly killed, fighting, watching everyone die, repeating multiple different days and outcomes over and over—Sans eventually shuts down emotionally and stops caring, loses hope, and becomes like the human.

The human notices, and starts proposing something new. A deal. Sans joins them on a Genocide, and they’ll stop Resetting and let the world move on—Sans wants to continue, or stop (die, erase the world), is what the human says he wants.

Sans spits in their face and refuses. The human brutally and violently murders him in response.

Rinse and repeat for a couple thousand unknown Resets—and something changes one day. Suddenly, Sans is thinking about something new. He’s thinking about how everyone deserves to die anyway—they’re all weak, he can’t save them, Papyrus is so fucking lucky.

Who cares anymore.

The thoughts happen so slow he doesn’t catch it—so focused on trying to tune the kid out, even as their words work their way into his mind and nothing feels real. Sometimes he catches his thoughts, confused and distressed—because it’s not true. He doesn’t hate Papyrus, he doesn’t want to join the kid or kill anyone.

And yet something in his minds insists he does, in his own voice, in his own thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t uncommon to find Sans arguing to himself with increasing distress and confusion, even. Arguing as if he’s two different people.

His mind starts slipping, he can’t tell what is and isn’t real anymore. Is he going insane? Is he losing his mind? Has the kid done something to him?

Or is this just genuinely what he wants. He didn’t think he was like that. He’s not, surely.

“Am i going insane?” “Heh. Yeah.”

“This isn’t right..” “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore..” “Yes I do.”

Whatever. Who cares anymore. Not him. Not him.

Eventually it all comes to a head when Sans, all big dead eyes and empty smiles, shakes the devil’s hand and gets to hunting. We don’t get to see all of the first Genocide route, but we see Sans kill Flowey, Grillby, and eventually..Papyrus.

I won’t spoil the entire scene because I personally find it devastating enough to read on your own. The moment where we see how manipulated Sans has become—manipulated into hating and despising his own brother, enough to gleefully reveal he has been dreaming about this moment. Where he gets to make Papyrus experience even half of the pain Sans went through.

It isn’t until a broken, bloody, battered Papyrus opens his arms wide and tearfully declares that he’d happily die if his presence was causing his brother so much pain, that Sans snaps back. He remembers who he is, and more importantly, he remembers who Papyrus is.

It was never an enemy. It was never his tormenter, mocking him with his happiness and safety. He was his little brother, and now he’s dead.

Because of him. And he can never undo that.

We get to see how truly fragmented and disoriented Sans has become after this—too busy arguing with himself to truly notice when Chara skillfully slides in, offering comfort and reassurance to their new partner, their new best friend, as they welcome him to the Genocide run.

From here the Genocide route continues—with some of the dialogue up above happening. We see Sans and Chara having fun with it now—tossing around a monster’s hat, laughing and cheering as they kill Undyne. Sans is confused as he laughs and smiles and giggles—he hates himself. Why is he doing this again.

he doesn’t know. He smiles as he gifts Chara a knife, and their happy surprise is perhaps enough to make him feel.

…They put on Papyrus’ scarf. He can’t help but stare. But they are right—he’s being ridiculous. He has killed his brother before.

…at least they take it off.

He confronts Alphys. But then she confronts him—…Sans, why are you doing this? Is the human making you?

Sans is confused. He’s doing all this of his own free will, right? Of course the human doesn’t have any control of this. Of course not. He’s doing this because he wants to feel something.

…Why is he even explaining himself. None of them will understand. Only Chara does.

Then there’s suddenly a feeling of someone standing behind him, watching him mournfully, when Alphys mentions him. No, he’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not—

Alphys is dead.

there’s no going back now, and Chara insists on just one more route. Just one more. And another and another and another and another and another and another—

He’s having so much fun! So much fun. So much fun. Chara watches on with a smile as Sans just hysterically laughs and cries and laughs and cries and laughs and—

…San is tired. He’s…exhausted. He feels drained, and empty. why is he even still here. how did he get here.

…The two continue on. There’s no more laughing or cheering or crying. It is what it is.

..Sans notices some type of black sludge sliding down his cheek one Reset (how many has it been now?…who cares). He dismisses it. Who cares.

There’s a growing, burning ache somewhere in his chest yet another Reset. The sludge slides down more frequently..

..The pain keeps growing with every single Reset. He can’t take a single step without this black sludge sliding from his eyes, his nose, his teeth. What’s happening to him? What’s happening what’s happening what’s happening—

..It hurts. It hurts so much, make it stop, please. He turns to Chara one Reset. What’s happening to me? What’s happening to me? Please, it hurts.

He can’t see Chara anymore. His vision is so blurry, they look so different. He stumbles and falls to the ground, frozen with pain and fear—unable to realize that he has fallen into a bed of golden flowers.

His SOUL hovers outside his chest, a black spot slowly, painfully growing and expanding in the middle as if a parasite is wiggling its way inside. Curling around, eating everything it can and burning away the rest. Forcing its victim into the desired state.

The only explanation Chara has for him is something along the lines of, “Your soul is becoming like mine. Neither beast nor man, and you will feel nothing. Wait here, and I’ll go deal with that stupid flower.”

Sans is left to ponder those words as he starts fading in and out from life. But then he hears laughter, someone calling his name.

Papyrus.

Sans’ last words—his last thoughts—are of Papyrus.

“Papyrus..I’m sorry. I will miss you all.”

His SOUL is filled with DETERMINATION as it snaps into the target shape. Sans dies with a pathetic mournful whimper, as Killer silently takes his place.

{ @lucid-cups }

[campfam4lyfe]

Got any campfam aus or ideas in the works?

hey anon! I wouldn’t say I have any ideas in the works, because I have what I like to call commitment issues when it comes to writing fic.

This means that while I have an abundance of ideas, outlines, and wips in my Google docs for the fandoms I’ve been in. I’ve never actually finished a fic and posted it.

In fact, the only single time I have, (diff fandom!) I am not counting properly, because it was a collab with a close mutual, and a lot of the legwork was them. I had the initial plot bunny and was going to leave it as a one off tumblr post, but my mutual rlly liked the idea and we bounced drabbles and such back and forth. We wrote a bunch of snippets and put them together in a doc, until we had cohesive chapters, as we filled the empty spaces with more and more work, ending up to a total of 18 chapters. It took us a year and a half to post it, and that was mostly my fault, as where my mutual had finished most of their allotted sections, different hyperfixations kept pulling me to other unfinished works. This is why I won’t promise anything—I don’t want to disappoint anyone.

