#and the auto tune stop you are killing me

[ryungseo]

okay but how is this song so 😭 boring and not good at aaalllll

[jolalibrary]

fifteen hundred and one

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: he's your best friend. nothing would ever change that. except maybe a goodnight kiss.

warnings: just fluff. best friends who flirt to something. kissing. flirting. she calls frankie nemo. an: this is my submission for @janaispunk’s milestone celebration based on this moodboard and the prompt "goodnight kiss"! hugest and biggest congrats to you jana, my babe. you deserve all of this and more!

Laughing, hard. It’s all instinctive as one palm stretches out across his stomach, and the other arm hooks around you, tugging you close.

He tenses when your fingers brush over his threadbare tee, your head turning into him as you mirror him, giggling. Burying deep into the fabric, it seeps into his skin.

And all Frankie thinks is—

It’s easy with you.

Has been for years. Since you’d stumbled in as the friend of one of his friends girl-not-girl, sticking around longer than they did.

You'd glued to him, happily. Never minding, or caring. Somehow surprised at how simple it was going from ‘do you want a drink’ to resting your head on his shoulder, while the two of you absently listened to whatever bullshit Benny was saying.

Now, he looks forward to seeing you.

To late-night burger runs and early-morning coffee meets, quiz nights with the others and just the two of you movie trips.

At some point, between his tongue doubling in his head at the sight of you that night to now, he’s been resisting kissing you. Sometimes easy, sometimes it’s harder.

Tonight it’s the latter.

A hand clenched around his heart, squeezing. Beneath the moon's gentle gaze, the world slows, each laugh and comment infused with the spell of the silvery glow. It's intimate, almost sacred.

And it forces him to remind himself of the usual array of things that stop him from kissing the wit-induced smile right from your lips. The list he runs through to ensure he doesn't ruin you, in the same way, he'd almost destroyed his license, his job. Stopping himself from tasting the gloss you’ve smeared there, the one which makes street lamps reflect as the two of you walk back to his truck.

“—so even if I scratched your favourite vinyl, you’d still be friends with me?”

Opening the passenger side door, he smiles, gleams, fucking beams. “Yeah!”

He hears you mutter bullshit when he shuts it, fighting a laugh as he comes around the back before sliding in.

It’s not a far drive to yours. One he’s memorised, etched into him. Not just from tonight’s location, but all over town. From his to work, and your favourite spot to his. Able to drive, mainly on auto-pilot, not needing to concentrate too much, able to answer your wild, and ridiculous, array of “even if” questions. Each ranged from ‘if I burnt all your grass’ to, ‘hypothetically if you had a dog and I kicked it’. Each is smudged with the sound of the radio you've tuned, a station he won't admit he listens to when you're not even with him.

You don’t stop your questioning when he pulls onto your drive, parking side by side next to your car. The one he helped you haggle for three months ago now—if he thinks hard, he can still hear the sound of your squeal in gratitude in the furthest part of his ear.

“—what if I stole your last coffee filter?”

“I’m guessing I’m desperate for it too?”

“Yes,” you say, defiant but playfully. “Of course.”

“You’re telling me that if I stole your last coffee filter, you’d still be my friend?”

Killing the engine, he sighs. Shrugging. “Yeah.”

Unbuckling your belt, you throw a glare. “I don’t believe you. You’re more coffee than blood.”

Shaking his head, he rests against the headrest, the corner of his lips growing into his cheek. “Not a thing you could do that would make me ever want to not be your friend.”

Rolling your eyes, you hover your hand over the doorhandle. A part of him wants to ask you to wait, to not go just yet. A routine he thinks through at least three times a month when he sees you. Each time ending in the same cowardly way.

“Goodnight, Frank,” you say, in that same tone—one hard to read, forged in sadness but dressed up in joy—as you press your lips to his cheek.

He resists touching it like he always does. Mumbling the same scripted, “Night” he always does.

Not jolting when the door meets the frame, eyes pinned on you as you walk down your path—waiting for you to step on your porch, turn back and wave, fidget for your keys before unlocking the door and giving him another wave. Another pattern, another repetition.

Except tonight you stop.

You don’t even make it halfway down your path.

Blood pounds in his ears, something knotting inside of him. An urge, a fire lighting in his stomach. One he listens to. His hand shoves the door open, as the other undoes his belt, forcing himself to exit.

Frankie spots the glance in surprise at finding him coming around the front to join you. As though the idea he would is a shock, a surprise as he calls your name.

It’s slow, the way you spin on your heels. You pause, eyes narrowing, before widening, fighting a smile. A thing he can tell, can read. Even if you try to hide it in the night, shield it from the almost full moon and the stars which twinkle above.

“You think you’d be able to be my friend if I kissed you, Nemo?”

Leaning against the brick of your house, watching your eyes flick from his shoes back to his face.

“Finally ran out of cat names?”

“I’m branching out. I could go back to calling you Salem.”

Smirking, rolling his lips. “Still not a fish.”

Sighing, shifting your weight. “Didn’t answer my question.”

Wiping his hand with his face, hurrying his brain to think of something, anything, because he’s not sure if this is a joke. If you’re pushing him.

But the longer the silence thickens, the more time you stare at him, eyes growing wider and wider, he thinks that it might not be his heart that is the only one pounding. The only one beating in his ears, the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Fran—”

“No,” he stammers, clearing his throat. “I–I’d be too busy.”

Lips sliding into your cheek, nervousness fading, fingers scratching the tip of your nose as he swears a shooting star soars in your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Kissing you fifteen hundred times.”

“Just fifteen hundred?”

Shrugging, chewing his tongue, he exhales—loud, nostrils flaring. “To start.”

Taking a step closer, a timid one. Enough to make a point, but not enough to close the gap entirely. Your knuckles brush his stomach, a blend between a stroke and a nudge.

“You’ve thought about this.”

A small part—one wrapped in vines of doubt, encased in pretending—warns him to clamp his mouth shut. To swallow the syllables and forms letters that make the sentence buzz in his mouth, along his teeth, and jaw.

Flicking his eyes from the floor to your face. “All the time, baby.”

He hears it, but he enjoys watching it more, the way you gasp. Low, airy, trying to bury it.

“Give me a goodnight kiss, Morales.”

He doesn’t think twice.

Brushing his lips against yours, soft, cautious, and tender, before it deepens. It makes his heart throb, double; it almost somersaults in his chest as your palm presses to his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as one of his hands finds a home on your waist.

Then you’re smiling, almost laughing, right up against his mouth as he tastes the sugar on your lips. He feels the joy brushing against his mouth as your fingers knot into his hair.

And it unlocks him, allows you to consume him, to find himself free falling knowing he'll never land, fall or be hurt—just floating, as you tug him flush to you, a feeling so heavenly he almost wishes to pinch himself—

“Of course, you’re a good kisser,” you whisper, ghosting the words over his lips.

“Been thinking about it, have you?”

Snorting, nose nudging his, you press your mouth back to his, more searing, open-mouthed. “When I drive. At work. In the morning. At night.”

Each is punctuated with a kiss. The latter flows around his head, swirling in different shades and fonts as he groans, fingers sliding around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Making it a little rougher, more committed, feeling you cling to him, tugging him closer as he manoeuvres the two of you—flushing your back to the brick, his chest to yours.

A moan escapes you, tickling his lower lip as your thumb brushes along the back of his neck. Mouths parting, for a moment breathing the other, simply staring, gazing, ogling.

“Fourteen hundred and ninety-nine to go?”

Shaking his head, nose brushing yours, thumb stroking against your cheek. “This is a goodnight kiss—a necessity to begin the counter.”

“Oh,” you whisper, elongating it, adding a smirk to the end. “So, we have another fifteen hundred and then, we stop?”

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your perfume weaving into his soul. The sound of a car streets away travelling in the quiet of the night.

“Depends.” Tilting your head, waiting, confusion there. “You might unlock the next stage.”

Grinning against him, able to feel it as he runs his knuckles along your jaw.

“Or my lips fall off?”

Laughing, just like he did earlier. He smiles. “Or your lips fall off.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

[techmomma]

Driving Tips

As I understand it, there's actually quite a few of you on here who either don't drive or are very new at driving, or are very scared of driving! So as someone who has been driving for 15 years, here are some tips from good ol' Steph in no particular order.

Put more space between you and the car ahead of you than you think you need. Especially on freeways/highways/motorways. I grew up with the rule of "for every ten mph, add another car space." So if I'm going 30mph, then I should have at LEAST 3 car's worth of space between me and the car in front of me. I don't know how that translates to kph but I'm sure there's something similar.

I extend this even to coming to a stop. I try to leave at least a car space even when stopping at intersections.

The reason for this, if you remember from driving school, is to be able to come to a safe stop for your vehicle. But did you know it's not just for you? It's ALSO for the people BEHIND you, who may still be up your ass. If you come to a sudden stop, they're going to ram right into your backside. The space to slow down gives them time to slow down too.

If you've never had to come to a hard stop, YOU NEED MORE SPACE THAN YOU THINK YOU DO TO COME TO A FULL STOP. YOUR CAR WILL JUST KEEP GOING IF YOU WERE GOING FAST ENOUGH.

See this bad boy? The little circular mirror?

If your side mirrors don't come with one of these, get one. They will let you check your blind spot without twisting around in your seat--meaning you're not taking your eyes off of the road ahead of you so you can see behind you! They're literally like $5 and you can get them almost everywhere from convenience stores to supermarkets to auto shops.

It also helps with parking!!

The more scared you are, the worse you are going to drive. Like yes, don't be lackadaisical, you're driving a machine that weighs several tons. But the more afraid you are, the more you're going to overreact and overcompensate when things go wrong and in a car, keeping a cool head is going to be one of your biggest strengths if something goes wrong. Panicking will make things worse. You need to take active steps to stay cool when driving.

One of the ways you can do that is trying to find things you do enjoy about driving. You're controlling a scientific marvel full of incredible math and physics at play! Find ways to turn driving into something you can enjoy and it'll get easier to keep a cool head in it, rather than focusing on the myriad of ways it can kill you.

A horse can kill you in a myriad of ways too. But so can a dedicated duck. Your car ain't special.

In the same vein, I approach cars kind of like riding horses: yes this thousand pound animal can kill me, but also if it moves wrong it will break all of its bones, so while I need to respect its power, I also need to remain calm and take charge, to keep both the horse and myself safe. Do it. Anthropomorphize your car.

Another way is learning how to take care of your car, yourself! There are countless youtube videos that can teach you how to change a tire, emergency supplies you should keep in your car, how to change the oil, etc.. Taking care of your car helps turn it from something scary to something you start to understand inside and out--and knowledge helps us be less afraid.

In the same way, take some time to sit in your car, pull out the owner's manual, and read it over. Learning all of the buttons and what-does-what also helps give you a sense of control over your car.

Wear your fucking seatbelt jesus christ the laws have been in place for 50 fucking years (in America) for a reason

Figure out the best driving setup that works for you and keeps you the most comfortable and relaxed. For some people, this means putting on some tunes. For some, it means turning them off. Adjust your chair so that you have the best view around you, of your mirrors, while not putting strain on your back.

Keep your eyes ahead but take glances at cars to either side of you. There are two kinds of driving, called "reactive" and "proactive" driving. Reactive driving means only reacting to whatever immediately comes up, proactive driving means anticipating things that could come up. So for example, I'm driving down the highway. The car to my side is driving faster, at such a rate that if they continue, they will hit the car in front of them. If there is space in front of you, that probably means they're going to try to merge into your lane! (And probably suddenly, without using heir turn signal!) I slow down in those cases, to give this manic plenty of room to merge.

This also looks like keeping an eye not just on the car ahead of you, but several cars ahead of you. If you notice red lights in the distance, that means people are slowing down or coming to a stop, and you should be preparing to do so, too!

Just let people merge, man. If you're moving forward, you lose nothing by letting people merge with you. I don't put a "limit" on the number of people who "can" merge into my lane--if you keep enough space between you and the car ahead of you, there's always enough room to merge. There's literally nothing to be gained by not letting someone merge, besides being called an asshole.

And I mean. How many times have you tried to merge and fucking nobody would let you? And then some saint of a person finally lets you in before you miss your turn and you want to kiss their feet. Just imagine how many people will call you a saint for letting them merge. Imagine how many days are made when you let people merge.

In addition, though you probably won' reap the benefits, letting people merge helps keep the flow of traffic going and prevents backups and slow-downs! You, personally, can help clear up traffic that's come to a crawl. I have watched it happen in my rearview mirror, just by letting people merge.

(Think of how many accidents you also prevent because someone isn't panicking as they try to get to merge and trying to make sudden decisions under high pressure.)

Obviously don't do it FREQUENTLY if you don't have to: but try to learn how to drive one-handed. Being able to do so (briefly) means you know what to do if an emergency comes up and you need one of your hands. (Secret: it's your palm, not your fingers, for one-handed driving.)

Look, I KNOW the temptation is fucking real. I know. I KNOW. But do not brakecheck people. It is way more dangerous for you than it is for the shithead up your ass. It doesn't even work most of the time, if they're gonna get on your ass, they're gonna get on your ass, and brakechecking them is just gonna make them even pissier about it.

I do, recommend, however, going slower. Ease back on the gas~ This will also piss them off but it will make them more likely to just get fed up and pass you. If they can't pass you then you get to drink in the exasperation on their face in your rearview mirror.

When it comes to seeing other Problem Drivers on the road, there's kind of two main schools of thought, which is to either keep them ahead of you or put them behind you. I personally like to keep Problem Drivers ahead of me, if I can help it. I'd rather be able to see a problem and be able to react to it than put it behind me and then the Problem driver slams into me from behind because I had no idea they were still there.

If you have problems with night driving, try getting some kind of anti-glare lenses. It's glare that's typically the biggest issue with night-driving, so cutting through that will make things easier, safer, and more relaxed if you have to do so by night.

If your tire is losing air somewhat slowly and you can't afford to get it replaced just yet, there's an old solution that younger people might not know: find an air pump at a gas station, and fill the tire with air, yourself! It's really not hard, you just need to find what psi the tire is supposed to be pumped to (this will be on the side of the tire). At the air pump station, most stations now will let you set the psi you need for the tire, so you can set it to idk 42 psi? And it will automatically cut off or warn you when the tire pressure hits that psi! Pchow, easy fix, and if it's deflating slowly, this will buy you a little more time. Best of all, some stations offer their air pumps for free, but even if you have to pay, I think when I filled my tire a few months ago it was like $2 for 5 minutes of unlimited air pumping, which is more than enough for all of my tires, let alone just one.

That's all I can think of for now, so if you have any questions or want any advice, please feel free to ask! I am happy to impart whatever cultural knowledge/adulting information I can to you!

[ghostradiodylan]

I'm on a four hour car drive, singing at the top of my lungs (terribly, I'm so congested right now, not gonna stop me though lol), and having quarry brainrot. Who among the counselors do you think can sing well and who do you think can play an instrument?

