#but now we rally again for the next drop

[sefynarose]

i pulled 50 times for his card but im not too upset cause i had 47 tickets saved up and i wanted the laurel + new pose

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[qqueenofhades]

I think the Aaron Sorkin fic people are writing about the convention to be extremely silly. It's going to be Biden. And if Biden's health takes a downturn and he feels the need to step down its going tk be Harris. This fantasy where we skip over her to whip up two random white guys(or like maaaybe Witmer) and somehow cruise to victory instead of fragmenting the party months before the election is simply not going to happen.

Look, I'm just saying, I got an email from the Biden campaign this morning where they seemed pretty darn happy with the actual (i.e. not-bloviating media) results of the debate: $38 million raised in 4 days ($30 million from individual small-dollar donors), 10K new volunteers in a week, 3x surge in campaign volunteers for battleground states, essentially no change or even a modest boost in the polls. So I think at this point, we can cautiously conclude the following things:

The debate looked bad for Biden, perhaps, but doesn't seem to have hurt him nearly as much the incredibly bad-faith BIDEN NEEDS TO STEP DOWN NOW takes being pumped out by the NYT and its other compatriots would suggest. Especially when these same media outlets have been gleefully sabotaging Biden at every turn for years already and whose fake-sanctimonious hand-wringing "for the good of the nation" pieces honestly should get them dropped into Superhell for Bad Journalists;

Biden went to Raleigh NC right after the debate and gave a fiery rally speech that was very well received. Now, I don't know why we didn't have that Biden at the debate, but it was the same night and there clearly was not any "cOgnItiVe dEcLinE" happening there (also Biden has a stutter and has for literally his entire life, and had a cold on debate night, so it was just an unfortunate confluence of factors)

There are very few actually undecided voters in this election (once again: HOW???) and those who tuned into the debate were largely already convinced of which candidate they were voting for and this didn't do much to change their minds. Just like, you know, pretty much every other debate in the history of presidential elections.

Ordinary voters, and not mainstream media outlets with BIDEN IZ BAD goggles clamped over their eyes, were able to see Trump's insane Gish gallops, lies, and full-blown dementia; this isn't going to get any better for him when he's already lost 20%-25% of GOP voters in every state primary and still is going to be sentenced in his criminal trial;

The D.C. political elite screaming about how Biden should step down (FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION) and leave the Democrats to start from scratch with some Star Chamber-selected candidate with no money and no incumbency record and no organization apparatus and a divided party are either fucking weapons grade morons or working secretly for Trump, because that IS in fact the best way to lose the election;

Such speculation seems to fall chiefly on Gavin Newsom, who (to his credit) has shut down any and all suggestion that he should try to step in and take the place of an incumbent who has won every state primary with 90% or more, because he's remotely sane and understands that this year is too important to fuck around with;

I've somehow never seen any suggestion that Biden should step aside for the duly elected (brown, female) Vice President, because everyone seems to think some Young Miraculous White Guy is coming and/or should step in;

All this while SCOTUS is clearly so confident of Trump getting back in that it's willing to grant him Absolute God King status pre- and post-emptively;

Yes, Biden needs to up his game before the next debate (though that's on Fox News iirc, blargh), but I think it's far enough post-debate that we can say it was bad but did not sink him, and if anything, reinforced the fact to many ordinary, non-brainwormed voters that Biden is old (which has been the number one chief theme of news coverage for four years and is no surprise to anyone) but is a decent and principled man doing a good job, while Trump is an absolute gibbering insane orange shitmonger fascist. I don't think he did himself any favors in that regard.

....anyway. The point is, do not be fucking insane people, Biden is not going to step down and frankly shouldn't, don't read the NYT (as noted, they've openly admitted to sabotaging him for personal ego reasons so I don't know why the hell anyone would listen to what they have to say about him), this is still an eminently winnable election, and let's go get those motherfucking fascists. I want Trump in jail and all of SCOTUS and the MAGAGOP fucking crying over it because they fucking suck. Let's go.

[themultifanshipper]

You hadn’t seen Oscar in years. Not since the two of you broke up back in 2018. Now it was 2027 and he was holding his hand out to you expectantly, as half the MTC stared at the two of you.

Warnings: Zak Brown, driver!reader, reader is friends with Carlos Sainz², jealous Oscar, Oscar is a real prick in this one, hate sex, rough sex, ROUGH sex, I’m not kidding with this one guys it’s angry rough bordering on noncon painful hate sex, like choking almost to the point of passing out, having no regard for the other person’s comfort/safety, overstimulation, pure unbridled animalistic rage in this one guys, beware, also not a happy ending

Ngl, I wrote the first half of this months ago and it was supposed to be super light-hearted, then the angst overtook my brain last night at 3am so… just beware

He was moving to formula Renault, you were bored of single seaters.

You wanted to explore rallying, he wanted to explore his teammates.

You know, the usual things 17 year olds want to do.

The breakup was mutual, sure, but what it lacked was closure. The two of you drifted apart and eventually called it all off, via skype. But you had never looked back, and neither had he. You hadn’t even really thought about him in years.  

Since then, you had made a name for yourself in rallying, nascar, even hanging out in WEC for a season, before going back. When you got a call out of the blue from the one and only Zak Brown, who had apparently been following your career with interest, you could only accept to meet him. He took you around the MTC and even made you do some tests in the sim, then asked if you would be up for testing the car during the season.

“You are being considered to fill one of our seats next year. One of my drivers is having talks with RedBull and I’m covering my bases.” He explained.

You never registered that Oscar was the other McLaren driver. For the next year, you never saw him, and when anyone mentioned his name, your brain apparently blocked it out.

 After extensive individual testing and sim work to make sure you were ready, the thought that you would even have a teammate had completely slipped your mind.

So, there you were, staring into those brown eyes, a month before the beginning of the season, as Oscar waited for you to shake his hand. You realised you’d been staring at him silently for what must have been well over thirty seconds, as the staff around you shuffled around awkwardly.

Zak, who had just ‘introduced’ you, was just looking back and forth between you two, wondering why the hell nobody was speaking.

“You guys need a minute?...”

Still no answer, so he sighed and backed away from you, grumbling “What have I done?... I miss Lando already.”

Once Zak had disappeared from view, Oscar finally dropped his hand and scowled.

“I thought we were going to be civil about this, but if that’s how you want to play it in front of Zak, then that’s fine.” He started to walk away but you cut him off.

“No, wait! I’m sorry!” you rushed out “I just- forgot you were going to be here”

He scoffed. “Here? At my place of work for the past 4 years?”

“No! I mean- I guess my brain hadn’t really assimilated the fact that we… we’re teammates again…”

Something softened in his features for a split second before his face became blank once again. “Yeah? Well, I’m not the same person I was back then, so try not to get distracted. We’re aiming for a constructor’s championship this season, which won’t happen if you’re too busy mooning over me.”

You were speechless as he walked away smoothly, saying hello to a few engineers on the way. What the fuck was his problem? He had become a right arsehole in the 9 years since you’d last spoken. 2027 Oscar was a dick.

He’d also become the broadest, sluttiest proportioned man you’d ever seen as your eyes roamed over his large shoulders and tiny waist before coming to rest on his full, round behind.

Wow.

Zak Brown finally came back, with a rather large coffee cup in his hands. “Ah good, that’s over! Now why don’t we go into my office and we can go over the rest of the formalities for the new-“     Needless to say you didn’t listen to a word that was said in that office.

The thing about having special dispensation to drive in formula 1, is that there was a lot more scrutiny on you than the other drivers. Never mind the fact you were a woman on top of that. Luckily for you though, you had enough talent to go around.

You were fifth in the championship by the time the summer break rolled around, and you couldn’t be happier. Not that you weren’t enjoying the season so far, but the championship battle was intense. Between Redbull having Charles and Lando, You and Oscar in arguably the fastest car, Ollie and Lewis having as much fun in a Ferrari as expected, and even Kimi and George, who managed to grab a fair few podiums with a shitbox of a Mercedes, the margins separating all of you were extremely small, only forty two points between you and Charles in P1.

And although you hadn’t won a race yet, which was pretty normal given that you were a rookie going against the likes of these guys, the commentators and journalists had nothing but praise for you. And you basked in the glory with unbridled satisfaction.

You were on a yacht during summer break, a two day expedition (more like a two day free cruise) and Carlos Sainz Jr (former F1 driver, and your old rally teammate) was on the sun lounger next to you. His father was on one of the lower decks, no doubt hassling the maids for sandwiches.

“Do not worry muñequita, the season will go fine. Oscar just needs time to adjust to having you back in his life basically 24/7”

He pulled you into his lap and started kissing over your chest. Hands roaming over your body as he grumbled “Just like I need to adjust to not having you around all the time…” His mouth wasted no time travelling downwards, your bikini bottoms soon tossed aside, as he made the most of the temporary absence of his father.

You weren’t together really, but your relationship had grown close ever since his dad had helped you get into rallying and you two had subsequently become teammates when he retired from F1 when Williams didn't pan out. Carlos was an amazing lover, and as a woman in motorsports you couldn’t afford any bad PR being viewed as a slut, you needed convenience and discretion, so the arrangement was perfect.

Unfortunately, the next day paparazzi showed up and got some pictures of the two of you. Nothing explicit of course, but it was enough to fuel a few rumours and spice up silly season until the end of the summer break.