But, that being said. I do have ideas, hcs, and aus! One that is currently consuming me, was actually inspired by this one other post I saw recently. (When I find the post ima link it dw!) OP of the post was saying that there should be a Carmen Sandiego au for CC and I jumped on that SO fucking fast anon. I LOVE Carmen Sandiego, and have since it first aired when I was in HS.

So. Here’s some of the Carmen Sandiego au thoughts copy/pasted from my Google docs. (Yes I do always write out my outlines as if I’m taking to someone but that’s bc i sometimes end up sharing the doc link with some friends)

JWCC Carmen Sandiego AU:

Y’all know Kenlynn is my JAM and so is RedCrackle. So obvi I thought of mixing the two right? But here’s the thing. While I love Carmen/Gray, I am also in love with Carmen/Ivy and Carmen/Julia.

So with that in mind. Kenlynn is going to take a backseat for a second (meaning tho they'll become a thing and obvi they will bc they are a constant to me, theyre not the center of this), and my fave girls YASAMMY will be at the forefront of this au.

I’m thinking. Carmen Sammy. But I’m not entirely sure about whether or not that’s what I want? It could be argued that Sammy’s love for her family is a core driving force in her character, and Carmen doesn’t KNOW her family. But also—a huge plot point is that she’s looking for her mom. So. Tentative Carmen Sammy.

MANTAH CORP AS VILE MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E

So I figure not everything is going to be one-to-one. This means I am placing Kenji in the role of Gray/Crackle. His story is going to be different tho, bc whereas Gray was a recruit, with MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E that means Daniel is already on the board. So kenji trying to make his dad proud? More likely than you think.

(I just wanted my Sammy&Kenji besties. Bestie betrayal can be just as good as romantic betrayal)

I’m sure you know where I’m going with this if we’re not going the redcrackle route. Thats right. YASMINA JULIA.

I considered at first, YASMINA CARMEN and SAMMY IVY, but in the end the need for Sammy Carmen was too great.

So I also considered Dave and Roxxie as Chase and Julia but, I decided to scrap that idea for now. You know me, at some point I might revamp most of the au anyways lol, now is not a time for fine tuning it’s just a tentative starting point.

Torn between DARIUS as Player or Brooklynn as Player. I considered Ben of course, but I think we need to put him on an island at some point—he needs a Bumpy, no matter the universe.

WAIT. REVISITING BEN AS PLAYER. BECAUSE DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. This means no Carmen/Ivy vibes but since we ditched the Gray/Carmen as well in this au I think it’s fine.

Ben still has to end up with Bumpy somehow tho? Original Ben plan, when Darius was a Player candidate, was Ben is also a V.I.L.E recruit.

V.I.L.E having a faction that deals with genetics and cloning (in addition to like. Kash and his robots) and ending up with a dinosaur—Bumpy! And that being Ben’s flip to the other side/Team Sammy. He defects and steals Bumpy on his way out.

Okay I’m a little too attached to that, so yeah. V.I.L.E recruit Ben, so Brooklynn as player??

Oh! She doesn’t have!!! IRL friends!! Brooklynn being an Internet famous vlogger as in canon. So we get that running gag of Sammy and Brooklynn always being in contact and Brooklynn being a big part of the heists through investigative work and such, yet she’s constantly on the other side of the globe? Sammy needs to be in Sydney but Brooklynn is in New Orleans. That kinda stuff.

Works with Brooklynn having traveled all over the world, she can also do those factoids player does—she’s got the deets.

Oh!???? THATS HOW WE GET MY FAVE DUO OF DINOSTAR BESTIES!!! They both love their facts. They’re nerds.

Mae as shadowsan? Tentatively?

Okay. Player Brooklynn. Except instead of being home most of the time, she’s usually on the go. She’s talked to kenji a few times during Sammy and Kenji’s V.I.L.E recruit era.

Kenji as the Gray of this au. he’s a V.I.L.E legacy. he became friends with sammy his recruitment year, and he'd talked to brooklynn a few times, due to sammy introducing them because kenji was curious about whether or not sammy has friends in the outside world, and sammy noticing brooklynn feeling a little left out/jealous that sammy had friends she was hanging with in person rather than over a phone call.

kenlynn kenlynn kenlynn

does he recognize her voice from her vlogs? does he even watch them? i dont think hed be a brooklander, guys got a lot on his plate and thats impressing his dad

ben is a V.I.L.E. recruit. maybe a bit of mime bomb, in that he was. not as close? with the other recruits. i do think having ben come in as a recruit the year sammy defects would be cool tho. so he doesn't know her as "black sheep" or whatever code name V.I.L.E refers to her as. he'll first meet her as Sammy.

yaz as JULIA!!!!! a junior agent? a former athlete. trying to make it make sense, but i think it fits.

omg. yaz. is alex rider basically holy shit

was thinking of dave as chase, and decided that i was going to keep it.

roxxie as the Chief.

mae as shadowsan.

yes. it IS because i want a roxxie/mae/dave love triangle and that need's final form was ot3

DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. i dont want their mom to be dead. but i dont know WHAT happened to her and why theyre involved in this life of crime? i love the og carmen&ivy&zack meeting. and i love that they were involved with racing. trying to find a way to incorporate it and make it make sense

important question.....is darius and his dad's great shared love still dinosaurs?

OR IS IT CARS? RACING?????? BRAND BEING INVOLVED IN THE RACES BC IT WAS IMPORTANT TO DARIUS AND THEIR DAD AND DARIUS CANT DRIVE YET

AND. SAMMY. AS CARMEN!!!!!!

okay so carmen's dad was a former V.I.L.E. agent who left it all behind for the woman he fell in love with right? well. obvi this au isnt a one to one. like there clearly have been changes in characters and dynamics. but i think involving elements from this could work. lemme map it out to make sense

okay so in cc sammy spies for mantah corp despite her parents not wanting her to. meanwhie carmen's dad defects from V.I.L.E., i think shadowsan was there and so was the chief and he dies.

okay so--sammy's dad was a V.I.L.E. agent, fell in love, defected. V.I.L.E. catches up with him, and does A.C.M.E. and in the fallout, the house collapses. A fire? an explosion? they think sammy died. (im not killing off sammy's dad bc damnit she needs a happy ending)

yaz losing faith in the system and having her hot girl summer being romanced by the pretty thief she's supposed to be catching

ben ditches VILE/Mantah Corp with Bumpy and meets Darius at some point--oh!!!

mae/shadowsan joins Team Sammy at the end of s1 i think? okay, so, when she joins, she brings ben, a fresh defector with her.

obvi ben left after he stole bumpy from them

at some point during their occasional talks, kenlynn became friendly with each other. then The Train scene happens. and kenji is promptly deemed a disappointment and dealt with the way gray is.

brooklynn ends up coming across a memory-wiped kenji during one of her vlogs. he doesnt know he knows her, just that something about her voice seems familiar.

brooklynn brings it up and the other are Concerned but also have a lot on their plate rn/dont truly trust him again or are unclear on whether or not they should. darius/brand bc their experiences havent been good so far, and sammy doesnt want to risk them. but he was still one of her first friends. shes torn

brooklynn making contact with him. smth smth she ends up needing a camera man for one of her vlogs and kenji volunteers. they grow closer during her sporadic visits. he asks her out.

