#Not sure if I’m ever gonna do that again

[cutielando]

brazil, my heart | m.v.

synopsis: in which Max finally makes a statement during the Brazilian GP

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Your lip was stuck between your teeth as the whole garage waited anxiously for the start of the race.

The weather had kept everyone on their toes ever since the Sprint race had finished, and it seemed to be set on continuing to do so during the race.

Frankly, it wasn't something that you were very much keen on.

You were very tired, having woken up at 5 am to join Max at the track for the early Qualifying session from 7:30, you didn't want to take a nap after Max was done with Qualifying so you could talk to him, but now you were slowly starting to regret it.

Your nerves were stretched thin as you anxiously watched the 5 lights turn on one by one, your heart jumping in your ribcage once they went out and everyone lunged forward.

"Max up to P11" GP's voice suddenly rang through your headset, making you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Max had long ago come to an agreement with his race engineers to do his best to keep you in the loop with regular updates because he knew you sometimes got too nervous or scared to actually watch the race.

The weather really didn't help your nerves, either.

You were always afraid for Max in dry conditions, but seeing him race in this rain and with the low grip level on the track, let's just say you were gonna have a lot more gray hairs by the time the race is over, which feels like a lifetime away.

Wet racing was often known to be one of Max's best conditions for racing, but it also meant more dangerous conditions.

Seeing the spray that the cars would leave behind, just having to imagine having to drive at such high speeds with water in your face, barely able to see anything, desperately trying to keep the car on track. There was no room for any mistake, no matter how little.

You trusted Max and his abilities, but that didn't mean you weren't still gonna be worried out of your ass for him.

"Red flag. Max is coming into the garage" GP's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your stance immediately perking up at the sound of the news.

You waited until the cars had come into the pitlane to take off your set of headphones and make your way outside of the garage, anxiously waiting to see your boyfriend emerge from his car.

The moment you had laid eyes on him coming towards you, you hurriedly started walking over to him, not caring about any of the engineers or frankly anyone else from his team.

You only cared about making sure he was okay.

Just to ease your mind and worries.

"Hey babe-" Max barely got a word in before you jumped straight into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

He grunted, but returned the tight hug, careful not to squash your head with his helmet.

You buried your head into his shoulder as best as you could, your heart racing as you finally felt him under your fingertips, okay and all in one piece.

“I’m never joining you at the track for another wet race ever again. I’ve had 4 panic attacks until now” you said, half joking and half telling the truth.

Max laughed, his arms tightening around your waist.

He knew how much you worried about him every time he would get into the car, and he also knew how much you hated the wet races. And he couldn’t blame you, but he was the best in those conditions, so you had nothing to worry about on his end.

“Is it that bad?” he asked, looking at his engineer over your shoulder who gave him a short and worried nod.

“It’s worse. I don’t know how you guys can see the track in front of your eyes from all that spray” you said, slowly letting go of him and stepping back from his arms.

Max pulled up his visor and smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

“Hey, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me, I’m driving the race of my life out there and everything is okay. I love you and I’ll come back to you in one piece” he said, holding our face in his gloved hands.

You bit your lip and studied him for a little while before nodding, giving him one last hug before he was pulled away by his engineers to go over data.

Running a hand through your already disheveled hair, you slowly made your way back into the garage, occupying your seat and putting your headphones back on.

Half more of this torture to go.

♡♡♡♡♡

The tears were falling down your cheeks before you could even think about stopping them, before the race was even close to being over.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could imagine what was going on behind Max's helmet, what feelings were going through his mind as he was leading the race towards victory.

Those last few laps seemed like they were taking forever, but then he finally crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag in first position.

You didn't think it was possible, but a new wave of tears started falling down your eyes, sobs racking through your body.

"P1, He's done it, Y/N" GP's voice rung through your ears, but you didn't care for any of it.

The only thing you cared about was seeing Max.

You got up from your chair and put the headphones on a table in front of you, your legs carrying you fast towards where his car was parked.

"Max!" you yelled just as he took off his helmet, his smile radiating as he started walking towards you.

You didn't waste a second before you flung your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as Max squeezed you close.

"I did it" he whispered into your ear, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you clung onto his body.

"I'm so proud of you" you murmured, pressing little kisses on his neck and his cheek.

Nothing could ever beat this feeling, being right there in your arms after winning a much-awaited Grand Prix.

Nothing could be better than that for him.

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REQUEST HERE

[goldfades]

ROOKIE ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

request: "paige's gf and she insists on teaching her basketball—even though she's terrible at it. paige spends half the time “coaching” her (aka being flirty) and the other half laughing when she completely miss the basket"

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here—standing under the hoop on a Saturday afternoon, gripping a basketball like it’s some foreign object you’ve never encountered before.

In your defense, sports have never been your thing. You’re more of a cheer-from-the-bleachers, snack-at-halftime, maybe-ask-what-a-three-pointer-is-later kind of person. And yet, here you are, because your girlfriend, Paige—decided today was the day you’d “learn the fundamentals.”

“Okay, baby, it’s easy,” she says, her voice brimming with the sort of confidence only someone who’s mastered the art of the crossover can pull off. She spins a ball on her finger effortlessly, her grin teasing but somehow still the softest thing you’ve ever seen. “All you gotta do is aim and shoot. No pressure.”

You squint up at the basket. It feels like it’s a mile away. “No pressure?” you deadpan, bouncing the ball once and grimacing when it doesn’t exactly obey. “Do you even know me?”

Paige snickers, sidling closer until she’s standing next to you, her hand on your hip. She’s wearing her usual practice gear: baggy shorts, sneakers laced tight, and a loose shirt that somehow still manages to hint at the muscle underneath. It’s honestly unfair how good she looks while being this annoying.

“Listen,” she says, her tone shifting into something that almost passes for serious. Almost. “I know you. I also know you’re fully capable of putting this ball in that hoop if you just focus and stop looking at me like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at her, and she’s smirking now, like she knows she’s caught you. Which, to be fair, she has. “First of all,” you mutter, turning back to the basket, “I do want to be here. Second, you’re distracting.”

“Am I?” Her voice is teasing, but you don’t dare look again. You already know she’s doing that thing where she cocks her head just a little and raises her eyebrows like she’s so impressed with herself. “Want me to step back so you can concentrate, rookie?”

“No,” you reply, huffing. “But if you call me rookie one more time, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” Paige interrupts, leaning down just enough so her lips are by your ear. Her voice drops an octave, and you swear you can feel her grin against your skin. “Miss the basket again?”

You groan, shoving her lightly with your elbow, but the weight of her hand on your hip doesn’t budge. She’s laughing now, full and bright and utterly unapologetic, and despite your best efforts to stay annoyed, you can’t help but crack a smile.

This is going to be a disaster. You can feel it.

You take a step back, spinning the ball once between your hands, trying to look like you’ve got some semblance of control. You absolutely do not. It’s slippery and awkward, and you’re already regretting agreeing to this. Paige watches you with the intensity of a coach but the playfulness of a girlfriend who knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Alright, babe, let’s see what you’ve got,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels, all casual and amused. She looks entirely too comfortable with the idea of watching you embarrass yourself.

You square your shoulders and look up at the hoop again, trying to remember the quick, nonsensical explanation Paige gave you about form and aim. Something about “elbows in,” “flicking your wrist,” and “imagining you’re putting cookies in the oven.” Honestly, she lost you after “elbows.”

Paige steps closer, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the court. “Okay, pause,” she says, gently placing her hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. Her touch lingers a little too long to be entirely innocent, and you glance at her, catching the faintest flicker of her teasing grin. “You’re holding the ball like it’s gonna explode. Relax.”

You loosen your grip, if only slightly, and she takes a step back, nodding approvingly. “Much better. Now, bend your knees. Remember, this isn’t a free throw contest, it’s a rhythm thing. Like dancing.”

“Dancing?” You give her a skeptical look. “You’ve seen me dance. That’s not helping your case.”

“True,” she says, laughing. “But at least you don’t step on anyone’s toes here.” Her hand brushes your lower back, the contact brief but enough to send a little jolt through you. She always does this—throws you off-kilter just enough to make you forget what you were supposed to be doing.

You shake your head, focusing on the hoop again. “Alright, alright. I’m doing it.”

“You’re doing it,” Paige echoes, stepping back into your peripheral vision, her hands on her hips like she’s supervising. “Visualize it going in. Manifest it.”

“Manifest it?” you deadpan. “Are you a basketball player or a yoga instructor?”

“Both, apparently,” she shoots back, laughing again. “Come on, just throw it already.”

You take a deep breath, bend your knees, and, in one fluid (well, semi-fluid) motion, you shoot. The ball arcs through the air in what you think is a promising trajectory… only to miss the basket entirely and bounce harmlessly off the backboard. It rolls lazily away, as if to add insult to injury.

Paige absolutely loses it. She doubles over, clutching her stomach as laughter spills out of her. It’s loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that’s so contagious you almost forget why she’s laughing in the first place. Almost.

“Don’t laugh,” you say, but your own voice wobbles with the threat of a giggle. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige straightens up, wiping at the corner of her eye dramatically. “Babe, you hit the backboard so hard I think it just filed for workers’ comp.”

“Wow, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes but failing to hide your grin. “This is why I don’t play sports.”

“Oh, come on.” Paige retrieves the ball with a few quick strides, tossing it effortlessly between her hands as she makes her way back to you. She stops just in front of you, holding the ball out. “You’re doing fine. You just need more practice.”

“And by practice, you mean you laughing at me until I cry?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she says with a grin that’s entirely too charming to argue with. “Now, let’s try again. But this time…” She steps behind you, wrapping her arms around you and placing her hands over yours on the ball. “I’m gonna guide you.”

Your breath catches slightly as she leans in, her voice soft and close to your ear. “Okay, elbows in. Knees bent. Don’t think too hard about it. Just feel it.”

It’s a miracle you’re even upright at this point, let alone holding the ball. Her voice is low and encouraging, her arms warm and steady around you, and suddenly, basketball doesn’t seem so terrible.

“Now,” she murmurs, her hands shifting just enough to nudge yours into position. “Shoot.”

You do, and this time, the ball actually arcs in a somewhat respectable manner. It hits the rim and bounces off, but it’s a lot closer than before.

“Progress!” Paige announces, stepping back with a proud smile. “You’re getting there, rookie.”

You groan. “Stop calling me rookie!”

“Never.” She’s already picking up the ball again, twirling it on her finger like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “One more time. Let’s see if we can actually make one.”

“Fine,” you say, holding out your hands. “But if I make this shot, you owe me something.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise, her smile turning playful. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, taking the ball and narrowing your eyes at the hoop. “But I’m thinking something big.”

Paige laughs, leaning against the pole of the hoop, her gaze fixed on you. “Deal. But if you miss… I get to call you rookie forever.”

You shake your head, fighting back a smile. “No pressure, right?”

“Exactly,” she says, her grin widening. “No pressure at all.”

You focus on the hoop again, blocking out everything except the promise of finally making this shot—and maybe wiping that smug grin off Paige’s face. With newfound determination, you bend your knees, grip the ball like you actually know what you’re doing, and take the shot.

Time slows down for a second. The ball soars in a near-perfect arc, hits the rim… and bounces around it once, twice, before dropping cleanly through the net with a satisfying swish.

For a moment, you just stand there, stunned. Then it clicks: you made it. You actually made it.

“Oh my god!” you squeal, throwing your hands up in triumph. “Did you see that? I made it! I actually made it!”

Before Paige can even respond, you’re hopping around the court like you just won a championship game. Your excitement is entirely disproportionate to what just happened, but you don’t care. You’re too busy celebrating your hard-won victory, flailing your arms and spinning in a little circle.

Paige leans against the hoop, watching you with a mixture of amusement and adoration. “You’d think you just scored the game-winner at Madison Square Garden,” she teases, but the softness in her voice gives her away.

“This is my moment, Paige!” you shoot back, still grinning like a fool. You stop hopping just long enough to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I made it! I’m a basketball prodigy now. Bow down!”

She laughs, her hands coming up to rest on your waist. “Alright, Michael Jordan, calm down.”

You narrow your eyes at her, playful and determined. “No, you don’t get to laugh. I deserve a reward for this. A big reward.”

Paige arches a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, do you now? What kind of reward are we talking about?” Her voice dips into that suggestive tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

You tap your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… how about… lunch? I’m starving. And since I’m the champion now, you get to go buy it for me.”

Paige blinks, her smirk faltering. “Lunch?”

“Yup,” you say cheerfully, stepping back and crossing your arms. “From that cute little sandwich place I like. You can’t say no. I earned this.”

Paige stares at you, her expression torn between disbelief and fake betrayal. “You just made the shot of your life, and this is what you ask for? A sandwich?”

“What did you think I was going to ask for?” you counter, cocking your head.

She shrugs, her tone casual but her grin anything but. “I don’t know. Maybe a kiss. Or maybe some leg-shaking, world shattering head.”

“Paige!” You shout at her language, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks heat up at the suggestion. “I just exerted all my physical and emotional energy making that shot. I need food first. Priorities.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face in mock despair. “You’re killing me here. Fine. But only because I’m impressed you actually made it.”

“Damn right you’re impressed,” you say, puffing out your chest dramatically. “Now go. And don’t forget the extra pickles!”

Paige shakes her head, laughing as she jogs off toward the parking lot. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You owe me, rookie!”

“Never!” you call after her, grinning as you watch her go.

You sink onto the court, still buzzing with excitement. Sure, basketball might not be your thing, but moments like this? With her? You could get used to them.

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[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[lomlhwa]

scandal (l.c)

pairing: idol!reader x idol!chan

preview: you got into a dating scandal with another idol and chan is not happy. it should've been him, he's your actual boyfriend after all.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of beomgyu and other idols, possessive chan, kisses galore, pet names (pretty, baby, my love, angel), oral (fem.receiving), holding hands while fucking, so much praise, monster cock chan, marking, did i say possessive?, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.8k

song rec for this fic: obsession by exo

a/n: i tried making fake tweets + texts for this how did i do? also i just threw in random female idols to make a fake group lol

you sigh, putting your phone down and rubbing your temples. dating as an idol is so tiring and sometimes you honestly forget why you even try. but you love your boyfriend so much. beomgyu is your good friend and sometimes you fail to remember to be sneaky when hanging out. even small things like going out to eat together makes fans assume you’re madly in love. this isn’t the first time you’ve been roped into media with beomgyu and you’re certain it won’t be the last. 

with your swift rise to fame, you’ve had many dating scandals in your time. what pisses chan off the most is the fact that it’s never been him that you’ve had a scandal with. you’ve gone out on many public dates before and no one has ever picked up on the fact that you’re together. he even kissed you in the view of a sasaeng one time and they didn’t notice. he wonders if it’s intentional on the media’s part or if they’re seriously just that oblivious. 

you run your hand through your hair, trying to fathom why the general public knowing about your relationship is so important to him. everyone within the industry knows so why does everyone else have to? relationships can ruin idol reputations and he doesn’t seem to care. maybe it’s because you’re both already so big that he’s not worried? or he’s hoping your fans are just accepting enough to be okay with it? 

your members come wandering into the living room and you’re quick to compose yourself. you don’t want them to know you’re having relationship problems again. “you okay, y/n?” minji asks you, concern spreading on her face. you nod and smile to the best of your abilities. “hmm, i don’t believe you but we have schedules so i’m not gonna push,” karina shakes her head before gesturing for you to follow the group out the door. you gather your things and do your best not to think about anything but the late night ahead of you. 