During the week leading up to the first race, Oscar was a real sour puss (more than usual anyway) and he kept giving you dirty looks. And he was distracted to the point where his sim runs were just getting worse and worse.

Then there were the snarky remarks. Like when you’d spilled a water jug in the cafeteria and he’d said something like “Messy in all aspects of life, then?”. Or when your car got scratched while parked in the MTC parking lot. He walked past, saw the scratch, snorted derisively and said “Karma’s a bitch, ay” before getting into his own car and driving off.

You had no idea what had gotten into him, but this had to stop, one way or another.

You cornered him in his driver’s room on Sunday morning before the race.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, storming into his room without even bothering to knock.

He looked up from where he was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, but he didn't look phased in the slightest.

“I don't know what you're talking about”

“Oh fuck off! Ever since I joined McLaren you've been a complete dick to me and since we came back from break it's been getting even worse!”

He shrugged and looked back at his phone, which enraged you.

So you did the rational thing and walked over to him, ripped his phone out of his hands to see what could possibly be more interesting than-

You froze upon seeing his screen.

It was one of the more… interesting shots of you and Carlos on the yacht from a few weeks ago.

He stood up and grabbed his phone back, but the damage was done.

Not only was it a picture of you and Carlos, but it wasn't on social media, it was in his camera roll.

He'd saved it onto his phone.

The cogs started turning in your head.

‘Messy in all aspects of life’ he’d said.

This was what he was referencing.

You looked into his eyes and they were filled with thinly veiled rage.

“Is this why? Are you fucking jealous?”

He scoffed and pushed past you.

“I most certainly am not. I hope you and Carlos are very happy together.”

He took his shirt off as aggressively as he could and started putting on his fireproofs.

“Me and Carlos aren't together you prick.”

“Really? So what's the deal then? Does he just get to fuck you?”

“What's it to you? You scared of playing second fiddle to Carlos Sainz?”

That made him halt his movements.

“What?” his hands balled into fists.

“You fucking heard me” you spat.

He turned around slowly, his shoulders tense and his nostrils flared.

“You'd better not be suggesting that he's better than me”

You crossed your arms in defiance. “We were 17 and inexperienced, Oscar, it's not hard to do better than that.”

Something animalistic flashed in his eyes. “I guess I need to change your perception of me if you're going to compare me to that fucking loser”

You laughed in his face, but under the surface you were uneasy at the implications.

“Good luck with that one mate”

“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he prowled towards you menacingly. “Is he that unbelievable? Does he make you come? Does he fuck you like he means it? Does he make you tremble with need underneath him? Does he make you scream his name?”

He towered over you, only a few inches separating your faces.

“Because I guarantee, once you get a taste of me you won't be going back to him.”

“Do your worst” you whispered, fully turned on by this angry side of Oscar.

“Oh I’m going to” he smirked, “but right now I have a race to win”

And with that he backed off, leaving you unconsciously gripping the edge of the table you’d been cornered against.

As you crossed the threshold of his doorway on your way out, you muttered “coward”, fully intending for him to hear it.

And thank God Oscar didn’t, because if he had, you wouldn’t have been able to get in a car after he’d had his way with you.

You were distracted the whole race. Nerves ran down your spine as you took each corner, not wrong enough to hit a wall, but wrong enough to slow you down.

“Concentrate, please. Leclerc is closing the gap, we don’t want to endanger Oscar’s chances” your engineer muttered over the radio.

“Fuck Oscar” you said, which was entirely unhelpful, and if aired was going to attract quite a bit of backlash.

Fortunately for you, Oscar seemed to be having similar difficulties. He’d dipped his rear tyres into the gravel a couple of times, and with 39 lap old mediums, that meant he was becoming significantly slower than you, being on slightly fresher ones.

You eventually caught up to him, and Charles caught up to you.

You should have been let past. You were faster, you could guarantee a McLaren win. Oscar should have listened to team orders. You shouldn’t have forced him wide to get past when he refused to listen to reason. He shouldn’t have hit you while defending his inside line. You shouldn’t have ended up beached in the gravel trap, Oscar’s car spinning alongside yours. Charles shouldn’t have won that race.

You and Oscar shouldn’t have started brawling on the edge of the track.

Alas...

The loud slam of your driver’s room door against the wall startled you, as if you weren’t expecting it. As if you hadn’t been waiting for him.

As if Oscar hadn’t spat ‘you won’t be able to walk tomorrow’ at you as the marshalls dragged you apart.

As if you weren’t already dripping at the thought of Oscar taking his anger out on you and making you pay for what happened.

His hand was around your throat before you could think too much about it. You were pinned down on the table, nails scratching at the arm that held you down against the cool wood.

The fact that you were soaked was evident as soon as he forced his other hand into your underwear and felt how slick your folds were, and he immediately used his fingers to make you fall apart at the seams as he found the spot that made you weak and abused it repeatedly, his thumb pressing rough circles onto your poor clit.

Only when you’d come twice from his fingers alone was he satisfied.

He’d changed into sweatpants at some point, making it easier for him to pull his hard cock out while still holding you down.

You were used and oversensitive, and the sight of his thickness made you squirm and attempt to tell him to stop, but you didn’t get the chance.

The fingers around your throat were barely letting you breathe, much less get words out, not to mention that you were getting so lightheaded you doubted if your words would even be comprehensible if you did manage to utter them.

When his tip breached you, you tensed, waiting for him to go all the way, but he didn’t.

He waited until you relaxed before he slammed into you, probably bruising your cervix and making sure he made good on his trackside promise.

If you’d been able to make a sound, you would have probably been heard all the way across the paddock. The aching pain just served to add to the fog that was slowly invading your mind as he wasted no time pulling out and thrusting back in with even more force.

It was brutal, uncaring and relentless.

This wasn’t for your pleasure, nor even for his. This was a painful reminder for you both, that you were at the mercy of the sport you dedicated your lives to. You were puppets, made to compete in the most expensive dog fight in the world and you couldn’t do anything to change that. You just had to take it, until you triumphed, or drowned in the condolent applause of failure.

These were the sort of wild thoughts a person could have after being deprived of air for long enough.

Oscar hadn’t even noticed the state you were in until your grip on his arm weakened, and he panicked slightly and quickly loosened his grip, allowing you to heave in the first proper breath you’d had in minutes.

The reprieve didn’t last long though, because he leaned over you and kissed you, more teeth and tongue than a real kiss, but it was all either of you could manage, being so close to the brink of extasy you hadn’t even noticed you’d been nearing. Your body rocked against the table with the powerful movement of his hips slapping yours, the combined sweat of your bodies making the surface slippery.

Your throat was sore, and all you could manage was a pitiful whine as you were tossed over the edge of the precipice, and Oscar jumped with you, both of you panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as he filled you to the brim.

He didn’t stop though. He kept fucking you through it, overstimulating you and himself, both of you crying out into the stale air of your driver’s room.

His anger and desperation could be felt in his unrelenting pace, frenzied thrusts pushing you further and further up the table each time.

Your shared tears mingled with your sweat, clouding your visions as you just kept going.

 It hurt, but that didn’t matter when it was just the two of you, together, bodies colliding, unspoken words hanging between you.

It hurt, but it felt good.

The pain grounded you, making sure you stayed locked in even when you couldn't breathe.

He filled you up again and again, until he physically couldn’t anymore. He pulled out without care and pulled his sweats back up.

He took in your appearance: skin flushed, glistening with sweat and tears, bruises forming around your neck, puffy cunt leaking onto the table… pathetic.

He made his way to the door but stopped just as his hand touched the handle.

“Don’t try that shit ever again” and the next thing you heard was the door slam behind him.

You both knew you would do it again. And he would do it as soon as he got the chance, probably leading to another crash.

And you would probably end up right back here, used and spent, unable to move.

Tears sprang to your eyes, anyone could walk in and see you like this, utterly destroyed physically and mentally by your teammate.

It took you several minutes to gather the energy to move, and when you did the pain flashed across your body once again.

He'd used you, made you take it until he had nothing left to give. Until you lay there, broken like a discarded toy.

But God, you both knew you craved it.

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk [part 2 | paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige reunite, but in the worst way possible

a/n: i wrote this part like a month ago but i never posted it. im not sure about continuing this series because i dont have a vision for how i want it to go

word count: 3.4k

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You shut your eyes, exhaling. The breath that came out was shaky, and you hated it. You hated feeling this weak and unstable before a game, when usually you were all collected and confident.

Your brain was a battle of emotions. Your school, USC, was facing off against UConn in a pre-season match today, and since it was the first game of October, the administration on both teams had agreed to dedicate this game to Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

In a kind gesture that had left you at a loss for words, your head coach Gottlieb had organized custom pink shirts for the entire team to wear during warmup, with a painting of your grandma’s face in the front and one of her quotes on the back - “Strength is not the absence of fear, but the courage to confront it.” Your grandma had been a force in the basketball world, being one of the founders and fighters of the WNBA, and you knowed that part of the reason why both USC and UConn were rallying so hard for breast awareness was because both coaches knew of your relationship with your grandma.

After taking a few more deep breaths, you felt calm enough to rejoin your team as they warmed up their shooting. Looking around, you laid eyes on Paige, who was silently stretching in the corner. You took her in - her blonde hair was up in her typical game day do, with her braids in the front and the rest of her hair collected into a tight ponytail. She looked good, her cheeks slightly rosy, her eyes concentrated. You felt your heatt flutter as you examined her, but your heart suddenly dropped when you realized what she was wearing.