I looove this question and I have to admit I haven’t thought about it that much so this is gonna be kind of off the cuff, instinctive stuff and I’m sure I’ll refine my opinions if others chime in (please!).

It’s kind of weird we never get any campfire singalong action in the game when there’s a guitar in Chris’s bedroom and he mentions Kumbaya, but maybe they’re tired of that from camp by the time the plot line picks up.

Miles obviously is a musician and Dylan’s the music guy so I’d imagine he’s musically inclined in some way. I’ve seen headcanons that he plays guitar and I could see that but I lean more toward thinking he would have taken piano lessons when he was younger and moved on to keyboard and adding on techie stuff like the Mellotron and Moog synth. I think he loves dials and buttons and weird sounds and he can sing but he’d rather fuck around in the noise. Any instrument he plays is gonna get a bit sad if he loses his hand but maybe he’d get more into sampling and remixing and looping computer generated beats as a result.

I think it would be funny if Jacob had a surprisingly angelic singing voice that was completely uncoached and no one ever expected out of him, sort of like Finn from Glee (RIP) but less auto-tuned. I think he’d be an acoustic guitar guy for sure just for the romance of it. Anyway, here’s “Wonderwall.”

Actual footage of Jacob serenading Emma, feat Abi.

Kaitlyn does not strike me as particularly musical though I headcanon that she and Jacob slay karaoke together. She just kind of shouts into the mic like a 90s riot grrl and sings Alanis or Joan Jett and kills.

Abi is so high school marching band nerd coded to me and I feel like she’s a total flute/piccolo girlie or else clarinet/oboe. Or maybe she plays violin in the school orchestra. Something sweet. She’s good but too nervous to perform or audition in front of people very much so it’s just a hobby she shares with people she trusts.

Emma I think would have a perfectly nice mid range singing voice that she’d wish was better. She probably started her influencer career recording Taylor Swift covers for YouTube but she’s a much better actress and dancer than she is a singer. Not quite triple threat material but she believes in herself so she’s trying.

Ryan has such a unique voice that I can’t decide if he definitely can sing or if he’s practically tone deaf. I kind of lean toward the latter. I imagine he hates his singing voice and rarely sings even for fun but if Dylan catches him singing or humming he’s like smitten times one million about it. I could see Ryan playing drums though, I’d imagine he has a good sense of rhythm.

Max, on the other hand, cannot carry a tune but sings ALL THE TIME anyway. And Laura cringes but finds it endearing all the same. He probably plays the ukulele. He just seems like the type.

Laura was a choir kid for sure and probably got solos in school plays and Max was accompanying her on ukulele and playing unnamed roles or else he was painting backdrops or something. We know Siobahn can sing and I feel like that would carry through with Laura for sure. I imagine them doing elaborate musical routines together on car rides even with their vastly different musical abilities.

Nick reminds me of a bassist I know who is maybe the weirdest human being alive. So that’s where I see him. He can sing a little but it’s definitely a backing vocals voice. I feel like he’d be in a stoner jam band just fucking around, playing the same song for an hour while both the band and audience are too high to know the difference.

Chris Hackett obviously plays guitar and Travis accompanies him on harmonica. Bobby plays blowing air over the lip of a jug and also cowbell.

I LOVE THIS ASK EVERYONE TELL ME THOUGHTS!

[house-of-slayterr]

Shed Your Scales: Become Human Again…

AN: The third and final chapter of the series, I think you all wanted the reader to end up with Peter so here’s the ending!

Dr Connor’s POV:

I paced around her apartment, waiting for that annoying little spider to show up. He didn’t seem the type to just leave someone in danger like this, let alone his own friend.

I’d wrapped her in a slew of blankets, making sure to raise her body temperature, checking it every ten minutes with the forehead thermometer. It was barley working. I put a hot rag at the back of her neck, which should be helping more than it is. It was like her body was shutting down.

I cursed under my breath, my head shooting up when the door opened and I heard the familiar voice of Parker. He quickly stumbled into the apartment, shutting the door and rushing over.

He starred at me for a second, taking in my appearance as my transformation settled a bit more, looking more animal than man-

“Dr Connor’s.” He greeted me coldly.

It was almost comical… almost-

“No time for pleasantries Peter-“ I pointed to the counter. “Set up over there and we’ll get to work. She’s loosing too much body heat and her organs are shutting down quicker than before, not just her kidneys anymore. She’s thrown up twice and passed back out.”

Peter sucked in a breath, avoiding looking directly at her. How odd, Spider-man can go around beating up half the city, but he can’t handle his own friend dying in front of him. I followed him over to the counter, setting up beakers and burners and getting to work.

Most of it was child’s play, after making the serum a handful of times, it was like working on auto-pilot. I didn’t stop until Peter’s hand was on my own.

“This isn’t a cure, is it?” He asked finally.

I’ll give it to him, he was my brightest pupil for a reason. So much potential thrown down the drain because his heart won’t let him go where is head could take him. He could be legendary if he just threw aside that pesky moral compass.

“It will fix her.” I stated simply.

I couldn’t practically see the hair on the back of his neck standing up, an interesting reaction. There was suddenly a web on the serum as he pulled it away just before it finished. I growled under my breath, glaring at the young man.

“Peter-“ I said warningly.

“No, I’m not gonna help you make her like you… what you did, what you are is wrong Dr Connors. This is just the serum talking, you’re sick!” He exclaimed

“No Peter, that’s just the thing. I’ve never felt better, never been stronger, faster, more in tune with my surroundings. I’m better than any simple human, and I refuse to go back to being the weak man I was before!” I crept toward him as he backed up.

I was in her apartment, she would appreciate it much if I tore it to shreds, but she’d understand. This is all for her, for William, so they can lead a better life. No one could hurt them anymore. The world couldn’t beat them down at every turn.

People could call me a bad teacher, a bad scientist all they wanted. But I refused to be labelled a father who didn’t love and do anything for his children.

He used another web to cling to the serum to the ceiling in the corner. I growled yet again, he was wasting my time… her time-

“Peter she will die, you know this right?” I scoffed.

“I won’t let her.” He said determined. “But I won’t let you turn her into a monster either!”

He lunged toward toward her on the couch and I was quick to cut him off.

“You’re not touching my daughter-“

“And you’re not killing her!” He shouted.

“You’re a child Peter, there are things you don’t understand about this world. She’ll understand, she’ll forgive me. Even if she doesn’t at least she’ll be breathing. And that stupid transplant list will be obsolete! Don’t you see, this is the next strange of human evolution!”

She stirred on the couch behind us, both of our heads snapping in her direction. She wasn’t quite awake, she appeared to be having some sort of nightmare, calling out for… Peter in her sleep.

“I’m here Y/N, I’m not leaving you” He said, not sure if she could even hear him.

Her chest rose and fell more rapidly now. Just before he got here I finally found a heated blanket at the back of her closet, adding it to the pile. Perhaps now her temperature was too high, I hadn’t gotten a chance to take it recently.

“Peter, her temperature.” I sattted simply.

He quickly grabbed the thermometer and checked it. I didn’t need to see his face, the rest of his body language told me what I needed to know.

“She burning up!” He quickly removed some of the covers. “I think her body is finally rejecting whatever dose you gave her.”

“All the more reason for you to let me give her a full dose! Her body is trying to kill it like an infection, but if it overpowers her, her body can’t fight it off.”

Before I had a chance to go back to the corner to get the serum and finish it, he had her in his arms, cradling her tight. Peter wouldn’t let me get close. But I couldn’t hurt him, without hurting her. The probability wasn’t in my favour.

“Peter, unhand my daughter…”

“Respectfully sir, fuck off!” He spat at me. “I’m taking he to a damn hospital like I should have told her to do in the first place.”

This only enraged me more. He’d talked to her before she came to see me. What if he’d convinced her not to show?

“This really how you want things to play out Parker?”

He didn’t give a verbal reply and I sighed. My tail wrapped around a jar of corrosive acid, and I tossed it in his direction. It hit his arm that he held up defensively, cutting through the fabric of his clothes easily and biting at his skin. My hypothesis was right, any attack I threw at him, he’d defend her still. How interesting. Using his body as a shield for her.

I threw another random vial at him, watching as her expertly dogged, carrying her around like she weighed nothing. When his eyes landed on the front door I panicked, he couldn’t take her out of this apartment. The temperature change from inside to outside might be detrimental.

But he should know this.

“Doctor Connor’s you have to let me save her. She’s your daughter for fucks sake!”

“I’m sorry Peter.” was all I said before throwing some flour from her kitchen at him as a distraction, and coming up behind him and hitting him over the head.

I swiftly grabbed her from his arms before his body hit the floor. I brought her to the corner of the room, laying her down against the wall as I ripped the serum from the ceiling, finishing it properly before injecting it into her neck.

“Come back to me Sweet Girl, you have to wake up now.” My voice sounded strained and desperate.

I debated, only for a moment, giving Mr Parker a dose. Curious how it would interact with his own Mutation. But more so just to see if he’d suffer the pain of the transformation. My attention was brought away from his limp form when she started stirring again.

This time fully thrashing in her sleep. I knelt to the floor and brought her body closer to mine.

“There there, daddy’s got you. It will be better soon.”

Readers POV:

A few weeks had passed since I left this apartment. Since I saw Peter… how could I possibly leave? I was freak now.

My father told me he tried to make a cure but it was too late. But there was something in his eyes, something that told me I was naive to believe that. To believe him, to believe in him in the first place. For Christ sake, he didn’t even know I existed for 20 years. But I was so desperate for make validation, for a father figure, that I believed it. His whole bullshit loving, caring father gig. I fell for it, hook, like and sinker.

At least I didn’t feel like I was dying anymore. But I was desperate to find my own cure. Maybe still separate to save him, though the world insisted he was too far gone. I hadn’t seen either of them since that morning. When I woke up in the apartment, I was alone, and scared…

The only way to keep tabs on my father was by watching the news. Watching him fight with Spider-man, Peter, my best friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so enraged before. Peter’s body language was easy to read in his suit, even on television. It was almost like he wanted to kill him.

And now I knew, my father wasn’t above that. Peter would bring him in, but Dr Connor’s- he was capable of doing the worst. If my father set his mind that something was the only option, he’d go for it, forgoing all consequences. Adding to his list of mistakes and catastrophes because he’s already a damned man.

I couldn’t see my friends, live a life, this want feasible. Harry and Gwen had been calling and texting and that’s the best I could give them. Claiming I was horribly I’ll all of a sudden and had to go away to get treatment. Which technically wasn’t a lie, well it wouldn’t have been if my kidneys were still in failure.

There was suddenly a knock at my… window?

“Peter?” I asked.

I heard the window open and little footsteps, but not on the floor. I turned my head up from my fathers notes I’d been studying for weeks, trying to find a way to reverse this. And there he was, in all his glory, The Amazing Spider-Man, crawling on my ceiling. Don’t get me wrong, I was more than happy to see him, but not like this.

“You’re bleeding Peter.”

“You’re dad sank his claws into me.” He stated in that goofy way he always makes a pun.

I rolled my eyes. Oh how much that statement rang true. He had his claws in both of us, and now it was too late, we ignored the warning signs.

“Get down from the ceiling please…”

I kept my apartment warmer, now that I couldn’t produce my own body heat, I had to adapt. Ordering things online and making excuses for why I couldn’t sign for deliver. Not wanting to scare the poor driver forced to come to my house of all places. They didn’t deserve that, they were just innocent bystanders in all of this. Nobody should have to look at me.

He hung down from the ceiling with one hand, skilfully dropping to the floor and I went under my kitchen sink to get my first aid kit.

“You came back?” I said, it sounded weak and pathetic.

“Of course I did, I would have come sooner but your dad and some other villains have kept me pretty busy.”

“I can see that, I’ve been watching the news, not much to do when you’re trapped.”

I came back over to where he now sat on my coffee table and set down my supplies. Most of the damage was on his side, and his leg, but I didn’t doubt he had a few concussions by now.

“You have to take off the suit Peter, I can’t patch you up like this.”

He nodded, taking off the suit, leaving him in just the mask and his boxers. Normally I wouldn’t feel bad about starring, I’ve seen Peter shirtless countless times. But this felt wrong somehow, for a creature like me to pine after someone as good hearted as him.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

He asked as I continued cleaning his wounds, and stitching up the deeper ones. I took a deep breath, letting out a sigh.

“You tried to stop him right?”

“Of course! You said you’ve been watching the news, all I’ve been trying to do is catch your father all month!” He sounded exhausted and I didn’t blame him.

“No I mean, this, me- there’s really no way to fix me is there? This was Inevitable…” I hung my head low in shame.

I was surprised when Peter reached out a hand and gently placed it on my cheek. The warmth from his fingertips feeling inviting and safe.

“I could have, but I made the mistake of giving your father a second chance and he blew it. I blew it. He knocked me out before I could save you, and when I woke up he’d managed to drag me down to the sewers. I had no idea if you made it, if you were ok… if he killed you. I was horrified.”

I could feel tears in my eyes now, as I used one of my scaley hands to press his skin impossibly closer to mine.

“When he told me it worked I- I was worried you’d be just like him. I was worried I’d lost my best friend. But I realised now, it wasn’t fully the serums fault. If it was, you wouldn’t be hiding yourself away, punishing yourself for your fathers crime.”

That was what I was doing…

I hadn’t realised it.

“He wants to turn William… and his wife Peter. He has some sick idea of us being the perfect family. Because he think we’re better than everyone else now. But I’ve never felt more alone Petey…”

He pulled me in for a hug, and I didn’t want to let go.

“God I forgot how warm you run” I laughed, trying to ease the awkward tension.

“You always did say I was like your own personal heating pad” he joked back.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?” He repeated in the same cadence as earlier.

The two of us locked eyes and it felt like the world stoped, even through his mask I could tell his eyes were trained entirely on my own. I reached forward and took off his mask, laughing a little at his “helmet hair”.

“I-“

I couldn’t bring myself to say it. It felt wrong to say it now. To say it looking like this. Knowing he could never take me out on dates, or show me off in pictures, or introduce me to new friends. I’d already resigned to having to ghost my other two best friends, which made me feel awful. They deserved an explanation.

I guess my spiralling thoughts were more visible on the outside than I thought. Because I never expected him to do what he did next. My eyes went wide with shock when Peter’s lips were on mine. He kissed me- wait he’s still kissing me.

I finally responded, grabbing his face and pulling him more into me.

“Wow.” Was all I managed to say when he pulled away.

Peter looked at me smirking, and I raised my eyebrow confused.

“I thought that might work.” He said proudly.

“What?” I asked, entirely confused.

“The transformation, it’s not permeant, I’ve learned that from wagging your father. He returned to himself once in a moment of clarity…” he explained.