___________________________________________

after a late night at dance practice you finally get the time to check your phone. you know chan had a fansign today so you decide to check on some of his fan accounts. you smile as you’re met with cute photos of him posing with gifts from fans. you find lots of updates on things he said as well. his current favorite movies, foods, tv shows and… songs. of course he mentions you. it’s cute that he listens to your music and likes to promote you to fans. 

you jump as you realize sana is perched over your shoulder, reading your text messages. “he’s gonna get in trouble when people realize he keeps talking about you,” she comments, clicking her tongue. you sigh dramatically, slouching your shoulders. “that’s what he wants.” suddenly all your members are gathered around you, confused as to what you’re talking about. “i got into another scandal with beomgyu and chan is jealous that it’s not him. so he’s putting in extra effort to try and get people to assume things.” your members share a weird look between them before turning back to you. “i think you should go on the most public date ever and make sure everyone knows you’re with lee chan of seventeen,” lily smiles brightly at you. this comment shocks you a little but you agree. 

“will you guys help me set up a giant celebration at the restaurant under our dorm?” you ask and they all agree excitedly. you all rush to get back to your dorm, eager to plan an extravagant dinner for you and your boyfriend. you talk to the owners of the restaurant and they agree to vacate the restaurant for you. they even promise to make food on the house. your girls help you pick the perfect outfit, hair and makeup for the event. they even “accidentally” tell a well known media outlet that you have plans for tomorrow and they should be there. 

___________________________________________

you sit in eager anticipation waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you can see a photographer out of the corner of your eye, waiting for something to happen. you hear the backdoor open and chan walks in, confidence filling his every step. your eyes fall on the suit he chose for tonight. he left his blazer undone, showing off that the buttons resting on his chest were begging to burst open. 

“hello, my love,” he says as he pecks your cheek before sitting down across from you. “what’s the occasion for such a fancy dinner?” his face changes to panic for a moment before he speaks again; “did i miss our anniversary? your birthday?” you shake your head and chuckle just as a waitress comes scurrying out of the kitchen with pre prepared food. you thank her and shoot her a quick wink before turning back to your lover. chan looks at you with an unreadable expression, but you hope it’s positive.

the two of you eat your food happily, the atmosphere feeling very comfortable. your share anecdotes from your lives as idols, laughing that the ridiculousness of your respective companies. before long, your meal is coming to an end. chan gives you a look you know all too well and you’re quick to scurry away, up the stairs and to your dorm. your boyfriend follows swiftly behind you after thanking all the staff. 

you thank your members mentally as you enter your normally occupied dorm. as soon as the door is closed, chan’s hands are on you. he drags you by your hips, crashing you against him. he kisses you with such aggression that you would think he was trying to eat you. your tongues tangle like snakes, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. “fuck, baby. you’re so sexy, you know that?” he connects his lips to your jawline, sucking on your skin gently. he sucks dark red marks on your collar bones, taking a moment to lean back and admire his work. 

“jump,” he mutters as he hooks his hands under your thighs. you hop and he catches you before quickly scurrying towards your room. he lays you down on your bed, pressing your legs wide open. he groans as he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. you bite your lip as he admires you. “stop fucking me with your eyes and fuck me for real,” you demand. chan drops to his knees in front of you, desperation filling his eyes. you lift yourself onto your elbows so you can see him better. he kisses his way up your thighs before meeting his lips with your drenched core. 

his skilled tongue darts out to circle your clit, small whines escaping from your throat. he grips your thighs, holding you exactly where he wants you. he slurps and drinks you up as you twitch and squirm under him. he focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it. “channie, please please ple-ah,” he silences you with a harsh smack to your inner thigh. “let me enjoy your cunt. god, i love that you’re mine,” he presses kisses against your slit, licking a fat stripe up it to follow. “fucking mine.”

he grazes his teeth over your clit, drinking in the way you squeak and raise your hips towards his mouth. your hands fly to his hair and drag his mouth back to you. he chuckles before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it before letting it go with a small ‘pop.’ you grind your core against his face, his nose brushing your clit as you get more and more desperate for release. “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. could eat you forever.”

a low moan slips from his lips as he watches you clench around nothing at his words. he places one final kiss to your core before rising off his knees. “you’re so tasty, angel. but i think i might explode if i don’t get inside you.” he reaches down to undo his pants and let them pool around his ankles. he aligns himself with your desperate hole before pressing in gently. “my pretty, pretty girl.” he grabs your hands and intertwines all ten of your fingers with his. a gesture like this always felt so romantic to you. 

he arms flex in reaction as you clench around him in an eager effort to get him to move. he draws his hips back slowly before returning himself to the hilt. your eyes cross and your back arches off the bed as he repeats this ritual over and over before he can’t take the slow pace anymore. he tightens his grip on your hands as he speeds up, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. he stares between the two of you, watching as he disappears and reappears between your legs.”fuck, baby. you’re all mine. i don’t care what the media says. i’m the one fucking you. not beomgyu, me.” you nod your head, panting like a dog in the summer heat. ���say it. who does this pussy belong to?” he thrusts into you faster, as if to make it harder for you to answer. “y-you, chan. fuck, it’s all yours.”

he lets go of your hands and opts to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your chest. he ruts into you with such vigor you think you might snap in half. he lifts you partially off the bed so you’re kind of sitting in his lap. your grind down on him, desperate for more. “channie… god, need it so bad,” you plead, your orgasm threatening to rip its way out of you. he runs his tongue between the valley of your breasts before pulling back to look at your face.

“keep eye contact with me while you finish. let me see how fucking good i make you feel.” you nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he connects the pad of his thumb to your clit. you let out a deep sigh and fight your hardest not to throw your head back. the way chan looks at you through his sweaty bangs has you seeing stars. “cumming. oh my god i’m cumming,” you cry out as your whole body spasms. “yeah, that’s it baby. squeeze my cock like that.” your arms give out and you fall back onto the bed, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. 

your lover’s orgasm is quick to follow, ropes of cum painting your walls white. he moans and whines out your name like a hymn, gripping your waist so hard you might bruise. you twitch as he rides out the last of his high before stilling completely. he pulls out of you slowly before laying next to you. he pulls you tightly against him, panting slightly as he settles. “i promise i don’t care what the media says. i love you."

___________________________________________

© lomlhwa 2024

[s4vwrites]

sweet ─ ❤︎ .ᐟ

outer banks jj x fem!reader

not proof read i made this while high and haven’t wrote in years

warnings - none! unless you squint really hard

Promt: in which jj’s girlfriend is a little too sweet

and here you were, getting scolded by jj on john B's couch at least you thought it was a couch you weren't really sure by how many piles of clothes were presumingly thrown onto here it “are you even listening?" jj says pulling you out of your thoughts looking at you softly. “i’m serious what if they wanted to hurt you, what if me and john b hadn’t gotten there in time?” the worry in his voice evident “what were you even doing on that side baby?” he says fidgeting with his rings pacing back in fourth just a few feet away from you. “there was a seashell.” you quip back knowing it was no excuse let alone a good reason to almost get yourself hurt. “what?” he said abruptly stopping his pacing to walk over and sit next to you having to move some clothes in the process.”it’s a seashell baby its not worth getting hurt for.” he says putting his hand on top of yours clutching softly looking at the slight cut on your knuckle feeling some anger rise. “i was trying to get it for you jj, i thought it’d look good on a necklace or a bracelet for you-“ your suddenly caught of guard when he brings his hands to cup both sides of you face, you don’t have any time to process before he kisses you. it’s a soft kiss one you don’t want to pull back from until your yearning for air. pulling away your the first to speak “i know it was stupid but i thought i’d be cute or something.” you say a little deflated meeting his gaze, for a moment there’s just silence as you both just hold each others hand and sit together. “that’s cute, stupid very stupid but cute” he breaks the silence pulling you into his lap making you blush. “my baby just is so sweet trying to get a seashell for little old me?” jj says face all red burrowed in your neck leaving light kisses “what did i ever do to deserve you?” he ask leaving a faint kiss on your check before hugging you from behind. “well-“ before you can even starts he stops you with yet another kiss. “it was rhetorical baby don’t answer that.” if trying to get cute seashells ends up like this all the time then you’d probably try again tomorrow.

he’s a little ooc i’m gonna zzrayagjwbwjekfjrn anyways this is short to start easing back into writing

tags

[kurishiri]

01 ┊ The final promise, a mother's death

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— jude⌛'s past records, record #1.

— cw: domestic child abuse (physical), death of a family member, mentions of alcoholism and family neglect.

The amount of happiness a person is given in their lifetime is decided, and it is split equally for everyone.

Such was written in a book somewhere.

Just as there was no abundance of good things, neither was there an abundance of bad. Everything was made to be equal.

——If that was the case, then just what did this bloody wretched life of mine ever amount to?

Since I was born, I had never gotten a taste of that feeling called ‘happiness.’

My father was an immigrant from Ireland, who worked at the seaport.

The place was filled with violent people, making both public order and the working environment in poor condition, but not working would be the same as death.

And what was tragic about the job was the fact that you could be laid off at any point.

Jude’s father: Blast it all! I went outta my way to show up n’ they went and kicked me out!

Jude’s older brother: Was a fool’s errand from the start!

In the cramped house, the scent of liquor and tobacco pervaded the room,

and perhaps because of continuous exposure to that, my younger sister and I had weak lungs, and were often prone to asthma attacks.

Jude’s younger sister: *cough* *cough*...

Jude: Quit it already.

Jude’s father: ...Hah?

Jude: If ya continue smokin’ that stuff, ain’t no way we’re gettin’ any better.

J: If you’re gonna smoke go n’ do it outsi——gh!

All of a sudden, he hit my cheeks, and the moment I collapsed on the floor, he grabbed my hair.

Jude’s father: I dare ya to try sayin’ that again.

Jude: Hah, did ya drink so much booze your ears gone bad? I’ll say it however much I gotta.

J: I’m sayin’ ya don’t even got a penny in your pocket and yet ya go off smokin’ that stuff——guah!

This time, he hit my other cheek without holding back.

Jude’s father: Jude. How old are ya?

Jude: ...Five.

Jude’s father: Which is the age ya can go n’ work a job. And yet here ya are not doin’ that ‘cause you’re coughin’ a lung up.

Jude’s father: Who do ya think ya are, complainin’ when you’re a useless piece o’ trash, huh!?

Grasping at my hair, he tried to drag me around, when——

Jude’s mother: Stop this at once...!

Jude: Mum...

Jude’s mother: I’ll give him a talk and make him listen. Okay?

Mother took some money, and the two left the house for a drink.

(That cash... went and sold off clothes again, innit.)

She was a woman who could use perfect Queen’s English, and she was originally a well-to-do lady, or so I heard.

But, she pulled the short end of the stick, getting together with a good-for-nothing.

She sold the little jewels and clothes she had brought until she had nothing left to her name, and her health deteriorated.

—— Time skip (I think) ——

Jude’s mother: Jude, come here a bit.

Mother took me out to the garden, and there she took a stick and started writing something on the ground.

Jude: Mum, what’s this?

Jude’s mother: These are letters. They represent the words we speak... let’s see... it’s much like a ‘sign,’ so to speak.

Jude’s mother: See, this is how you write your name. J, U, D, E.

I copied Mother’s letters, writing them on the ground.

Jude: Wow, I could really get behind this. Hey, how do ya write Jazza——

Just then, Mother pulled me into an embrace.

Jude: Mum...?

Jude’s mother: In the times to come, even when your body is weak, and your money scarce, as long as you have wisdom, you can live on with that.

Jude’s mother: Jude, you are intelligent. I am sure knowledge will be your guardian.

Jude: Hey, mum, if ya hug me so tight it’s gonna hurt.

Jude’s mother: Hehe, you’re a big brother, aren’t you? You can handle this much at least.

Not too long after, Mother’s body grew weak, and she passed away.

The only thing left behind was the cold bed which she no longer occupied.

(She probably knew things would turn out this way.)

Running my hand along the cold surface of the bed, I recalled the final conversation we shared.

—— Flashback ——

Jude’s mother: Jude... I’m sorry.

Jude: What’re ya apologizin’ for? There’s a mountain of people other than ya who gotta apologize.

Father and my older brother drowned in alcohol, and even on death’s door, they didn’t bother even showing their faces.

Jude’s mother: ...I’m sorry, I’m sorry...

Jude: ...N’ like I said, don’t apologize.

Jude’s mother: ...Please...take care of your sister...Jude.

—— End flashback ——

That became the final conversation.

And, after that, my life stumbled even more down to the pits of hell.

to be continued…

first next →

masterlist🌙 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[cayleeuhithinknott]

❛ NEW MAGIC WAND ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉…sensitive!reader has been giving attitude all night. so, mean!chris decides he’s gonna make her as exasperated as she’s been making him all evening.

cw: SMUT, use of a vibrator☺️, edging☺️, teasing, use of pet names, orgasm denial, i..think that’s it

as chris pulled you into the nearest bathroom of the house hosting the party you were at, your heart was pounding. you knew you were in trouble. all night, you’d been mouthing off to chris and rolling your eyes, which has definitely taken a toll on his mood.

he shut the door, pinning you up against it. chris grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. you can practically see flames set alight in his eyes, and this made you…aroused? yeah, chris was mean sometimes, but it turned you the hell on. and he knew that.

“you’ve had a big mouth all night, ma…where’s it gone?” he teases lowly. you’re still speechless, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “hey—yeah, look at me when i’m talkin’ to you.” he demands, his raspy voice compelling you to obey and look up at him. something about his expression looked different. he’s got something planned for you, and you know it’s not gonna be good.

you can see those mischievous gears turning in his head as he starts to speak again, “you’ve been keepin’ me on edge all night with that attitude of yours, haven’t you, angel?” chris teases. you weren’t aware he was expecting a vocal answer until he gives your cheeks a painful squeeze, still holding your face in his hand.

“y-yeah..” you squeak, making a confident grin creep across his face. oh no. “yeahh, that’s right. so y’know what i think? i think it’s my turn to keep you on edge, ma. you pickin’ up what i’m throwin’ down?” he rasps.

your eyes widen. you’ve never been edged before, let alone by chris. you were nervous to say the least. you knew he’d show you no mercy…but as you thought about it, you began to notice the familiar heat pooling between your legs as you nod in response to his question.