DANIEL KON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT. SAMMY NEEDS BROOKLYNN TO DO HER THING. SHE MISSES THE DATE.

Meanwhile, that entire interactive ep??? of carmen sandiego with the julia/carmen??? THAT. THAT HAPPENS. YASAMMY DANCE AND WE GET THAT SCENE YOU KNOW THE ONE

[yippeeometer]

itty bitty little northeast hcs bc the asks r dry :(((

they are NOT fun cool life of the party they are SAD GAY LOSERS i do feel this should be broadcast on national tv to confirm the canonness.

that being said. one family dinner with them is actually illegal under the geneva convention due to high level of mental torture.

things start off lovely. they go to maine's little cabin-in-the-woods (STEPHEN KING MY FRIENDS, ITS NOT COTTAGE VIBES!). he will make you wait outside if you are late. he locks the doors and laughs.

unfortuantely, they will not be within five feet of each other during baseball season, under a rule so important gov considers adding it to the constitution.

it is like a grandpa convention lets not lie to ourselves bc there's definitely a part in the night where they just reminisce about the war and vermont will show up with printed-out pictures of some battle monument model he made bc even maine's terrible signal wont stop him.

they have to get new york there by physical force, bc he is doing his level best to sneak his way out. sorry its shabbat (it's actually a tuesday). sorry lost my voice can't come (he's only over said 10 words max). sorry been hit by a car (typa guy to genuinely try and walk off a broken leg).

they have to battle not to bring up politics ooohhh because you know mass's eye is twitching at the thought of being able to debate. connecticut threatens to report him to the authorities as a communist threat. he threatens to throw him through the wall. this is normal sibling behaviour.

typa emotional repression where they'll just be arguing and bickering as normal when one of them will drop the most gut-wrenching sickening personal lore and they all will just refuse to mention it.

oooooohhh yk its got a kick to it when ur sat across from someone who literally took bllets for you telling you ab how life is collapsing around them. anyways new hammy made a salad w craisins and we better switch the topic to that.

speaking of. half of the food is completely inedible. rhode island spent so many years a pirate he has no idea how much salt is too much salt. you CAN eat delaware's food but also be aware he's known for chemical manufacturing so its a 50/50 chance you'll make it.

jersey and york, arguably the only two good cooks, are not allowed to bring food bc they unfortunately suffer from chronic cant-understand-our-families-r-from-different-italian-regions-and-food-might-be-different syndrome.

for some inexplicable reason PA becomes group DJ. the only songs on his phone are 'brand new city' by mitski and 'dont stop the party' by pitbull.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Can I request Tristan with a giant gf who’s jealous of Gawain and Isolde because they’re human size and she’s not and Tristan can’t pick her up and hug correctly since she’s so big??

Monachopsis

(n). the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Ugh, I didn’t really like how this turned out but I hope you liked it! Characters like Tristan and Isolode are certainly interesting to say the least, okay those are my two cents byeeee! ✨

Content || characters involved may be ooc, short story, 1,619 words total, one brief mention of real-world issues.

Being interlinked beyond the vast perceptions of time and space was something uniquely so close, unordinary yet so ordinary. That was in itself a majesty, perhaps a rarity. For many races, one can imagine the difficulty that comes for inter-racial relationships, again it’s perhaps a rarity – a sight to behold; but something that never truly comes to fruition without the opinions of external forces outside the relationship. 

Unfortunately, you’ve come to be a victim of such a thing. You were a giant, a proud member of your race. You were raised with morals ingrained and values meant to overthrow the thinking of anyone else in the process, yet it was all suddenly knocked down the day you met Tristan, the Prince of Liones. You don’t know how, or why — something about him drew you closer. 

You hated that so much, it was the constant reminder that you are a woman. A girl, yet you were also a giant. You hated all of it, but you never voiced these concerns to Tristan. Being a proud member of the Giant race meant you could handle things yourself, battles and even the mental ones. It was all in due part to your old-fashioned parents who raised you the old ways of the giant race, even with how estranged and toxic they were, they were still very old-fashioned. You had been raised with love and toughness, but memories of the harsher times had ingrained so deeply in your heart – the self-resentment still remained. 

Sometimes here and there, you eventually run into people of other races who aren’t shy of telling you what they feel. The effects of the Holy War and the constant racism had still lingered harshly throughout the races from what you’ve seen, it still gave you serious whiplash just from remembering such interactions. 

That’s an unfortunate difficulty to just merely exist, though there remains some deep-rooted hatred and evil. One can find love and peace, surround yourself with people who sincerely understand and love you with all their hearts. Which had led you to meeting Tristan, one day out on the plains. 

You were traveling, out and about. Honestly, you didn’t have any particular reason to do so. Only that you found traveling to be fun and exciting, and possibly seeing brand new beautiful sights that you haven’t before. Although some of your friends and family back at Mega Dozer (homeland of the Giants) were unsure of letting you leave in the first place, they reluctantly gave in when you argued; “This could be a good learning experience for me! Besides, it might be good that I am alone by myself.” 

In hindsight, you wished you would've said those words differently. Being alone by yourself was becoming quite the scary experience, but you trudged onward in order to better face your fears of being alone by yourself. 

Was it being alone that you were scared of though?

“I think i'm getting pretty close to somewhere,” You muttered, looking down at the map in your large hands. You squinted, albeit a little closer than you needed too. Yet something had suddenly snapped you out of your stupor, causing you to look down and seeing two small forms who bumped into you. 

“Hello! I’m so sorry for that.” One had apologized, your brows furrowed as you tried to make out the appearances of the two beings. One clad in gold and white armor, golden gleaming aura and impossibly imposing, which somehow had you impressed for a brief moment. The other appeared to have long silver-length hair and heterochromia, one green and the other being blue. You shook your head as you crouched down to properly get within ear-shot. 

“No, I should be apologizing.” You grinned nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, that’s on me.”

“Ah, well the name’s Tristan.” He smiled warmly with a quick wave as he introduced himself, sensing your anxieties. The prince then asked for yours, and with a quick nod, you had introduced your name. 

Upon hearing your name, he repeated it. It rolled right off his tongue, beautifully done and divine to say. “That’s a really nice name.” He smiled once again, yet his smile softened into a grin, talking with you a little further before he finally decided to introduce you to the knight he was traveling alongside with. You couldn’t see the knight’s face, thus not knowing the knight's gender, but it wasn’t your business to know anyway. 