I blushed harder than I thought I ever could. But was still a little confused. Peter chuckled and pulled out his phone, turning on the camera and flipping it to show me.

I just starred.

I was back, I was me. I was really me.

“What, how?”

“You’ve been blaming yourself for everything that went down. You saw yourself as a monster so you reminded one. But when I kissed you…”

“Peter you’re a genius!”

I swatted the phone out of his hand and threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck in a tight hug, resting my head on his shoulder. But then I frowned, what if he only kissed me to fix me. I pulled away slightly. But he kept me firmly held close to him.

“No no, I just got you back, don’t start fretting on this again. You can’t let it consume you ok?”

I nodded, just happy to be held, especially in the comfort of my favourite persons arms. I rested my head back in the crook of his neck as we just sat there swaying for a moment.

“I love you Peter Parker.” I whispered in his ear.

He was the one to pull away this time, and I was scared I over stepped, but was pleasantly surprised when his lips were on mine again.

“And I love you Y/N, don’t ever forget that.”

Safe to say I’d be stuck in my apartment at least one more day. But at least this time I’d have company. Maybe being an advanced meta human wouldn’t be all that bad. If I could learn to control it, I could help Peter save the city. I could help save Peter from this city….

An: it’s been a while since I actually got to sit down and write, and oh my gods did I miss it. Sweet Lucifer I love writing, sharing my silly little day dreams with you all brings me so much joy! Gotta turn the curse of Maladaptive daydreaming into something productive.

Tag: @queer-and-utter-chaos @mothmans-kingdom @frenziedslashers

[ghostofbriggiesmalls]

People are pointing out all the insane shit the UC schools are requesting as far as weapons go, but the 1 that is *killing* me is fucking Irvine. UCI had the GALL to request 20 Sig SBRs. The most fucking Gucci-ass cammosexual stolen-valor motherfucking chudd gun in all of history that only men who are scared ALL. THE. TIME. get grifted buy for $2500-3000. Not including insane fees and, if you’re a normie, all the tax stamp stuff bc it’s a SBR.

You dont buy this gun to use for any fucking actual purpose other than going hog fucking wild living out your pathetic Rambo fantasies where you’re the main character who people finally like because you killed all the bad guys and now you’re the hero. This gun is the most loser-coded gun ever fucking smithed in the history of guns. and these fucking morons at UCI PD who think they’re fucking KAG for pepper spraying students sleeping in a tent think Californians tax dollars should buy them each $3k rifles (the government gets the opposite of wholesale prices) to the tune of $60,000 so they can more efficiently murder people. actually, come to think of it, these are gov employees. They can have full auto rifles. These may even be full auto versions, which can’t be any less than $5k each. So they can mow students down at will. for the love of god this bullshit has to stop. This shit is an appalling and flagrant middle finger to all California tax payers saying, “fuck you I can buy a Ferrari with your taxes if I want, what are you gonna do about it”

[fanficimagery]

Guns, Claws & Teeth pt. 1

On the way back from running an errand for your brother, you stop by an auto garage for a tune-up for your car. Once there, you run into a bit of trouble but it's nothing you can't handle. Unfortunately, the humans you've made friends with are dragged into the mess.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Words: 3.2K Author's Note: If you’re from the SoA fandom, LOOK AWAY! I’ve never seen the show- just read a lot of fic and seen some clips. Needless to say, my characterization of your favorite bikers is most likely terrible. SoA and Teen Wolf AU.

When an issue arose with a couple of packs in southern California, Derek sent you to check it out and resolve it as quickly as possible in his name. Each state obviously had several packs residing within it, but there was only one alpha which all the other packs looked to for guidance and to resolve any issues they were having with other surrounding packs. And for as long as you can remember that one alpha has always been a Hale, even after the terrible tragedy that nearly wiped out every Hale in the state of California.

On the way back to Beacon Hills after a successful impromptu peace summit, you notice your car isn't running as smoothly as it should. You're in the town of Lodi when you realize it and you ask around for a legitimate auto garage as you stretch your legs a bit. Everyone tells you Teller-Morrow Automotive in Charming is the best you can get around these parts and you thank them for the suggestion.

Ten minutes later and you're pulling up outside of Teller-Morrow Automotive. The gates are open, and you see a couple of milling about inside. You carefully drive in and put your car in park. Off to the side, one individual is on a smoke break, and he whistles appreciatively at the sight of your all black 1967 Chevy Camaro. He stands, sweeping back his hair over his head as you cut the engine, and it's then you notice the scar alongside his cheek.

"That's an absolute beaut, lass."

"Thank you." You pull out the keys, pocket them, and climb out of your car to meet him halfway. "Are you guys open for drive-ups or..?"

"The lads an' I have some time to kill after they finish the car in the garage. What is it you'll be needin'?"

"Full tune-up. She wasn't driving as smoothly as I'd like."

"I think we can swing it. Let me check wit' the boss." The man turns and sharply whistles, and then two other men are making their way towards you. One blonde with a swagger in his step that you can't help but appreciate, and the other with a mohawk trimmed closely to his head and tattoos taking up the bare skin. While blondie has a neutral expression on his expression, the other is smiling wide as he eyes your car.

"What's going on, Chibs?"

"The lil' lass here wants to know if we're open to doing a full tune-up for her."

"Money is no issue so long as you don't jerk me around," you say. "If it needs fixing, I don't mind paying for it, but don't say something needs to be replaced if it truly doesn't."

Blondie looks you up and down before eying your car, smiling. "Might run you a couple hundred."

"I'm good for it."

"I'm sure you are." He looks back at you and holds a hand out. "Jax Teller, owner. You've already met Chibs and the one eye-fuckin' your car is Juice."

You laugh as you clasp his hand with yours. "YN Hale."

His hand squeezes yours a little tighter as the twinkle in his eye vanishes. Your muscles tense as anger suddenly wafts off all three men. "Any relation to Deputy Chief David Hale?"

"Nope." You shake your head. "The only Hale's I know of are me and my brother, and we reside in Beacon Hills. We don't have any other family."

The men seem to relax at that and Jax finally releases your hand. You then shove both your hands in your back pockets. "So the tune-up?"

"Yeah. Uh, we can do it. Might take a couple of hours, depending on what needs to be replaced and that's after we finish the car we're working on right now."

"That's fine. I'm in no rush."

"Then you're gonna wanna go see my mom so she can take down your info. Name's Gemma. She's in the office."

"Thanks." You take your right hand out of your back pocket and dig into your front pocket for the keys. You toss them up in the air and Juice is quick to catch them.

"I'll take those," he says.

You laugh and then make your way towards the garage, eying the part of it where it's obviously a place to hangout for them. You continue walking, heading for the door that's partially opened on the opposite end of the garage where you can hear someone inside.

You knock on the door jamb, waiting for permission to enter.

"Yeah? Come in." You push the door further open, flashing a sheepish smile when the elder brunette looks up from shuffling a few papers behind a desk. She looks you up and down, sizing you up with a haughty expression on her face, and raises an eyebrow at you. "What can I do for you?"

"Jax told me to meet with you so you can take down my info. They're gonna do a tune-up on my car."

She sighs and gestures to the chair across from her. "Have a seat." She grabs a paper from one of the desk drawers and clicks open a pen. "Name, number, make and model of car." As you rattle off the information to the woman, you watch as she scribbles it all down. "That's a nice car you got there. Might need more than the usual tune-up."

"Like I told your son, money is no issue. I'm good for it."

She huffs. "Are you sure mommy and daddy aren't gonna pitch a fit for spending their cash?"

You grin at the cattiness in her tone. "Unfortunately, mommy and daddy have no say in how I spend their life insurance money." Gemma pauses and glances up at you, expression torn between indifference and guilt. You shrug, flashing her a grin to let her know you're not offended. "When a psychotic bitch locks your family in your family home and burns it all to the ground, you tend to have more money than you know what to do with."

"Jesus, honey, I didn't-"

"It's okay," you assure her. "I forget not everyone knows about my family tragedy. It was a big deal in Beacon Hills and even to this day everyone still kind of looks at me and brother with pity in their eyes." Gemma still doesn't say anything and you clap your hands on your thighs. "So, uh, if that's all then I'm gonna go take a lap around the town. Any specific stores I should hit up?"

"Uh, there's a good milkshake shop in the middle of town."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to swing by. If you need me to head back, you have my number on file now. If not, I hope it's okay I hang out by one of those picnic tables later if the boys aren't done by the time I come back."

"Sure. Picnic tables are fair game."

"Awesome. Is there a number for a cab around these parts?" Gemma quickly jots down a number and you take the sticky note, smiling. "Thanks. If that's all, I'll see you later."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

As you walk back out through the garage, you see that your car has been pulled into one of the stalls, but the boys are working on the car they had previously been working on before you interrupted them. You wave when they look up and continue on until you're standing outside the gates, leaning on the fence and calling for a cab.

For the next several hours, you eat lunch and walk from shop to shop in downtown Charming. There's a small boutique which sells decent clothes, a malt shop, a bookstore, an electronics shop and a jewelry shop. You end up buying a few clothing items and a couple of books, then buying yourself a milkshake before heading over to the local park.

Sitting beneath the tree, you sip on your milkshake while reading one of your books.

Close to five, you start getting text messages from Jax telling you everything your car was going to need replaced. As you went over a mental checklist of what he was telling you, you realized he was right. You asked him for an oil change and tire rotation as well since your baby was due for one in a month anyway, and he agreed to it. He told you everything was going to be just under two hundred dollars and you figured that was fair.

You spend another hour reading until you start getting hungry and figure you'll just head back to the garage with dinner for everyone. So after finding out there's a pizza parlor, you have your cab driver take you there. Four boxes of meat lover's pizza and two cold cases of beer later, your cab driver is helping you take everything down at the garage and setting it all on a picnic table outside.

"Come and get it, boys and lady! Dinner's served."

You glance towards the garage and watch as the boys finish wiping down your car, and Gemma pokes her head out from her office. They all share a few looks of confusion before they make their way towards you, with a newcomer in tow, and Juice immediately beams.

"Hell yeah."

"Hope you guys don't mind meat lovers and the beer I got. I wasn't sure what you guys liked."

"It's perfect," Juice says. "I'm just gonna put one of these cases in the fridge."

As Juice disappears with one of the cases of beer, you glance up at Jax and the tall man next to him. He's wearing a black beanie and has a full beard, but the thing that catches your attention is the biker kutte he's wearing. Sons of Anarchy. You quickly piece together the automotive garage is also a motorcycle club, but it changes nothing of your opinion on these people.

Gemma looks between the food and you. "Thanks, sweetie, but you didn't have to do this."

You smile at her. "I wanted to. Besides, I know what working in a garage is like. You work up quite an appetite in there."

Jax raises an eyebrow at you, blue eyes twinkling. "Got experience?"

"I do, actually. My brother owns La Luna Automotive in Beacon Hills."

His lips twitch. "Before we get into that, let's sit."

Juice returns with paper plates and napkins as Chibs and the newcomer push together two picnic tables. You rip open the case of beer and pass a few bottles out before you take your seat, smiling as Opie introduces himself while taking a seat next to you. Juice passes out the paper plates while Gemma hands out napkins, and everyone readily pulls slices of pizza onto their plates.

Gemma is the only one who delicately eats, shaking her head in amusement as the boys dig in.

After a few moments of eating and drinking, Gemma finally addresses you.

"So, YN," she waits until you glance at her. "I'm not one for apologies, but I feel like I owe you one." The men all freeze, glancing between you and her.

"You really don't, Gemma. It's fine."

"It's not. I made a bitchy comment based on your appearance and lack of concern over money. You didn't deserve that."

"Thank you."

"And you have my heartfelt condolences. That fire-" She trails off, shaking her head, lost in her thoughts.

Jax gulps. "Ma? What are you talking about?"

She continues to shake her head before looking at you and you sigh. "She's talking about the Hale family fire," you tell them. Immediately you have everyone's attention. "When I was fourteen, numerous members of my family were purposely trapped in our family home and burned alive. The youngest victim was only ten months old."

"What the fuck?" Jax says.

"My idiot brother dated our high school substitute teacher. When our sister found out and threatened this woman, she went crazy. Especially when my brother broke things off with her. So to hit my brother where it really hurt, she went after our family. The only survivor from the fire was my uncle. My eldest sister was away at college, the woman had lured my brother away so he would be wracked with guilt, and I was at a sleepover."

"This bitch is rotting in prison, right?" Gemma asks. "I'd like to pay her a little visit."

The men chuckle and you flash her a smile before taking a sip of your beer. "She got smart. She hired three men to do all her dirty work so if the cops made any arrests, nothing would point to her unless they talked."

"Wait, so she's not in prison?" Opie frowns.

You shake her head. "There were no arrests even though we knew exactly who started the fire. It was her word against ours, so my sister put our uncle in a nursing home and took me and my brother out of state. We stayed in New York for a few years before my sister went back to Beacon Hills for something. She didn't check in like she was supposed to, so we went looking for her. We found her dead on the grounds of where our family home once stood."

"Holy shit," Jax murmurs in awe.

"Oh. It gets better." You chuckle, pausing briefly so you can eat a bite more. "When me and my brother reestablished ourselves back in Beacon Hills, guess who kidnapped my brother and tortured him for shits and giggles?"

"That fucking bitch." Gemma's expression is enough to make you laugh.

"My uncle, who had miraculously recovered, ended up getting justice for our family before the cops showed up. Then my uncle was killed, and me and my brother inherited a shit load of money. Which brings us to why Gemma mostly thought I was just another little rich bitch."

The men all chuckle as Gemma flashes you yet another sheepish look. Everyone goes quiet as your past tragedy sinks in, eating some more and easily finishing off three boxes of the pizza.

Eventually though, Jax has a question for you. "So if your brother owns a car garage, why waste your money here?"

"Well for one, I was not about to drive my baby all the way back to Beacon Hills when I noticed something was wrong. And two, this place looked like it held some honest workers and well.. why not share the wealth?"

"You get yer hands dirty, luv?" Chibs wonders.

You nod. "Here and there. My brother liked to take in strays from shitty homes, putting them to work so they could make an honest living when they were older. And when it turned out that we all had an affinity for fixing up vehicles, my brother opened a shop so the strays could have a steady job. We all work at La Luna for him, but he needed me to run an errand for him."

"Huh. I would not have pegged you for someone who likes to get their hands dirty," Jax says.

"Oh blondie, you have no idea how dirty I like to get." The men all roar with laughter as Gemma chuckles, shaking her head at you. "So enough about me," you say. "What about you guys? Is it always this quiet around here?"

"Nah," Jax tells you. "There's usually a lot more of us, but my step-dad had to deliver some parts to another location. Our brothers rode out to keep him company."

You nod and say no more.

After everyone's had their fill and is just lounging about, Gemma tells you if you're ready to square up your bill. You agree and follow her into her office, paying your bill without any issue.