“good. y’know…i found y’little vibratin’ wand thing…think that’ll do it for ya, angel?” he asks, tracing his thumb on your bottom lip. you look up into his eyes. they may be the lightest, brightest blue you’ve ever seen, but that dark glint always finds it’s way into his eyes. “let’s get outta here, then. cmon.”

chris leads you out of the house and you can just imagine how exhausting your night is gonna be.

chris ushers you into your home with a slap on the ass. you both get inside and chris immediately starts talking. “alright, go on upstairs, ma. y’know how i want you.”

you respond with a nod and scurry up the stairs to your shared bedroom. you strip, tossing your clothes off to who knows where. you sit on the bed, awaiting chris’ arrival. chris comes in, holding something familiar in his hand. your stupid vibrator wand from the bathroom cabinet. your heart drops.

“hey, ma. lookin’ nervous over there,” chris chuckles. he drops a pair of fuzzy handcuffs on the nightstand and your eyes go wide. “i-i’m not,” you falsely protest, your voice coming out shakier than you wanted it to. “sure you aren’t, angel.” chris chuckles again.

he sits down next to you on the bed, trailing his hands all over your body. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.” your face flushes and you look away. he grabs your face and turns it back to him with a grin. he leans down, going to town on your neck. whimpers leave your mouth as he trails dark bruises all down your neck and down to your collar bones. he moves down to your bare breasts, circling each of your nipples with his tongue, leaving a trail of fire in it’s wake.

chris sits back up, admiring how you’re now marked up for him. he hums in approval as he reaches a finger down to your sopping pussy. “soaked, angel.” chris teases, running his finger up and down through your slit agonizingly slow. you squeeze your eyes shut just before he pulls his hand away and the tense silence is replaced with a soft buzzing. you knew what it was.

you feel him trace the vibrating wand along your inner thighs, not reaching your core just yet. your clit throbbed with need, and you knew you needed to say something. “please, chris…”

he pauses, a smirk evident on his face, “please what, ma?” he knew exactly what you wanted. he just wanted to make you say it. you whine, not wanting to speak it out loud. chris cocks a brow at you, dragging the wand further away from your pussy, closer to your knee.

“n-need it…on my cl-clit…please…” you mutter in embarrassment, your face flushing red. there’s no way he’s making you do this. chris chuckles at that, hovering the wand in the air just above your clit. “like this, baby?” he teases. you whine, shaking your head. chris then presses it down onto your clit, allowing the vibrations to finally flow through you. instinctively, your legs try to close, but chris is quick to fix that, pinning your thighs open. “no, ma. you don’t need restraints, do you?” your eyes widen as you vigorously shake your head.

chris rubs slow circles around your clit with tip of the wand. you whimper and whine, squirming with each vibration. chris uses his other hand to hold you still.

“you need to stay quiet for me, angel.” he mumbles, turning the vibrator up a notch and increasing the pressure. his little circles become faster, causing moans to spill from your lips. “i…i c-can’t!” you whine. chris fakes a pout, faux sympathy dripping from his voice. “oh, you can’t? i think you c-can, baby.” he mocks you. chris knows you have a very hard time staying quiet, so watching you struggle like this was pure nirvana for him.

“ch-chris, i really can’t—“

he looks down at you with a smug expression. “oh, i’m sure you can manage it, angel. if you can’t control your voice, i’ll just have to stop. and we don’t want that, do we?” he teases. you whine at that. as much as this was pure torture, you didn’t want it to stop. at least—not yet.

chris turns the vibrator up the the 3rd level, and this really gets you going, you’ve got one hand over your mouth, struggling to keep quiet, and the other hand gripping chris’ bicep for all the support you can get.

chris chuckles darkly at your struggles, watching you convulse and try to hold back your whimpers. your legs start to tremble a little more prominently as you feel your orgasm approaching. chris seems to notice this too, increasing his efforts. “getting close, ma?” you vigorously nod, the pleasure becoming more and more intense.

“‘m gonna c-cum, chris!” you moan out, but just as soon as your orgasm was approaching, it was taken away by chris switching off the wand. you whine.

“mmm, no you’re not, angel. only good girls get to cum, remember? it’s gonna be a while before you’re gettin’ what y’want, baby.” chris taunts, that devilish grin still plastered across his face.

with a disappointed whimper, you come to your next realization.

this is gonna be a long, exhausting night.

a/n: hi hi! short lil chris smut cause i got this idea last night and had to write it before i forgot about it! mean!chris and sensitive!brat!reader are definitely going to be a new au on my blog, so send in stuff about them!

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dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Long-Distance Call | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of arguing, angst, everyone's saying things they don't mean, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5056

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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For hours most nights recently, you watched Dean sleep. In the dim light coming in through the cheap curtains in motel rooms, you would make out the details of his face and trace your eyes along them. He was just so beautiful, and you considered yourself incredibly lucky for every day you got to spend with him; despite the fact that those days were coming to an end. 

Dean knew you hadn’t been sleeping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

Sam was driving himself crazy talking to witch doctors, professors, and demonologists trying to wrap his head around a way to break Dean’s deal. You didn’t get involved, though; you knew it was futile to do so. 

You weren’t sure if feeling helpless and knowing the situation was helpless was better than feeling helpless and trying to gain control of the situation, but you knew Sam probably felt as horribly as you did. 

“Y’know, someday, if we ever get a house— it could happen!” you assured Dean off his skeptical look. “We should get a couch. It’d be better for our backs than sitting on Baby or these shitty mattresses.”

You sat up facing Dean who lounged on the headboard in your shared motel room. Tension had been high between the brothers recently, and you decided it was best for the three of you to bunk separately. 

“You are annoyingly optimistic, you know that?” he replied. 

“I like to think of myself as more of a realist,” you returned. “But I’m trying to be more like you lately.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. His eyes held such an intensity when he looked at you. 

In vulnerable moments like these, you couldn’t bear to look back at him. You opted for looking down at the mattress or, really, anywhere other than his face. “I mean, your whole thing is being annoyingly biting and sarcastic and— I mean, you just have the most amazing sense of humor— even when things suck major ass. And I don’t know how you do it. But… it’s admirable.” When your eyes returned to his face, he was looking at you with such pride and admiration. 

“What?” you asked.

“I just love you,” he said. 

You grinned widely and reached for his hand. You held it for just a moment before speaking again. “When are you gonna tell Sam?”

“What?”

“That we can’t save you.”

He sighed. “(Y/N)—”

“No, Dean, he deserves to know.” You shifted to your knees from your cross-legged position. “He’s on a wild goose chase instead of enjoying the time he has with you.”

“He’s a grown man, he can make his own choices,” Dean insisted, hand retreating from yours. He crossed his arms over his chest.

You gave him a look. “And maybe he’d make different choices if he had all the information about the situation available to him.”

“Alright, professor, no need to lecture me,” he grumbled, getting out of bed.

“Dean—! Don’t get mean just because you’re pissed at yourself and this whole situation,” you said, standing to face him. “Look, I’m only saying something because I don’t want the last few weeks of your life to be spent fighting with your brother.”

“Way to put that in perspective, (Y/N), thank you,” Dean spat. 

“See, this is when your attitude pisses me off beyond belief,” you argued. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and you’re being a complete dick. This didn’t have to turn into a fight, and I’m not understanding why it did!”

“Because you’re my girlfriend, not my fucking therapist,” he responded. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life.”

“Okay, this clearly isn’t about me.” You shook your head, turning away from him to grab your shorts and shoes. 

“Then, what’s it about, (Y/N)?” 

You turned back to him. “Clearly, this is about your deal.” “Oh, my god,” Dean scoffed.

“You’re runnin’ out of time. You’re scared, and you’re lashing out. It’s crap. I only wanna help you because I love you,” you told him. “And I’m not gonna tolerate you getting mean with me just because I told you something you didn’t wanna hear.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, seeing you stomp toward the door. 

“Out,” you replied. “Don’t follow me.”

***

That night, after yet another argument, you convinced Dean to let you sleep in his car and have him take the bed because you knew you wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. You were hurt and angry, but you missed holding Dean. You missed memorizing his features while he slept and finally seeing him at peace. 

And the next morning, the situation was no better. Now, instead of Dean and Sam fighting, it was you, Dean, and Sam fighting. 

Sam had gone to talk to another person about how to potentially break Dean’s deal. “So, the professor doesn't know crap.”

“Shocking,” Dean commented. “Pack your panties, guys, we're hitting the road.”

“What? What's up?” Sam asked. 

“That was Bobby.” He gestured to the phone he’d just hung up. “Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio, and he thinks there's a spirit involved.”

“So, you two were talking a case?” 

“No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands,” Dean replied dryly. “Yeah, we were talking a case!”

“Dean, stop being an ass,” you scolded. 

“Well, get Sam to stop asking stupid questions.” Sam huffed. “So, a spirit? What?”

“Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off,” Dean explained. “This is not ringing your bell?” He pressed when Sam looked at him skeptically. 

“Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case,” the younger one replied. 

“Whose?” Dean asked. 

“Yours!”

“Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled me,” the older scoffed. 

“What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?” Sam protested. 

“Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two-bit carny act in the lower forty-eight. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job.”

“We should summon Ruby,” Sam suggested. 

“I'm not gonna have this fight with you.” Dean shook his head. 

Sam continued anyway. “She said she knows how to save you.”

“About that, Dean has something he wants to tell you.” You turned to your partner expectantly with your arms folded. 

“What?” Sam asked, looking between the two of you. 

Dean was giving you a glare which you returned. 

“Dean, what?” Sam asked again. 

“She can’t save me,” Dean answered finally, still holding your glare. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam turn back to you. “(Y/N)—?”

“She told us she can’t save him, Sam,” you admitted. 

Sam turned his anger toward you. “Whoa, so you’ve known this whole time and haven’t told me?” 

“It wasn’t mine to tell, Sam!”

“Yeah, but the both of you still kept a secret from me,” he responded. 

“You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?” Dean snapped. 

You turned to the car. 

“Where are you going?” Dean called after you. 

“Guess we’re going to Ohio.”

***

You were silent for the entirety of the ride to the deceased’s house. Dean and Sam only spoke to make a snarky remark directed at each other or at you, but you refused to respond. 

You asked the woman what happened to her husband, and she reluctantly told you that he kept talking to a woman named Linda on the phone. However, there was no one on the other line when she would pick it up to check. 

Curious about who this woman could have been, you and the brothers returned to the motel to research. 

“Linda's a babe. Or, was,” Dean commented. 

Your heart dropped. You knew he was kidding, but now was so not the time to make jokes like that. “Don’t say shit like that, please.”

“She’s dead, (Y/N),” he replied dryly. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I just think it’s in really poor taste to say that right now considering the state our relationship’s in,” you told him, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

He slammed his laptop shut. “Are you seriously picking a fight with me over this? Right now?”

Sam interrupted before you could respond. “Oh-kay! That’s enough. Who’s Linda?”

“Linda Bateman.” Dean turned his eyes away from you. “She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts.”

“So what happened?” Sam asked. 

“Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away.”

“So, what then? Dead flame calls to chat?” Sam wondered aloud.

“You would think, but Linda was cremated. So why's she still floating around?”

“You got me,” Sam shrugged. 

“What about that, uh, caller I.D?” Dean asked his brother, referring to the number he’d found on Ben’s phone. 

“Turns out, it's a phone number,” Sam replied. “It's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks.”

“So, why use that number to reach out and touch someone?” Dean returned. 

“Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it.”

“Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over one-hundred years old?”

Sam suggested that the three of you should head to Ben’s phone company’s local office posing as representatives of their headquarters. 

“You guys go ahead without me,” you said. 

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/N)—”

You cut Dean off. “No. Both of us need space before we kill each other. So, please. Go.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled and stormed out of the room.

Sam stayed behind with you for a moment. “I’m sorry about him,” he said.

You sniffled, wiping away tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It’s okay. Just a rough patch, I guess. Call me when y’all have something.”

He nodded and pulled you into a hug. Sam placed a quick kiss on the crown of your head before following his brother out of the door. 

***

Sam called to inform you that the number had called over a dozen people multiple times over the last week. So, you and the Winchesters split up to investigate. Without a car, you stayed in the motel room and called the numbers Sam had forwarded to you posing as a representative of the phone company. One of the people you’d spoken to said that he’d been hearing his deceased brother calling him to reconcile the broken relationship they’d had when his brother passed away. 

Just as you hung up the phone with him, Dean burst into the room and immediately started pacing. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Dean didn’t answer. 

Sam sat at the table in the room. “He said our dad called him.”

“No fucking way,” you breathed out. “You really think it was him?”

“I don't know, maybe,” Dean grunted. 

“Well, what did he sound like?” Sam asked. 

“Like Oprah!” the older brother snapped. “Like Dad; he sounded like Dad, what do you think?”

“What did he say?” you questioned. 

“My name,” Dean replied. 

“That’s it?” Sam pressed. 

“Call dropped out.”

You shook your head and folded your arms, sitting cross-legged on Sam’s bed. After the recent fights with Dean, you’d decided to get a room separate from the two brothers and had been hanging out in their room all day. “Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?”

“I don't know, (Y/N)! I’m not a fucking psychic,” he snarked. “Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?”

You wanted to chew him out for snapping at you like that, but you truly had no energy to put up another fight. 

“Yeah, I guess?” Sam replied in your place. 

“Okay, so what if....” Dean trailed off, only looking at his brother. “What if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back? What do I say?”

“Hello,” you suggested. 

“Hello?” he scoffed. 

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. 

“That's what you come back with. Hello?” Dean continued. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you sneered. 

Dean huffed, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. 

Sam shot you a puppy-dog-eyed look and turned to the door to stare after his brother. 

You sighed and buried your face in your hands. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You picked your head up. 

“What’s happening to you guys?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tearing up. “We started fighting ‘cause I told him to tell you about the whole ‘Ruby’ thing, and I said some mean shit, and he said some mean shit, and it’s just a mess now.”

Sam gave you another puppy-dog-eyed look. 

“It’ll be fine, though. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

If it was even possible, Sam’s face dropped even further. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled lopsidedly, knowing he just didn’t know how to help. “Can we talk about something other than my boy drama?”

Sam nodded. “Sure.” 

***

For the next few hours, you scoured the internet for information on the “SHA33” number that was calling these poor people. 

Dean returned with caustic remarks to spare. “Find anything?” he asked Sam while pretty much blatantly ignoring you. 

“After three hours, I’ve found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here,” Sam sighed, shutting his laptop. 

“Me neither, Dean, thanks for asking,” you said. 

“Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero-point-zero would produce better results than that,” Dean scoffed at Sam.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, hoping to elicit some sort of a response from Dean. 

He shot you a glare, but other than that, he said nothing. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet. “Motel pamphlet rack.” He dropped it on the coffee table along with a few books. “Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison.”

“So what?” you asked. 

Sam grabbed a book and leafed through it. 

Dean just raised his eyebrows at you as Sam looked up from the book. 

“You're kidding,” he said. 

Dean smirked as his brother. 

***

Well, a huge waste of time was the only thing Dean’s suggestion led to. The tour you went on at a museum showed the invention Thomas Edison believed could communicate with spirits and informed you that he was a devout occultist. However, the “spirit phone” didn’t set off the EMF detector. 

Sleep refused to claim you. Your anxiety kept your mind racing through the long hours of the night. You sat at the table in your room staring at the door just waiting for Dean to knock. However, despite it being three in the morning, he hadn’t come yet. Your fights had all been stupid and petty, but both of you were too stubborn to be the first to admit fault. 