“This is Sir Gawain!” He exclaimed proudly. You raised a brow. Oddly, the knight clad in white and gold armor had not uttered a word since the beginning of the interaction, but you paid it no mind. 

“Not much of a talker huh?” You joked, now sitting down. Tristan laughs, nodding along in agreement. Though it was a curiosity, how Tristan knew his name, you decided not to pry. 

Ever since your eventful meeting with the prince, it was from there that somehow everything went downhill; Getting to know him, finally entering the kingdom of Liones, meeting so many brand new people, his parents, some of his friends, and apparently finding out that Sir Gawain was indeed a woman. 

Then there was also Isolde, a tall woman with pink hair and green eyes. You thought without a shadow of a doubt that she was beautiful for her age, Gawain too. But you sincerely were unable to fathom how you could get along with Tristan after getting to know these two ladies. 

You began to feel weird, odd even. A thrashing turmoil of feelings and hate toward yourself, them. Being small was something they all had in common, they could easily hug each other. If you’ve ever even attempted to try to do something like that, you would no doubt hurt your would-be boyfriend in the process. 

Feelings weren’t exactly a linear thing, sometimes not easy to recognize either. But you could somehow know it, sense it. You really hated it, but the memories you made with knowing Tristan’s friends, him too — were something all so dear and precious to you. Not something you could so easily throw away, all for the sake of distance. 

So you began keeping your interactions with his friends to a minimum, that had also meant keeping your interactions with Tristan sparsely small. 

God, you hated it so much. He was smaller, you were huge, being a giant had its perks – but not being able to give Tristan affection was something that had killed you on the inside. You just sometimes simply wished that you would just one day wake up as a small person, and hug Tristan wholly with all your heart without injuring the boy. 

A particular someone, though his interactions with you were quite brief, could notice the way you began to get distant and had rarely interacted with Tristan, much to the detriment of your mental health. Chion wondered if he could be of some help in mending the relationship between you two, because frankly to him, it was beginning to be very tense and stuffy whenever the both of you were in the same vicinity. 

“Hey, woman.” A crass, but firm tone. You looked down, having already been crouched and stuffed your face in your hands for the last few minutes, scratch that — an hour. You sighed, a notable huff escaping your lips at your clear distrust of Chion, having seen his personality in action before. 

“What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, but your distancing with Tristan is bothering everyone.” He iterates, and despite his blunt and forward speech – he was also very worried about you. Actually both you and Tristan as well.  

You frown, re-adjusting your position to better face him. “You don’t get it Chion, I–” You paused, the thoughts flooding back in, and making you hesitant to continue. Causing the purple-haired boy to raise an inquisitive brow, so he waited for you to speak, though he was albeit known to be impatient at times. 

“Uh..” You sighed, shoulders deflating in defeat. Despiste knowing you could finally get things off your chest, it was so hard to actually force the words out your mouth. 

Chion simply walked closer, patting your knee with an understanding elation. “Keeping it in will do you no good, I should know.” He remarked, his single eye briefly closing. You chuckled with a slight chagrin inter-woven of your tone, though, you collected yourself. 

“Oh yeah, like the time you withheld information from everyone that Percival was a knight of prophecy?” You joked, causing him to sigh in disappointment, but nod along in agreement nonetheless. Oh how you wondered how Chion had even met Tristan, the only thing you knew about this particular piece of information was how the one was saved by the former, and from there Chion’s admiration for the prince grew. 

Chion fiddled with his staff for a moment, then spoke: “You should try speaking with him again, voice your concerns.” 

Suddenly you could feel your blood run cold at his suggestion, almost causing you to shout out to refute it. But you calmed down, reeling yourself in with a sigh, “How.. could i?” You were unsure of how to approach the subject, to talk to him about such things suddenly seemed so silly to speak of. 

“Try.” He insists, tilting his head as if the idea was the easiest thing in the world to execute. Your eyes flitted over to his form, a glimmer of recognition shining brightly in your pupils. 

You rested your head against your knees, sighing after a few moments. You closed your eyes as you responded with an exhausted tone, “Okay.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

You know... I took a creative writing course through a community college a few years ago, and something the instructor said has really stuck with me.

Most of the small class were women like me, so of course the topic of fanfiction came up-- most of us were fic authors. Upon learning this, the instructor straightened up and told us "never write for free".

Never write for free.

At the time, I kind of took it to heart, because I was really trying to get into publishing my own stuff, which is scary and difficult. But now that it's been a couple years, I'm kind of gobsmacked that THAT was his sage advice.

Never write for free.

In one fell swoop, he managed to cut us all down and invalidate all the work we've already put into our craft. He said it with the surety of someone who had found the answer 42, like he had the end all be all destination to all our writer's journeys, nevermind how diverse our paths all were.

Never write for free.

Could you imagine? Never writing for free means writing to be published. It means writing what you think people will want to hear. It means monetizing what may just be a hobby for some people-- of whom we had several in the class. They just wanted to learn how to tell better stories, not become the next literary great.

Our entire history as a species has been told as stories. It's cave art and bones of family units-- it's pieces of artifacts we try to ascribe stories to. Children on the shoulders of parents to leave their handprint on a cave wall, footsteps of mother and child in volcanic ash, and the warped remains of disabled hominids who lived a long life with the help of their family.

Stories are inscribed in the very fabric of our social DNA. It's part of who we are. It's how we dream, argue, adore, and condemn the world around us.

And this man. This tiny white man teaching a night class of ten people, tells us the answer is to never write for free.

I have a better idea: write what you want to read.

If it's an original story you think others might want to read, sure! Look into publishing options.

But write it anyway.

You have a scene with your favorite characters from your favorite show just bursting to get out of you, write it. Post it somewhere, payment be damned.

Even if no one else in the world sees it, YOU at least will be able to go back and read it, and gain some measure of happiness from it.

And I tell you what-- I forget half the shit that I write. Which means every now and then I find an old piece of mine that I read like it's brand new, and it makes me so happy. Because it's something I liked enough to put down on the page-- something I still want to read.

I'm lucky that I got a lot of positive feedback in my formative years as a writer, which boosted my confidence enough to keep sharing. But even if I hadn't, even if no one else had a single nice thing to say about it, it still satisfied one person-- me.

And that's enough reason for it to exist.

Fuck monetization. Your creativity is not tied to a dollar sign. It is antithetical to humanity's very existence to claim that it is. Write and share to your heart's content. It doesn't matter the quality or the content. If you write it, it is filling a void that needs to be filled by you alone, and that is enough reason to do it.