As you're making your way back to the group of men are who enjoying their beers, another person walks through the opened gate of the lot. Everyone takes notice of this newcomer and Jax calls out, "Hey, buddy, we're closed for the night!"

But the newcomer only has eyes for you. "You're trespassing on claimed land, wolf."

Your nostrils flare and the scent of wolf fills your senses. You narrow your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the confusion going on around you. Licking your bottom lip, you saunter forward a few more steps, aware of Gemma flanking you. "Am I now?" You muse. You scent the air, tilting your head to the side. "And which pack do you speak for?"

The guy growls- audibly growls- and tensions all around your skyrocket. The men all stand, making their way towards you and Gemma, unsure of where to stand as you go toe to toe with this guy.

"You're not from the Alvarez pack or Satomi's pack because they're allies," you say. "There is the Hillard pack, but they don't got the balls to stand up to my brother, so that leaves.."

"The Hillard pack is gone. We've taken their territory."

"Ah. Newcomers." You tut at him, eyes twinkling. "We don't care much for packs rising and falling, but all packs must check in with the alpha who watches over the state. And in California, buddy, that's Alpha Hale."

The newcomer's eye flares blue as he snarls. There are shouts of surprise from behind you, along with the telltale sounds of weapons being drawn, but you merely raise a hand and glance over your shoulder while minutely shaking your head at the startled bikers. Then facing forward once more, you grin, careful to not show how rattled you are. "Fall in line and learn the rules around here or you will be chased out of California. Now run along back to your alpha and pass on the message."

The guy snarls once more, but slowly backtracks out the gate. As soon as he's gone, your smile falls and you dig into your pocket for your phone.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jax asks.

"Wait." You find Derek's contact in your phone and hit send, pressing the phone to your ear. When your brother picks up, you sigh. "We have an issue. The Hillard pack was taken out and the one that took their place doesn't wanna follow protocol. A beta just outed himself in front of a group of humans."

"Stay put and send me your location. We're on our way."

"Thanks, Der." Turning around, you're not surprised to see that everyone has a gun in hand. You nod in understanding. "If you have more weapons, now's the time to get them out."

"What the fuck is going on?" Jax asks you, expression hard. "And what was that guy?"

"Believe it or not, that was a werewolf. I'm a werewolf," you tell him. "And apparently this new pack who has a claim on Charming doesn't like a newcomer on their land."

Jax and Juice snort, but your expression doesn't change.

"You're being serious," Gemma realizes.

"I am. That guy was only a beta, like me. His alpha will most likely be here soon and he'll be stronger than I am. I'm deeply sorry to bring this issue to your front step. I had no idea a new pack had taken over," you tell the group, guilt etched into your very expression.

The humans are quiet for a moment and then, "What do you need?" Jax asks.

"Back up. Aim for the head."

He nods, solemnly, while glancing at his brothers who give him a terse nod in return. "You got it."

[followingthefanfiction]

Jason Moran Dezon

Jason Moran Dezon, The Most Dangerous Boy in town

Leo: The Dangerous Nature

Catchphrase: “Hey I’m a terrible person, but I’m a decent guy!” :D

Favorite Ride: The Shooting Gallery

Intro: When he was younger, Jason Dezon would visit his aunt on the weekend. His aunt, Miss Connors, was a wicked woman as you already know. Only three, he would do his best to protect his younger cousin, Sarah Marie. This was a trend he would continue all his life. He did his best to shake off the abuse. The beatings never bothered him, he knew he was just protecting the defenseless child. However, after being called multiple choice words and being told he was a terrible boy, he began to believe it. As he grew older, he visited the Connors house less, and jail more. He was then abandoned by his family, and decided that he would stop relying on anyone to help him or his cousin. His final visit to the Connors house left an impression on everyone. Jason Dezon had had enough of the beatings, and on instinct, pulled a knife on Mr. Connors. This got Jason sent to jail for 2 years. In jail, he was constantly treated like he was nothing. Many others called him a danger and a menace. He decided, that if everyone was going to think of him like that, he would at least have fun with it. Sure, he would be a danger, but only to those he beloved deserved it. Every inmate in prison was there for a reason, so in his mind, it didn’t matter if he hurt them. His family had never cared for him, so it didn’t matter if he hurt them. It didn’t matter if he stole, threatened, or harmed anyone. This was because no one cared if any of those things happened to him. The only person he believed was worth being kind to, was his little cousin. The one who had always believed in him. Unfortunately, when he came to visit the Connors to see her, she no longer believed in him. With her thinking he was as violent as the rest of their family, he had nothing left holding him to sanity. He decided he would make the town burn for how broken he had become. This is how Jason Dezon become The Most Dangerous Boy in town.

Song Title: The Bomb

Song Theme: I could be a murderer and want to kill people, like everyone in town. But I have a tragic past, so you love me ;) …please love me and fix me

Dialogue lines: :

“woah woah woah, you can’t just ask someone why they were in jail for 2 years…”

“I guess I am the way I am because no one saw me as anything else, but I didnt want to be as bad as they thought, so I met the expectations halfway.”

“I would never harm an innocent. It’s just that no one in this town is innocent. I dont think anyone is really innocent. Soooo, yeah, I guess I’ll hurt anyone.”

”You touch my cousin, you fucking die. That’s it.”

”I’m like, the worst person, but I’m also. A lonely person.”

“FUCK YEAH DUDE!!! GET THAT SEXY CAT PLANET TO WORSHIP YOU !”

“You ever create elaborate plans to murder people, then almost go through with it? I do that every day. All day. Isn’t fire pretty. Why are you backing away :) am i scaring you >:)?”

“listen, dude,,,, you rock. But auto tune? Not in style anymore, sorry buddy.”

“Oh I remember you!! The guy who wanted to be a smoker stripper whatever at like age five! You’re so cool.”

“Who… the fuck… is that creepy ass doll. If she gets close to me, I’ll kill her. I don’t care if we are dead.”

“I’m killing you all starting with Ocean. You think I’m kidding? I’ll find a way.”

Character Thoughts:

Ocean is gonna die and I’m gonna kill her myself

Noel is awesome, he wants to fuck and die. Same buddy. Also, he took care of Marie all these years ya know? He’s gotta be worth something.

Mischa. Sarah Marie Connors, if he breaks your heart I break him. Thats like my job as your older brother figure.

Ricky, my dude, you are weird as fuck, but I respect you. You horny? Be horny. Even for cat ladies. Just treat them right.

Keep the doll fuck away from me. Creepy ass shit.

Choirsona thoughts: 

Havent met anyone yet. Get ready for me world. 

[lixieswritingbakery]

(Not) Till the end -Bang Chan

genre: HEAVY angst word count: ~700 words warnings/content: Mentions of death, funerals, heaaavy angst. All of skz are mentioned to be dead. Android apocalypse!au. Reader dies, Channie cries. No happy ending :( Bang Chan ran to the mangled body, owned by his precious lover, you. He was too late. The androids that have been taking over the world have succeeded. Of course, there were still thousands of people fighting for their lives, but to Chan, you were his world.  

A peaceful tune rang around your mind as you withered away in death. You had been fighting against an army of androids on your own. You knew you stood no chance, but you gave it your all. It was the only thing you could do to repay the world of your deeds, because you had created the monsters that roamed your world. When Chan ran over to your body, you didn’t even have the energy to open your eyes anymore. The whirring of the androids, along with the peaceful lullaby in your head was oddly calming. 

“You can’t die like this!” The leader shouted. “The irony.” Chan thought to himself. You were the one who helped him get over Hyunjin, Han and Felix’s deaths, but now he was the one who had to deal with your death. And he had to deal with those feelings fast, because another army of your creations were beginning to swarm. 

“Open your eyes! Please!” Chan pleaded. He must stay strong. Stay strong for the remaining people of Stray Kids. But how? How was he supposed to stay strong when the person he loved with all his heart, all his might couldn’t stay alive?

Time was running out. The tick-tock of his worn-down watch that was gifted by you reminded him how little time both of you had. “Wake up, damnit! Y/N!” He fell, meek. This state of him made him reminisce about when you saved him from the same androids that were about to kill you both.

The slight rise and fall of your chest had stopped long ago. “They’re gone.” Chan realised. He stood up in seething, silent rage. “All you do is destroy! They’re dead! There’s no point in making me suffer more…” His voice rose and fell, like waves of melancholy in a dull,solem beach.

“You promised we would stay till the end…till the end of this hellhole!” Chan sobbed. He turned to you, then looked back at the androids that were busy with the other members who came to his aid. He watched numbly as Seungmin got stabbed by the sharp blades of the android, Changbin get thrown off of the crumbling cliff they were situated on, and Jeongin running over to him, his precious dimples showing. “Hyung! i’m so happy to see-“ Before his head snapped unnaturally towards the side. 

“Just kill me already…please.” Chan watched as Jeongin fell next to Minho’s body. “I have nothing, NOTHING to live for.” But of course they kept him alive. Chan knelt down, back facing the androids and front facing your body. He knew he was being a coward by dying like this but he just wanted the last thing he could see to be you. The androids started whirring again. It was like they sympathised for him. 

“Till the end.” Chan whispered, not afraid of the inevitable death coming towards him. “Till the end, Y/N. See you soon, angel.” 

The ringing in his ears stopped, all he could hear was the disgusting noise of the blades stabbing into his flesh. Echo. Echo. Echo

Nobody showed up for the auto-generated funeral Chan had planned for himself long ago. All the people he invited were dead. "Today, we are here for [Redacted]'s funeral,"The hologram's voice resonated through the empty wasteland of a chapel.The eulogy for the person who didn't exist anymore, performed by someone who never existed. 

As for you? The world didn't go too easy on you after what you did to the world. You were doomed to suffer no matter what, where, when, and who you are. You and Chan never met again, even in the afterlife.

Consider this your punishment, Y/N.  

consider a reblog? ^^

writing tag: #lixie.cake

@lixieswritingbakery do not repost.

[venvensblog]

Venti x depressed! reader oneshot

Before reading any further:

• This story contains: Venti x depressed! Gn Reader

• TW: depression, mentions of death

• Author: Kay

• This is my first oneshot, my first story and I hope you'll like it lol. I'm sorry for grammar mistakes and for some auto-correct words that I didn't notice. Enjoy the story~

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

As the cold breeze gently touched your soft skin and as the sun shone to your lost gaze before disappearing you sat lonely on the highest cliff of the city of freedom, your mind elsewhere but here, thinking, thinking and thinking, maybe overthinking. No known face around to be found, just you, the nature and the wind keeping you company while you endlessly fall into the depths of the dark thoughts, eating up the light you had inside you. Why....why...why..why..why? How many days was it? 3 or 5 or 8 or 10? Perhaps you were all by yourself for eternity, doomed to be alone, destined to be trapped in the void in your own head, that has been killing you slowly. Without your notice a tear or two caressed your rosy cheeks, wondering, what are you even feeling anymore? Your current state didn't let you to notice a fellow bard of Mondstadt approaching you with two apples and a tune just for you. "Ah-ha! There you are!" his joyfull voice ringing in your ears, but also being the sweet melody you enjoy to hear, bringing you back to the reality you grew in. A weak smile appeared on your face as you greed the bard with the wave of your hand. The bard however noticed your tears as your eyes told him, how you feel. Quietly he sits beside you giving you one of the apples he got from one of the apple trees. "What is that you're doing here? All alone by yourself, perhaps the stars and the moon got your attention before me?" Venti chuckled slightly, then took a bite to his apple, looking at the night sky full of stars and the moon. You took a second before responding "Oh, I was just thinking... thinking about things.." you knew you could trust Venti with your burdens, but you questioned yourself if perhaps you weren't too much to deal with already, if your feelings and cries weren't cutting the wings of the anemo archon. Sure, as a god, he can take and give more than a mortal, but still... is it okay to burden him more? Your train of these thoughts stopped when Venti placed his hand on yours and looked into your eyes, cupping your face with his gentle hands as he said " Your eyes told me the truth [Y/n]... fear not to tell me, I am here for you and I always will be." The more you stared into his aqua eyes, the more blurry your vision was, because of your tears blocking you from seeing Venti's worried face. As youblink finally, tears started to flow down your cheeks before Venti carefully kissing them away. He knew as you started sobbing quietly, that now is not the time to make you talk, instead he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you, letting you cry into his shirt as he gently rubbed your back. You were lost, not a single thought but at the same time millions of thoughts running in your head, you felt awful as you once again had to be comforted by the only person, who lights your way in the dark.

'Apologize, apologize, apologize, suck it up or he will leave just as everyone, too much to handle, trapping his free spirit in the claws of your darkness..' you said to yourself.

"I'm so s-sorry...!" you said in between sobs, catching the bard's attention. Before he speaks you cut him off screaming against his shirt "I'm sorry, I always end up crying and dragging you down with my never ending depressed- stupid emotions! I wish I could be just normal, I wish I didn't have to ground you, tie down your freedom...!" the following part you said was not loud, but a soft whisper in your sobs, but Venti still heard "...I wish I could just... die..". At this very moment Venti just freezed. Hearing your wish to die just further proved him, how badly scared were you from life to wish something like this. He hold you tighter now, not letting you go. Tears started forming in his aqua eyes aswell, he felt bad for you and if he could he would just take all your negative emotions and make them disappear right here and now. "Oh [y/n]... if only you could see into my head and my heart how amazing of a person you are. You do not burden me, you never did and never will. Your feelings are valid and you know well how much I care about your well-being, right? I cannot tell you what you should do as this would go against the freedom I always wished for for everyone, but please know your death will not hurt only me, but many other people that care for you. You might feel like you're at the bottom of the world, but the good thing is that the only way now is up and I will always lift you with the wind once you need it the most..." as you quietly listened, you felt the wind getting stronger as it slowly lifted both of you up into the sky. Venti was holding your hands with his own, breaking the embrace so you see the world around you. He looks at you with the warmest and most sincere smile on his face, his eyes glittering in the dark telling you more than words can describe. His sidetails shining light blue from using his powers as the wind makes them swing slowly. This moment made you feel something you never felt before..... hope? You didn't know exactly, but it felt like the archon in front of you lit your candle again. "My dearest [y/n], my muse, my melody, my star, my moon, my world..." his voice was echoing in the sky as you watchem him silently, your tears being softly wiped away by the gentle wind, forming your tears into a small drop before falling slowly all the way down from the sky and the cliff to reach the ground. "... on the days when you find no one but yourself in the dark, your light fading, your vision blurring, your heart aching, remember that that the wind is always with you, when I will be too far away to reach you.... no matter where in the world you will be, no matter how weak the wind is gonna be, it will always be here to listen, to guide and to love and support you no matter what. Listen to the wind, speak to the wind for I will always listen and send you sweet tunes like this one.." he let go of your hands slowly so you won't lose your balance while you levitate as he takes out his lyre and starts playing a sweet gentle tune lulling you to sleep. Once he's sure you have fallen asleep, he puts his lyre away and gently graps your levitating sleeping body, adoring your face, holding you close as he makes you both return back to the cliff settling your head on his lap and brushing your hair off of your face. He stays with you till you wake, till the sun shines the day, till you open your eyes again and till he gets the chance to make you laughs and smile.