And with each passing night, you could feel the clock ticking. You knew Dean was running out of time, and you just wanted him to hold you again. As the sun rose, your heart sank knowing he hadn’t come to make things right with you. 

You stayed in your room upset until Sam called you to come over to theirs. 

“What’s up?” you asked upon entering. 

“That girl Lanie—” Sam was referring to the victim he’d spoken to— “her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night.”

“That sucks,” said Dean, typing furiously on his laptop. 

“What… are you doing, Dean?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked at you briefly; the expression on his face confusing. He looked back down at his computer. “I think my dad’s right. I think the demon is here. Check it out.” He handed you some papers and dug around in his bag. 

“What is this, weather reports?” you asked, leafing through the papers.

“Omens. Demonic omens,” he responded. “Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks.”

Trepidatiously, you said, “I don't remember any lightning storms.”

“Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology, either,” he snapped.

‘So much for us being civil,’ you thought. 

“But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me; wearing some poor dude's meat,” Dean finished. 

Sam took some of the pressure off you. “And it’s following you because…?” he asked. 

“I guess I'm big game, y’know? My ass is too sweet to let outta sight.” Dean threw a wink at you, and you were getting incredibly thrown off by his changing attitude. 

“Okay. Sure,” Sam snorted.

Dean snatched the papers back from you. “Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something.” He stood from the bed and moved away from you and his brother.

“Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do…”

Dean cut his brother off. “Then believe it! if we get this sucker, it's Miller Time.”

“Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean, not just send it back to hell, but kill it?” Dean’s eyes lit up. “I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century.”

“Dean,” you said softly. “I checked on it, too. So did Sam. So did Bobby.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed. 

Sam jumped in. “Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon.”

“No evidence it can't,” he rebutted. 

“Dean…” you trailed off, not wanting to start a bigger fight. 

“Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to Hell is my dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work,” he snapped. 

“Maybe!” you replied. “I hope so; for your sake. But we gotta be sure.”

“Why aren't we sure?” he asked. 

“’Cause I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!” you cried. “I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits—”

“Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash, (Y/N), people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!” he shot back. 

You held his stare venomously. Dean eventually dropped his head in frustration. 

“Dad tell you where to find the demon?” Sam asked carefully. 

“I'm waiting on the call!” he shouted. 

The tension in the room was thick, and you had no idea what to say.

Sam sighed deeply and tried to change the subject. “I told Lanie I'd stop by.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, good, yeah. No, you go hang out with jailbait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, y’know, save my life.”

Sam shook his head and turned to the door. You just stared at the floor. 

“You two are unbelievable, y’know that?” Dean shouted. “I mean, for months, we’ve been tryin’ to break this demon deal. Now, Dad’s about to give us the fuckin’ address, and you blink? The man is dead, and you’re still butting heads with the guy?!” He turned his attention to you. “And you? What happened to us? What happened to your ‘unconditional support’?”

“Dean, you still have it!” you replied. “That was never in question! What I’m questioning is where your fuckin’ head’s at. Because this is not you.”

“Oh, god.” He rolled his eyes and began to pace. 

“I’m not gonna mince my words,” you began, anger boiling to the surface. “This is fuckin’ crazy. I mean, there is no proof. At all. All you’re acting on is blind faith.”

“Yeah, well, maybe!” He shouted back. “Y’know, maybe that's all I got, okay?”

You held his stare, the anger melting out of you at his words. When you could see tears forming in his eyes, he looked at the floor. 

Sam piped up. “Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please.” 

Dean stayed silent. 

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you. 

You looked up at Dean. For the first time that week, he offered you a kind word. “Go. It’s okay.”

You nodded. As you turned to go, you stared over your shoulder back at Dean. 

***

At Lanie’s house, the young girl got you up to speed on what happened to her the night before. 

“Have you told your father about any of this?” Sam asked her.

“And bother him at work?” she replied. “No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy.”

“So what did your mother say?” you asked. 

“She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery,” she sniffled. 

“Did you?” Sam prompted. 

Lanie nodded meekly. “Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things.”

“What sort of things?”

She almost seemed embarrassed to say. “Bad things.”

You crouched down and looked up at her, breaking her gaze from the floor. “Lanie, please. Can you tell me what happened? It’s very important.”

She teared up, young eyes swimming in fear and sadness. “Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet.”

You waited patiently for her to continue. 

“She wanted me to take his sleeping pills.” She stopped for a minute to gather her courage. “Take all of his sleeping pills.”

“She wanted you to kill yourself?” Sam couldn’t help himself from saying. 

She nodded, crying harder. “Why would my Mom want me to do that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

“She just kept saying, ‘come to me,’ like, a million times,” she hiccuped. 

Your eyes widened. “Oh, sweet girl, that's not your mother.” You stood from the ground. 

Sam told Lanie, “Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, alright?”

You started down the stairs and listened carefully; just one set of footsteps was following you. You turned back to see Lanie still at the top of the stairs. “You okay?”

Her breathing was quick. “Where's Simon?”

“Simon?” you asked. 

“My little brother,” she responded. 

The next thing you knew, you were watching Sam shove the little boy out of the way of a speeding truck from the porch of Lanie’s house. 

Immediately, you called Dean. “Dean, it’s not your dad,” you rushed out. 

“Then what is it, (Y/N)?” he asked flippantly. 

“A crocotta,” you answered. 

“What is that, a sandwich?” he scoffed. 

“They typically live in filth. Mimic loved ones. Whisper, ‘Come to me,’ then lure you into the dark and swallow your soul,” you stated. 

Sam motioned for you to head to his rental car as soon as he delivered Simon to his sister safely. You followed quickly. 

“A crocotta, right, damn, that makes sense,” he snarkily replied. 

“Dean, c’mon, babe—”

He cut you off. “Hey, don't these things live in filth?”

“Yeah,” you replied. 

“Oh, god, at the phone company there were these flies. Pretty much as soon as we got down to the basement where this guy Stewie was hangin’ out,” he rushed out. 

“Okay, uh, okay,” you nodded. “Meet us there.”

You brought Sam up to speed on the conversation you’d had with Dean, and as night fell, he sped to the phone company. 

***

Despite calling Dean several times, you and Sam had to keep moving forward with the case. You watched as the man Sam described to you as Stewie unlocked his car. Silently, you rushed him with a metal spike. You shoved him down onto the car and held a metal spike to the back of his neck.

Stewie grunted. “What the hell?!”

“I know what you are,” you spat. “And I know how to kill you.”

“Wait, wait— Please! If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I- I can fix that. I am your friend!” he stammered. 

Confusion overtook you, and you turned to an equally confused Sam. You suddenly noticed a man standing behind him with a bat. “Sam, look out!” you cried. 

But it was too late. He was hit over the head with a bat, and you released the man in front of you. You threw your spike at him, but he caught it just before it hit him. He stalked toward you, and the man smiled widely. The man you’d been holding down shoved you to the ground from behind, and you were knocked out, too.

***

When you next came to, your wrists and feet were bound; that was the first thing you felt. Your head pounded, and your wrists ached from how tight the bindings were. When you opened your eyes, you turned your head to see Stewie was dead and bleeding profusely from his chest. 

You shrieked in horror, and then, the man who’d knocked you out appeared in front of you. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” you snarled.

He just laughed mockingly as he stalked between you and Sam. 

You realized something. “My last call with Dean. That was you. You led us here.”

“Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap,” he chuckled. He moved over to a telephone exchange cabinet and sighed in ecstasy. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. 

“I’m killing your brother,” he smiled. “Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.”

***

The creature removed the knife from the chest of the man beside you. You grimaced at the wet squelching sound it made as he did. 

“Y’know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad?” Sam complimented mockingly. “That's a hell of a trick.”

“Well, once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then, emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked,” the creature grinned. 

“Dean’s not an idiot,” you stated sharply. “He’s not gonna kill that guy.”

“Then the guy kills him,” he shrugged. “And I kill you two. And here I thought I was only getting one hunter.” He stalked toward you, and you struggled harder. “Now, I’ve got another. And a pretty one, at that.”

You reared back and spat in his face. Almost like a reflex, he immediately backslapped you. 

Unfazed, your head returned to a neutral position and you just glared at him. 

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said, tracing the knife down your cheek. “Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be, I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone.”

Just as the man’s jaw unhinged like a snake to reveal rows of teeth, Sam came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck in a chokehold. You sat patiently while Sam and the crocatta struggled for the knife. You watched both men slam each other into various surfaces until they disappeared from view. 

You couldn’t do anything to help yourself, and you anxiously waited for— hopefully— Sam’s return into the room. 

Much to your relief, Sam stumbled back in minutes later. You grinned up at him happily.

***

You were the one to drive Sam’s rental car back to the motel seeing as he was injured and sore from his fight with the monster. You went at least twenty miles-an-hour over the speed limit for the entirety of the drive. 

You burst into Sam and Dean’s room, and you began to panic when you didn’t see him there. 

Then, you checked your room, breathing out in relief when you saw Dean holding a wash cloth to his eye. “Dean!” You ran to him, kneeling down in front of him.

He looked up at you, and you immediately kissed him passionately. He returned your kiss eagerly. When you broke away from him, you took the cloth from Dean’s hands gently to help him clean the wound.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “I— I’m so sorry.”

You placed your free hand on his knee. “We’ll talk in a minute, alright? Let me clean you up first.”

He nodded. 

***

“There,” you told him having placed the final bandage on his assortment of cuts. “That guy kicked the shit out of you.” Although Dean would normally laugh at jokes like that, his countenance was completely serious. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

“I know,” you said softly. “I am, too.”

“I just— I lashed out, and that wasn’t fair to you. You were right,” Dean admitted. “It scares me how well you can fuckin’ read me. And with everything going on, I just—”

“I get it,” you cut him off. “I’m sorry, too. I was being petty. I got mean, too.” You paused for a moment. “I’m sorry it wasn’t really your dad.”

Dean looked down at the ground. “Naw, I gave you a hell of a time on this one.” He huffed. “I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just…” he trailed off, unable to finish. 

Your eyebrows scrunched sadly, and your eyelashes flickered. 

“I’m scared, sweetheart. I’m… I’m really scared.” As tears pooled in his eyes, he couldn’t seem to meet yours. 

You nodded, tearing up as well. “I know.”

“I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man,” he tried to joke through his stifled cries. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with having hope, Dee,” you told him gently. 

“Hope doesn't get you jack squat,” he scoffed. “I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, y’know? I mean, the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.”

“And I’m right there with you,” you told him. “Every step of the way. To Hell and back.”

Dean offered a lopsided smile. “To Hell and back.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[choclatecoveredlove]

Tunnel of Love ❤︎

Playful Land is one of the coolest theme parks ever! The rides were exhilarating and the attractions were even able to keep finicky Floyd’s attention. However, you noticed something as you were checking out the map once more.

“Hey what’s this thing here?” You asked Fellow as you showed him the map. He stifled a sigh before glancing at the map.

“Oh, that? Why that’s our… ‘Tunnel of Love.’ It’s popular amongst couples, but i’m sure a blossoming young scholar like yourself wouldn’t be interested in something so trivial.”

Fellow clearly didn’t know you very well, because just as he was finishing his sentence you grabbed the hand of the guy you had feelings for and dragged him towards the Tunnel of Love with you!

Ace

you wanna go on WHAT with him?????

acts embarrassed and like he doesn’t want to ride but he does

you just can’t tell deuce that he went on this ride. he’ll never hear the end of it.

“of course you’d pick something lame to ride.” “well you don’t have to go on it with me.” “no we’re gonna ride it now.”

“ugh this ride sucks. it’s so slow and boring.”

he’ll groan while reaching out to grab your hand. yknow just in cause there’s an unexpected drop or something. (there is no drop)

he had fun and will smile about it when it thinks about it later on

does he thinks it’s worth the teasing from trey and cater? “well… maybe.”

Trey

he’s embarrassed, like really embarrassed.

not because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you or afraid he’ll be teased (which is unavoidable) but because he’s not very experienced with this kind of thing

“so..is it alright if i hold your hand?”

he’s glad the lighting is so dim in this tunnel; he would hate for you to see him so red in the face

he’s kind of awkwardly silent the enter time because he has no idea what to do or say

however as the ride goes on you notice him scoot continuously closer and closer to you

he gathers the courage to give you a small kiss on the cheek as you get off the ride

“sorry i was weird. let’s do that again some time. i’ll definitely make a bolder move then.”

Cater

he knew about the tunnel of love from social media posts and was gonna ask you first but you beat him to the punch

he’s gonna take so many pictures (for his own personal collection)

“okay, now let’s make a heart with our hands! cute~! scoot closer to me now. mwah~ got you!”

what a sly guy… and he got it all on camera

he doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures though. he wants to savor the moment alone with you as well

he is immune to the teasing of the others- they’re probably just jealous he gets to spend 1 on 1 time with you

“am i gonna post the pics on magicam? no way. they’re just for me~!”

Leona

“no.” “pleaseeeee????” “no.”

he says while standing in line and waiting to get on the ride with you.

it’s something to do at least. “beats babysitting the rest of that lot.”

you were gonna try and be flirty and put your head on his shoulder but he beat you to it.

“wake me up when this is over.”

how romantic. leona asleep on you. (っ- ‸ - ς)

for leona though, he actually had a good time. taking a nap on you after a long day of being annoyed by a bunch of herbivores? he enjoys it

he’ll never tell you that though. but you can assume from the faint smile that graces his face as he gets off the ride with you

Jack

ooooo somebody’s tail is wagging

not that he’ll admit that he’s excited or anything. because he’s definitely not.

if you thought trey was awkward get a load of this guy! he’s as stiff as a board and won’t even look at you

“nervous? ‘m not nervous.. there’s not anything to be nervous about.”

sure jack everyone believes you (¬_¬")

if you’re expecting any moves to be made that’s too bad. he won’t even brush against your shoulder.

however, if you make a move he will initially tense up before relaxing somewhat and beginning to enjoy himself

Jade

“how incredibly bold of you.” 

this is all incredibly fascinating to him, human amusement parks, human courting rituals, and of course you’re fascinating as usual.

he’s unsure of what you expect out of this interaction how ever he’ll try his best to live up to your expectations.

he’ll hold your hand, put his arm around your shoulder, allow your head to rest against his shoulder, everything a gentleman would do.

tbh he was a little worried initially when you said you wanted to go on a ride with him but thankfully it wasn’t a thrill ride.

“this is much more fun anyways.”

Floyd

floyd is always up for a new experience: especially with you!

you just pray he doesn’t get bored halfway through and tries to get off

“wowie shrimpy~ you wanna spend time with me alone? can’t promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

he’s joking. (probably) (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

he cannot sit still on the ride

“heyyy why is this thing moving so slow? you said this would be fun. you’re not keeping me entertained at all. you better make it up to me later, kay?”

he’s expecting you to keep him entertained and content so you better not let him down

Kalim

he is beaming from ear to ear

he loves spending time with you!!

and for once jamil isn’t here to tell him ‘leave them alone.’ ‘they have better things to do.’ ‘you can’t take up all their time.’

he so excited he’s physically vibrating while waiting in line

tries to very subtly hold your hand and smiles when you take your hand in his.

he’s very gentlemanly. “it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable if i kissed you, would it?” no matter the answer he’s just happy to be around you

“that was so fun! can we go again? or maybe five more times? please!”