Write what you want to read.

[crashdevlin]

Forbidden Fruit 1- Just Helping Out

Author’s Note: This is part one of Forbidden Fruit. It is a high-school set, adopted sister Wincest, non-Supernatural, a/b/o series. This is brand new, never been posted (not even to my patreon). There was an Omegaverse week over on @spnkinkevents and there was a prompt of Heat/Rut which I think this will fit pretty well.

Summary: When John and Mary Winchester adopted Y/n into their family, Dean never imagined he'd grow to think of her as anything other than a nuisance. Imagine his surprise when his sister becomes the single most important person in his life.

Pairing: Dean x Sister!Reader, Michael x Reader

Word count: 3342

Story Warnings: sister wincest, alpha!Dean, alpha!Michael, omega!reader, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, masturbation, phone sex,

~~~

Dean Winchester stepped out of his car and slung his backpack over his shoulder, long bowed legs carrying him toward the last building in town he wanted to be in. His brother followed at a slower pace. His friend, Richie, approached him as soon as he entered the school, looking around pointedly.

"Where's your hot sister this morning?"

Dean rolled his eyes. He was more than tired of his friends trying to get with Y/n. Just like he was tired of reinforcing that she was adopted. "Fuck if I know, man. She was sick or something this morning. Mom told me and Sammy to head out without her."

"Sick, huh? She ain't pregnant, is she?" Richie asked. He always took it to a sexual place.

Dean scoffed. "Be real hard 'less it's the second coming of Christ, man. She's a virgin."

"You sure? 'Cause word around the locker room is-"

"You finish that sentence and I'm gonna rip your fuckin' lungs out. That's my sister and she is not a topic for your locker room bullshit," Dean growled. He knew there was no way the rumors might have substance but the very idea that Y/n let some guy touch her made his alpha show itself.

"No, no, man. Not me! I would never disrespect you and yours like that, but...I mean, Mike...Cas' big brother...he was sayin'..."

All anger flowed out of him. "They went to one movie and I escorted them. Nothing happened. He's a lying piece of shit."

"Maybe...but he's telling everybody that he nailed her so…"

"I'll deal with it."

Dean wasn’t sure how he'd deal with it, but he knew he would. There was no way he would let everyone think his sister was a ho.

"Well, don't hurt Mr. President too much. You don't want to get arrested."

"I'm not gonna hurt him," Dean argued. "Well, I might, but if I say that then it's premeditation and I don't have the 'crime of passion' thing to fall back on." He scoffed as the bell rang through the PA system. "See you in English, Richie."

"She wouldn't want you to fight with him. She likes him," Sam said, walking up to his brother as Richie rushed down the hall.

"She doesn't like liars and she doesn't deserve to have him spreading rumors like that about her."

"Then let her deal with it."

"She's not here today, is she?"

"And you gotta deal with it today?"

Dean turned on his little brother and let out a growl. "The longer he's out here spreading this shit with no pushback and no one defending her, the longer it has to take hold and the more people are gonna believe it. I am not going to let that happen."

Sam sighed, his hair swinging as he shook his head. "When she gets upset and cries about you beating up her boyfriend, I'm not gonna hold back the 'I told you so'."

"He ain't her boyfriend!" Dean called before heading into his homeroom. He threw his body down into his desk and rested his head against his fist.

He never would have thought he would end up so protective of Y/n. He hated that girl when his parents decided to foster her. They put a seven-year-old boy who only ever had a little brother with a brand new six-year-old 'sister', they were naive to not expect some pushback. She was living with them for almost a year before he called her anything other than 'Foster' and he remembered making every single thing a fight even after they decided to adopt her and make her his sister. He was an unbelievable ass to her and that still showed up sometimes.

But despite the genetics, despite the rocky start, Y/n was his sister. Y/n was his little sister and he was not about to let the student council president get away with telling everyone that she gave her virginity up to a piece of shit like him. Fuck Michael Novak.

Four other people mentioned "the rumors" before lunch. By the time he saw the tall green-eyed teen across the cafeteria, Dean was seething. He was laughing with a group of other wealthy, popular seniors and Dean was itching to hit the smile right off his face. At least it wouldn't be an unfair fight. Michael was the same age, same height, same build, and both were alphas. In a lot of ways, Michael Novak was just like Dean Winchester, so much so that people sometimes mistook them for each other in the halls during hotter months when Dean only wore t-shirts instead of his many layers of plaid and leather.

"So tell me, how'd you manage to get some from my sister when I was with you the whole damn night?" Dean asked without preface and definitely without tact as he walked up to the group.

The group collectively blanched before turning to the gruff boy. Michael's blank green eyes found Dean's rage-filled ones. "What are you going on about, Dean?"

"You been tellin' everybody that you had sex with my sister and I'm just wondering exactly how that could have happened when I was with you the whole date. I picked your lame, Abercrombie and Fitch-wearing ass up. I drove you to the theater. I sat next to her in the movie. I drove your lame, Abercrombie and Fitch-wearing ass home. When did you put her ankles behind her ears and make her see God?"

Michael looked caught for a moment, obviously unsure what to say. "You weren't around the whole night," he responded, eventually. "She and I were alone while you went to the anime store in the mall."

Dean nodded, angrily. There was a short gap where he let them out of his sight but… "I was gone for ten minutes. I just needed to grab the new Twilight Princess manga. My baby didn't smell like sex when I got back in and you really think anyone's gonna believe you talked Y/n out of her virginity in the backseat of my car in ten minutes? Also, dude, if you're only giving girls ten minutes of time, you're doing sex wrong. Have you ever had sex?"

Michael obviously took offense to the question, eyes going wide. "More than you, I'm sure, you...white trash, thrift store-shopping, piece of-"

"Well, you're wrong there. I steal my clothes and if you think I'm trash, what do you really think about Y/n?"

"I think she's been trying to get me to knot her for months and she would have been easy if you hadn't been a constant presence during the date!"

"Did you just call my sister 'easy'?! And like hell, she's been tryin' to get your dinky little dick!" Dean's fist clenched and he moved to step closer, but his phone vibrating in his pocket stopped him. He growled as he pulled it out, softening a little at his mom's contact pic on the screen. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Hey, I need you to take Sam over to Bobby's after school. You boys and your father are going to be staying there for a few days."

"Wait, wha--Why? What's goin' on?"

"Because Y/n's becoming a woman and having two alphas in the house when an omega is going through her first heat would make everything harder and Sam is going to want to be with you wherever you are so...meet your dad at Bobby's, we'll see you in a few days, okay?"

"Y-yeah." Dean turned away from Michael and his friends, phone pressed to his ear. His cheeks went hot as he heard Y/n moan in the background. "Is she...she okay?"

"She'll be fine. First one's the worst one. You remember your first rut, how you wanted to fight everyone and went through half a bottle of lotion?"

"Com'on, Mom," he groaned.

Mary laughed. "I'll take care of her. We'll see you when she's on the other side."

"Yes, ma'am. See ya then." He sighed before pushing his phone back into his pocket. "Stop lying about my sister, you dickbag...and lose her number because no way is she going out with you again," Dean called over his shoulder as he walked away. Y/n was under enough stress. She didn't need to come back to school to find out that Dean got in a fist fight with Michael over her.

"You didn't hurt him?" Richie couldn't believe he just witnessed Dean walk away from an opportunity to defend Y/n's honor. "Who was on that call, man?"

"My mom. I'm not gonna…not gonna hurt him. I called him out, his friends know he lied, and I'm never gonna let Y/n go out with him again so…" He shrugged and sat on the table, boots resting on the seat. "He really said she'd'a been easy if I hadn’t been on the date, blockin' him. He obviously doesn't know anything about her."

"You let that slide?! 'Cause your mommy called you?"

"Richie," Dean started, licking his lips. He had a hundred things he wanted to say to his friend, but his mind kept replaying the moan he heard in the background of his conversation with his mother. He adjusted how he was sitting as he started to get hard. "Shut up."