Under the night sky he thinks, how will he make you laugh and smile to make your negative thoughts say goodbye?

[silvermoongirl10swfics]

I trust you with my life

For @codywanweek 2021 Day 3: Lightsaber.

You can also read this fic here on A03.

No warnings. This is written as a 4+1 fic.

1)

Cody tiredly dragged his feet towards his tent, it had been a long day of fighting and finally the day had ended in a win. Obi-Wan was reporting to the Council and then needed to comm Skywalker about what they needed to do tomorrow. Unfortunately, the 501st were on the other side of the planet so Cody couldn’t spend any time with Rex. But that was probably for the best considering the exhaustion pulling at his limbs and his tiredness making his eyes feel like they were burning.

Sighing in relief as he pushed his way through the tent flaps of his tent, Cody rubbed a fist over his eyes. After taking his armour off on auto-pilot, Cody turned to his sleep cot when he slowly realised something was different. After pausing for a moment, so his exhausted mind could spot what was out of place, he noticed perched innocently on his pillow was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. With a resigned sigh, Cody carefully picked up the lightsaber, muttering mockingly under his breath, “this lightsaber is your life Anakin. Hypocrite.”

He sat on his sleep cot, holding his cyare’s lightsaber in his hands which were resting on his lap. Through force of will, Cody managed to keep himself awake, his head would dip forward as his eyes closed, but he was able to jerk himself back into alertness. Cody wasn’t sure how long he ended up waiting, but despite Obi-Wan having been given his own tent, Cody knew Obi-Wan would make his way to Cody’s tent to sleep, and sure enough the tent flap opened to reveal an equally exhausted looking Jedi. Whose robes were creased and covered in dirt, his copper hair looked brown due to the dirt smeared into the locks and Obi-Wan had dark circles under his eyes to match Cody’s. Obi-Wan stopped and stared at Cody, evidently surprised to find Cody still awake.

“Cod’ika? What?” Obi-Wan stumbled out, unable to ask anything else when Cody just held out a hand, a hand that held a lightsaber in it.

“Misplaced something cyare?” Cody asked in a voice that dripped in fake innocence.

“Um…well yes apparently,” Obi-Wan stuttered out, his face turning red out of slight embarrassment.

Taking pity on his exhausted Jedi, Cody stood up and helped Obi-Wan take off his outer robes and belt, but before they both settled on the cot that was technically designed for one person. Cody smirked as he placed the lightsaber in Obi-Wan’s hands, “this lightsaber is your life.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and then turned to place his lightsaber on top of his robes. “Yes, well…I will love you even more if you can refrain from telling Anakin about this little slip.”

“You can love me even more?” Cody joked with a raised eyebrow and a grin. The both of them laid down, Obi-Wan wrapping himself around Cody like a clinging tooka kit.

“It is not a hardship,” murmured Obi-Wan in a tired voice. Cody smiled and kissed his cyare on the forehead, Obi-Wan’s breaths already slow as he drifted into sleep. Once Cody closed his eyes, he was soon following his cyare into a dreamless sleep.

2)

Cody and Ghost company were jogging through a dried-up ravine, knowing that somewhere above them, jumping over the cracks and rocks was their Jedi. It made Cody relax, he didn’t like not knowing what could be in front of them, but they needed to meet up with the rest of the 212th and with Obi-Wan close by, he knew he could trust his cyare to let them know if danger was close.

The only sounds in the ravine were the soft crunching noise the men’s feet made on the sand beneath their feet, their helmets blocking out the sound of their breathing. Then a loud clacking sound, brought everyone to a stop, all on their guard they pointed their blasters behind and in front of them. Until an exasperated sigh broke the silence, “stand down men,” ordered Cody.

He bent down and retrieved the offending item that had knocked against his shoulder pauldron. Cody sighed again as his gloved hand enclosed around the item and stood back up, while activating the private comm channel he had with Obi-Wan. “I believe you are missing something,” he sighed.

There was an evident pause and then a sheepish, “ah. Yes, I do believe I have misplaced something.”

“That something, being your life?” snarked Cody, attaching the lightsaber hilt to his own belt, he then gave the order for Ghost company to start moving out again. “How many times cyare? Am I going to have to tie your lightsaber to your hand?” he added pointedly. This was not helping his stress levels, his cyare’s primary (only weapon), was consistently ending up in Cody’s possession and Obi-Wan detested using ‘uncivilised’ blasters, leaving him unprotected.

“I am sorry,” grumbled Obi-Wan.

Cody retorted, “try better.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath to answer back, but was interrupted because apparently Cody served with nosey busybodies who had apparently learnt to hack his private comm channel. “Mother and father are fighting!”

“Boil!” snapped Cody, because it could be no one else saying that.

“Hey! I’m just looking out for my poor vod’ike. Wooley will be upset if you and dad divorce,” sassed Boil.

Cody just sighed and as he was about to reprimand Boil for hacking his comm channel, he heard titters of laughter letting him know the entirety of Ghost company were listening. Obi-Wan just had to join in. “Why am I the father in this Boil?”

“Because Cody is always trying to keep you alive and gives off mama loth-wolf tendencies towards you and us,” Boil commented innocently.

Cody eyed up the rocky sides of the ravine and just pictured knocking his own head against the rocks and slipping into sweet unconsciousness and escaping the insanity. Unfortunately, he had to get Ghost company back to the remainder of the 212th. Shame.

3)

It was beginning to get ridiculous now. Not only had Cody lost count of the number of times he had ended up with Obi-Wan’s lightsaber in his possession, but his cyare was also dramatically throwing his outer robe off and just leaving it strewn on the floor. The first time Cody had found a brown Jedi robe fluttering along the ground in the breeze, he had picked it up to return to his General only to discover Obi-Wan had already put on a different robe. So, Cody just started to leave the robes he picked up in a box in the main storage cupboard on the Negotiator for anyone who wanted a robe as an extra blanket. He wasn’t sure if Obi-Wan knew about it, but considering how many spare robes his cyare seemed to pick up when they were on Coruscant (as he never ran out of robes), Cody wasn’t sure.

So, it was not surprising in the midst of a battle. When General Grievous made his bi-monthly drop-in/actually a gate-crash of a battle he had no reason to be involved in, a part from the single aim of driving Cody’s blood pressure sky high when Obi-Wan would inevitably torment Grievous with his witty comebacks and nearly get killed in retaliation for Grievous not having a sense of humour and taking offense. Obi-Wan spotted his favourite foe to torment, a foe the men had started to call The Runaway General. Named after the romantic comedy film the 212th had illegally watched on the holonet called the Runaway bride. The men had watched the first ten minutes of the film and all decided the bride who always ran away from her weddings reminded them of Grievous. So, now Cody was unable to ever watch that film again as his brothers had thoroughly spoiled it for him. He had tried to watch it again once, but instead all he could imagine was Grievous running away in one of the lace sleeved, A-line dresses the bride wore, veil included. A truly nightmarish image to be stuck in one’s head.

Anyway, The Runaway General made his usual wheezing entrance, if it was anyone else Cody would suggest they should see a medic for that ear grating, hacking cough. But Grievous could go and suck on a bucket of sour sweets for all Cody cared. Obi-Wan’s ocean blue gaze locked in on his favourite foe and Cody just felt the urge to cry, because Obi-Wan had that look in his eyes, the look that meant he was going to enjoy tormenting the ever-living kark out of Grievous and Cody was going to have to try and not have a heart attack. You know, situation normal.

Obi-Wan dramatically threw his outer robe off his shoulders, causing the brown material to swish majestically in the slight breeze, billowing out into an arch above the Jedi’s head and then delicately flittering down to the floor. The Jedi then charged forward, his blue lightsaber held aloft, towards Grievous, a sarcastic quip already on the tip of his tongue.

Cody just sighed.

Then over the comms he heard:

“Ooooh, solid effort that one. Best I’ve seen. I’d say a definite 10/10.”

“I have to agree with you Wooley. That was probably the best robe drop I’ve seen the General do.”

“What is wrong with you Wooley and Waxer? You have clearly forgotten the robe drop on Atollon. That was a far better robe drop. If this one is a 10/10, Atollon has to be a 12/10 at least.”

“That is a very good point Boil. Atollon was just chef’s kiss.”

Cody gritted his teeth and growled. “Focus on what you are supposed to be doing. And stop blocking the battalion comms!”

“Oops. Sorry Commander!” called out Wooley, his tone apologetic. Wooley had clearly been spending too much time with Waxer and Boil.

“Thanks for listening to today’s Dramatic Jedi Robe Drop Scoring. Tune in again when either The Runaway General, Never Had A Bad Hair Day, Kenobi’s Evil Grandfather or Obsessive Hate for Kenobi Kept Me Alive turn up to try and kill our General. See you then folks!”

“Waxer!” shouted Cody, scanning the battlefield for the Lieutenant. Fortunately for Waxer he wasn’t in Cody’s eyeline. Cody just sighed again. It was one of those days.

An hour later, when Grievous had done his usual running away technique, Cody waited by the gunships with Obi-Wan’s robe draped over one arm and his cyare’s lightsaber held in his other hand. Cody also had his helmet clipped to his belt, so he was able to give his cyare an unimpressed looked, raised eyebrow included. Which, when Obi-Wan made his appearance, his cyare directed a sheepish look at Cody.

Once Obi-Wan came to a stop in front of Cody, he took his lightsaber and clipped it onto his own belt and put on his robe. “Ah, thank you cyare,” Obi-Wan said, with a bright smile on his face.

Cody rolled his eyes. “Must we do this during every battle?”

Obi-Wan plastered an innocent look on his face, knowing full well Cody was going to mock him with ‘this lightsaber is your life’ lecture. So, instead Obi-Wan shrugged and said. “This really is a compliment, Cody.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Cody just shook his head. “Suuureee, it is.”

4)

Yet another battle the 212th had been sent to, another battle where they were fighting against impossible numbers. However, the 212th were holding their ground and Cody felt victory would soon be in their grasp. Obi-Wan had even manged to hold onto his lightsaber, miracles of miracles. Cody had also heard on the comms, that Obi-Wan had dropped his robe to go against some tanks and apparently this robe drop scored a 7/10.

But then a loud explosion ripped through the air, Cody turned, his cyare was stopping the tanks not to far away and sure enough the explosions were coming from the tanks. Then Cody frowned, there was a silver item spinning through the air as it headed straight for Cody.

Seeing the sunlight glint off the item, Cody changed his HUD settings and sighed, “not again.” He had apparently spoken too soon. Flying through the air was his cyare’s lightsaber.

As the lightsaber got closer, Cody lifted up his hand and caught the lightsaber and immediately clipped it to his belt.

“Ooooh. Nice catch Commander!” yelled Waxer over the comms.

“A definite 10/10!” added Wooley, with awe in his voice.

“We should really start adding the Commander’s lightsaber catches to our scoring commentary,” stated Boil.

Cody just sighed, apparently his sigh could be heard over the comms because a voice suddenly rang out over the comms. “That wasn’t my fault, Cody!” Obi-Wan burst out in self-defence, his voice cracking slightly on Cody’s name.

“Somehow, I’m not entirely convinced,” Cody retorted dryly. He ignored the titters of laughter over the comms and smirked to himself.

+ 1)

The 212th had been sent to an Outer-Rim planet, for Obi-Wan to try and negotiate peace between to warring tribes on the planet. It was a nice change for Cody and his brothers, the tribespeople, of both tribes, were very friendly towards them. Nicer than many citizens on Coruscant, which said a lot to the men in the 212th. Obi-Wan was needed for his negotiating skills and it gave Cody the opportunity to see his cyare as the peaceful Jedi he should be, not the General he was.

Cody couldn’t go into the hastily contrasted hut, built on neutral ground by both tribespeople as a sign of wanting to end the hostilities. Obi-Wan had to go in alone with the Councils of both tribes. Cody didn’t mind, he didn’t get hostile vibes from the tribes and it meant he could watch as his brothers ran around and played with the children of both tribes. A sight that he could see soften the most hardened warriors of each tribe, leading to the female and male warriors to intermix with the opposing tribe. The Council members saw this and Cody noticed the tension in their shoulders fade away, he turned, feeling someone come and stand beside him.

“I believe my job has just been made easier,” Obi-Wan stated with a bright smile on his face. The Jedi held one of Cody’s hands, and smiling to himself, Cody squeezed his cyare’s hand in response.

“Amazing what children can accomplish,” replied Cody, watching as Waxer, Wooley, Boil, Longshot, Gearshift, Trapper, Meteor, Blackeye and Flycatcher began a game of chase with a hoard of children.

“And your brothers,” Obi-Wan admonished lightly. Cody felt his heart swell with love, knowing how deeply Obi-Wan cared about his brothers, made it even easier to fall in love with the Jedi.

“As I said. Children,” retorted Cody, humour plain in his voice.

Obi-Wan shook his head as he chuckled to himself. Hearing the Council members state they were ready for the negotiations to begin, Cody squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand again, and then let his cyare’s hand go. Obi-Wan turned to face him fully and gently pressed their lips together, before either one of them could be tempted to deepen the kiss, Obi-Wan pulled away. He then placed something in Cody’s hand. In confusion Cody lifted his hand up to find himself holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. “I can’t take weapons in with me to the negotiations as is custom, so I leave my life in your trusty hands,” stated Obi-Wan.

Cody felt his throat tighten with emotion and he nodded as he swallowed heavily. “Always.” With one more smile and kiss, Obi-Wan was walking away and towards the waiting Council members. Cody smiled to himself as he looked down at the lightsaber in his hand, he clipped it to his belt and taking a leaf out of his brothers’ book. He ran to join in the game of chase, the delighted squeals and laughter of the children and his brothers filling his heart up with joy.

End note:

My mum was watching the film Runaway Bride and I couldn’t resist writing Grievous in a wedding dress, I wish I could draw this image (Cody is probably glad I can’t) but I can’t even draw decent stick people. So I hope my descriptions of Grievous in a wedding dress make it seem funny, I was giggling to myself as I wrote it.

Trying to come up with nicknames the 212th would have made for Ventress, Dooku and Maul was actually harder than I thought it would be 😂

[bubblesuga]

Special-Tea

Summary: Yoongi’s always been a coffee man. When stuck at the studio in the early hours of the morning, he craves caffeine. The only problem with that is there’s no coffee shops open at three in the morning. So, he finds himself at the next best thing, a 24 hour tea shop where he finds you. 

Warnings: cussing, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving)

W/C: 4,798

It’s too early for this. 

Or maybe it’s too late. 