Vil

you think you can casually ask him to go on a romantic ride with him? you’ve got guts, he’ll give you that much

“well… fine. but no pictures. and no telling anyone else about this either. especially rook.”

he looks so refined sitting next to you and under the dimmer light he looks majestic

“i’m not going to kiss you on this.”

HEARTBROKEN ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

“i’m sure we can find somewhere much more romantic to do that. rather than this gimmicky ride.”

so he didn’t enjoy it… but he still likes you though ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

Lilia

how fun!! he’s never experienced like this before and he’s glad he can experience it with you.

he takes a couple a pictures so that he can show malleus, silver, and sebek later “they’re going to be so jealous of us.”

he’s ancient so he’s aware of how to be romantic and to how to be a gentleman (only if he wants to be though)

he’s extremely flirtatious, he’ll lean in close only to whisper “you know, you’ve got something in your teeth.”

then in the next moment he will entangle his hand with yours and help you out of the ride. he’ll skip back with you to the rest of the group grinning slyly

Fellow

he was definitely not expecting that.

he personally doesn’t care for the tunnel of love, in fact he thinks it’s a little gross. the last thing he wants to see is couples making out.

but he has to keep up the act of gracious host, doesn’t he?

fine. he’ll smile and bare it. he just knows gidel will never let him live it down though.

well at least you are kinda cute. maybe he won’t hate it entirely.

“my, my! you’d like to ride it with me? i’m honored to spend one on one time with such a prestigious scholar such as yourself.”

[hybridhideoutstory]

CHAPTER 2

Payton could feel themself shifting in their bed, stirring and tossing around. “Woah” they thought in their groggy state. “That was one of the weirdest dreams I’ve ever had in my life.” They heard knocking on their bedroom door. 

“Oh my gosh.” Payton thought “it’s Sunday. I gotta get ready to see my grandparents. They got up and rushed to the door. “I can’t wait to see grandma and grandpa, wonder what sweets and treasures they have for me this week.” They opened the door and low and behold,

It was Omf, they Young Adult novel hybrid 

“Good morning Pay Pay! :] ready for the-“

They slammed the door in his face.

They rushed to their bed and grabbed the orange stained pillow from last night’s sobbing session, then promptly screamed bloody murder into it. Of course! This stupid dream was real it was all real! There’s no escape from Lizard boy and his crazy Hybrid shenanigans. They walked back to the door and opened it again to see that Omf was still standing in the doorway as cheery as the when the door was served to him.

He cleared his throat, “Good morning Pay Pay! :] ready for the tour?”

“I’m ready to kill myself right about now…” 

“NOOO!!! :[! No no no! Look I know this is hard for you but the hideout is gonna be great alright??? You’re gonna be okay a promise!” He peered into Payton’s room and saw a gift basket sitting on their nightstand. He walked in and held it up

“Look! You got some goodies! Isn’t that fun? ,:]”

“I did not say you could enter my room.”

He sat on the ledge of the bed and invited Payton the sit with him. “It’s just a smart idea to have someone who knows things help you go through this, there could be important stuff I here!” He started shuffling through the basket wondering what Payton was given. 

 Payton protested. “Hey that’s my new stuff!” 

“I’m just checking if something is in here. Aha! Yes I found it!” He held out a pamphlet that looked like an advert for a children’s story time at the local library. It was all cutesy with bright colors and “How to Care for Me! A Hybrids’s care book!” Written in rainbow comic sans. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Payton reluctantly flipped through the pages, which had random care facts that seemed to be answered by someone writing in a pink glitter pen. For example, the pamphlet would ask, “And to eat my hybrid needs…” and Pink Pen would reply with, “No food, No water, Nothing except for paint, if the hybrid loses too much paint the poor thing dies. Just make sure it eats Acrylic and drinks some watercolor so it can be healthy.” 

“Jesus Christ…”

“Hey >:[!”

Payton flipped through even more, each page felt more dehumanizing Than the next, Payton wasn’t vibing with the way Pink Pen referred to them as an “it”.

“For fun my hybrid can do…” “NO WATER!!!! Water will KILL it when the water distills in the paint. Absolutely NO water unless it’s mixed in with watercolor paint. No swimming!!!” 

Payton was on the verge of orange tears again, no swimming, no normal showers, they couldn’t even eat their favorite foods anymore! Omf was constantly over their shoulder trying to absorb the information from the pamphlet. 

“Hey!” He rummaged through Payton’s gifts again. “Whoever sent you all this gave you some paints! If your hungry that is.” 

“You know what?” Payton said trembling. “Fine! You know my life basically screwed now anyway!” Orange started to bead from their eyes. “Might as well drink this, whatever the hell harvest red color is! That’s just what freaks like me need to stay alive haha…!” They uncapped the paint and brought it up to their mouth and started eating. 

Surprisingly, the paint didn’t taste like anything chemical or the sorts. It tasted like crisp apples and cherries, it was delicious. 

“Holy… what the…”

“What’s wrong?” Omf asked

“Nothing it just- tastes good?” 

“Ooo lemme try! :]” Omf Without thinking took Payton precious food and took a swig. He quickly spit is out just as fast as he chugged it. 

“It just tastes like paint!” He cried as he coughed as spat the paint all over Payton’s bed. 

“Ew stop that! Not on my bed! Stop gaging all over my goddamn bed!” 

“I’m sorry :[“ He said. “I’ll just be outside. When your ready for the tour just come outside. He then left Payton alone in their room. 

Payton was left to contemplate more things in their room. Now they wish that had swam in their local pool more often, because they couldn’t do that anymore. Also, why did that paint taste like a delicious combination of fresh red fruit? Does all paint taste like that? Or does the flavor change with each color? They didn’t want to think about any of this at the moment, it was hurting their head. They figured it was best to distract themself from their misfortune.

Payton opened the door. “Okay Lizard boy” they said as if the first Thirty minutes of the day had exhausted them. “What are you going to show me first?” 

Omf perked up, wagging his tail. “O O I CAN SHOW YOU THE ARCADE :]>!!!” He grabbed Payton by the blue hand and sprinted with them to the elevator. “WOAH!” Payton shouted. “SLOW DOWN!” 

Omf practically slammed the poor kid into the elevator wall and clicked one of the big red buttons. The label next to this one saying “arcade”. The two descended, or ascended? Payton couldn’t tell. 

The door dinged at they were in a maze of mechanical marvels. Tons of games and machines of the sort lit up the room. Payton felt they they were in the Dave n Busters headquarters. “Pretty OMFTASTIC huh?” Said omftastic Omf. The two wandered along in the neon paradise for a bit. Payton noticed other kids playing around in the arcade. 

“Who are these kids?” Asked Payton. 

“They’re other hybrids of course silly! Not all hybrids look as hybrid as you y’know. Though most of these guys must be video game hybrids, there’s been a spike of those lately from what I’ve heard.” 

“Woah.” Payton paused. “There can be more than one hybrid of something?” 

“Yeah pretty much.” Omf said. “Human teens are more susceptible to certain demigod possessions. Also kinda depends on the demigod too y’know. Like for example, I don’t think the one that got you is very fond of hybrids. That explains why your the only one of your kind.”

“Wow. I feel so special.” Payton said sarcastically. 

“Hey don’t be like that…we still don’t know what your fully capable of.” 

Payton scoffed. “What could paint to anyway? Make whatever I paint come to life?”

“Hmmm” Omf scratched his beard, or what can barely be considered a beard. “That sounds possible, but not really effective in combat.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Suddenly a kid popped up from behind Payton and tried to whack the living color out of them with a cheap plastic sword that was so amazing that the green light started to die. 

“Hey!” Omf shouted. “What is wrong with you? >:[!”

“Level up!” Said the kid before he ran off he spoke like he was trapped in a PlayStation 1, but other than that he damn near looked exactly human. 

Payton got up grasping their head. “God… what, what was that.”

“You just got hit in the head by one of the kids.”

“Oh so he thinks he’s hot stuff?” Payton claimed in a daze. “Well what’s his stick gonna do against a gun? God I wish I had a gun.” 

“Okay… maybe we should move on to the next part of the tour…” Omf picked Payton up by the shoulders and took them to the elevator. 

The elevator dinged. “This is our next stop!” Omf said cheerily. “It’s my favorite:]!” Payton observed that they were in a training Dojo. There were dummies and weapons all over the place. Omf picked up a sword from one of the racks. He sighed dreamily as he looked around and sniffed the air with his lizard nose as if he was on a hiking trip to the great glorious outdoors. “Awesome ain’t it?”

“No” Payton responded flatly.

“>:0! Uh well your gonna be spending a lot of time here Pay Pay, after all, Luna said your gonna be on patrol! Which means you have to train with me! And I’m gonna be the best trainer you’ve ever seen got it?”

“ ‘Kay” 

“I- uh oh…” Omf sounded defeated but he didn’t push Payton any further. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere else now.” 

When Payton and Omf got off the elevator again, they were In a massive movie theatre. “This is the hideout movie theatre!” Omf exclaimed. “Since hybrids can’t really go out and see the latest stuff, we ask the demigod of cinema to supply us with all the all the latest films. Plus you can basically ask for any movie one night and they’ll play it for you in the theatre. It’s awesome, and all the snacks… are free…. >:].” 

Payton was amazed. Now THIS was something they could vibe with. Imagine all the sick film dates they could take Lynn on. Or all the dumb comedies they could watch with their friends. Just how many memories they could make with their friends. Oh right, they could never talk to them again. 

“Uh… this is neat I guess. I’ve been meaning to see that new My girlfriend is a goth Vampire movie… I was… gonna watch it with my girlfriend.” 

“Oh… :D.” Omf suddenly realized the pain in Payton’s voice. “I’m- so sorry.”

“It’s alright I guess, I suppose you miss your friends and family right?” 

“Well- erm, uh…” 

Suddenly a bell rung through the through the entire building. A voice on PA system rung out. “Good evening residents of the Hypnos Hideout, United States. As of this moment the cafeteria will be serving lunches. Have a good afternoon.” 

“Welp!” Omf said, losing his previous train of thought. “It’s lunch time! Uh- don’t worry I’m sure they’ve made accommodations to the menu for you Pay Pay! Come on let’s go! :D” 

When the go to the cafeteria floor, it looked like one of those food courts you’d find in a mall. The room was decked out with star shaped lights, moons and dreamy clouds. It looked more like nap time than lunch time. Teenagers and adults gathered in tables. Some of them looked like normal humans. Except maybe their eyes were an odd color. Some of them had horns, some had tails, some had big feathery wings, some looked like cyborgs. They all varied table by table. It was odd seeing all these people, Payton could feel some glares of the other kids. They passed by a group of what mainly consisted of girls, “O M G, who’s the freak with Mr protagonist over there?” The whole table had kids with small pink horns, some of them had pretty pink wings. 

“Don’t listen to them Pay Pay,” Omf said quietly. Those are the drama hybrids, they’ll try to get under your skin. Just try to ignore them. Let’s get you some food. It should be at the accommodations booth.” 

They walked up to the booth together. Omf stepped up “Hey um, we were wondering if you had any Paint, for Payton Varro?” The dude behind the counter sighed and reluctantly gave a palette of the six basic colors, and a cup of green watercolor paint. He looked as if the same breed of magic night creature as Luna. Omf got a strawberry treat from another stand. 

Payton took some scoops of paint from the pallet with a spoon. None of these were as flavorful as the harvest red they tried that morning and the watercolor paint just tasted like water, but it was doable. The pair wondered the room looking for a place to sit until Payton spotted a round table in a corner. 

“Bingo!” they said “let’s sit here to avoid those stupid drama girls, don’t worry this works at school all the time lizard boy, just sit in the corner to get away from whatever bull is going on.” 

“Uh… Payton.” Omf said wearily. “I don’t think you should be sitting there…” 

“Why not?” They retorted. “No one’s sitting here!” 

“Yeah well… she usually sits there. I don’t think that’s a good seat, let’s go somewhere else :[.” 

“And be bullied by some pink weirdoes? I’ll pass.”

Suddenly Omf stiffened up. “Payton… Payton she’s right behind you. Get out of there now.” 

“Oh what? Is some big ugly monster behind me? Yeah rig-.”

BAM

Someone had hit the table square in the center. The table was completely destroyed and Payton’s food had gotten everywhere. They stumbled and landed on the floor by Omf’s feet. 

“WHO YOU CALLEN MONSTER, COLOR GIRL?” Bellowed one of the largest hybrids in the hideout. She stood about six and a half feet tall, she was a large girl, but she was only 15. She had two horns on her head, but one was bent and contorted. She had a large maroon tail, but some of it was wrapped in bandages. She wore a purple leather jacket with spikes on her shoulders, the shirt under it was black with a skull on it. She wore chains around her wrist and neck. Like she was a rabid dog who had to be contained. Her hair was the color of a burning fire. The look In her eyes said, “I’m gonna kill somebody today.” 

“HEY >:[!” Omf protested. “Payton is NOT a girl,  and they didn’t know you said there Pattie! They’re new! Cut the poor pal some slack!” 

Pattie picked payton up by their head as if they were a rag doll. “Look, Dragon guy, I see a punk in my seat, they get kicked out.” She tossed Payton across the cafeteria with full force. All the hybrids saw them flying though the air. Payton hit the wall at full force, and fell to the ground. 

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Omf cried out. 

“Nothin, kid just looked really throwable.” 

Payton groaned on the floor, they had no idea on how none of their bones were broken. They looked over at where Pattie and Omf were standing. They used all the force in their body to stand up. 

“Ooo!” Said one of the drama hybrids from the corner of the room. “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” 

Suddenly all the hybrids were calling for a fight. Chanting the word over and over, which gave Pattie an unnecessary strike of confidence. 

“Well!” She turned to Omf Smugly. “I guess everyone here wants to see a fight, hm?” She cracked her knuckles. “I guess I gotta give them the beat down of a lifetime.”

The moment Payton heard that they knew they had to be screwed. I mean, this girl stood over a foot taller than them at it looked like she ate weights for breakfast. Plus, they had no clue on how to fight. Maybe they should’ve trained with Omf for a bit. All they knew was that they did not want to get hit by this girl. 

She charged toward Payton like an angry bull. Omf was petrified. All of the other hybrids stood on in curiosity and awe. As Payton watched her get closer, they saw the fist about to land on them. They flinched, closed their eyes, and prepared for the worst. 

BONK!

“WHAT?” Shouted Pattie.

BONK!

BANG!

“WHAT IS THIS?” 

Payton was just as confused as Pattie. They slowly opened their eyes. None of Pattie’s punches had actually landed, but why? Payton looked down at their hands. They had fused together, forming a teal color. They weren’t shaped like hands anymore, instead their hands had formed a giant shield. 

BANG!