You knew this was bad idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You found your legs pacing towards Paige, carrying you with a level of authority you didn’t know you had.

“What the fuck is this?”

Paige turned around, her resistance band now hanging limp in her hand. She did a double take once she realized who’d just spoken to her, her eyes carefully and unashamedly taking you in. “What?”

You gestured aggressively at her ahirt. “Take it off.”

Paige’s eyes hardened as she leaned back from you. “Excuse me?”

“I said, take it off.” Your voice was icy and unfamiliar to your own ears. In your peripheral vision, you saw heads starting to turn, as girls from both teams watched with curiosity as you stepped closer to Paige, anger drawn on both of your faces.

“Where did you even get it from?” Your voice trembled as you studied Paige’s shirt again. It was familiar to you, because you had the exact same one, just in different colors, hanging up in your room. It was your grandma’s jersey, from her high school team in the 1960s. As far as you knew, she only had a few, and she’d given one to you, one that you’d viligantly taken care of since you’d received it.

Paige raised her chin defiantly. “She gave it to me.”

Those words knocked you off your feet, and you stumbled even though you’d been standing still. “No, she didn’t.” Paige only gritted her teeth without responding. Desperate for a reaction, for anything than just silence, you continued, “She wasn’t even your grandma.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. Over the course of your friendship and then relationship, Paige had gotten almost as close to your grandma as you were. They had adored each other, and back then you had loved the way they loved each other. But now, you couldn’t seem to hate anything more.

You were spiraling, a destructive disarray of grief and bitterness and jealousy. When your grandma had died two months ago, you’d wished that Paige would’ve done more then send a couple of DMs on Twitter. But she didn’t, hadn’t reached out after that, which you couldn’t exactly blame her for because she owed no obligation to comfort you. You guys weren’t even dating anymore. But you’d hopelessly wanted Paige to do more, to show up on your doorstep and take you into her arms.

Paige, seemingly unaffected by your desperate words, regarded you coolly. “How would you know?” she asked menacingly, the hostility in her tone sending shivers down your spine. “You weren’t even there for her in the last few months.” She paused before landing her final blow. “But guess who was?” Her eyebrows cocked as she brushed past you and went back to her team on the court.

It felt like Paige had physically hit you, the way your heart stuttered and your mind reeled. You clenched your first, wishing you’d never came over here in the first place.

“Hey.” A gentle hand brushed your shoulder. Familiar perfume filled your nostrils, and you turned around to see Caroline.

Holding back a sob, she opened her arms and you fell into them. This was too much. Your nasty exchange with Paige, combined with the loss of your grandma still achingly fresh in your mind, along with the guilt of seeing the team that you’d left without so much as a goodbye. You’d been avoiding their looks the entire warmup. Nika had tried to talk to you earlier, but you’d brushed her off. And now, Caroline was standing in front of you, with the softest smile on her face as if you hadn’t ghosted her for the last year.

Caroline, one of your closest friends from your two years at UConn, comfortingly rubbed your back as you embraced her. When you pulled back, you almost couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry,” you rasped, looking down.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” The kindness in her tone almost sent you into another fit.

“But I do.” You bit your bottom lip. “I transferred to USC without telling any of you guys. And when I left, I didn’t even bother to say goodbye. All I did was send a stupid text.” You kicked the ground, chastising yourself for how you’d treated your closest friends.

“You were hurting.” Caroline squeezed your arms. “We all understand. None of us are mad, alright? We all just miss you.” When you didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed with guilt, she nudged you. “You wanna make it up to us?”

You nodded quickly. Anything.

“Come hang with us after. At my place. No bar, nothing public. Just you and us. We can catch up, you can tell us all about USC and we’ll give you all the latest drama here.”

Thoughts of Pauge flashed through your mind before you shut it down. It was time to stop putting your feelings over Paige before your friends. You had to rebuild the gap, for the sake of the girls that you loved. “I’ll be there,” you responded, and Caroline’s eyes lit up with a grin.

“Great,” she beamed. “And about your grandma. I’m so sorry, babe. She was a really good person.”

You nodded. “Thank you. She really was.” Caroline gave you one last hug before you both parted ways to finish warming up before the game.

———————————-

Sweat dripped off your temples. You blinked roughly, trying to stave off the fogginess creeping in at the edge of your vision. Your muscles ached, screaming for oxygen and a break from the constant back-and-forth of the game. Whenever you opened your mouth, your throat burned from all the screaming you’d done over the past hour to attempt to communicate as well as UConn was doing.

It was no use. You’d been part of the UConn system before, and the drills that Geno had spent hours on, making sure you guys talked through every play, calling out unders or overs on screens, back door cuts, and picks, made the defensive coordination of UConn the best in the nation. Your team was starting to loosen at the seams and fall behind, and you could sense it.

The entire game had been intense, a battle of aggression between the two teams seemingly fueled by the personal vendettas between you and Paige, each captains of your respective teams. She was relentless, having scored 30 points with 2 minutes left in the last quarter. You’d yet to defend her, which was a relief. You didn’t know if you could bear all the aggressive contact, the tensions, the overflow of emotions that would occur once you started to guard her.

After Aaliyah posted up to score another latup, Gottlieb signaled for a time out. “Alright,” she declared, focusing her eyes on you. “You’re taking Paige. I want you to press her hard. Keep your weight off your heels and don’t cross your feet.”

You squirted water into your mouth, nodding. You guys were down by 5 points, and shutting down Paige was the main priority right now. USC broke, but Juju grabbed your arm. “Hey,” she said lowly. “Keep your emotions out of this, alright? Focus on the game.”

You clenched your jaw, avoiding eye contact with your best friend. “I got it. I want to win just as much as you do.”

“Okay.” Juju clearly didn’t believe you, but she released your arm and jogged back to her spot. You rolled back your shoulders. Right now was not the time to think about how Paige was looking at you, or how her girlfriend was sitting court-side, just a few feet from your assigned spot. You wiped the bottom of your shoes, trying to get rid of the sweat in your palms and add some traction to your feet. Leslie eyed you the entire time, smacking her gum loudly. “Come on, Paige!” she cheered with an obnoxious grin as soon as she made eye contact with you. You clenched your jaw, feeling Juju give you a warning look from across the court.

One of your teammates unbounded the ball, and you took off across the court. Rayah stepped out to set a screen, but you drove baseline away from it. You received the ball as you reached the post, and you passed it to Juju, who was waiting at the 3. The play ran beautifully, but as the ball arched towards Juju, a hand reached up and knocked it down.

Paige grabbed the ball and passed it down the court to Nika. You sprinted to defense, heart pumping, fueled by the humiliation of getting a pass intercepted, and by Paige of all people. You reached Nika, lunging for the ball in a desperate last second attempt, but she side stepped you for the layup, sending you flying across the floor.

You heard the oohs of the crowds as you landed hard on your butt, your ankle twisted underneath you. Biting your lip to muffle your shout of pain, you clenched your jersey to try and assuage the throbbing in your tailbone and leg.

You heard a commotion around you, and suddenly there was Paige, standing above you, concern etched into her eyebrow. She held out a hand, but Juju quickly appeared, bending down to touch your elbow and offering her own hand. Ignoring Paige, you wrapped both of your hands around Juju’s as she heaved you up.

Paige stepped back, her mouth in an unforgiving line. “You okay?” she asked, tone haughty and neutral.

“She’s fine,” Juju snapped, stepping protectively between the two of you. “Give her some space, will you?”

Paige held her hands up in surrender and took a couple steps back. Her gaze on you stayed with unwavering intensity, though. But you avoided it, like you’d done the entire game, and let the trainer examine you.

“You good?” Nika ran up to you, chest heaving. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah.” You smiled in reassurance at her. “Not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

Nika nodded as the trainer helped you up and led you off the court. Paige’s gaze burned into your back, but when you turned around, she quickly averted her eyes.

You hadn’t injured yourself, only taken a rough fall, but you still sat on the bench for the remaining minute of the game. Unfortunately, with your dominating presence out, USC couldn’t catch up, and your team lost by a single heartbreaking point.

You walked slowly as USC and UConn formed lines to wish each other a good game. You’d been nervous beforehand, thinking about what to say to the girls, but Caroline had told the truth. None of them seemed to have anything against you, all pulling you in for a tight hug and telling you how good you played and how much they missed you. So although you were exhausted and your ankle was starting to throb again, you knew that you had to go to Caroline’s hangout.

—————————-

“Oh my god, come in!” You chuckled as Azzi opened the door and practically started jumping on her heels from excitement. You grabbed Juju’s hand and led her in from behind you. She was there for backup, a familiar face in a sea of once familiar faces. When you’d asked the Uconn girls if she could come, they’d all happily agreed, saying that they’d been wanting to meet the freshman phenom that had taken the basketball world by storm.

The girls were scattered around Caroline’s apartment. Some of them were sprawled on the couch, watching an NBA game as if they hadn’t had enough basketball for the night. Others were drinking wine in the kitchen and picking at a charcuterie board. Thankfully, you didn’t see any sign of a blonde when you scanned the room, and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Hey guys, this is Juju.” Juju waved her hand shyly, and everyone clambered up to meet her. You smiled at the scene. Despite rivalries on the court and the vigor that UConn played with, you knew they left behind all of that once the shot clock buzzed for the final time. These girls were the nicest you’d ever met, welcoming everyone as their own.