Yoongi isn’t sure. In fact, he’s pretty sure his clock stopped working three hours ago. Unless the last few minutes have felt like hours, then Yoongi was on the verge of tearing every piece of equipment from the wall and smashing it into a million pieces. 

Yoongi’s been working on this album for far too long. His fingers are cramped from continuously playing the same three notes over and over just hoping and praying that something will come to him. He’s confused more than anything. Before he had no problem spitting out 2 or 3 songs in a day, recording demos and having the studio ready to record for the other members the following day. 

Lately, however, he’s lucky if he can even get a concept for a song down. It’s like his mind has been clouded over with writers block and he’s not getting anywhere. Like someone sucked his ability to compose music right from his brain with a straw. 

He tosses the pen he had been anxiously tapping on the desk into his bag, along with his notebook, and he stands abruptly. 

Scoffing at his phone, he glares at the black 4:37 on the screen while the elevator in the BigHit offices slides downward. There’s no coffee shops open yet, there has to be something though. He just needs caffeine, though he could really go for an iced americano with- 

“Special-tea...?” He raises an eyebrow at his phone, Google holding up options for the nearest place selling caffeinated beverages. Rolling his eyes, he begins the short journey to the one 24 hour shop within a five mile radius. 

What kind of a name is ‘Special-tea’? Who sat in an office and thought, ‘ah you know what? Let’s name a tea shop but make it punny.’

“Stupid.” He grumbles to himself. He’s well aware that he’s far too tired to be having human interaction right now but he needs to get some progress done. At this point he’ll take a ghost of a song. 

Stepping into the tea shop, he’s overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. Undeniably strong, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts before stepping all the way in. As the door chimes, he hears a gasp and a patter of foot steps.

“Welcome to Special-tea! How are you doing today?” 

The voice is loud, echoing off of the various shelves scattered around the shop with loose tea for sale. He whips his head towards the register, spotting you. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” He didn’t realize how sore his voice was from attempting to record backing vocals earlier in the day, but it came out gruff and quiet. A stark contrast to the bubbly barista in front of him, her nose dusted in flour and a messy apron protecting her clothes. Well, attempting at least, because Yoongi has to hold back a smile when he notices hand prints of flour on your backside. 

“What can I get you this morning?” you question, leaning over the counter and causing Yoongi to blush when he notices the way you’re smiling. When you meet his eyes, Yoongi can tell you recognize him. For a moment he feels the need to brace himself, but soon realizes you’re calm. 

Yoongi returns a smile, haphazardly running his fingers through his hair. “Dumb question, but do you guys sell coffee?” 

“Coffee? No, but we do sell black earl grey. I’m told that’s a close comparison as far as bitterness goes,” You explain, turning to the shelf behind you and pulling out a bag of tea, “you’re welcome to smell it if you like.” 

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward and sniffing the bag. He backs away quickly and watches you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, “It’s not exactly a new tea drinker’s type of tea.” 

“I’m not really a new tea drinker,” he grumbles, wiping his nose, “I’m a tea drinker only in times of desperation.” 

She smiles again, “What causes said desperation?” 

Yoongi rolls his neck, “I’m trying to write another song. Get the ball rolling to finishing up an album.” 

“BE, right? I’ve heard good things about the process,” you say softly, surprising Yoongi by your admission to being a fan, “I figured it would be finished already?” 

His eyes stay trained on you as you turn back to the shelves, rummaging through various boxes of tea. It takes him a moment to realize what your question was, so he sucks in a breath, “Ah, yeah. It’s nearly there, we just need one more track because one of them got trashed.” 

Why is he revealing so much to a stranger? Namjoon is going to kill him. 

“Trashed? Why’s that?” 

“We realized the song itself didn’t follow any of the messages we wanted to put out there.” 

Damn it, Yoongi. Stop talking. 

You finally stop rummaging and pull out a bag of tea without showing Yoongi. He tries to catch a glimpse but instead watches as you boil more water and begin steeping the tea. 

“What kind of message did it have?” You ask, leaning backward against the counter and crossing your arms. Having expected a follow up question, Yoongi swiftly dismisses it, “What kind of tea are you making?” 

“The kind you drink.” You smirk. 

He lowers his gaze at you, “It’s kind of your job to tell the customer what they’re getting.” 

You laugh, “Alright. Jasmine green tea. It’s subtle enough that it won’t get your coffee loving tongue in a twist, and has enough caffeine to keep you up to finish whatever you’re working on.” 

Yoongi is happy with this response, taking the time to lean away from the counter and gaze around the shop. It’s small, something he’s definitely not used to from coffee shops. The earthy smells from earlier have dwindled down to a nice summery scent, lavender filling his nose the closer he got to the register. 

As much as he tried to keep his eyes away from the cute girl behind the counter, he couldn’t help but turn back and watch you as you organize various things. Something about the way your hair slips from the messy bun it’s in and your charismatic way of helping him while also providing a sense of normalcy drew him in in a way he has never experienced before. 

“Order up, Suga.” 

He shakes his head from his gaze, walking back up to the counter and pulling out his wallet. 

“On me,” you say, “besides... don’t want to make you pay for something you may not like.” 

Yoongi nods, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ and bringing the cup up to his mouth. 

Without missing a beat, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a 10000 won bill, stuffing it in the tip jar. He gives you a small smile, thanking you again as he turns towards the door. 

“Wait!” you call, “What do you think?”

Yoongi raises his hand up just before he walks out of the door, “It’s delicious!” 

The smile on your face was worth Yoongi’s little white lie. 

~*~*~

“Alright, this is great! We’ll record tomorrow, yeah?” Seokjin speaks for the entire group as Yoongi plays them the demo of the song he was finally able to right. There were a few jabs here and there about the auto tune Yoongi likes to utilize, but other than that it was well received. 

The only person he could think was you, though, because if he hadn’t have tasted that tea he would have never thought of writing what he did. 

“How did you manage to spit out something like this in a night?” Jungkook teases, patting Yoongi’s shoulder softly. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi chuckles, clicking sound files around and creating a copy of his demo.

Jungkook grins, “Who’s the girl that made you think of that?” 

“No girl,” he defends, “a good writer doesn’t need actual experiences. All from the imagination, young Jungkookie.” 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case at all.” 

Yoongi shushes him, saving his project one more time before deciding to kick everyone out and lock the studio. 

Of course they’re going to find out eventually what happened. Especially since Park Jimin follows Yoongi to the elevator. Once they’re the only ones inside, Jimin turns to his Hyung, “Tell me about the girl.” 

Yoongi, knowing that no one else could read him better than Jimin, sighs in defeat. “She’s gorgeous. Her nose had flour on it, her hair was messy, and she was everything that I’m not used to. She has a smirk- god the way she smiles- it just makes me melt for her.”

Jimin seems pleased with this answer, “and you’re going to see her now?” 

“Yep.” 

The bell above his head is a welcoming sound. This time you’re not waiting in the back. Instead, you’re counting money at the register as he enters. This time you wore a purple apron, and it’s clean compared to a couple of days ago. You still haven’t looked up, so Yoongi walks slowly up to the counter and taps his fingers twice. 

“Ah- Yoongi! Good evening, what can I get you started today?” 

“The same as last time, please.” Yoongi grins, watching you carefully as you nod at him and turn on your heel and kick on the kettle. The way the straps of the apron tie right above the curve of your back has Yoongi’s mind beginning to wander. It’s been years since he even thought of looking at a woman like this in person, but for some reason when it comes to you he just can’t stop. 

“So,” you break the silence, “how did that song writing go?”

“Oh,” his cheeks are a rosy pink, “it went well. I showed the other members the demo and we’re recording it tomorrow.” 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” You grin, pouring the water over the tea bags. Yoongi thanks you quietly and pulls out his wallet once more. You shake your head, “Nope. Your last tip was enough to cover your next 3 drinks.” 

Yoongi nods, “Oh okay.” but then ignores you, slipping another 10000 won bill into the tip jar. Just as you’re about to open your mouth in protest, Yoongi sends you a wink and salutes on his way out before he closes the door behind him. 

~*~*~

Your alarm is too loud. 

It’s like a banshee screeching in your ear, like a baby crying, like a rooster crowing. You groaned loudly at the sound and threw your hand on top of it, rolling out of bed to drag yourself to the shower. 

It’s been a few weeks since Yoongi became a regular to your work. The initial star struck feeling you got when you were around him had dwindled away, and now you feel you can call him a friend. 

Your routine was as follows: Yoongi enters the shop, you make him his drink, and he stays and distracts you for a while. Much against everything you stand for, you drop everything to talk to him. It causes you to have to move much faster than usual on your prep work but you didn’t mind, because you loved seeing the way Yoongi would laugh at your jokes. 

You feel like you know the man beyond the idol. The person who hides under the shadow of a stoic demeanor is bright. The way you perceived him prior to actually knowing him was wrong. He is, without a single doubt in your mind, the most interesting man on the planet. 

When you arrived at work, your evening worker is already willing to go. 

“I counted the safe and there’s some money missing. If Summer asks, it wasn’t me.” Flora says, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Okay,” you raise an eyebrow, walking towards the back, “any orders?” 

“Uh, yeah!” you hear her call, “chocolate covered strawberries for 6!” 

“Awesome-- thank you!” You call back just as the door dings and Flora exits the store. You take a moment to walk through the kitchen to make sure everything is set up and then you pull your apron over your head. 

The doorbell dings and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. 

“What’ll it be today, Mr. Min?” You still stand in the back, glancing in the mirror to make sure you look your best. 

“Honey butter croissant,” he yells back, “how did you know it was me?” 

When you’re happy with your look, you finally walk to the front and smile, “So we’re changing it up today, are you okay? You sick or something?” 

“I just wanted something new,” Yoongi looks different today. He’s dressed in a cream cardigan and black jeans, the usual rose tint to his cheeks is a bit stronger today. 

“Okay, I’ll have to bake some new ones. It’ll take about 20 minutes if you’re willing to wait.” You explain, with an unsure smile. 

Yoongi looks around for a moment, “Ugh, I guess I can wait.” 

“Awesome,” you speak, “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

As you walk towards the back, Yoongi listens carefully to you humming along to a song that’s been stuck in your head for days. You pull out a couple of fresh croissants and prep a baking sheet. Sticking it into the oven, you brush the flour from your hands onto your apron and walk back to the front. 

Yoongi jumps up from his phone when he notices you standing in front of him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, the freckles across your nose easing him into a sense of comfort. “Do you plan on telling me why you kept ordering a drink you hate?” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Now why on Earth would you think that I hate it?” 

“Welp,” you laugh, “you’re usually my only customer at night, and every morning I would check the outside garbage to see if it needed to be changed, yet the only thing I would find is a full cup of tea, with your name on it.” 

For a moment, Yoongi was silent. He stumbles over his thoughts in an attempt to come up with some type of excuse. Something to hide why he had been coming here all this time. Yet, he couldn’t. So instead he looks up from his chair and smirks, “How else was I supposed to talk to the pretty girl at the tea shop?” 

You swallow, your mind racing a million miles a second. Before you have the chance to respond, he stands. His body is close, and he smells so good. His cologne is expensive, herbal and earthy, and it makes you want to bury your nose into his neck and inhale. His eyes, the usual dark brown has turned into honey, drawing you in and keeping you there. 

“You could have asked me on a date, we could have gone from there.” You shrug, feeling Yoongi’s calloused hand gently push away a stray hair behind your ear. He doesn’t move it afterwards, though, instead his thumb finds home on your cheekbone, stroking gently. His face has shifted, and he laughs. Almost bitterly, causing your heart to sink. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in the types of dates I get. You see,” his other hand slithers around your waist, “we get long walks in the park but we have to wear a mask and a hat. We get picnics by streams late enough at night that we know no one will be around. Sometimes we can slip away to another country where we pray that no one recognizes us, but with my schedule that thought is laughable at best.” 

“What if I like long walks in the park with masks and late night picnics?” You breath, the look in your eyes stirring Yoongi’s heart. 

“Then I guess we’d have to give it a shot, wouldn’t we?” He whispers. Your eyes flutter from his eyes to his lips, silently begging him to close the gap. You could sense his hesitancy, though. It blossoms from his chest and heats up his entire body but for some reason he’s frozen, completely still. He’s fighting, urging himself to lean forward and kiss you but he can’t move. 

Good news for him, though, because you take a moment to lean up and press your lips against his softly. It’s gentle, easing him into the feeling of you so close to him. His lips taste of mint chocolate, causing you to smile into the kiss. It takes a moment, and for a second you’re hoping that you didn’t read the situation wrong until finally, he kisses back. It’s eager, introducing his tongue to yours and grinning idly into the kiss. 

You allow him to back you up against the counter, boxing you in and surrounding you completely. His hands move down and pull your hips close to his, feeling the strain of his cock against his jeans. 

“We’re entering dangerous territory here, baby.” Yoongi speaks, pulling away just a little bit. His eyes stay closed and his breath is hot on your face. 

“How so?” You whisper, afraid of the answer but also intrigued. He doesn’t respond, instead capturing your lips and breaking the kiss repeatedly. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders and he smiles at the knowledge that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. 

A groan fills the air when you finally buck your hips towards him. In a feverish attempt to feel more, you wrap your legs around his waist and hang from his shoulders. Just as you’re about to slip your hand between your bodies, the timer on the oven blares through the building, shattering the small walls you built around the two of you. 

“Fuck--” you gently pull away, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Quickly, you slip off the counter and rush to the oven. You pull out the croissants and douse them in honey butter from the fridge. You watch the butter melt for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

Did that just happen? Did that actually hap-

When you walk back out, Yoongi’s hands are clasped behind his back. He mutters a small thank you as you hand him the plate. He rips off a corner of the pastry, and pops it into his mouth. 

There’s a beat of silence. One-- two-- then he speaks. 

“It’s delicious.” 

“Thank you, I work hard on them.” 

~*~*~

“And you just left her?!” 

Oh god. Yoongi has never seen Jimin so angry before. The small man can yell louder than ever imagined, and Yoongi would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared. 

A mere 30 hours ago, Yoongi had his tongue buried in your mouth and he was the happiest man on the planet. Then it changed quickly once he realized what exactly this could entail. Even though he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the dough table and take you roughly while you scream his name, he couldn’t help but over think. 

Standing in Jimin’s living room, he expected to be comforted and given some nice advice from his friend. Instead he’s learning that he pulled a bad move.

“You’re supposed to be giving me advice, not yelling at me!” Yoongi yells back, gesturing his hands wildly. Even though he’s scared, he can’t help but defend himself to a certain extent. 

“Hyung, I thought you’d have enough intelligence not to kiss her and run!” 

Yoongi groans and drops onto the couch, his face falling into his hands, “The things I was feeling scared me.” 

“Oh my god, go to the tea shop!” 

~*~*~

Yoongi spots a customer at the register. He opens the door quietly, the break of dawn just behind the mountains. This was different to Yoongi’s usual time and you know that, your eyes going wide in surprise while you finish ringing up the last customer. 