~~~~~~~~~~

"So, we gotta sleep at Bobby's until Y/n's feeling better?" Sam asked from the passenger seat of Dean's Impala.

"Yeah. Dad brought clothes over for us and we're gonna be sleeping on the couches. Dad gets the guest bed, of course."

"How long does an omega stay in heat?"

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before looking back to the road. "Aren't you takin' sex ed? Isn't there a whole section in that book about gender presentation?"

"It's all vague. 'One to five days'. That's not helpful. Come on. You know stuff. Cassie was an omega, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex. "Yeah, Cassie was an omega...and her heats lasted three. Mom's last two. So...we'll probably have to stay at Bobby's 'til Saturday."

"Thank you. Was that so hard, jerk?"

"Harder than you think," Dean said, shifting on the bench seat. Just thinking about Y/n in heat gave him a hard on...which was wrong. So wrong. That's his sister.

Bobby's front door opened and Ellen stepped out. "Hey, boys. Jo Beth and I put pillows an' blankets out on the couch and loveseat and y'all can do your homework in the library. Bobby and yer dad'll be back from the body shop at 6 so you got plenty'a time to get that stuff finished before dinner. Fried chicken. Come on in." The Winchesters followed the brunette woman inside. "As always-" she started as soon as Dean walked in.

"'Hands off Jo'. Yes, ma'am," Dean finished for her.

"Good," she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Get caught playing doctor once, ten years ago...never let us live it down," Dean grumbled under his breath as he tossed his backpack through the open doorway into the library.

"She'll get over it one day," Jo said, walking up to pick Dean's bag up.

"Not fucking likely. But it doesn't matter, does it?" Dean chuckled as he slid the door closed and sat at Bobby's desk. "Her threats didn't actually stop us."

"Hush yer mouth," Jo whispered, furiously. "Momma would kill us!"

"She'd kill Dean." Sam flopped down on the loveseat and dropped his backpack to his feet. "No big loss."

"Yeah, shut up, you little bitch."

"Are you going to do your work or just-" Sam cut himself off when Dean put his feet up on Bobby's desk and pulled out a comic book from his bag. "Right." Sam rolled his eyes.

"I don't need to do the homework to pass the tests and all my teachers know that shit, man. They don't fuck with me about it."