You and Juju found a spot on the couch. You were almost getting comfortable before the door swung open and a familiar laugh filled the room. You didn’t bother to look up, trying to play it cool, but when Juju laid a hand on your arm in warning the same time an unfamiliar voice resonated, you realized that a certain brunette had came too.

Masking your face with indifference, you congratulated yourself for having the power to control your facial expression once Paige and Leslie tumbled into the family room, Leslie’s hands attached to Paige’s waist as they both laughed, obviously already having put some drinks into their system before coming here. You ignored the silence that had fallen over the rest of the team as they realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Caroline mouthed from her spot on the armchair. “I didn’t know she was gonna be here.”

You only shrugged, your eyes focused on your lap as you tried to maintain your facade of apathy. Juju shifted closer to you in support, and you’d never loved her more.

“Okay!” Caroline said brightly, cutting through the heavy tension in the room. “Who wants a margarita?” All the girls cheered, and the ambience in the apartment returned as conversations resumed.

This is only awkward if you let it be awkward, you thought. You and Paige had broken up over a year ago. You could be civil. You were so over her. But you knew you were lying from the way your insides jolted when Leslie leaned in to press a loud kiss on Paige’s cheek.

Soon, some of the girls started recording Tiktoks and doing silly dances. You turned down their offers to make a cameo in their videos, content with just watching. As you observed rhem, it dawned on you how much you’d missed them. Their silliness made you laugh in a way you hadn’t laughed at in a long time. Throughout the entire night, you tried to pretend as if Paige and Leslie didn’t exist, although it was hard with the exuberant amount of PDA they were showing. They were sitting on each other’s laps, their hands wandering, and they weren’t making out but you almost wish they were so that you wouldn’t have to see either of their faces.

“Paige! Did you come here to celebrate or eye fuck your girlfriend the entire time?” KK yelled, waving a Nintendo controller. “Come play Smash Bros.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she caught the controller that KK threw at her. She wrapped around Leslie, who was still on top her lap, and started to press buttons on the controller as she chose her chatacter. You stiffened at the memory of Paige doing the exact same thing with you, all those late nights she’d played Fortnite with the team, you falling asleep with your head in the crook of her neck as she gamed. It’d always ended with her carrying you to bed, tucking you in and wrapping her arms around yours.

“Watch out KK,” Leslie joked. “P is a beast at Smash Bros.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at smashing,” Paige teased, her words dripping with sexual undertones. Everyone groaned, and Leslie giggled, a high pitched and screeching noise that you thought could be used as torture for prisoners if put on replay.

Leslie reached for her margarita, but her movements were sluggish from her tipsy state, causing the alcohol to slosh over the side of the cocktail glass. Immediately, Paige jumped up, hurriedly removing Leslie from her lap as she examined herself. It was only then that you realized that Paige had taken off the sweater she’d arrived with and was now in your grandma’s jersey, a jersey that now sported a large wet stain.

“Leslie, oh my god.” She yelled, her voice panicked. “I told you to be careful.”

“Oh shit, my bad.” Leslie set down her drink and reached for Paige, who stepped backwards and away from her touch.

“You fucker.” The words were out of your mouth before you knew it, and all eyes in the room turned to you. Juju kicked you nervously, but you ignored her. “How could you?” You rushed over to Paige, looking closely at the jersey now reeking with alcohol. You held back tears as you saw the print already starting to fade. The jersey was 60 years old, already fragile and old, and you knew that it was now as good as ruined.

Paige turned to Leslie. “I thought I told you not to fucking drink while you were around me. You know how important this jersey is to me.”

Leslie stood rigid, her expression now calculated. “You guys are being so dramatic. Let me have the jersey. I’ll go wash it and bring it back good as new.”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch it.” You turned from Leslie, gently touching the frayed ends with shaky fingers. “You can’t just wash it. It’ll fall apart. Oh my god, you just ruined one of the only things my grandma left us.” Your voice was choked now, tears forming at your eyes. “Shit!” You slammed your first into the ground in anger.

The team exchanged hesitant looks, worry clear in their eyes. Juju came up from behind you. “Come on, babe,” she whispered. “I’m sure we can do something about it. Let me take a look, hmm?”

You moved aside, but from the look on Juju’s face as the faded patches and stressed seams became visible as she studied it, you knew there was no use. The tears started falling then, an uncontrollable stream that left you feeling broken. “Excuse me,” you whimpered, and you ran into the bathroom, locking yourself inside.

You heard murmurs of the team outside. You heard the front door slam. Soon, someone knocked softly on the door. “It’s Juju,” your friend called, and you resignedly unlocked the door and let her inside before shutting it again.

You slumped down on the ground, you face in your hands. “Oh,” Juju whispered, and she knelt down next to you as you started to sob.

Another knock came in, followed by a tentative voice calling your name. You exchanged looks with Juju, who got up and slipped outside.

“Are you serious right now?” Juju’s voice was muffled, but you could still hear the fury radiating from her words. “You know you’re the reason she’s crying right now?”

“I know.” A pause. “I need to apologize.”

“She doesn’t wanna see you right now.”

You heard Paige‘s sharp intake of breath. “Juju, please.”

You could practically feel Juju’s hesitance, but she must‘ve relented, because when the door opened, it was Paige who stepped in.

[aftaylorglow]

i want so badly for taylor swift to speak out against israel and the genocide this apartheid state is committing in palestine. im so proud of her and everything she has achieved this year, starting from the eras tour to her successful rerecords. it’s not a surprise she’s on top of many year-end most influential/best of the best lists.

but what then? what use is her ever-growing influence? it’s ridiculous to say but she’s the only one who has enough of a sway to make people actually pay attention to something. just look at how the voter registration in the US spiked again when she posted about it a few months ago. how the NFL had boosted views for the simple fact that she was attending the games. can you imagine how much the tides would change if she denounced israel’s atrocities? if she rallied for support for palestinians? the legions of swifties would actually listen and pay attention. because right now only a very small fraction of us care, truly care, about what’s happening. the rest are too busy fishing for a taylor nation notice.

yes, taylor swift cannot end wars. no, it’s not taylor swift’s job to make life better for an oppressed population. but she has the platform, the momentum, and the voice to bring all these issues to light.

this is not to mention how the apartheid state has been using her pictures, her lyrics, even the friendship bracelets to further their propaganda. did taylor not fervently oppose the n@zis who were calling her an aryan goddess a few years ago? even if this is all she does now, ask them not to use her for their propaganda, it would already do so much.

instead she’s silent. when her influence is needed the most, she’s not there.

the sad thing is, we all know she’ll live and thrive if she chooses to stay silent. hell, i have tickets to see her next year. she’ll continue to be successful and she will put out more albums and she’ll earn more money and she’ll be safe and happy. palestinians have none of any of this. some of them are dying under the rubble after their house is hit with b0mbs that israel is dropping as im typing this.

but if she uses her influence? if she puts pressure on the government, on joe biden whom she proudly endorsed, there’s a chance that she could tip the scales. and even if it doesn’t work, isn’t it better to have at least tried? even selfishly, will your conscience not feel lighter knowing you did something instead of nothing?

taylor, you have a ton of resources at your disposal. i hope you use them, and i hope you use your influence to help the palestinian people.

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

Hey look! New stuff that isn’t a rewrite!

A thanks to Yandy for inspiring me! It was fun adding something super goofy to Mafia Au!

Teeechnically there’s nothing Yandere or mafia in this but, it’s in the Au so it counts! Consider this a filler!

(The named OCs (minus the Dean of course.)that are connected to (y/n) belong to Yandy so if you got questions about them, ask thaaat lovely lass.)

Anywho, enjooooy!

———

————-

———

It’s a warm afternoon, the sun lazily stretching its rays across the bustling college campus. Students crowd the quad, gathered around a hastily assembled stage.

A buzz thrums through the air, fueled by the promise of an announcement that has everyone on edge. (Y/n) stands with her back against one of the quad’s large trees, arms crossed, looking relaxed yet curious.

Beside her, Tess lounges on the grass, her knees pulled up.

Nic leans against the tree trunk beside her, arms folded, eyes scanning the crowd.

“It’s a shame Jack’s still helping out mom and dad,” (Y/n) muses, glancing at the chaotic crowd. “She’d love this, but she won’t be back in time.”

Tess chuckles, “Lucky for us you mean. She’d probably destroy all of us in whatever madness they’re cooking up.”

(Y/n) smiles, nodding. “True. It’s probably for the best.”

The day seemed too calm, almost as if the entire campus was waiting for something to happen. Tess tilts her head towards (Y/n), her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Think it’s going to be good?” she asks, barely containing a grin.

(Y/n) shrugs, trying to stay casual but the tension is starting to crawl into her posture.

“Depends on the prize. If it’s another pizza party, I’m not losing a limb over it.”

Nic, who’d been pretending not to care, finally speaks up.

“If they’re gathering this many people, it’s not gonna be a pizza party. You don’t rally the entire campus for cheap cardboard and cheese.”

The trio falls into a watchful silence as the Dean finally steps up to the microphone, looking far too pleased with himself.

The guy had the aura of someone who believed he’d found the next viral college stunt, like this one genius idea was going to get him written into school legend.