Once Yoongi hears the heels clack against the tile and the door open, he rounds the shelf and walks up to you. 

“I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday. I just- I got scared. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation but after thinking over it I realized that I really need you to kiss me again,” Yoongi speaks fast, quicker than you’ve heard him before and it takes a moment for the words to settle in your mind, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You breathe out a laugh, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his again. This time it’s slow and soft, different but Yoongi loves every second of it. The minute you kiss him, you taste coffee. You hold back another laugh, pulling away with mock hurt, “You cheated.” 

Yoongi brows furrow, “I don’t follow.” 

“You drink coffee and then come try to sweep tea shop girl off her feet? Cheater!” You tease, putting your hand on your chest as though you’re in pain. 

Yoongi grins, “You’re crazy. I would never drink coffee, not when I can taste you. You’re probably going to have to kiss me to make sure.” 

You gnaw your lip, leaning upward and pressing a kiss to him again. He giggles against your lips, a sound that you will never get sick of. You pull away much to both of your dismay, “Let me take you back to my apartment. It’s small but it’s big enough for the two of us.” 

He agrees instantly. 

Yoongi waits in the car while your relief shows up and you clean up. He taps his feet against the pedals anxiously, the thought of what could happen exciting him. You have clouded his mind for a weeks now and as you skip out of the building and hop into Yoongi’s passenger seat, he can’t wait to get his hands on you. 

He follows your directions, his hand resting on your thigh as he tries not to speed. When he pulls into the parking lot, you lead him up the stairs to your apartment. 

Nervously, you toss your bag onto the couch, “It’s not much. . . but it works for me.” 

Yoongi grins, “It’s quaint. Cute.” He reaches forward and wraps his arms around you in a back hug. You welcome it, craning your neck to kiss him. 

“I need a shower. Join me?”

Yoongi nods, “Yes please.” 

There’s a thumb in your chest louder than you’ve ever felt before. This is actually happening. Min Yoongi, is being lead to your bathroom and you’re about to shower with him. 

Yoongi doesn’t waste much time once the door is shut behind you. He latches his lips onto your neck, tugging at the hem of your shirt and easing it over your head. 

“I want to make sure you want this as much as I do.” Yoongi says breathlessly as he catches a glimpse of your bare chest. You don’t respond verbally, but you look him directly in the eye as you slip your pants and panties off in one swoop. 

You stand in the shower, turning on the water and peaking your head behind the curtain, “What’s taking you so long?” 

Yoongi moves fast as he tears off his own clothing, and you close the curtain so you don’t spot his body too quickly. Building suspense for yourself, you wet your hair under the warm water and feel your muscles relax after your long day of work. Although your eyes are closed, your ears are trained on Yoongi. He steps behind you, continuing his assault on your neck. 

You sigh happily, but everything changes the minute Yoongi opens his mouth. 

“Spread your legs, baby. I’ll hold you up.” 

Instantly you feel your cunt clenching around nothing (unfortunately). You immediately allow Yoongi to guide your leg to the edge of the tub. He slides a finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness all while his lips trail kisses across your chest. 

Finally you allow yourself to open your eyes, gasping at the image in front of you. Yoongi’s body is as rosy as his cheeks, his knees on the bottom of the floor and his face level with your heat. 

“Ah, now you open your eyes.” He smirks, and doesn’t give you much warning as he licks a long stripe from your heat to your clit. You instantly moan, tossing your head back and bracing yourself against the wall of the shower. 

He moves ruthlessly, consuming you like a starved man. The feeling of him against you doesn’t compare to the imagine in front of you. His fingers reach between your folds and pump in and out of you while he continues to nip and suck mercilessly at your clit. He looks up at you through his lashes, and you swear you feel him smirk against you as he speeds up his thrusts and sucks as hard as he can. 

“You look so good like this,” you moan, “your tongue feels so good.” 

Yoongi pulls away to let out a groan, “Fuck.” His chest is heaving and he reaches a hand down to squeeze his shaft for a moment of relief, then he stands. 

“Think you can hold your leg up for a moment, baby?” Yoongi instructs, laying a kiss on your forehead as you spot his hand pumping himself a few more times. You nod silently, allowing yourself to relish in his glistening skin as he runs the head of his cock over your slit. You appreciate his concern, and you know he’s going to take care of you after he’s finished ruining you. You couldn’t be more excited as Yoongi’s cock continues to slip over you. 

For a moment you feel him enter, both of you gasping at the contact but just as quickly as he enters, he slips out. 

“No,” you shake your head, “please no teasing. Fuck me.” 

Yoongi gives you a devilish grin, his hand holding up your thigh once again as he finally begins to push into you. He takes pleasure in the way that your lips part with every inch that he pushes in. Yoongi was proud of his size, and your reaction further fuels his ego. Finally, he bottoms out and you’re rewarded with being filled to the hilt with nothing but Yoongi. 

He moans your name in your air after you adjust to his size, beginning to thrust faster. “So... tight. Fuck.” He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, relishing in the feeling of your nails scratching into his back. He can’t bare to leave your cunt for more than a few seconds, because the way you clench tightly around him was the closest thing to Heaven on Earth that he’s ever experienced. Every one of his thrusts is meant with a rewarding moan from you, your juices coating his cock more and more and fueling his pleasure. 

“Ah,” you moan, “Yoongi. So good.” Your brain was absolute mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but him. 

“So good at taking my cock,” he laughs breathlessly, “I can’t believe how well you’re doing.” 

You surrender yourself completely to Yoongi at his words, his encouragement pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close.” 

“Good girl, cum for me. Cream on my cock.” Yoongi praises, kissing your lips tenderly as you feel yourself clench tightly around him. White hot electric shocks rush through your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

He breaks the kiss with a bite to your bottom lip, “Take my cum. Take it- fuck fuck-” Yoongi’s cut off by his orgasm taking over, and you open just in time to see his jaw drop as he rides out both of your orgasms with increasingly slow thrusts until finally, he slips out, the feeling of his release dripping down your thighs. 

He rests his forehead against yours, suddenly hyper aware of the water dripping down your bodies.

You lower your legs onto the floor, Yoongi holding you up while you struggle to regain your balance. The two of you giggle, sharing kisses for a moment as you both work off the pleasure. 

You reach behind Yoongi, squeezing shampoo into your hands and massaging it through your scalp as Yoongi takes your soap across your body. It’s such a simple move, but even though you’ve already had sex he still is taking the time to take care of you. It’s endearing, and it fills you with hope for something more with Yoongi. 

As you both finish the shower, you step out of the bath tub and reach for a towel. 

“Oh, by the way, Yoongi?” You say as he runs a brush through your hair. You bite your lip to hold back a giggle as he stops, “Yes baby?” 

“I still tasted coffee.” 

Yoongi laughs, “God damn it.” 

[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[just2bubbly]

Awkward silences and Conflict

Masterlist

Rumors and Affairs

//This is the next part of Sorry to Let You Down

A/N: You can thank/kill me later! Stay tuned to see our favorite couple break apart; I feel obliged to say sorry beforehand. Without further ado,

Cinder’s Perspective

Like the day before, Kai was not present in their chambers till midnight. The meeting had gone for long and Cinder had come to realize that even if she waited for him, it would not make much of a difference. He would not talk to her. She would not know what to say which would be followed by an awkward silence and later both of them pretending but not going to sleep- just being motionless on the mattress. Hence, she gave in and slept early although sleep never came early.

Early morning both pretended to be non-existent around each other until Cinder decided to take matters in her hand.

“My results are out.”

“Huh?” He played to not hear.

“I said my results are out.”

“Which results?” he asked as if he had completely forgotten. The nerve he had to ask ‘which results’ after having asked her to take the very same test not once but twice- just yesterday.

“Don’t pretend Kai-”

“I really don’t remember, would you enlighten me about this test Cinder?”

“Can’t you just get over the drama and accept that you know, it’s not like you could forget it” she huffed.

“You can’t just tell me straightway can you? Oh why would you- you like keeping secrets, don’t you Cinder?”

“So now I am the one keeping secrets, tell me what have I been hiding that you are so desperate to know?”

“So now you want me to narrate your examples?”

“I have nothing hidden to be given as an example; it’s you who is making a fuss!”

“Oh! So what of that time when I almost caught you talking to Thorne, where you abruptly ended the comm-”

“WHAT?” she exclaimed.

She had no idea what he was talking about until it clicked- “Do you really think so shallow of me Kai? Like are you blind and stop making false accusations for God’s sake, you are THE EMPEROR!”

“Really, Cinder? You made the mess and now I have to solve it-do you even know what I had to hear from the world leaders and palace staff”

“I made the fuss but I was ready to solve it as well, if not for you just pushing me away-”

Someone had said it right, people in fight do not listen to understand, they listen to reply. This is what both of them were doing; cutting short each other's words half-way trying to prove them as right in the most horrific way possible. She was sure that he was letting out all the week’s frustration on her. She was doing nothing different.

“You had to just do a test, did you even-”

“Oh! So you now completely remember about this test-”

“How can I forget with everyone spreading rumors about your so-called affairs?”

“The results for the same test came out.” She yelled in his face. Realization seemed to dawn upon him as he shut his mouth. Good for him because Cinder was not going to remain calm, while Kai made false accusations against her.

“News flash: You already know that I have no affair going on, especially not with Thorne and the baby is definitely yours! What a shame if you were questioning it as well!” She bawled.

“Stop” he said his breathing ragged. “Please”

He jumped to his feet and moved for the door. Cinder was not done yet. She would not be done until she had served Kai right for his indictments.

“I thought you would like to know, since you were so vocal about your doubts so far. Tell me Emperor; are you glad about the recent clarification of events?”

He did not say anything, did not even give an indication of hearing her but just went for the bathroom perhaps with moisture laden eyes. She knew him very well to know that he went to have some space and cry his eyes out.

She really had gone too far this type but so had he. She was here sitting at the foot of the bed, pressing the sole of her palms into her eyes. Trying her hard not to lose control, not to shut down. Her retina display was panicking as it always did when she was apprehensive. Red diagnostics flared up in the corner of her vision-warnings: BLOOD PRESSURE TOO HIGH, HEART RATE TOO FAST, SYSTEM OVERHEATING, INITIALIZING AUTO-COOL RESPONSE… and what not.

She winced recalling the instants that had taken place formerly; a pounding sensation in her head .They had fought, like cats and dogs trying to tear each other apart.

The faucet turned on, turned off. Kai walked out, composed and regal. Cinder did not look up, she continued to press the sole of her palms into her eyes. He stormed out, closing the door with a loud bang- making her flinch. He had left without a word- he must have looked at her pitiful figure and thought that she was not worth his time. Not now, not ever.

Was this the end? The end of her happy marriage.

--

[fanficimagery]

Guns, Claws & Teeth pt. 2

On the way back from running an errand for your brother, you stop by an auto garage for a tune-up for your car. Once there, you run into a bit of trouble but it's nothing you can't handle. Unfortunately, the humans you've made friends with are dragged into the mess.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Words: 4.1K Author's Note: Violence. Some good 'ol fashion wolf vs. wolf action.

The parking lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive is tense.

Gemma and the men had taken your words seriously, pulling out weapons from their hiding spots and arming themselves. Though they do keep a respectable distance from you as you angrily pace back and forth, texting your brother every now and then.

"So.. werewolves, huh?" Juice wonders. You glance at him, eyes narrowing as you try to determine whether he's actually curious or what.

And seeing that he actually does look curious, even as his brothers nudge him to shut him up, you grin. "Yeah. There's so much you don't know about the supernatural world, man. I'll tell you about it later if I live through this night."

That stops everyone short. "You don't think you're gonna make it?"

"M'not sure," you answer distractedly. "Alphas are more powerful than a beta or omega, but it is possible for them to fall to a less powerful wolf."

"So your family," Gemma says, arms crossed and foot tapping as she stares you down, "was that all bullshit or..?"

"Definitely not bullshit. I just left out a few key details."

"Such as?" She asks.

"Such as the fact that the bitch who targeted my family came from a family of werewolf hunters. They had a code to only hunt wolves who hunted humans, but she defected. She killed all wolves, no matter if they were good or bad, and who better to take out than the one wolf family who was highly respected in the werewolf community."

"And the relationship with your brother? That true too?"

"Yeah. She needed to know the ins and outs of our home, and when a majority of the Hales would be in the same place at the same time. I had family who were human, including the ten month old, and she didn't care. As long as they bore the name Hale, she thought they deserved to die."

"You said your uncle got justice for the family. He kill her?" Opie asks.

You glance at him and give him a nod. "He ripped her throat out. And then my brother ripped his out."

Everyone frowns, but it's Jax who mutters, "What the fuck."

You chuckle, scenting the air real quick to make sure no one is approaching, and then explain. "When they pulled my uncle from the fire, his body had trouble healing. He was basically trapped in his mind, slowly going crazy. Fast forward years later when my sister gets lured back to Beacon Hills and my mostly healed uncle kills his own niece for her alpha power." The men and Gemma all stare at you in shock. "He wanted her alpha power to start his own pack and hunt down those responsible for the fire. So when me and my brother came back, and figured everything out, we let him get his revenge before my brother tore his throat out and became the next Hale alpha."

"So what, you both just picked right back up in the place your family was burned alive?" Jax asks.

"Yes. We rebuilt our home and opened the garage. Those kids I told you about, the ones who work in the garage? My brother gave them the option to take the bite since it was fifty-fifty it would take. A bite from an alpha can either kill you or turn you. It cured Erica of her epilepsy, let Isaac be strong enough to stand up to his father, and gave Boyd a new family. It's our job to protect Beacon Hills and it's people from supernatural threats."

Everyone goes quiet as your words sink in.

Eventually, Juice snorts. "So do you like get furry on the night of the full moon?"

Opie, Jax and Chibs all start to laugh.

"Only those with great power can turn into an actual wolf. I only have a-" Your ears perk up at the sound of slowly approaching vehicles and you tense. You glance over your shoulder, scent the air, and let loose a low growl. "Enough about me. We've got incoming."

"How many?" Jax is immediately at your side as you face the gates.

"Four."

He scoffs. "Easy."

"Four wolves against one wolf and five humans? I don't know, Jax." Two vehicles park outside of the opened gates, but only one man gets off. "Stay behind me," you mumble.

You're not surprised to have these bikers spread out on either side of you, but you are surprised when Gemma joins them. Red eyes flare, which causes an automatic warning growl to reverberate through your throat, and a smirk spreads across the man's lips as he steps under a street lamp. "It appears we've brought claws to a gun fight," the alpha muses. "Let me rectify that real quick."

Three more wolves get off the vehicles, joining their alpha with weapons in hand.

"You don't want to do this," you tell him. "You're gonna start a war you have no hope of winning the moment alpha Hale catches wind of your scent."