BONK!

“HEY LOSER! STOP HIDING BEHIND THAT SHIELD AND FIGHT ME!” 

BANG!

“:0” said Omf. “PAYTON!!! :D! LOOK AT WHAT YOUR DOING!!! THAT’S INCREDIBLE!” He shouted, he really wanted Payton to know he had their back.

Suddenly an idea crossed their mind, they morphed the shield into two big teal boxing gloves on their hands. While Pattie was in shock from the sudden change, they wound up and hit her square in the gut. She crouched over in pain. 

“YES!” Payton shouted. They looked at Omf with a proud smile on their face. “Hah! I did it!” 

Omf didn’t look as convinced. 

WHACK!

Just like that, Payton was out cold

When Payton opened their eyes, they were in the infirmary again, this time Pattie was laying on the bed next to them. At their feet stood a doctor, poor Omf, and a VERY angry Luna. 

“So.” She said in a very disapproving tone. “I hope you two are proud of the commotion you caused today. Because we need to replace a wall.” 

Then flew the accusations of “she/they started it!” But Luna wasn’t hearing any of that. “The two of you,” she said sternly. A day of washing dishes together, and I’m only being generous because Payton is new. Omf, watch over them for me.” 

“Yes ma’am…” Omf said wearily. 

Luna walked out of the room. 

The doctor kid spoke up, he was another one of the purple folk who helped around the hideout, he looked more like a lamb with his hair looking like a lavender puffball on his head, “uhh, the good news is that none of you got any major injuries. You two will be fine in like an hour” 

“Thanks Puff.” Omf sounded defeated.

“Hey no problem and,” he placed his and on Omf’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened. It was out of your control.” 

Omf sighed. “Okay :[…” 

Payton shifted in the bed. Today was a mess, and it was all their fault. They wanted more than anything to just go home and get out of this crazy nightmare, to be a normal human again. They were getting sick of the nonsense. 

“Hey,” 

Payton turned to see the voice came from Pattie. “What…?” 

“Your kinda alright kid, I’m sorry for tossin’ you like that.” 

“I’m sorry for hitting you like that…” 

“Eh, it happens. Sometime you just gotta hit somebody y’know.” 

“Eh…”

Omf interjected “Well I think we shouldn’t of fought each other >:[! That wasn’t very nice of either of you!”

“We’re sorry” the both of them said. 

“Well you should be! Now you two get some rest, you have dishes to get to tomorrow.”

<<PREV (you are here) NEXT>>

[212-apricity]

siren songs and stolen kisses, the forbidden zone

ssask masterlist main masterlist

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Twinkie rattled and groaned as it made its way down the dark, winding path toward Redfield Cemetery. The headlights cut through the fog, casting eerie shadows across the crooked headstones and gnarled tree branches. It wasn’t exactly an inviting scene, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins made it impossible to feel anything other than excitement.

“Alright, we’re here,” John B announced, slowing the van to a stop.

JJ, sitting in the passenger seat, turned back to look at the rest of us. His face was lit with that mischievous grin he always wore when we were about to do something we probably shouldn’t. ��Grave-robbing. Just another Thursday for the Pogues, huh?”

“Do you ever stop joking?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Never,” JJ shot back, his grin widening. “It’s part of my charm, Princess.”

Kiara rolled her eyes from her seat beside me. “More like part of your problem.”

“Don’t act like you’re not charmed, Kie.” JJ smirked before turning his attention back to me.

I glanced at JJ, who was sitting beside me in the van. He flashed me a grin, clearly unbothered by the spooky setting.

The six of us climbed out of the van, flashlights in hand, and made our way through the creaky iron gates. The cold, damp air seemed to wrap around us like a blanket, and the crunch of our footsteps on the gravel path was the only sound.

“Nervous, Princess?” he teased, nudging me lightly with his elbow as John B explained who Redfield was to Kie and Pope, I stopped listening while JJ talked to me.

“Not even a little,” I shot back, trying to sound braver than I felt. JJ’s smirk widened, his blue eyes glinting in the low light.

“Uh-huh,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulders. “Just stay close.”, he looked around.

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched into a smile despite myself. “I’ll be fine, JJ. Try not to get scared yourself.”

Kiara stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the old tomb at the center of the graveyard. “That’s it. Redfield.”

We stood in a loose circle around the entrance to the tomb at Redfield Graveyard, the cool night air heavy with tension. The ancient stone slab loomed before us, its surface cracked and moss-covered.

“Alright, so how are we gonna do this?” Pope asked, his hands on his hips.

“We can’t exactly just… bust it open,” John B muttered, running a hand through his hair as he examined the tomb. “It’s loud, and it’s stone. We need a better idea.”

“I can fit,” I said confidently, my voice cutting through the conversation.

JJ looked up sharply, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“I can fit through there,” I repeated, pointing to the narrow gap in the tomb’s side.

“That’s, like, half a foot wide,” JJ said skeptically, gesturing at the gap. “Y/n, you’re not a noodle.”

“Don’t need to be,” I shot back, already stepping forward to test the space. I turned to them with a smirk. “I used to do gymnastics, I’m flexible.”

“Yeah, well, flexibility isn’t gonna help if a snake bites you,” JJ said, crossing his arms.

Kiara stepped closer, inspecting the gap. “She might fit,” she said thoughtfully, glancing at JJ. “It’s tight, but it’s doable.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Let’s just risk Y/n getting wedged in a 200-year-old tomb. That sounds like a great plan.”

“Got a better one, Maybank?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

JJ opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again. “No. But that doesn’t mean I like this one.”

John B clapped JJ on the shoulder. “She’s our best shot, man. Let’s just keep watch while she goes in. If it goes south, we’ll pull her out.”

JJ sighed, shaking his head but stepping back. “Fine. But if you get stuck, I’m not crawling in there to save you.”

I smirked. “Noted.”

As I started squeezing herself into the gap, standing on JJ’s interlocked hands hoisting me up, he muttered under his breath, “You better not get bitten, I’ll lose my shit.”

After what felt like forever, I emerged, holding a parcel labelled, “For Bird”.

“Got it!” I said triumphantly, my voice cutting through the silence.

We all scrambled back to the Twinkie, fearing someone behind us, the atmosphere was buzzing as we sped away from the graveyard, the parcel sitting like a relic on the seat between John B and Kiara. The air felt electric, each of us buzzing with anticipation and pride for pulling off what felt like a legendary heist.

“Hell yeah!” Pope shouted, his fist pumping into the air. He turned to John B with a wide grin. “We’re unstoppable, bro!”

“Yeah, baby!” JJ added, his excitement infectious. His voice carried over the din of cheers, and I saw him glance my way, his grin lingering just a little too long before he turned back to the others. I thought nothing of it, too caught up in the energy of the moment.

We screeched into the driveway of the Chateau, all of us pouring out of the Twinkie like over-caffeinated kids. The parcel was carefully placed on the table inside, the reverence of the moment sinking in as John B opened it with careful hands. Inside was a tape recorder and a stack of notes, Big John’s voice crackling to life as John B pressed play.

Big John’s words echoed in the room, his instructions clear but cryptic, urging John B to follow the clues that would lead to the Royal Merchant and the gold.

The air was thick with emotion when the recording ended. For a moment, none of us spoke, the weight of what we’d just heard settling over us. Then, in true Pogue fashion, the tension broke with a cheer, each of us swept up in the joy of what we’d accomplished.

“Man, we’re really doing this,” Pope said, shaking his head in disbelief as he grinned at the rest of us.

Kiara pulled John B into a hug, her voice filled with pride. “Your dad was onto something big, JB.”

We all started hugging, caught up in the moment. JJ grabbed me, lifting me off the ground in his excitement.

“Put me down, you idiot!” I laughed, smacking his shoulder as he spun me around.

He laughed, his grin widening before finally setting me back on my feet.

When we pulled apart, his hands lingered on my arms, his blue eyes catching mine under the dim light of the kitchen. For a second, everything else faded, his gaze softening as he looked at me.

“What?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head like he was shaking off a thought.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

“Hey,” JJ said suddenly, coming up behind me as I was throwing the old moldy bread away, breaking the silence.

I glanced back at him. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door.

“What are you doing?” I asked, startled.

“Just come on,” he said, his fingers warm around mine.

As he led me outside, I could hear the others laughing behind us.

“Oh, this is happening,” Kiara called, her voice dripping with amusement.

“Finally!” Pope added, and I groaned.

“Shut up!” I yelled over my shoulder, my cheeks heating as JJ pulled me further away from the house.

“Let them talk,” JJ said, laughing as we made our way toward the beach.

The moon hung low over the water, casting a soft silver glow over the sand. We walked in silence for a while, the sound of the waves filling the space between us. JJ’s hand was still holding mine, his grip steady and warm.

Finally, he stopped, turning to face me.

“Okay, what’s this about?” I asked, my heart pounding as he looked at me, his usual smirk replaced by something more serious.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing, so just… bear with me, alright?”

“JJ…” I started, but he cut me off.

“No, let me say this,” he said, his voice firm but nervous. “I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since we were kids. When John B and I were running around causing trouble, and I’d see you hanging out with Kie and Sarah. You’re the one thing in my life that’s always made sense, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I stared at him, his words washing over me like a wave.

Finally, I found my voice. “JJ, I like you too,” I said softly. “I think I always have.”

The relief on his face was instant, and before I could say anything else, he stepped closer, cupping my face in his hands as he kissed me. His lips were warm and soft, and the world seemed to stop as I kissed him back.

When we pulled apart, I grinned at him. “You know this breaks your no Kook rule, right?”

“Shut up,” he said, laughing as he pulled me into another kiss. “You’re a Pogue now.”

I pulled back just enough to smirk at him. “What about the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

JJ groaned, rolling his eyes before kissing me again, harder this time, effectively shutting me up.

Cheers and whistles erupted from somewhere behind us, and we broke apart to see the rest of the Pogues watching from a distance, grinning like idiots.

JJ groaned, burying his face in my neck. “They’re the worst.”

I laughed, grabbing his hand. “Yeah, but we’ll get them back someday.”

He laughed, lacing his fingers through mine and as we walked back to the Chateau, I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Twinkie was a moving disaster zone, as usual, bumping and groaning over the backroads. John B was at the wheel, one arm slung out the window as the wind whipped through his hair. Kiara sat in the passenger seat, holding the map, while Pope and I were squished in the back seat. JJ lounged across the floor of the van, his legs stretched out, his knife flicking open and closed in one hand, and the other hand working on rolling a blunt.

“Alright, so let’s talk this through again,” Kiara said, pointing at the map. “The coordinates lead to somewhere here,” she gestured vaguely at the red mark on the paper, “which should put us right in line with the wreck. But we need to figure out what these notes mean.”

“I mean, it could be anything,” Pope said, squinting at the faint writing. “Big John was cryptic as hell.”

“Understatement,” John B muttered from the front.

I was half-listening, leaning back against the van’s side panel with my legs crossed. JJ’s voice cut through the low murmur of conversation.

“Hey, Princess,” he said, looking up at me with a grin that was both lazy and wicked. “C’mere.”

I raised an eyebrow but shifted closer. “What?”

He held up the blunt he was rolling, the paper balanced delicately between his fingers. “Lick it for me.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon,” he said, smirking. “Don’t act all shy now. You’ve seen worse things in this van.”

Pope groaned. “Can you not?”

Ignoring him, I laughed at JJ’s false joke, knowing it was directed to make Pope uncomfortable, but leaned in anyway, reaching the blunt in his hands. His gaze lingered on me, his smirk softening into something more teasing as I licked the paper not breaking eye contact.

“There,” I said, trying not to let the heat in my cheeks show. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” JJ said, his voice low. He took the blunt, sealing it with a quick twist, and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled lazily in the small space.

He held it out to me.

I accepted it, taking a quick drag before handing it back to JJ. He winked at me as he took another hit.

“Alright,” John B said, breaking the silence as he squinted at the map. “So, according to this, the coordinates lead us… somewhere around here.”

“Great,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. “Middle of the ocean. Super helpful.”

John B shot her a look. “It’s not exact, but it’s a starting point. We’ll figure it out.”

“Famous last words,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat.

JJ nudged me lightly with his elbow. “What do you think, Miss Cameron? You ready to join the ‘Shipwrecked and Stranded Club’ when this inevitably goes sideways?”

I smirked at him, crossing my arms. “Oh, I’m ready. Are you? Or are you going to start whining the second you get a little wet?”

“Touché,” he said, chuckling. “But if I drown, I’m haunting you specifically.”

“You’d haunt me anyway,” I shot back, laughing.

“Damn right,” he said, his grin widening.

“Can you two stop flirting for like five seconds? Please? Is that too much to ask?” Pope interjected, glaring at both of us.

I tried to supress, my laughter but locking eyes with JJ betrayed me.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Twinkie rattled to a halt near the edge of the salvage yard. The towering piles of rusted metal and abandoned cars loomed over us, casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. We huddled together by the side of the van, quickly hashing out a plan.

“Alright,” John B began, keeping his voice low. “Kiara, Y/n, you’re on distraction duty. Keep the security guy busy. The rest of us will grab the drone.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow. “Why do we always get the boring jobs?”

“Because you’re the least suspicious,” JJ chimed in. “And because John B’s too scared to do it himself.”

“Shut up,” John B said, smacking JJ lightly on the arm.

Kiara and I exchanged a look before heading toward the small security booth near the entrance. The guard looked up as we approached, his suspicious eyes narrowing.

“Hey there!” Kiara said, putting on her most innocent smile. “Our boat’s tyres burst, can you help us please?”

As Kiara spun her tale about how the tyers deflated, I chimed in with details. Meanwhile, the boys disappeared into the maze of scrap metal behind us.

When they finally returned, the drone tucked securely under John B’s arm, JJ’s expression caught my attention. His eyes were glassy, his lips trembling as if he were fighting to hold back tears.

“JJ, what’s wrong?” I asked, rushing over to him.

He sniffled dramatically, his shoulders shaking. “It’s just…Your…”

My heart sank. “What? JJ, my what?”

JJ couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, doubling over as I glared at him.

“You’re the worst,” I said, giving him a shove, though I couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Pogues were sprawled out across the Chateau, each of us busy with our own pre-party rituals. Kiara was rummaging through my pile of clothes, tossing items over her shoulder as she muttered about finding something decent to wear.

“Are you sure this isn’t a waste of time?” Pope asked, lounging on the couch. “It’s just going to be a bunch of Kooks, drunk off their parents’ liquor, pretending they run the island.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Which is why we’re going. It’s a good alibi and we get in with no trouble thanks to Y/n. Also free booze, bad decisions, and maybe a good laugh or two.”

I emerged from the bedroom, zipping up a sundress and JJ’s eyes immediately locked on me, his smirk growing.

“Damn, Princess,” he said, pushing off the counter and walking over to me. His hands found my waist, his fingers grazing the fabric. “Who are you trying to impress?”

I grinned up at him. “Maybe I’m trying to outshine you for once.”

“Good luck with that,” he teased, leaning in to kiss me lightly.