The Dean, in a suit just a little too tight, beams at the students, raising his hands like a conquering hero.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming! Today we have an announcement that will change the next two weeks for ALL of you!” He pauses for effect, and it’s clear he’s basking in the suspense.

Tess, with a casual smirk, mutters, “Hope he’s wearing something waterproof. This crowd’s gonna riot if he says ‘raffle tickets’.”

Dean Farrow clears his throat and grins like a man about to drop a bombshell.

“As you all know, it’s time for our annual campus-wide paintball tournament!”

There’s a faint murmur of excitement, but it’s restrained. Paintball was a yearly thing, fun, but nothing that would send the campus into a frenzy.

(Y/n) raises an eyebrow. “Paintball? Again? That’s it?”

“As you all know, last year’s paintball tournament was canceled due to the campus renovations.”

Disgruntled murmurs were heard throughout the crowd. (Y/n) could relate. No one had been happy last year.

The Dean cleared his throat. “But this year… it’s back!”

The murmurs grew louder, anticipation rising. Nic raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to play it cool. Tess was already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The Dean continued, oblivious to the rising storm in front of him. “Now, let’s talk prizes! For the runner up, an all expenses paid spa weekend!”

A few cheers and claps sounded, but nothing too enthusiastic.

“Better than a pizza party!” Tess chirped.

But the Dean wasn’t finished.

“This year, though, we’ve decided to up the stakes. The grand prize for the last person standing—” He pauses again for dramatic effect. “Will be priority registration for next semester and the option to skip one final exam!”

For a second, the world seems to stop. Everyone in the quad freezes. The trio looks stunned. It’s the kind of silence so intense you could hear a pin drop on grass.

“Now students, the tournament will begin—”

A single scream tears through the air as some random student, no doubt acting on pure instinct, whips out a hidden paintball pistol and shoots his friend square in the chest. Bright yellow paint splatters across his shirt as he stumbles back, but the action sets off a chain reaction.

Hell breaks loose.

Students dive for cover, pull paintball guns from their bags, jackets, and God knows where else. Some bolt for the bushes. Others start forming alliances on the fly. The crowd disperses like wildfire, everyone scrambling to avoid being the first casualty as the Dean attempts to control the sudden chaos he unleashed.

“S-Students wait! The tournament won’t be for another-!!” He ducks as several paintballs were shot at him.

Tess, cackling like a madwoman, is already on her feet, using her bag to knock down a student that tried to sneak up on them.

“Now that is a prize worth fighting for!”

Nic, already frowning but with a glint of anticipation in his eyes, pulls a small paintball gun from his satchel.

(Y/n) blinks. “Why do you—”

“I’m not flunking a final because I have to memorize another 400 pages of economics.”

Just as Nic grabs Tess and (Y/n) by their arms, dragging them toward the nearest set of bushes, Tess glances at (Y/n) and says, “Actually, it’s a good thing Jack’s not here. She’d win this in a heartbeat, and we’d all be toast.”

(Y/n) nods, ducking as a paintball whizzes past them. “Yeah, she’d mop the floor with us.”

Nic, who was now crouched behind the dense greenery, adds with a smirk, “You’re not wrong. We’d all be out before we even got started.”

As the chaos erupts around them, (Y/n) peeks over the top of the bench, watching the pandemonium unfold in the quad. Paintballs fly in every direction, splattering students left and right.

A couple of nerds are already hiding under the admin building’s steps, shouting something about regrouping.

“What the hell is happening right now??” (Y/n) gasps, trying to catch her breath.

“Natural selection,” Nic answers, crouched beside them, his eyes darting around like a man possessed. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

Tess grins. “The plan is: we win.”

Nic, already firing at a group of art students rushing them, gives Tess a look. “That’s not a plan.”

“It’s all I need,” Tess retorts, shooting at two students passing by.

Nic rolls his eyes. “The real plan is: we find a safe place, avoid the jocks, they’ll be in full attack mode, and stay clear of the chess club. Those guys play dirty. Trust me.”

“The chess club?” Tess asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nic nods gravely. “They’re organized, strategic, and ruthless. Don’t underestimate them.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Shut up.”

(Y/n) groaned, leaning back against the bush. "Nic, we don’t even have enough paintball guns!"

Tess grinned, pulling a paintball gun from seemingly nowhere and handing it to (Y/n). "Here, you’re gonna need this."

(Y/n) blinked at her in shock. "Where did you—"

Tess jabbed her thumb in the direction of a guy lying on the ground a few feet away, struggling to get back up. “Borrowed it.”

Nic smirked. "Nice work, Tess."

“Alright,” he continued, his voice lowering as he glanced over the quad. “We need to move. Now.”

Just then, Nic froze, his eyes narrowing. “Crap. Chess club. Twelve o’clock.”

They all whipped their heads in the direction Nic was looking and sure enough, several members of the chess club were efficiently taking people out with precise shots, their strategy impeccable.

“RUN!” Nic shouted, and the three of them bolted from their hiding spot, sprinting across the quad, ducking behind anything they could find.

——

——

——

The manor was unusually quiet, save for the idle hum of conversation among the Chain. The air was thick with the smell of wood polish and the faint echo of footsteps across the hardwood floors.

Warriors leaned back in his chair, wiping a stray smear of blood off his gauntlet while Sky whittle away at a small block of wood , the room basked in the rare moments of calm they were afforded between missions.

“Ugh,” Warriors groaned, tossing the rag onto the table. “I swear, grinding bones after severing limbs is such a hassle. I’ve said it a hundred times, it’s way easier to just grind the body as a whole. Saves time.”

Wind, lounging nearby with a playful smirk, chimed in, “Or, you know, you could just feed the whole bodies to pigs. That’d solve your problem in no time. Pigs’ll eat everything.”

Time, who had been writing a report across from Sky, didn’t even look as he calmly spoke to Wind, his voice measured and even. “Wind is not allowed to assist with body disposal for a month.”

“What?!” Wind protested, sitting up straight. “Again?!? Come on! I’m being punished just for making suggestions now? It's a good idea! The pigs back home could-“

Twilight chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re weird about the pigs, Wind. You use them like you use those seagulls, way too much enthusiasm for… clean-up.”

“That’s different!” Wind huffed, crossing his arms. “Pigs are just… practical.”

"Uh-huh," Four muttered sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as he turned the page of his book.

Meanwhile, Hyrule sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a vague smile, half-listening to the chatter around him. Time, however, was only pretending to read the report in front of him. His blank expression hid the mental whirlwind after he decided to check on how (Y/n)’s paintball game was going on his phone.

The screen in front of him showed what could only be described as a literal war zone on campus, students running, screaming, and paintballs flying in every direction like some kind of apocalyptic battle.

Time’s eyebrows rose. How had it devolved into this so quickly? He knew about the prize, but he hadn’t anticipated this level of chaos from a bunch of college students. He forced himself to remain outwardly calm, though his blank expression became more strained with each passing second.

Just then, Hyrule’s phone buzzed. He blinked and frowned slightly at the unknown number, hesitating before answering. “Hello?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then (Y/n)’s frantic, breathless voice exploded through the phone.

“SEND DUDES! AND NOT TIME, CAUSE I DON’T TRUST HIS DEPTH PERCEPTION!”

Time’s eye twitched sharply at her comment, and for a brief second, the other Links swore they saw a vein pop on his forehead. He grunted quietly in annoyance but remained silent, though his expression was growing more strained by the second. He was still distracted by the chaos unfolding on his screen-paintballs flying everywhere, students diving behind cover, and… was that someone wearing a trash can as armor?

“What-” Hyrule started to say, but before he could get a full sentence out, there was another crash on (Y/n)’s end of the line.

“NIC, BEHIND YOU! NO, NOT THAT WAY-“

(Y/n)’s voice came back, still chaotic but trying to sound cheery. “Anyway, gotta go, good luck! See you soon!” And with that, the call abruptly ended.

The room was silent for a beat, everyone waiting for Hyrule to explain. Time didn’t seem to notice the stares, his eyes still glued to his screen, watching the unfolding mayhem with thinly veiled fascination and horror.

“What was that about?” Four asked, leaning forward, his face a mixture of concern and confusion.

Hyrule pocketed his phone and glanced around the room. “Uh… (Y/n) needs help. She said they’re in the middle of something, and-” he paused, glancing awkwardly at Time, “-she, uh… doesn’t want you to come. Something about your depth perception?”

Time’s eye twitched again. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he stayed silent, though the tension radiating off him was palpable.

Warriors snorted. “She’s never gonna let you live that down.”

Time’s expression remained unreadable, but his fingers twitched as though he were imagining the penal he’d perform on her. He forced himself to exhale through his nose slowly, pretending to look calm.

Twilight, chuckling, grabbed his bag. “We should head out. Sounds like she’s in the middle of some chaos.”

Wind slung his bag over his shoulder with a grin. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s just a tournament, right?”

Four rolled his eyes as he followed Wind. “Yeah, because ‘just a tournament’ always ends in a disaster with us.”

Twilight laughed and nodded in agreement.

As the Chain started heading toward the door, Time remained seated, his expression still unreadable. The others gave him a curious glance, but he waved them off. “I’ve got other matters to handle.”

Once the door clicked shut behind them, Time let out a long, slow exhale, his carefully constructed calm mask slipping. His eyebrow twitched one last time before he muttered under his breath, “I’ve got half a mind to go down there myself and put a paintball between her eyes…my depth perception is fine.”