"You're trespassing on my land, beta."

"You didn't claim it with the alpha in charge, pup." The alpha's smile falls and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Didn't think I could smell the difference," you say. "You're not a born wolf. You're newly bitten and in way over your head. You start this fight right now and alpha Hale's gonna rip your head off."

He stares at you before a cruel smirk forms. "I'll take my chances."

The wolves open fire, causing the humans to duck and take cover before they can fire back. Your instincts are telling you to take cover as well, but you quickly realize they're not firing at you or the humans. They're firing at the shops and vehicles.

The sound of glass shattering has you whirling around and your eyes widen at the sight of the back windshield of your car having been shot out. You face the wolves once more, eyes glowing and teeth elongating as you let out a heart stopping roar of rage.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

You rush forward, meeting one beta head on as the gun fire ceases. You deflect a punch, raising a hand full of claws and slashing the wolf across his torso. Another beta approaches, but you're quick to kick out and catch them in their gut. A gunshot rings out, too close for comfort, and you roar as you feel your right shoulder jerk back upon impact. Someone wraps their arms around you from behind and you're quick to throw your head back, grinning viciously at the snap of bone you hear before dropping and sweeping their feet from underneath them.

The gunfire picks up once more and you feel a searing pain in your thigh, but you ignore it. You take claws across the chest before the beta attacking you takes a bullet to the side of his head, and you glance back at the men you'd gotten to know earlier who are clearly watching your back now. The alpha roars something awful, which makes you flinch, but your focus is still on the other two betas.

More searing pain erupts in your side as you throw yourself at another beta, slashing claws across their throat before falling into a crouch before launching yourself at the third beta. The fight with a third beta is a struggle and you can feel your control slowly slipping. And when you feel yourself losing the upper hand, you growl before sinking your fangs into the side of their throat and ripping out a chunk of flesh.

"BEHIND YOU!"

More gunshots ring out and you whirl around just in time to see the last wolf stumble in surprise at all the gunshots now littering his chest. And in your blood lust, you lunge up and dig your claws into his throat before yanking out his trachea.

As quiet takes over the parking lot, you become aware of your heavy breathing. You're still on high alert as you glance around at the bodies littering the lot and you let loose a warning growl when you hear a pebble skip across asphalt. The five humans freeze, two of them halfheartedly raising guns in your direction.

"Hey, weren't your eyes blue before?"

Those words knock the angry haze from your mind and you blink in confusion at Juice. "What? They are blue."

"Nah, they're red now."

"What?" Your heart stops and you glance around at the bodies littering the ground, bile rising in the back of your throat when you see the then-alpha staring blankly up at the sky. "No, no, no."

"Honey, I don't know what you're freaking out about, but we really need to remove those bullets from you," Gemma says, though she keeps her distance.

You look at her, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You've been shot three times. You need to get those bullets out."

Gemma's words slowly sink in and you glance down at yourself. Sure enough, there's a wound on your right shoulder, your right side, and your left thigh. "Oh."

"So come on. Come join us in the clubhouse while Chibs dig those out for you."

"Y-Yeah. Okay."

You're in a bit of a daze as someone leads you into what they call the clubhouse, then over to a table where everything is swiped off before you're told to lay down.

"Shirt's gonna have to come off, lass."

Without a care, you strip off your shirt which leaves you in just your bra and shorts. Before you lay down, your eyes land on a bar and the liquor shelf behind it. "Can someone grab me a bottle? I don't care what it is, I just need something stronger than beer."

Juice jogs over behind the bar, picking up a random bottle of liquor and running it back to you. You twist off the lid and take a long pull from it, only stopping when Jax puts his hand on the bottle to push it down. "Hey, take it slow."

Your nose wrinkles at the brief burn of alcohol. "Don't need to. I can't get drunk unless it's a special mix." You take another long pull of the liquor before setting the bottle aside, and lay down. "Okay. I'm ready."

Chibs dig into your shoulder first and you can't help the flare of your eyes or the elongation of your teeth. But you don't snarl or glare, instead you grit your fangs and bear it.

The moment the first bullet comes out, Juice is there with a dish towel to press against the wound. You wave him off before he can ruin it. "Don't bother. It's already closing." Everyone freezes and glances at your shoulder wound, and you tiredly smile at their awe. "Perks of being a werewolf. We heal quickly."

As Chibs works on the other two bullets, you dig your phone out of shorts. You unlock it and scroll down to your brother's contact, tapping on it and then placing the phone on speaker before letting it clatter to the table top.

It rings and rings, and then, "What happened?"

"The pack attacked." You grunt as the bullet in your thigh gives Chibs a bit of trouble. "I'm currently laid out on the table as a friend digs out a bullet from my thigh."

"Shit. Did any get away?"

"Only four came- three betas and the alpha. M'not sure if there's more to his pack, but-" You trail off, unsure how to say what you have to next.

"But what, YN?"

"I killed the alpha." Your brother goes quiet and tears slowly fill your eyes. "I didn't mean to, Der. It just happened. I was so caught up in the fight and-"

"We'll figure it out, little sister. Just sit tight. We'll be there soon."

"Okay."

The phone beeps, signifying that Derek's hung up and you sigh. "Are cops going to be an issue?"

"Nah," Jax says. "We have them in our pocket."

Just as Chibs tells you you're all done, numerous sounds of roaring engines fill the air.

"Shit." Jax cusses.

"Don't worry. I'll hold them off," Gemma says. "But they will want an explanation."

You sit up and gratefully accept a shirt Opie holds out for you. "That's fine. So long as they can keep this between us, they can know." The shirt is black with the words SAMCRO stamped across the front and you grip it one hand. "Is there a bathroom I can wash all the blood off in?"

"Yeah. Ope, get her a shower," Jax says.

Opie nods and gestures for you to follow. "Thank you." Staring at Jax once more, you ask, "Do you think some of the boys can get the bodies in the vehicles and park them out back? I'll have my brother get rid of it all later."

"Sure."

You follow Opie further into the clubhouse just as there's a bit of a commotion outside, but you don't pay it any mind. Opie opens the door to what appears to be a dorm room and he points to another door inside. "There's the bathroom. My wife has some leggings here if you want a pair."

"Yes, please."

The tall biker turns towards the dresser, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a pair of dark gray leggings. You flash him a smile as you accept them and then head into the bathroom.

A quick rinse off and some fresh clothes later, you're stepping out into the room where Opie is still waiting. Upon seeing you, he chuckles. "You're so unassuming. If I hadn't seen what you did earlier, I wouldn't believe whatever Gem and Jax are telling the boys outside."

You shift nervously in front of him. "That's what's scary about the supernatural world. You never know who is human and who is not." He hums in agreement. "So, uh, is there a place I can burn my bloody clothes?"

"Yeah. I'll tell a Prospect to get a fire going."

"Thanks. And if you can have someone catalog the damage those assholes did to the garage and club, I'll pay for all damages."

Opie looks at you in surprise. "I'll let Gemma know."

Walking back out into the club, you grab up your bloody shirt and follow Opie. Outside in the lot, it seems like Jax is holding court to a bunch of bikers that are listening intently to everything he's telling them about the fight that took place and werewolves. The scent of bleach assaults your nose, and you watch as one individual pours bleach on the now body-free parking lot and another washes it away with a water hose.

Opie pulls someone aside, murmuring something in his ear, and the man glances at you with wide eyes. He nods and hesitantly makes his way towards you, holding his hands out for your bloodied clothes that you readily hand over. As he scampers off, you glance back up to see several people staring at you.

One individual with a head of curly dark hair and receding hairline scoffs. "She's a werewolf? I don't know what you've been smoking, kid, but werewolves don't-"

You snarl, flashing red eyes and very sharp teeth at him.

Nearly everyone pulls a weapon, but you stand your ground and don't say a word. Instead, you let your supernatural features fade away as Jax yells at his people. "ENOUGH! I didn't tell you about werewolves so you can shoot the one we're on friendly terms with as of right now. YN came here as a client to the garage- nothing more, nothing less. She didn't know she was bringing a fight to the club, but she made damn sure to eliminate the threat. Show her an ounce of respect."

There are several unhappy grumbles, but everyone listens. Weapons are holstered and everyone eyes you warily as Opie leads you to the picnic tables. You sigh, stepping up onto the bench so you can sit on the edge of the table itself. You're surprised as Jax joins you, and Opie and Juice sit near your feet on the bench. The other picnic table is brought in front of the one you're sitting on, and Gemma takes a seat along with Chibs and two other individuals.

"YN, this is Clay and Happy." Jax introduces you to a white-haired man who still looks like he has a lot of fight in him and another individual whose stoic expression unsettles you. Both nod in greeting.

"Hi." You fold your arms in your lap, looking at Gemma head on. "I already told Opie, but since you're here.." She perks up, listening. "If you can have someone catalog the damages to your garage and club, I'll pay for it all."

Jax nudges you. "You don't have to do that."

"I do." You look at him, smiling faintly. "These wolves came because of me, so I'll pay for any and all damages."

Gemma slowly smiles. "Thanks, baby."

"Don't even mention it."

Gemma yells for someone and tells them to start logging the damage and it's worth. Then after they run to get started on the job they were assigned, Chibs looks up at you.

"I got a question for 'ya, lass."

"Shoot."

"Why were 'ya so freaked to have red eyes instead of blue?"

You exhale tiredly. "Because red eyes signify alpha status. No pack can have more than one alpha unless they want to constantly butt heads, which means I'll have to leave my pack and start anew elsewhere."

"I have a question too," Clay suddenly speaks up. "Why tell us all of this? If you creatures are dead set on keeping the secret of your existence, why tell my family?"

It takes you a moment to think about it.

"Have you ever met someone and just instantly clicked with them?" You ask. "Someone you met that you just felt at ease with even though they were a complete stranger?" Clay shrugs. "Well when I met Chibs, Jax, Juice and Gemma, that's exactly how I felt. Like I knew them for years and was reuniting with an old friend."

Jax coos next to you and you immediately nudge him, chuckling as you shake your head at him. Clay has a few more questions for you and, though he's not the one in charge, you feel like you should answer anything they throw at you.

A couple hours later, after all the remnants of a gunfight having taken place have been discarded and beers have been passed around to those sitting around you, three vehicles pull up to the lot. Everyone tenses, but when seeing the Camaro that's nearly identical to yours out front, you tell them it's okay.

"It's my brother." When Derek and the betas get off their vehicles, you're surprised to see Peter trailing after them. You hop off the table to greet your brother, hesitating briefly upon touching him before giving in and hugging him. He chuckles and then you stare at your friends before asking, "Can I?"

After all, you didn't want to trigger your brother's wolf by another alpha getting too close to his betas.

"Of course."

Erica, Isaac and Boyd can immediately tell the difference when you hug them, and you smile faintly when you flash red eyes at them.

"Holy shit," Erica says.

"Yeah." Looking at your brother, you say, "There's two vehicles out back with the bodies. Can they take them far out of the county and stage a scene? I don't wanna bring suspicion to the garage's doorstep."

"What's the scene gonna look like?"

"Shootout and an animal attack." You shrug. "I used claws and teeth, and the humans used guns."

"Okay."

Derek gestures for the betas to do as they're told as Juice tells them where to find the vehicles around back. Boyd mentions he'll follow in one of their cars, and Isaac and Erica jog around the garage to go find the vehicles they need to dispose of.

Left alone with just Derek and Peter, you quickly introduce everyone to each other.

"Hold on," Juice says, frowning. "I thought you said your uncle Peter was dead? That your brother ripped his throat out?"

All gazes dart to Peter and Derek who are only a few feet apart, and Peter chuckles as you roll your eyes. "Uncle Peter has an awful habit of not staying dead. He's a nuisance, but as the Pack Enforcer, he's kind of needed."

"Thank you, darling niece. It's so nice to hear that you only keep me around because of my role in the pack and not because we're family."

"I stopped caring for your well-being the moment we found out you cut Laura, your other darling niece, in half," you deadpan.

Gemma gasps and suddenly the humans are on edge.

From the corner of your eye, you see Happy sit a little straighter at that information as he stares at your uncle. Everyone kind of reshuffles around then so that Peter and Derek are not at anyone's back, and you end up between Jax and Opie once more as they stand close by on either side of you.

"So what's your plan?" Derek asks, arms crossing over his chest.

"I'm not sure." You copy his posture. "I don't want to risk making betas. The bite has a 50/50 chance of taking, and I don't want to risk killing someone."

"You and I both know that it's possible to have a pack with members who are human." His eyes dart to the men standing next to you and you frown. "So long as you bond with these people and treat them as family, they're pack."

"What happens if she doesn't form a pack?" Jax asks.

Derek's gaze darts to him as he answers. "If an alpha remains packless, it'll slowly make them feral to the point they need to be put down."

Every gaze then turns to you and you try not to shrink under their gaze.

"I have a better idea," Peter says. "Why not give the alpha power to another wolf who actually wants it?"

"Yeah? And who would that be?"

Peter smirks as his eyes flare blue, but the moment he takes a step in your direction, Jax and Opie are closing ranks on you and putting you just behind their shoulders. You glance at the backs of both men in surprise, head whipping in the direction of Happy and Juice who now have guns resting casually in their laps.

Peter freezes and scoffs, and Derek smirks. "It seems you might already have that pack of yours without even realizing it." Wide eyes meet the gaze of your brother and he chuckles. "Charming is in need of an alpha now, little sister. And it seems you're a new alpha who unknowingly formed a bond with men permanently attached to the town."

You gape at Derek, your expression not changing as Jax and Opie grin over their shoulders at you. When no one says anything, you sigh. "Does anyone know of a house for rent? I'm gonna need a place to stay while I purchase some land and build a house away from nosy neighbors."

"Juice, get on that," Jax says. "Find a house with a decent landlord and then look for land that can be built on."

"Got it, Prez."

Juice jogs away to get started on his new task and you shake your head at your brother. "Congratulations. Charming and its people are now your responsibility," Derek says. "Problem solved."

Clay clears his throat. "That's pretty much the job of the Sons here. We look out for Charming and the locals."

Derek nods at him. "That's great. But if another pack rolls into town, looking to cause trouble, or a rogue werewolf wanders into town and starts killing people for food, how are you going to take care of that problem? Do you know the signs to look for to determine whether or not it's a supernatural threat?"

Clay frowns. "No."

"Then that's where YN steps in. She's going to be a fountain of knowledge. Tap into it."

"I don't have to be a part of whatever operation you have going on here," you say while gesturing towards the building, "but apparently my wolf has shown interest in these knuckleheads," this time you gesture to Opie and Jax, "and any attack on them is an attack on me. And if a supernatural threat comes to town, you're gonna want me in your corner."

Clay seems to think over that before he subtly nods and tucks Gemma under his arm, accepting whatever may come next. Jax slowly smiles, playfully punching his friend's arm. "Werewolf bodyguard.. sweet."