“Alright, lovebirds,” John B said, appearing in the doorway with an exasperated look. “We don’t have all night. Let’s move.”

“Hold on, hold on,” JJ said, turning back to the mirror to adjust his hat. I grabbed it off his head, putting it onto mine instead.

“Much better,” I said, spinning around and heading for the door.

JJ caught up to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, tugging me closer.

The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived. The Kooks had outdone themselves, as usual, turning their sprawling estate into a sea of lights, music, and expensive liquor. JJ stuck close to my side, his hand resting lightly on my lower back as we navigated the crowd after a good hour of drinking and dancing.

I spotted Sarah near the drinks table and made my way over to her, JJ following closely.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing a cup of whatever questionable concoction was being served. “How’d you manage to sneak out this time?”

“Wheezie,” she replied simply, taking a sip from her own cup. “Blackmailed her.” She glanced at JJ, raising an eyebrow. “I see you brought the rebel boyfriend.”

“Nice to see you too, Sarah,” JJ said, grinning at the new title.

Before she could respond, Topper appeared, pulling Sarah away for something. I sighed, taking a sip of my drink.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asked, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

I nodded, letting him lead me up to the rooftop. The cool night air was a welcome relief, the noise from the party fading to a dull hum. We sat close together, sharing a blunt as the stars twinkled above us.

“What would you do with the gold?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.

JJ exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression thoughtful. “Get out of here. Buy a boat, sail wherever I wanted. No more running, no more debt. Just… freedom.”

I smiled faintly. “That sounds nice.”

“What about you, Princess?” he asked, turning to look at me. “What’s your big dream?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess the same thing. Travelling.”

JJ shifted, lying down so that his head rested in my lap. He looked up at me, his blue eyes soft. “We’ll go together” he said simply, closing his eyes, “Surf trip.”

My heart lurched at his words, “As long a you wax my board J.”

I reached down, running my fingers through his hair, a content smile spreading across his face.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The smell of eggs and toast filled the air as I cooked breakfast for the group the next morning. JJ hovered beside me, stealing bites of toast whenever he thought I wasn’t looking.

“JJ, if you eat one more piece of toast, I’m gonna stab you with this spatula,” I warned, swatting at him playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in closer.

“Try me.”

He laughed, his hands settling on my hips as he leaned in to kiss me. I felt a rush of warmth as his lips brushed against mine, but before we could get carried away, Pope walked in.

“God, can you two not?” he groaned, shielding his eyes.

JJ and I broke apart, laughing. “Jealous, Pope?” JJ teased.

“Not in the slightest,” Pope shot back.

JJ grabbed his keys from the counter, pulling me in for one more kiss before heading out with Pope to do Heyward deliveries while Sarah and I went to the mainland to shop, John B avoided DCS and Kie was at work at the Wreck.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

part three done!!

i dont wanna go to school tmrw omg

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch

[cutielando]

v.s. angel | l.n.

synopsis: in which Lando is there to support you for your first Victoria's Secret runway show

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

To say that you were nervous was the understatement of the year.

The ride towards the venue seemed like it was taking forever, the buildings breezing past you at a rapid pace.

Lando was sat beside you in the limo, analyzing you from head to toe.

He knew how much this night meant to you, how hard you had been working ever since he met you to be able to finally walk the runway as an Angel. And now finally, all that hard work was being paid off.

His eyes gravitated towards your bouncing knee and your fidgety fingers, his heart clenching.

“Hey” he said, his hand coming to rest on your knee, which momentarily made you stop your movements.

You turned your head to look at him and let out a big sigh, relaxing a little into the backseat at the feeling of his touch.

“Hey” you replied, smiling slightly.

You weren’t used to being in this position. Being the nervous one, being the one in the center of attention. It was usually the other way around whenever you would join Lando at events. But now that it was your turn to shine, you were close to freaking out on him.

“You don’t have to be nervous. You’re gonna kill it out there” he said, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knee and lower thigh.

You sighed again, your eyes boring into Lando’s.

“What if I mess it up? I know I’ve been saying I’m ready to do this, but what if I’m really not? My career could be over in a heartbeat if even the slightest thing goes wrong” you explained, staring into Lando’s eyes.

They always brought you comfort, no matter the situation that you would find yourself in. Just one look into Lando’s eyes and the whole world around you would calm down and all of your problems suddenly seemed a lot smaller than you had made them out to be.

That’s just the effect that your boyfriend has on you.

“That’s a lot of “ifs” for one sentence, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice teasing you a little bit. “Baby, you know as well as I do how hard you’ve been working to finally make it here. These people chose you for a reason, out of so many other models they chose you. They saw something special in you, don’t put yourself down now. You’re going to step on that runway and knock everyone on their asses” he said, his face as serious as you’d ever seen it.

He was right, at the end of the day. But he knew it was the nerves talking, so he had no problems in making sure that you knew just how special you were.

“Thank you. I love you so fucking much” you tearfully said, leaning in and pressing your lips against his, hard, in a passionate kiss.

Lando reciprocated it, sneaking one of his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, his other hand still resting on your thigh.

“I love you more. Show them what you’re made of. I’ll be proud of you no matter what”

You smiled, for the first time that night, and nodded frantically.

You were gonna rock the shit out of that show.

♡♡♡♡♡

Safe to say that your brave facade had only lasted an hour, right up until the moment you were supposed to step on the runway.

You were back to freaking the fuck out, your palms were sweating, your legs were shaking, your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, and Lando was nowhere to be seen.

He had left you in the changing room before he made his way into the audience, which right now seemed like the worst idea he had ever had to you.

“Y/N, get ready. You’re up in 2 minutes” the stage managed announced, making your breathing even more ragged than it already way.

You slowly made your way to the entrance of the runway, careful not to slip and fall on your wobbly legs. You sneakily got a look of the audience and the other models. the amount of people adding to your already growing stress.

But you couldn’t even focus on them anymore. Your eyes were frantically searching for his, the only thing that you could find solace in at that moment.

You were slowly starting to give up hope of seeing him from that angle before you got on stage, but then your eyes landed straight on him.

He was already looking at you, his eyes worried but excited at the same time. He subtly gave you a thumbs up and mouthed “You’ve got this, I love you” before giving you one of his signature smiles.

You smiled, blew him a kiss and stepped back, closing your eyes as you gathered your thoughts.

You had been waiting for this moment ever since you were a little girl, you had worked your ass off for this opportunity, and you were about to show everyone exactly what you were made of.

Letting out a big breath, you shrugged off the thin robe you had tied around your waist, walked up the steps to the runway and stepped into the spotlight, a bright smile gracing your face as you confidently made your way down the runway.

The audience was in awe as they followed you with their eyes, but the only eyes that you cared about were Lando's.

He was clapping the loudest out of anyone, beyond proud of you and what this meant for your career.

"Go baby!" you heard him yell, and it took everything in you not to stop and blow him a kiss or just jump off from the stage straight into his arms.

Instead, you smiled even wider, stopping at the end of the runway to pose with your wings before turning around and walking back, catching Lando's eye for a second and winking at him.

The audience was clapping the loudest they had all night as you slowly retreated off the stage, almost doubling over your feet as you were finally out of the spotlight and into the safe comfort of the dressing room.

"Are you okay?" another Angel asked you, one of the girls you had got to know pretty well over the last few weeks.

"I can't believe I just did that" you said, both of you silent for a moment before you burst into laughter, clutching your bare stomach.

"You were great out there, especially considering the support system you had" she teased before pointing behind you.

You chuckled and turned around, seeing Lando making his way into the dressing room and towards the two of you.

No words were needed as you completely melted into his arms, the familiar warmth of his hold enveloping you like a safety blanket. His arms had slowly become your favorite place to be, the place where nothing and nobody could get to you, where you could let yourself feel and where you could be safe from everything out there.

"You were incredible out there. I couldn't take my eyes off of you" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he held you close to his body.

You chuckled, squeezing him a little tighter.

"Thank you for being here for me. I can't even explain how much having you here meant to me" you said, your eyes welling up with tears as you buried your face into his chest, hiding away from the world to a place where it was just the two of you.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, I'm so proud of you" he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The love that you felt in those moments was overwhelming, but at the same time was everything you could ever wish for.

"I love you so much" you pulled away just enough so you could see his face, your gaze instantly falling to his lips.

"I love you too" he said before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

The whole world seemed to fade away, the runway and show long forgotten and pushed at the back of your mind.

You had everything that mattered right there with you.

Your love and biggest support.

Your Lando.

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[ok555ficideas]

A commission for @bookishsystem for the @aftg4palestine project

Kevin couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He was so sure he was going to pine over Andrew and Neil from afar for the rest of his life. They were so embedded into each other’s orbits that it looked like no one else was allowed in. But Kevin was, they always made sure to make space for him. 

That was what made him fall for them in the first place. He always knew that his feelings for Andrew went beyond gratitude and the feeling of safety. And Neil was on his mind too much for it to only be about Exy, but last year he didn’t allow himself to think about that. Last year there were still too many things looming over him. 

This year everything changed. There were only the three of them in the dorm. Neil stopped running and settled in and Andrew seemed more content than Kevin has ever seen him. Watching them became his favorite pastime. It was so satisfying to see them vulnerable and open with each other. They weren’t like that around other people, but they never held back around Kevin. 

So as he was watching them being so soft and caring, he couldn’t help but crave to be a part of it. Not only as a spectator, but as an active participant. For this to actually happen was still so unreal to him that he had trouble processing it. 

“Are you done freaking out?” Andrew asked from the beanbag chair he was sitting in. 

He was reading a book and not even looking at Kevin. It was a good thing, because Kevin would for sure earn a knife to his stomach for the stupid look he had on his face while looking at the blonde. Neil noticed, because of course he did, and sent him a look that Kevin knew meant he understood completely what Kevin was feeling while looking at Andrew. 

Andrew looked up and noticed both of their stares. He rolled his eyes and closed his book, while getting up from his seat. He looked from Kevin to Neil and then back at Kevin again. He nodded his head in the direction of the bedroom and without saying a word disappeared behind the door. Neil followed soon after, but when he noticed that Kevin was still glued to the floor he reached his hand out and pulled Kevin with him. 

Andrew was already laying on the two beds that were pushed together since the beginning of this year. His back was against the wall and his armbands were still in place, but the knives were resting on the nightstand. Neil took off his shirt and started to change into a lighter one, so Kevin turned away to give him some privacy and started to change too. 

He made his way to his bed that was on the opposite wall right after, but was stopped by a hand gently enveloping his wrist. 

“Where are you going?” Neil’s voice was more gentle than Kevin has ever heard it and it made his knees give out under him a little. “Do you not want to share with us?” Kevin was speechless, he didn't consider this a real possibility. 

He knew he was now a part of them in some way. They told him as much and they let him kiss them, but he knew how much they valued their space, especially while sleeping. Kevin understood the fear that was eating them alive and never thought he would be allowed the privilege of being trusted enough to share that space with them. 

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Neil spoke up after Kevin was silent for too long. 

“I do,” he rushed to clarify, because he didn't want them to think otherwise. 

He didn’t want them to think that he didn’t want this, when it was all he could think about for the past weeks. 

“Okay, then come here.” Neil pulled him by his hand again and soon they were both standing by the edge of the bed. 

Neil turned around to look at Andrew and they seemed to have a conversation without using any words. They did that a lot, it was always fascinating to watch. 

“I’m gonna stay here and you’re not going to touch me,” Andrew said firmly and Kevin nodded without hesitation. 

“What about you?” Kevin turned his attention back on Neil. “Can I touch you?” 

Neil looked up at him with his piercing blue eyes and Kevin saw a spark in there that he previously only noticed when the boy’s gaze was turned on Andrew. It was exhilarating and made his insides do summersaults. 

“I was hoping you could hold me,” Neil whispered and Kevin felt a shiver run down his spine. 

He nodded and pushed Neil gently on the bed, careful not to lie him down too close to Andrew. He positioned himself behind Neil and enveloped him in his arms. Neil melted into him immediately and Kevin’s next breath felt like the first one he took in years. He put his hand against Neil’s beating heart and closed his eyes to let himself appreciate the steady rhythm. 

When he opened them back up, he saw hazel ones stare right into his soul. Andrew’s expression was as blank as always, but something in his eyes reminded Kevin of longing. He took his hand from Neil’s chest and laid it closer to Andrew. Not close enough to touch, but with his palm up so Andrew was aware of what Kevin was offering. 

He could see Andrew’s hand twitch by his side and he held his breath, waiting for Andrew’s next move. The goalie slowly inched his hand closer and closer to Kevin’s. Neil must have felt how fast Kevin's heart was beating at this moment, but he stayed silent. Finally, Andrew’s hand made contact with Kevin’s and it sent electricity through his whole body. Andrew picked up his hand and turned it around to brush his fingers against Kevin’s scar. 

He lifted both their hands and got them closer to Neil’s covered chest. He stopped inches away from the material and looked at Neil, waiting for something. Kevin heard a quiet ‘yes’ escaping Neil’s lips and after Andrew turned his gaze back on him, he followed Neil’s lead and breathed out his permission as well. 

Andrew guided their interlocked hands under Neil’s shirt and spread them out on the man’s scarred stomach. Neil’s breath hitched, but otherwise made no move for anything more. Andrew gently traced Kevin’s scar with his thumb and by the movement visible under Neil’s shirt, Kevin would guess that his other fingers were mapping out Neil’s. 

He looked at Andrew and stared, using the moment when the other’s eyes were closed. He studied his features, which were more relaxed than usual and couldn’t help but smile. He couldn't even bring himself to hide his expression when Andrew’s eyes opened again. 

“Helps me to know who’s in the bed with me,” Andrew whispered. 

His voice was so vulnerable that Kevin was afraid that he would scare him off if he breathed wrong right now. He didn't move, didn’t blink an eye. He knew how privileged this information was and how important it was that it was freely given to him. There was no deal, nothing to gain. Andrew told him this, just so he could know and that was enough to lull him into sleep. 

***

David was sitting down, contemplating his entire existence. Something was happening with Kevin and it was getting slightly out of hand. It wasn’t anything bad, quite the opposite. Kevin seemed cheerful. It was a good thing, David was just scared about the source. At first he thought Kevin was on drugs, but Abby quickly debunked that theory. 

He was determined to find out what was going on, but was afraid that if he asked Kevin outright it would end badly. The obvious people to ask were Neil and Andrew, but he knew he wasn’t getting any information out of them. Normally that was something he respected about them, but now he needed something else. 

“Okay, which one of you knows what’s going on with Kevin?” He asked the Foxes that he gathered for this specific purpose. 

“What happened to your players' personal business being above your paygrade, coach?” Nicky asked with a smirk on his face. 

“Kevin is my son, which makes this my personal business,” He replied without thinking. 

It made an echo of o’s erupt through the room and he had to shush them all. 

“There are a couple of bets going around.” Allison spoke up after the rest quieted down. “If you ask me, I think he’s fucking Andrew and Neil.” 

Aaron groaned from his place on the couch and hid his face in his hands. 

“Don’t mind him, his narrow-mindedness is showing.” Nicky patted his cousin on the back and was immediately shrugged off. 