He stared at the screen.

. . .

Chaos continued.

. . .

He sighed.

——

. . . . . . . . . .

——

The group arrived at the college, their boots barely making a sound on the eerily quiet campus.

The air was unusually still, lacking the lively hum of students that Hyrule had described. Warriors narrowed his eyes as they walked further in, his instincts kicking in immediately, scanning the area for any sign of trouble.

“This is… strange,” Four commented, his gaze sweeping across the empty grounds. “Shouldn’t there be more…people around?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule agreed, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting (Y/n) to pop out from behind a tree. “Way too quiet.”

As they ventured further down the pathway, their pace slowed when they began to notice the state of the campus.

Banners hung torn and ragged, some barely fluttering in the faint breeze. Tables and chairs were scattered across the walkways, overturned with legs bent at odd angles. Posters were ripped apart, their remnants littering the ground like confetti after a storm.

“Looks like something went down here,” Wind muttered, eyes narrowing as he nudged aside a crumpled banner with his foot.

Warriors crouched near an overturned chair, his expression unreadable. “Stay on guard.”

They moved toward the heart of the campus, the atmosphere tense. The quad, once vibrant and bustling with students, now resembled a battlefield. Tables and chairs were toppled over, barricades had been hastily thrown together, and the occasional smear of paint marked various surfaces.

“I’ve seen war zones cleaner than this,” Four remarked, both baffled and somewhat impressed as he took in the chaotic scene.

“Where are all the students?” Twilight’s voice was tight, his eyes scanning every corner of the quad.

Warriors’ eyes flicked to the closed doors of the cafeteria on the far side. “We’ll find out.”

The group approached the doors cautiously, the silence growing heavier with each step. Warriors reached out to open the door, his hand mere inches from the handle when-

BAM!

The doors flew open, and a student tumbled out, barely managing to roll to their feet. More students followed, sprinting out after them, eyes wide with panic. They ducked behind cover as a barrage of paintballs zipped through the air from inside the cafeteria.

The heroes barely dodged as a few stray paintballs whizzed past, hitting the walls behind them.

“What the-” Wind exclaimed, jumping aside to avoid being hit.

They all exchanged glances before cautiously peeking into the cafeteria. What they saw inside was chaos in its purest form.

Students were ducking behind upturned tables and hastily constructed barricades, some scrambling for cover while others fired paintball guns from behind makeshift shields.

However, the level of paint on each participant varied, those with more splatters were lingering on the outskirts of the room, making their way to designated “out” zones where they waited with mild frustration. Others, still largely untouched, remained deep in the fray, determined to emerge victorious.

Hyrule, crouching behind the door frame , stared at the scene in disbelief. “Is this… is this what school is like now?”

Four, beside him and inspecting a large splatter of paint on the wall, furrowed his brow. “It’s like a battle… but with paint? Why are they taking it so seriously?”

Warriors squinted, scanning the room for any familiar face. “This has to be the tournament (Y/n) mentioned… and it looks like she’s in the middle of it.”

Wind, eyeing the students who had just bolted outside, grinned. “Well, I guess we’re jumping in.”

“Let’s find (Y/n) and get her out of this,” Four added, already strategizing their next move.

With determined expressions, they pushed into the cafeteria, weaving through the mayhem while dodging the constant splatter of paintballs. Whatever mess (Y/n) had found herself in, the Chain was about to find out.

——

——

—

Warriors, Twilight, Hyrule, Four, and Wind ducked low as they weaved through the chaos of the college campus. Paintballs whizzed past them, splattering on walls, floors, and the occasional student who didn’t move fast enough.

The paintball guns they had snagged from fallen participants were a welcome relief, helping them fend off incoming attacks and maintain some semblance of control in the ongoing mayhem.

The campus felt like a war zone, desks and chairs overturned, students screaming and shouting as they dove behind cover. Paint splattered walls lined their path, but the group pressed forward, dodging fire and returning shots when necessary.

“How do they even have this much ammo?” Four muttered, pausing to reload his paintball gun as they moved deeper into the school.

“I don’t know, but I’m running low,” Wind grumbled, shaking his gun and checking the chamber. “Why do I always end up in these situations?”

Warriors chuckled, eyes gleaming as he fired a few shots in return. “It’s not so bad. Good practice, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, but no one’s actually dying,” Hyrule muttered, sounding a little uneasy as he ducked behind an overturned desk for cover.

Twilight fired off a few quick shots, covering their retreat as they dashed into another hallway. “Stay sharp. We still don’t know who’s controlling this madness, and we haven’t found (Y/n) yet.”

The echoes of paintball guns firing filled the corridor as they navigated through the chaos.

The action was intense, but it wasn’t long before things took a turn. Wind and Four, distracted by the onslaught, suddenly found themselves separated from the others, their backs pressed against a wall as two paint-splattered club members (mountain climbing club by the logo on their shirts) approached with fresh guns at the ready.

“Wind! out of ammo?” Four asked, quickly assessing the situation as the two club members drew closer.

“Yeah, I’m tapped,” Wind muttered, glancing nervously at the pair stalking toward them. “And these two look like they mean business.”

The club members raised their paintball guns, smirking as they prepared to fire.

Just as things looked bleak, a rapid series of shots rang out, and both club members were hit from behind, neon paint splattering across their backs. They yelped in surprise, stumbling forward before dramatically collapsing onto the ground, “defeated.”

Wind and Four blinked in surprise, staring at the paint-covered students for a moment before turning to see Tess standing a few feet away, her own paintball gun held confidently in hand. Her combat getup, though splattered with paint, gave her an air of authority.

“Come with me if you want to live!” Tess shouted dramatically.

One of the downed students groaned weakly from the ground, raising a hand. “No one’s actually dying…”

Tess immediately shot them again, causing the student to flinch and scramble for cover. “Shut it!” she barked, not missing a beat.

Wind and Four exchanged glances before quickly deciding to follow her. They dashed forward, Tess leading them through the chaos with expert precision. Her eyes constantly scanned their surroundings, ever vigilant.

“Good timing!” Wind called out as they caught up.

Tess glanced over her shoulder. “You’re the guys who know those other two! The one with the scars and the other with the pink streak in his hair. What were their names again?”

“That’s Wild and Legend,” Wind replied.

“Weird names,” Tess commented with a grin. “I love it.”

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Four asked, narrowly dodging a stray paintball as they rounded a corner.

“She’s with our friend Nic,” Tess answered, never breaking stride. “I’m Tess, by the way. But listen, this paintball tournament has gone way past fun.” She paused for a moment, “Ok not really, but it’s turned into a full-blown warzone! The clubs are taking this way too seriously. Especially the book and bird-watching clubs. You guys ready for a real fight?”

At that moment, Warriors, Twilight, and Hyrule rejoined the group, their paintball guns still at the ready as they surveyed the situation.

Wind glanced around, assessing the chaos with a smirk. “This is more like it.”

Twilight shook his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Lead the way, Miss. We’re ready.”

And with that, they charged deeper into the fray, ready to rescue (Y/n) and see just what kind of madness she had gotten herself into this time.

———

——

—

Tess led the group through the chaotic halls, her hazel eyes scanning the area with the precision only someone used to leading tactical maneuvers during a paintball battle could have. The sounds of paintball fire echoed off the walls, students darting between cover in a frenzied battle for supremacy. Warriors, Twilight, Hyrule, Four, and Wind followed closely, keeping low and exchanging quick shots with other competitors to keep them at bay.

As they rounded a corner, Tess abruptly stopped and raised her hand, eyes widening. “Get down!” she hissed, diving behind a set of overturned benches. Without hesitation, the Chain followed her lead, crouching down just as a group of paint-covered students sprinted past, panic clear on their faces as they were still being shot at despite their clear disqualification.

One student, a guy with a brightly colored scarf, slowed down just long enough to shake his fist at them. “You think you’re so clever, huh? Wait until we unleash the library cart rampage on you! You won’t stand a chance!”

Another student, lagging behind, called out, “Yeah! And I’ll bring the staplers next time!”

Before Tess could respond, a barrage of paintball grenades was lobbed in their direction. “Move!” she barked, grabbing Wind by the back of his shirt and pulling him aside just before the grenades exploded in bursts of color. The group narrowly dodged the splatter, the paint hitting the ground where they had just been standing.

Once the danger passed, Tess motioned them forward, leading them toward a nearby building. She pulled open a door, and the heroes rushed inside, eager for some semblance of safety.

Tess let out a sharp, and practiced birdcall as they entered.

After a moment, another bird call was heard as Nic popped out from a teacher’s closet, looking alert but mercifully paint-free. “Thought you were goner for a sec,” he said, smirking at Tess.

Then, with a loud thunk, (Y/n) pushed the lid off a trash can and emerged, blinking as a crumpled piece of paper slid off her head. “Tactical hiding,” she said with a grin, though she was trying (and failing) to shake off some lingering bits of trash.

Warriors raised an eyebrow, taking in the scene. “Really?”

(Y/n) shrugged. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Twilight chuckled as Four shook his head, clearly amused by the unorthodox tactics.

“Nice timing,” Nic said, still standing by the closet door. “You’re the cavalry, right?”

Warriors nodded, already assessing the situation. “Something like that.”