Sam just rolled his eyes again.

~~~~~~

Dean's phone ringing on the floor beside the couch woke him at a little after midnight. He was barely awake enough to recognize Y/n's contact picture before he had answered and put the phone to his ear.

"Dean?" Her whisper through the phone made him sit up, more awake.

"Yeah? You okay?" he whispered back to keep Sam from waking.

"Mom told you?"

"Yeah."

"I don't like this," she whined and Dean was struck with the desire to go home and comfort her. "I've never been so…"

"Horny?" Dean guessed.

"I was going for 'uncomfortable' but...yeah," she admitted. Dean swallowed thickly and licked his lips as blood rushed southward. He felt a little bad about getting hard over his little sister's first heat, but it wasn’t something he could control. "I don't know what to do. I just wanna...make it go away."

"O-only thing that would m-make it stop for a few hours would be...an alpha, but, um...you can...you know...and that'll...take some of the edge off."

"I can't," she squeaked.

"Can't...what, masturbate? It's totally natural and okay to-"

"No, I just...maybe I'm too stupid or I'm doing it wrong but it...I've tried before and it d-doesn't work."

Dean's face went hot as his dick twitched. "Um...you could--you aren't stupid, you just don't--um, I could send you a few videos from Pornhub and-"

"I can't watch those kinds of things!"

"Don't be such a prude," he snapped before sighing. "Sorry. That was rude. I'm an ass."

"It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I'm just...I'm not eighteen yet. I really shouldn't look at those videos."

"Right, well…" An idea came to his head and it left his mouth before he could realize how wrong the idea was. "I've seen a lot of those videos. Maybe I could help you."

There was silence on her side for a minute and Dean almost laughed it off and pretended it was a joke until he heard, "You could do that?" Her voice was so small and hopeful that he couldn't call it a joke.

"Y-yeah. I could do that...for you."

"And that’s...okay? It's not-"

"I'm your big brother. If I can help make this a little more bearable for you...I should. So, uh." Dean shot a look at Sam's sleeping form and got up to tip-toe into the bathroom at the foot of the stairs. "You in bed?"

"Yeah," she said on a breath.

"Okay, so...I guess, just get comfortable and, um, close your eyes."

"Okay."

"And just get a clear picture in your head of somebody that you'd wanna touch you. It's better if you can imagine someone...when you can think about their voice and how they might look when they're hovering over you...looking down at you...runnin' their hands down your body like you're about to be doing."

"So, I should run my hands down my body?"

"Did you come up with someone to imagine?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, now, imagine that guy and let your hands drift until you find a place that feels good. Imagine him kissing your neck and telling you how fucking pretty you are." A sharp gasp from Y/n made Dean's dick twitch and he reached down to run his hand across the front of his pajama pants. "Some girls really like their nipples being played with. Some like tugging and pinching real hard, but others like it to be all light like a feather touch. So you should-"

"Oh my god!" she whispered through a moan and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from moaning himself...and to keep from asking how she likes her nipples played with.

"Now, um, put your hand in your underwear, whichever hand feels better...usually dominant hand, but sometimes that left hand is just a bit different and that can be fun." He wrapped his fingers around his erection through his pants and tried to control himself. "Keep your other hand playing with your nipples and don't just go straight for it. Tease yourself before you get the fingers going."

"T-tease what? My…"

"You need to play with your clit, baby," he said, cursing himself for calling her that before squeezing his erection and moving on. "Gentle pressure, circular motions...when you-"

"Oh! Oh, fuck!" Hearing her curse was too much. His goody-two-shoes, Student Council Vice President, church choir soloist little sister was playing with her clit and moaning for him. It was so wrong...and a-fucking-mazing. He reached into his pants and boxers and pulled out his cock, sweeping his thumb over the head. "It feels so good."

"If you're...if you think you're wet enough, you can slip your middle finger in-inside you and...just kinda feel around. Don't thrust, just press your fingertip into your pussy." His hand started moving slowly down his erection and back to the tip. "Gotta find the spots you're gonna be aimin' for when you start thrusting."

"How do you know-"

"Dirty movies, nasty mangas, and some hands-on experience. Now...fuck...um, take as long as you want with the teasing, ya know. There's no such thing as too much foreplay, even when you're playing with yourself."

He started tugging at his cock as he listened to her breathing heavily. Something in the rhythm of her breaths told him she had found her pace and started fingering herself. "How's that workin' for you, baby sis?" He needed to hear her voice. He needed to know what she sounded like all wrecked with bliss.

"It's workin'," she whimpered.

"Yeah? You think you can make yourself cum like that?"

"Yeah. Oh, I'm so close."

"I bet you are. Bet you're about to gush all over those pretty little fingers, aren't you?"

"Fuck, so close. Alpha, I'm so close."

Dean dropped his phone in the sink as his whole body jerked and his toes curled, a powerful, unexpected orgasm taking his breath as he shot cum all over the counter. "Shit!" he hissed, grabbing his phone as he continued fucking his fist. He got the phone to his ear just in time to hear Y/n let out a shuddering breath and a relieved moan. "You...you feel better, Y/n?"

"Uh-huh. I...I'm sorry I called you that. It just came out."

Dean chuckled, grabbing some toilet paper to clean up the evidence of what her calling him that did to him. "It's okay. It's natural. You're an omega in heat. I'm an alpha you trust...you were doing that. It's not a big deal. As long as you're feeling better, that's the important thing."

"I'm feeling a lot better. Thank you. I knew it was the right choice to call you."

Dean tossed the toilet paper in the bowl and flushed before securing his boxers and pants. "Why did you call me?"

"Something in me said you'd be able to help."

Dean licked his lips and swallowed. "I'm glad I could help. Um...but we should probably not tell anybody that I did, ya know?"

"Yeah. People probably would think-"

"Yeah."

"Thank you for helping, Dean. This won't be so miserable now."

"Try to get some sleep, Y/n."

"You too. Sorry I woke you up for this."

Dean smiled. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad I could help."

"Oh, um...can you collect my schoolwork for the week? It's gonna be in the front office tomorrow."

"Yeah. I'll, uh, grab it and drop it off for you tomorrow."

"Okay. Thank you. Love you, Dean. Night."

"Night." Dean disconnected the call and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink. "That’s your little sister, man. What's wrong with you?"

He shook his head and sighed, checking the time on his phone and wiping at his tired eyes. "Nobody has to know. Doesn't have to be a thing. I was just helpin' her out like any good big brother would." He flicked the light off and headed back to the couch in the library.

The Kitchen Sink Tags- @flamencodiva @sacriceria @lyarr24 @440mxs-wife @nancymcl @mariekoukie6661 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @cosicas-cuquis @queenoftheunderdark @myheartbelongsintz @squirrelnotsam @akshi8278 @muhahaha303 @agirlwithdemonblood @this-is-me19 @mrswhozeewhatsis  

[simari]

Brunch

The sun streamed through the large windows of Alessandra’s brand new home, casting a warm glow over the beautifully set dining table adorned with delicate floral arrangements and glistening silverware. The aroma of roasted chicken and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of freshly opened wine. Alessandra felt a flutter of excitement as she heard the familiar sound of her friends’ footsteps approaching.

“Alessandra! This place is stunning!” Vivienne exclaimed as she stepped inside, her eyes wide with admiration. Julianna followed closely behind, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. “Thank you! I’ve been waiting for you two to see it,” Alessandra beamed, ushering them into the dining area. “I wanted our first gathering here to feel special." As they settled at the table, glasses of white wine clinked lightly, and the atmosphere bubbled with warmth. Alessandra poured for each of them, her heart swelling with gratitude for this moment. “I really appreciate you both coming. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together.” Vivienne took a sip of her wine and smiled brightly. “Well, I have some news that might just brighten this lunch even more!” She leaned forward, her excitement palpable. “Gabriel proposed!” Alessandra’s eyes widened in shock and joy. “Oh my gosh, Vivienne! Congratulations! When did this happen?” “Just last weekend,” Vivienne replied, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “We’re throwing an engagement party this Saturday at his apartment in San Myshuno. You both have to come!” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alessandra said, her heart racing with excitement. She felt a twinge of something else as she remembered Enzo. “Of course I’ll be there,” Juliana added, though her voice had a slight tremor to it. “I can’t wait to celebrate with you and Gabriel. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” Vivienne grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, and I want you to know, Alessandra, I invited Enzo as well. I thought it would be nice for him to join us.” Alessandra’s heart sank slightly at the mention of his name. She hadn’t seen Enzo since Friendsgiving, and the anticipation of their reunion was a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. “That’s… that’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’ll be nice to see him again.” “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Juliana asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “I know things were a bit… complicated between you two.” “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alessandra replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “It’ll be fine. Really.” But inside, her stomach churned with uncertainty. Juliana, sensing the shift in mood, decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I wish I had news like that,” she said, her tone becoming more somber. “Things have been a bit rough on my end.” The cheerful atmosphere dimmed as Alessandra and Vivienne turned their attention to Juliana, concern etching their faces. “What do you mean?” Vivienne asked gently. “It’s just… ever since I had the girls, everything feels different,” Juliana admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Francesco and I… I don’t know. It’s like we’re not the same couple anymore. The twins have changed everything.” “Oh, Juliana,” Alessandra said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “I can only imagine how hard that must be. Having two at once is a huge adjustment.” “Yeah, it’s exhausting,” Juliana confessed, tears welling in her eyes. “I worry about Isabella and Sofia, you know? I want to be the best mom I can be, but I feel like I’m failing sometimes. Francesco and I argue more often, and I’m scared that it’s affecting the girls.” Vivienne leaned in, her expression earnest. “You’re not failing, Juliana. You’re doing an incredible job. It’s a huge transition, and it’s okay to struggle. Just know we’re here for you, no matter what.” Alessandra nodded, her heart aching for her friend. “Absolutely. You can always talk to us. We’ll get through this together.”

The three of them shared a group hug, the warmth of their friendship wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. As they pulled back, Alessandra couldn’t help but feel a heaviness in her chest but also a flicker of hope. They finished lunch, laughter and conversation flowing, but somewhere in the back of her mind, thoughts of Enzo lingered, stirring a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.

[httpshujii]

SELFSHIP QUESTIONS

X - X-ray how do they help the other if they’re sick or tired?

With any of your beloved red flags 乁⁠|⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠|⁠ㄏ

IM GONNA DO TWO OF MY BELIVED RED FLAGS :D

So it goes both ways...

If I'm sick, Kyoua would stop, drop, and roll. And by roll he'd go nuts. He doesn't like it when his beloved (me :>) is sick.

Would literally call in all reinforcements (any doctor or nurse that works for his family) to find out what's wrong with me.

He'd still keep up the nonchalant facade but once everyone leaves and it's just us he's on his hands and knees praying for me to get better soon.

And always leaves a number of five kisses on my face. First my forehead, my nose, cheek number one, cheek number two, and lastly a peck on the lips.

I'd complain and tell him he'd get sick too but he argues that this specific pattern is a remedy for faster healing that he claims to have read about in an article.

BUT

If I'm tired, would give that stupid smirk and push up his glasses before presenting me with a box.

Inside he'd have my favorite snacks, some new fuzzy socks, and a piece of the finest jewelry. Would yell at him for spending so much on the newest set that dropped from my favorite brand but he'd shush me and help me put it on.

Compliments me a lot discreetly. If any of the other guys are around then he'd get really close and whisper AND HE KNOWS IT MAKES ME WEAK IN THE KNEES.

~

With Shuji, if I'm either sick or tired, he'd "measure" my fever by pressing a big smooch to my forehead. It caught me off guard at first but I got used to it.

He'd get me something warm to eat immediately and would ban me of anything that might cause me to have problems later.

Unless it's my period, then he gives me a wad of cash that God knows from who he stole it from, and he'd take me to the nearest convenience store and would tell me to "go wild."

And he wouldn't leave me alone. Boy becomes clingier than normal and anytime I point it out, he gets all proud and happy and giddy. I love him sm.

I love them both sm omggg

[theblankest123]

Some random thoughts on the thunder leak we got so far

The way the person wrote it, it really sounds like Splashtail is actually genuenly alarmed and in horror with Frostpaw dissapearing and then Whistlepaw telling him that she got carried off by a buzzard. Like that seems like a bit of a weird of a guy that we suspect of attacking frostpaw with the intention of murder. Makes me wonder if Splashtail was not the one that attacked her? Maybe he genuienly thought of Frostpaw as a good asset to him becoming a leader and did not actually want her dead? Does he know who might have attackled her but cannot comment on it? Very curious.....

Sunbeam i hope you dump your impulsive ass bf but stay in TC with your brand new adopted family. The way they all support her a ton and the way how she seems to both enjoy and be good at mentoring, doing the task, it sounds cute as hell. Someone mentioned that she might be given one of the kits as an apprentice to signify that TC trusts her which hell yeah thatd be great :]

Didnt really like how they tried to make squirrelflight at the time sound unreasonable with Bramble being the reasonable one in that one chapter after the first moonpool visit failed, wether it was the person writing it in the forum or the book, but alas. Ooooo Brambe is the reasonable one and Squirrelflight/star is SOOOO unreasonable therefore bramble is in the right always and squirrel is wrong and bad. Like shuddup. Hope thats not what they were going with. Either way a minor pet peeve its just bramblesquirrel arguing again like always

Frostpaw my girl my beloved little gal. Ily. She is now the chosen cat by starclan tasked to go on a journey, break riverclan appart and then rebuild it. Little girl's gonna fuck shit up hell yeah

Curlfeather is absolutely in darkforest kitty hell isnt she. Ooo man. And starclan did not want to tell Frostpaw that because oof she is already going through a lot lets not drop that bomb on her juuust yet, she'll figure out that her mom was doing shady things and might have been involved in Reed's death eventually.

They are absolutely gonna use the being spayed plot point as a means to cause a bit more angst for Frostpaw arent they. She was thinking of maybe having children one day and naming one of em after her mom. Poor gal. Well, at least we wont have another female wc protag end up being reduced to mom. Let's hope that the erins handle this not absolutely horribly.

Tigerstar: its fiiiine that im still in control of the RC territory i mean look how much i have helped them look how great they are doing with me!

River Clan: *is in complete fucking shambles*

[paperbag1999]

I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s the giveaway that they’re scams? I know people get dogpiled on here for suggesting that even a few of them might be fake

This is such a tricky situation. Very real people have been accused of being scammers, which is horrifying. But I think we need to be honest with ourselves that a lot of these asks in our inboxes are scams. I think some people say what's the big deal, I don't really care if my $5 goes to a scammer. Which okay fine but the issue becomes when tens of thousands of dollars that could go to actual Gazans and Palestinian orgs is being funneled into scams.

I don't have a real way to know, I guess there is no universal "giveaway". I don't know Arabic which makes it more difficult for me to know for sure. My general rules of thumb are

Did I just make a post about Palestine and my inbox got mass flooded immediately by donation calls? Probably a bot script. Not just original posts (which conceivably could show up in the tag and notify people seeking help), but just reblogging posts with the word Palestine or Gaza tips it off

I don't want to start shit, but in October a shit ton of posts in my inbox started claiming they were vetted by @/gazavetters. I went to this blog and found it was brand new, with very little info. I just checked again and I think they are reblogging actual fundraisers to give more credibility to their scam (aka DON'T go accusing reblogs on that page of being scams)

That's kind of all I have. I want to make clear that I am regularly donating to gfms, but I have also been donating to Anera, the PCRF, and more specifically community kitchen projects. But I have heard stories of actual Gazans starting gofundmes and then their outside contact organizing the campaign actually just runs off with the money. Which is horrifying.

There is no perfect course of action under a genocide. So many people not in Gaza are grappling with despair and hopelessness and are grasping at what they can do to help. But in a fucking genocide where a global power has enacted a blockade, prevented people from fleeing, and is mass starving an entire population there is no amount of donating that will solve this situation. And we can argue all day about if donating to an org or an individual or whatever is better and guilt people about it but it does not change the material reality of the situation. If you feel better donating to a non profit, or a gofundme, do that. I asked my own grandmother to donate to PCRF as apart of a fundraising drive I did earlier this year. She felt safer sending money to her siblings in the West Bank. Hell, see if there is a pro-Palestine political group or BDS arm in your area taking donations.