“I’m not narrow-minded, I just can’t believe Josten is capable of pulling two people.” Aaron replied. 

“I can’t believe you were able to pull even one,” a voice sounded from the door, causing everyone to turn around. 

At the entrance stood Neil, Andrew and Kevin and they all looked like they walked in on a different conversation. Andrew looked as unimpressed as ever, Neil was having a staring contest with Aaron, and Kevin looked directly at Wymack with fear in his eyes. 

“All right, everybody get the fuck out of here,” he said and was met with protest from all across the room. 

The only one who listened immediately was Andrew, who pulled Neil behind himself despite Josten whining about coming here to practice. The goalie squeezed Kevin’s hand on the way out and that seemed to make him relax a little bit. 

“Wait, I have bets to settle. I-” Alliosn was interrupted by Renee gently guiding her out the door. 

***

Kevin was standing in front of his father and somehow felt more nervous about telling him about being with Andrew and Neil than he did when he was confessing the real reason that the coach was the one he ran to. Objectively, Kevin knew this would go fine. Wymack was okay with Andrew, Neil and Nicky, there was no reason for him not to be okay with Kevin. 

Except it was different when it was your own kid. People reacted in ways they never would when it came to other people.  Kevin was just getting used to having a dad and he was scared it was going to be ripped away from him. 

“My first thought was to ask if they make you happy, but it’s clear that they do,” Wymack broke the silence and Kevin looked up at him. 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, but it still took him a moment longer to answer. 

“They do.” Those were the only words he could manage and he quickly looked back at the floor. 

Knowing this was one thing, but admitting out loud how Andrew and Neil made him feel was another. It was frustrating how telling he apparently was throughout this whole thing. The Foxes having a bet on this was nothing unusual, but being perceived as a love-struck fool was unsettling. 

“Hey,” there was suddenly a hand on his arm and it took everything in him not to flinch. 

He looked up at Wymack and relaxed, knowing that the other man would never hurt him. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Kevin had to bite the inside of his cheek to try and stop himself from crying. This was ridiculous. He spent so much of his life in misery and barely ever cried. The happier he got, the more tears seemed to follow. He wanted to hide, but the grip on his shoulder was strong, so the only way to go was forward. He buried his head in Wymack’s chest and let the quiet sobs of relief overtake him. 

His father held him through it and ran his hand through Kevin’s hair in a soothing gesture. Kevin could hear the quiet, awkward reassurance coming from the man and let himself melt completely into his embrace. Being held was a nice feeling, one that Kevin was slowly getting used to. 

link

[muppeddie]

Blame it on my DNA

808 coda; Eddie tells Chris about his plan to move to El Paso. It does not go well. Buck is forced into the narrative about it. Ao3

“Hey, Bud. You got a minute?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

Chris’ room is dark. He keeps the curtains drawn tight and the blinds down most of the time. It’s three in the afternoon in El Paso, Eddie knows there should be sun streaming through, bathing the beddings and showing him what his son has up on his walls, if he left his shoes all over the place, if the bed is made.

It must be, though. His mother always used to make them during breakfast.She would serve them and disappear, lighting fast as she drew up covers and fixed pillows before they could be done. 

Eddie used to go back to his room before leaving for school and find the bed made, like magic. 

He’s sure Helena does Chris’ bed, too. Must take her time with it since she doesn’t have three kids at once anymore, too.

“How was the chess tournament?” he asks, coward.

Chris rolls his eyes, one hand picking at the lint on his pants. “It was fine. I got third place.”

A smile breaks out on Eddie’s face. Lips turning up and up, hurting his cheek. He’s so proud. “No way! That’s amazing, Chris.”

“It’s third place, Dad,” he says, deadpanned. Something in Eddie breaks. “Nothing to write home about.”

He settles more firmly against the chair. This time, he’s chosen to take the call from the kitchen. Barren, most of his utensils are already in boxes to be shipped out to some storage room until he can make peace with either selling or taking them with him when he moves.

“Hey. Everything you do is something to write home about. You got some kinda trophy I can bust about at the station?”

Bashful, Chris bends out of frame. The room is so dark; how Eddie worries. He comes up after shuffling around somewhere with a framed letter of participation, declaring him third best in the school chess championship. There is a little brown ribbon printed on the picture. 

“Just this,” Chris says, shy and low. It comes out so thin, Eddie barely hears.

“That’s great. I’m really proud of you, Bud. I mean it,” he says, because Eddie thinks he should hear it.

“Grandpa says we can practice more and I can try the tournament week after next, just not in school. There is like this social center thing… it’s for charity or something.” It’s been months since he heard his kid say so many words at once. Eddie feels choked up about it, just a little. 

He clears his throat before he speaks again. In for a penny. “What if… what if I was there, to cheer on you? Would you like that?”

Chris sits straight in his chair, his head is lopsided but his eyes shine behind his glasses - bright, bright, bright blue. “I guess.” He takes the longest pause in Eddie’s life. “It would be cool.”

“Good.” It propels him forward, an asteroid ready to crash and burn. “Because I’m coming to El Paso in a few weeks.”

“Like, for holiday? Buck didn’t say you have time off.”

“No, no. Not for holiday, uhm…” He wets his lips, swallows around the nerves that have balled in his throat, picks at the linen in his gym shorts, a mirror of Chris. “For… ever? I’m- I’m moving back to Texas, Chris. Saw a new house and everything. We can go check it out together, if you want.”

Chris pales, the blue of the screen casts him in a weirdly off-putting light.

“Not. Not that I’m gonna make you come live with me. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but if you do want to live with your grandparents, I want to be there. For you. I’m not missing the big moments anymore.” 

Eddie gets to the end of his little speech, Chris’ chest is heaving. He reaches for the tablet like it will allow him to reach through the screen and touch, comfort, reassure.

This is exactly why he needs to go back to Texas. 

“What… what about the house? You can’t just sell it.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but Chris is on a spiral. He looks somewhere to the left of the screen, barely catching his breath. “What about your job? Does Captain Nash know? Did you tell Buck?”

Nodding, Eddie replies, his voice a bit higher, a bit firmer, “I did. It’s all taken care of, you don’t need to worry about it, that’s my job.”

“You never do things for me. Just for you,” Chris spats, vitriol and anger right on the center of the keyboard. “You’re always thinking about yourself first.”

And that - that can’t be further from the truth. He needs to know, Eddie needs to tell him. And why is the screen suddenly so blurry? Why is his chest aching? Did someone shoot him again? Right there, in his kitchen?

“That’s not true Christopher. You know that’s not true. I’m…”

Chris interrupts him. “First you leave Mom behind, then you send me away, and now I don’t get to come back home?” He’s yelling now, full-body spasms, his arms shaking. That much stress cannot be good for him. “You promised. You promised.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.” The connection shuts. There is only a black screen and the image of Eddie’s red eyes and snotty face. 

He clicks to the right, just below Christopher’s name on his contact history. The tablet rings for about three seconds before the call gets picked up and Buck’s face lights up the screen. He’s at home, on his couch, relaxed in the gray hoodie he keeps for nothing-days. 

If he notices how rattled Eddie is, he doesn’t show it. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“I think I screwed up, Buck.”

The expression on his best friend’s face changes, he gets that frown he has when they talk about something big, shifting forward in his seat. “Tell me about it.”

[rocknrolldecadence]

PLEASE DO MORE OF IZZY ITS SO GOOD😜😜

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

surprise

you uncover a secret of izzy’s.

warnings: none

a/n: AHHHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! tysm i hope you like this even tho it’s short 🙁🙁 also everyone don’t mind the spacing, my phone is still acting up (i need a new one so bad it’s insane).

it was a late summer’s evening and you and izzy were hanging out in the studio. downtown LA was busy as ever, and the cars provided a calming sort of ambience. it was just you two there. your boyfriend wanted to get some writing done without the other members of the band, and so he invited you to join him.

as izzy strummed his guitar, you stared out the window, just listening. the half-fleshed out melody provided a soundtrack to your daydream. until he messed up.

‟i keep fucking this up!” izzy complained, putting his guitar down and sighing.

you looked over at him. “babe, don’t worry about it. it’s fine. you aren’t even recording anything.”

he didn’t reply, but you could still feel the dissatisfaction. “what is this for?”

“a new song.”

“well… yeah. but do you know what it’s gonna be like? have you got lyrics yet?”

“i… dunno.” izzy coughed.

“what does that mean? you either do or don’t.” you laughed.

again, izzy didn’t reply. you eyed him up, trying to silently coax an answer out of him. it didn't work. but he seemed… embarrassed? that was unlike him. you pressed for information again.

“c’mon. are you hiding something from me?” you feigned sadness, clutching your hand to your chest.

“no. i just… wanted it to be a surprise.”

that caught your interest. the way he looked down at the floor was intriguing. was this a surprise for you?

“is this for me?” you giggled. it had to be. why else would he be acting so secretive?

“god, stop fucking pressing.” izzy huffed. he got up and left the room, reaching for his pocket as he did so, seemingly searching for his lighter.

you were taken aback. sure, you and izzy had both said much more awful things to eachother than that when you fought, but that was weird. you hadn’t meant anything by asking. the overreaction made you uneasy. what if it was for someone else? a secret girl?

you sat in the studio for a few minutes, staring at izzy’s guitar. you finally went to find him, and saw him leaning on the railing outside the building, smoking a cigarette. “hey,” you said, walking up beside him, “what’s wrong?”

izzy said nothing. he just took another drag of his cigarette. you looked up at the sky. it was sunset now. the tones of pink and yellow melted into eachother beautifully. minutes passed in silence, until izzy tapped you with his elbow and held out the nearly-done cigarette to you. you took it to your mouth and inhaled.

“look,” your boyfriend started, “i wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause i’m writing a song for you. well- songs. i wanted to perfect them and show you. y’know, with the rest of the guys.”

you looked over at him. songs? you hadn’t expected that. you and izzy hadn’t been going out for that long, only about four months. you didn’t think he could write multiple songs about you. that made you smile.

“am i really that important to you?” you laughed, stubbing out the cigarette on the railing the two of you were leaning on.

izzy pulled you in close to him, touching sides. “well, it would be kinda stupid if you weren’t. why would i be dating you then?”

“are any of these songs done? do they have a riff?”

“one does. if we go back in, i’ll show you.”

and so you dragged izzy back in eagerly.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, can I request a continuation of Wasp's twin who took his place?

Maybe something about the team Prime getting worried over Buddy rarely leaving her room? And when she does she just sits in a corner and hugs her knees?

Buddy is also scared of going outside the base, because what if the Elite Guard comes to earth and found her? She will get thrown to the stockade again!

Optimus is like, "i'm not a doctor, but i'm pretty sure this isn't good for her".

And ratchet is like, "i'm a doctor and I can comfirm this is not healty for her, we need to make her come out of her room more as soon as possible".

And then Bulkhead is like, "oh, I know how!", and takes out his art.

He shows his art to Buddy which draws her attention a lot.

Maybe that's how Buddy gets into pottery and knitting, Bulkhead inspired her!

(I'm sending this twice incase it disappears from the inbox)

I'm giving Wasp's twin sister a name! Look for it in the link for established Buddy names!

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp's Twin Sister finds a hobby

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFA

Ever since the news of the Elite Guard potentially making a stop on Earth happened, the team had noticed their newest member, Vespa, had been a bit closed off.

No, that was an understatement.

Vespa was either always in her habsuite or sprinting across the Plant to get something and go straight back to her habsuite.

Bumblebee tried once to make her stop during one of her sprints.

Bumblebee has Vespa grabbed by the waist. Bumblebee: “Gotcha!” Vespa lets out an unearthly shriek before biting on his servo. Bumblebee: “OW!” Vespa zooms back into her habsuite. Bumblebee is on the floor groaning at the bite marks on his servo. Bulkhead: “That looks like it hurt.” Bumblebee: “You think!”

Yeah, the yellow scout stopped trying to stop her after that.

Soon enough Optimus called in for a mini meeting to discuss Vespa’s situation.

He was no medic, but he knew that what she was doing definitely wasn’t healthy.

Ratchet backed him up, as a doctor, this indeed wasn’t healthy behavior at all.

They had tried to ask what was wrong in the past, but so far nothing has worked.

Optimus had tried to lure Vespa out with a chat, but she just politely patted his pede and left.

Ratchet tried to get her to talk with a medical examine… too bad she knew that she wasn’t scheduled for another physical exam yet.

Prowl tried to get her to go to the park, but that was immediately shot down when she sprinted the other way.

Bumblebee tried to get Vespa to sit down for a movie marathon, but it turns out the yellow bot still didn’t know what types of movies she liked watching yet.

Team Prime were grasping straws, trying to think of any other way to get Vespa to talk to them.

They had tried everything!

Expect…

Sari carefully knocked on Vespa’s door. Sari: “Vespa? Its Sari.” Nothing. Sari: “I’m not feeling good and could really use a friend—EEK!” Sari nearly had whiplash from how fast Vespa’s servo shot out and grabbed her into the habsuite. The bots hiding not too far from the door blinked. Prowl: “I don’t think I’ve seen a bots servo move that quickly…”

It took a couple minutes before Sari would emerge from the habsuite wearing a worried look on her face.

She relayed back that Vespa was worried about the Elite Guard showing up outside the Plant, waiting to snatch her up and bring her back to the stockades.

Oh… that explained a bit…

As the others were trying to think of ways to reassure Vespa that the Guard was not here, Bulkhead suddenly had an idea.

Bulkhead knocks on Vespa’s door. Vespa opens it a bit. Vespa: “Bulk?” Bulkhead: “Can we paint together?” Vespa opens the door a bit more with a confused expression. Vespa: “What ‘paint’ Bulk?” Bulkhead offers his servo to her. Bulkhead: “C’mon I’ll show you! And if you don’t like painting, I’m sure I can find you some other art we can get you to do.” Vespa looked around hesitantly. Bulkhead’s optics soften gently patting her helm. Bulkhead: “No one’s gonna hurt ya little buddy. It’ll just be me and you.” After a minute Vespa gives him a small smile and takes his servo.

Bulkhead makes it very clear to the others for his idea to work, it just needed to be him and Vespa alone.

Given the limited number of ideas, they let him continue.

After about an hour Bulkhead came back to the main room followed closely by Vespa.

She sill looked nervous, but a bit more relaxed.

The smaller bot was covered with wet and dry splotches of clay and paint.

In her servos she proudly presented her greatest creation.

A human sized mug and gifted it to Sari.

It had an atrocious orange and pink coloring, but Sari didn’t dare try and put the bots spirits down.

This made the bot beam with pride, something the team had never seen before.

The smile suited her.

After that day, Bulkhead was slowly trying to get Vespa to start creating things with the pottery set whenever she felt extremely nervous or scared, and it seemed to be working.

 It was a bit of a pain to scrap off the bits of dried and cracked clay from off her armor, but she had to admit it the activity did make her calmer, and she could make gifts for her new friends!

Team Prime swore to take in every one of Vespa’s sculptures no matter how weird looking or horrendous coloring it had.