Tess handed out extra ammo, moving with the calm efficiency of someone who had done this many times before. “Alright, listen up. We’ve been holding out here, but things are escalating. Some of the clubs are pulling out their weirder strategies.”

Four, catching his breath, glanced at (Y/n). “You okay?”

(Y/n) nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Nic’s been keeping me out of trouble.”

Tess gave Nic a nod. “You can thank him later. But for now, we’ve got a tournament to win.”

Before anyone could respond, (Y/n)’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and froze. “Uh, one second…” She quickly answered, her voice suddenly a bit tense. “Hey, Jack! Hi! What’s up?”

On the other end, Jack’s voice was sharp, cold. “What the hell is going on?”

(Y/n) fumbled for an answer, glancing nervously at Nic and Tess, both of whom had gone pale. “Oh, uh, it’s really nothing- qjust, you know, a paintball tournament! Totally normal college stuff, no big deal!”

There was a long pause. In the background, they could faintly hear Jack speaking to someone. “Tell me exactly what’s happening,” she demanded, her voice firm and commanding. A student’s voice, trembling and intimidated, responded, “It’s the prize, ma’am’ first priority registration and to skip out on one final! That’s why everyone’s going crazy.”

The line went dead. (Y/n) stared at her phone in disbelief, “She hung up on me.” As the others in the room exchanged horrified looks.

Tess groaned, her face paling even further. “Oh no. This is bad. Really, really bad.”

Nic ran a hand through his hair, clearly panicking now. “Jack is on a warpath. We are so dead.”

Warriors furrowed his brow. “Who’s Jack?”

(Y/n) let out a small sigh, trying to hide her amusement at the whole situation. “My baby sister,” she said casually, though there was no missing the tension that had gripped the room.

“You remember she’s a year younger than you right?”

“Still my baby sister.”

Hyrule blinked in confusion. “Why is everyone so scared?”

(Y/n) shook her head with a grin, clearly unaffected by the dread that had spread among the others. “Because Jack’s… well, Jack. She’s a force of nature when she gets involved in something like this. But don’t worry,” she added, her tone light and teasing. “She’s terrifying, but she’s family.”

Tess let out a nervous laugh, clearly still shaken. “Yeah, ‘terrifying’ is an understatement.”

Nic looked between Tess and (Y/n), his expression grim. “We’ve faced some tough competition, but if Jack’s on the move now, we’re in for the fight of our lives.”

Wind, bouncing on his feet, cracked a grin. “Sounds fun! I’m ready for anything!”

Twilight crossed his arms, his lips twitching in amusement. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Yeah,” Warriors said, his voice calm and resolute. “We’ve handled worse. Let’s just make sure we’re ready.”

With Jack now in the mix, the stakes had been raised to an entirely new level.

But despite the panic in Tess and Nic’s eyes, (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile.

Warriors suddenly frowned, glancing around the small hideout. “Wait a second, have any of you seen Legend or Wild? I’ve no doubt they’d be involved.”

At his question, (Y/n), Nic, and Tess exchanged uneasy looks.

Warriors narrowed his eyes. “…What are those looks for?”

“Weeell…” Tess started, scratching the back of her head, “they were helping us for a while.”

“Yeah,” Nic added, “they joined up with us earlier. Legend, Wild, and (Y/n) completely demolished the competition.”

Tess nodded, a grin creeping onto her face. “Took out the cheerleaders too!”

“Absolutely wiped the floor with them,” (Y/n) said, her pride evident. But then she hesitated. “At least… until things got a little complicated?”

Twilight raised a brow. “Complicated? What do you mean?”

Tess sighed, shooting (Y/n) a look who smiled sheepishly before answering. “Let’s just say their, uh… desire for the prize kicked in.”

The heroes stared at her in disbelief. Four folded his arms. “There’s no way they turned on you for something as ridiculous as—”

Suddenly, a paintball whizzed by (Y/n)’s head, splattering bright pink paint across the wall behind her. She quickly ducked behind cover with Nic and Tess, all of them trying to avoid the shots being fired in their direction.

Out the window, Wild crouched a short distance away, peering over the edge of a table as he adjusted his aim. “Sorry, (Y/n)! But I’m not dealing with that physics final!”

(Y/n) peeked out from behind the barricade, glaring at him through the window. “Seriously?!”

Before Wild could shoot again, Legend appeared, leaping down from a nearby shelf with a paintball pistol in each hand. He pointed one at Wild and the other at (Y/n)’s group. “Only person who’s gonna win is ME!”

Wild glanced at him, his eyes narrowed in a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’ve got, like, two classes! You don’t even need priority registration, you damn hoarder!”

“And YOU need to be more dedicated to your studies! Ever heard of ‘testing out’ early?”

Wild rolled his eyes, ducking down as he dodged a few incoming paintballs. “Oh, come on! Skipping any final sounds good to anyone, okay?”

Twilight, still crouched behind a barricade, finally spoke up, unable to believe what he was seeing. “You two need to stand down! This is ridiculous!”

Wild shot back, “You don’t understand how bad exams are!”

One of the non-student heroes chimed in, shaking his head. “It’s just a stupid prize!”

At that, every student in the area turned to him as if he’d just proclaimed the most foolish thing imaginable.

As the standoff continued, chaos erupted. A random student, spotting the madness, shouted out to their teammates. “Hey! Look! They’re at it again!”

With the distraction, everyone began shooting and dodging, paintballs flying everywhere as (Y/n) sprinted out of the room with Nic and Tess hot on her heels, the rest of the group following closely behind.

Warriors, Twilight, Four, Hyrule, and Wind quickly regrouped with them, ducking and weaving between overturned tables and makeshift cover.

The next hour was a whirlwind of action. Every time (Y/n)’s group thought they’d gained the upper hand, Wild and Legend would pop up, guns blazing, trying to take down (Y/n) and each other with relentless determination.

“We’ve got to take them down!” (Y/n) huffed, crouching behind a row of tipped-over chairs. “They’re too good at this!”

Twilight popped his head up to fire off a few paintballs, only to duck again as Legend’s retaliatory shots whizzed past his head. “That’s easier said than done! These two are treating this like a battlefield!”

Warriors snorted from his position behind a tree. “Typical. We’re stuck in a ridiculous tournament, and they’re acting like it’s a warzone.”

Wind, who had joined the fray with glee, shouted, “I can’t believe they’re going all out over this! I love it!”

As they weaved through the chaos, (Y/n) caught a glimpse of the aftermath of the art club’s paintball rampage. Warriors commented on the terrifying efficiency of it all. “Look at the way the paintballs hit those students! They’re making it look like an art installation gone wrong.”

“That’s probably Jackie’s doing, probably took out the art club afterwards” (Y/n) said, with a grin. “Come on guys! Even if we hate it, if we don’t join forces, we won’t stand a chance against her!”

“She’s right and I hate it!” Tess chirped.

“Tess, I love you, but the shut t he FU-“

“I found more enemies!”

“Crap! The photography club! RUN.”

“Avoid the camera flashes!”

——

————

——

The paintball tournament was reaching its intense final showdown, and the field was nothing short of chaos. (Y/n), Wild, and Legend stood at opposite ends of the battlefield, their eyes narrowing as they sized each other up.

“(Y/n), just give it up,” Wild said, holding his paintball gun at the ready. “We’re not backing down, not when we’re this close.”

Legend gave a cocky smirk. “You think you can cute your way out of this?”

Before (Y/n) could even answer, Tess, who was covered head to toe in splattered paint and grinning like a madwoman, shouted from her hiding spot, “Don’t listen to them! Keep pushing! You’ve got this!”

Wind, equally paint-splattered and grinning like it was the best day of his life, chimed in. “Yeah! No standing down! This is war!”

Nic groaned from where he lay on the ground, covered in paint and utterly defeated. “Can someone please just finish this? I’ve been out for ten minutes…”

Meanwhile, Four leaned against a wall, his face twisted in frustration as he wiped paint off his cheek. “I swear, when we get back, I’m throwing an axe at Time for letting us walk into this mess.”

Twilight, looking equally as worn, nodded in agreement as he dusted himself off. “Seconded. And I’m helping you.”

Nearby, Warriors was struggling to free himself from the netting that had somehow been shot at him by the taxidermy club. “A little help here? I’m not going down like this, ugh, this is embarrassing.”

(Y/n), sensing the tension and not wanting to be the one to lose, decided to try one last tactic. She pouted, puffing out her cheeks and widening her eyes as she stepped forward, putting on her most innocent expression. “C’mon, guys… do we really have to do this? I mean, you could just let me win. I promise I won’t rub it in or anything. Pretty please?”

Wild and Legend exchanged a look, completely unconvinced. Wild raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously trying to pull that on us?”

Legend rolled his eyes, loading another paintball into his pistol. “Come on, (Y/n). We know you better than that.”

(Y/n)’s pout quickly turned into a smirk, her eyes glinting mischievously as she dropped the act. “Oh, please. Like I’d waste real charm on the two of you. I just thought you’d appreciate a challenge before I mop the floor with your sorry asses.”

Wild and Legend both aimed their paintball guns at her, ready for the standoff. But before anyone could pull the trigger, a shadow loomed over them.

Suddenly, there was a loud clink as a paint grenade was tossed right into their midst. The entire group barely had time to react before a massive explosion of colorful paint detonated around them, splattering the entire field. (Y/n), Wild, and Legend were instantly covered in a mix of pinks, blues, and greens.

Stunned, they looked up to see none other than (Y/n)’s sister, Jack, standing in front of a window on the second floor with her perpetually deadpan expression. She was still wearing her paintball gear, yet somehow looked spotless compared to the absolute mess everyone else was in.

Nic groaned, wiping paint from his face. “Great. Her.”

(Y/n) shook her head, squinting up at her sister. “Jack! How the hell did you even find us?”

Jack, her face unchanging, pointed her paintball gun at a tall student standing at her side, who was visibly trembling. His wide eyes darted nervously between the group and Jack, whose sharp, unyielding will practically radiated from her as she stared him down.

“He told me,” Jack said flatly.

The poor student, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment, seemed to shrink under the weight of her expression. He looked like he was about to pass out.

(Y/n) sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Jack, if I have to pay for someone’s therapy because of you, I’m telling Mom to take your phone.”

Jack’s usual deadpan expression broke for a second, her brows knitting slightly. “What did you want me to do? You weren’t telling me anything. I had no clue where you were!”

(Y/n) threw her arms up. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d show up and cause chaos—like you always do!”

“I had to cause chaos! How else was I supposed to find you?” Jack shot back, still not showing much emotion, but the sibling bickering undertone clear.

The poor student, caught in the middle of this sibling spat, looked like he was about to collapse from stress. Jack’s gaze flickered briefly to him before (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

“Jack, if this kid needs therapy because of you, I’m telling Mom, and I’ll make sure she takes your phone for a month.”

“Wouldn’t stop me,” Jack shrugged again.

Warriors, still trying to free himself from the netting, snorted. “Sounds like sibling love at its finest.”

Jack glanced at him briefly before shooting a few more paintballs at the retreating student, who yelped and darted into a nearby building.

“Yeah, he’s gonna need a lot of therapy,” Tess chirped up, her expression cheerful now that she defeated.

(Y/n) groaned again, glancing at the paint-covered battlefield. “Well, great. Now that she’s here, we’re definitely screwed.”

Jack blinked, her paintball gun lazily resting on her shoulder. “You’re already screwed.”

(Y/n), Wild, and Legend exchanged glances, all three of them covered in paint from the grenades.

She was right.

It was clear as day.

They lost.

…

The trio sighed in defeat.

——

———

——

The paintball tournament had finally reached its conclusion, and the aftermath was nothing short of apocalyptic. The once clean field was now littered with paint splattered walls, overturned barricades, and exhausted students. The Dean stood near the podium, nervously adjusting his tie as he surveyed the carnage with wide, horrified eyes.

In the center of the chaos stood Jack, spotless as ever, calmly accepting her victory. The Dean, still clearly shaken, stepped forward to shake her hand.

“Uh… congratulations,” he said weakly, his voice barely carrying over the nervous murmurs of the audience. He glanced around at the mess, his face pale, clearly unable to hide his dismay. “W-Well played…”

The crowd clapped politely, though the sound was uneven. Many of the students who had been taken down by Jack’s unrelenting assault looked terrified, their eyes wide as they cast anxious glances in her direction, as if half-expecting her to take them out again.

In contrast, those who hadn’t had the misfortune of crossing paths with Jack wore expressions of annoyance or irritation. Legend, Wild, and (Y/n) stood off to the side, sulking with arms crossed, paint still dripping from their clothes.

Tess and Wind, on the other hand, looked like they’d just experienced the best day of their lives. Tess was still beaming, chatting excitedly with Wind about their earlier antics. “I told you! Absolute chaos, just like I said!”

Wind laughed, wiping paint from his hair. “Yeah, that was insane! I wanna come here when I’m of age.”

As the rest of the defeated students began to shuffle out of the arena, the Dean stepped up to the microphone, clearing his throat nervously. “A-And now, before we conclude this… uh… event, I’d like to announce the runner-ups, who will receive the spa weekend prize…”

Just as he was about to continue, he leaned a bit too close to the microphone and muttered under his breath, “This wasn’t even supposed to happen for another two weeks…”

The microphone, unfortunately for him, picked up every word, and the arena went dead silent for a split second before one confused student in the crowd stood up and yelled, “Wait, does that mean the prize is doubled?!”

The Dean froze, his eyes wide with panic as he waved his hands frantically. “No, no! That’s not— I didn’t mean—”

Before he could fully explain, another student shouted from the back, “So there’s still a chance for victory?!”

The tension in the air shifted immediately. Students began to stir, eyes lighting up as they processed what had just been said. In unison, almost like they had rehearsed it, the crowd roared to life, pulling out their paintball guns with renewed energy.

“Wait! No! Stop!” The Dean pleaded desperately, stepping back from the podium as students began to scream and charge across the battlefield once more, paintballs flying in every direction.

Pandemonium erupted. Paint splattered across the field as the chaos reignited, louder and more out of control than ever. The Dean tried to shout orders, but his voice was drowned out by the roars of students launching into the fray.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in alarm as she ducked behind the nearest barricade. “Everyone, hide!” she screamed, motioning frantically for the others.

“Run!”

Hyrule dove behind a crate as paintballs zipped past his head. “Not again!”

Four, still drenched in paint from earlier, groaned as he took cover beside (Y/n). “I swear, if I get hit one more time…”

Warriors looked panicked as he dodged another net that had been shot in his direction. “I JUST GOT FREED FROM THE FIRST ONE!”

Twilight ducked from a few paint filled water ballon’s.

As paintballs flew through the air and the field descended into complete anarchy, (Y/n) peeked over the barricade just in time to see the Dean running for cover, shouting into his microphone, “Please! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

But no one listened.

She quickly caught sight of Jack, still pristine and untouched by a single drop of paint. That deadpan expression only made (Y/n)’s paint-covered form itch for some petty revenge.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/n) stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting over the noise, “How about a kiss from your big sister as a second prize?!”

Jack, who had been calmly observing the mayhem with her usual unreadable expression, blinked in surprise. Her gaze locked onto (Y/n) just as her older sister started sprinting toward her, arms outstretched with paint-covered hands, ready for vengeance.

“Come here, Jack!” (Y/n) yelled, grinning wildly. “You can’t escape my love!”

For the first time that day, Jack’s expression faltered ever so slightly. She narrowed her eyes and immediately turned on her heel, sprinting away from (Y/n) at full speed, her paintball gun still bouncing on her shoulder.

“Get back here!” (Y/n) cackled, chasing her sister through the battlefield.

“Welp there she goes.” Tess comments.

“And leaves us here.” Nic adds.

“…”

“…”

Hyrule looks at the nervously. “Guuuys..?”

The two pull out their reloaded paintball guns.

“Guuuuuys…!”

Without another word, the two ran off to follow their cackling friend.

Warriors groaned, having had a third shot at him.

“Gods damnit, AFTER THEM!”

And so the chaos continued.

———

———

Time had been seated at his desk when everyone returned home, he hadn’t so much as looked up from the paperwork in front of him as he greeted them. “Welcome back.”

Time then tilted his head to the side, just as a throwing axe embedded itself into the wall right where his head had been. His only reaction was a faint sigh.

Four stood across the room, hand still raised from the throw, glaring daggers at him. “You knew. You knew about the paintball tournament, didn’t you?”

Hyrule, Twilight, and Warriors joined in with exasperated complaints, all looking equally disheveled and covered in remnants of paint. “Seriously?” Hyrule groaned. “You couldn’t give us a heads-up?”

Warriors crossed his arms, his normally immaculate hair and outfit still splattered with streaks of paint. “Worst prank you’ve ever done to date,” he muttered, shaking his head in frustration.

Twilight, still wiping paint from his hair, grumbled under his breath. “I had to crawl through two miles of paint-covered mud, Time. Two miles.”

Time, still unfazed, leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking up to meet theirs. “You didn’t ask,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Meanwhile, Legend and Wild slunk into the room, sulking miserably. Both of them had clearly taken their defeat in the tournament hard. Legend scowled as he dropped into a chair, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe we lost.”

Wild, equally as sour, nodded in agreement. “It was rigged. I swear, Tess and Jack must’ve had inside information.”

Sky, who had been noticeably absent from the tournament, offered them a sympathetic look as he sat down nearby. “At least you got to spend time with (Y/n),” he said gently, his voice full of good-natured empathy.

For a moment, the room went quiet, the rest of the group collectively turning their attention to Sky with a suspicious squint. They exchanged a glance, each silently wondering why Sky hadn’t joined them in the chaos.

Noticing the stares, Time finally broke the silence. “Sky didn’t know about the tournament. He volunteered to handle everyone’s duties while you were gone,” he explained, his tone entirely matter of fact.

Then, with a slight pause, he added, “And regardless, I would’ve forbidden him from going. We all know he wouldn’t have stayed calm if he saw (Y/n) getting shot at. Paintballs or not.”

The others blinked, as if suddenly imagining the apocalyptic expression Sky would’ve worn had he seen (Y/n) in the line of fire.

The thought alone was enough to make them collectively shudder.

Sky pouted in response, his lips twitching in mild protest, but he remained quiet, clearly knowing that Time had a point.

As the conversation continued, Wild’s Sheikah Slate buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, his eyes scanning the screen for a moment before his lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Oy, Legend,” he muttered, nudging his fellow hero. “You’ve gotta see this.”

Legend, still sulking, glanced over at the screen, and his own pout immediately transformed into a smile. The two exchanged a knowing look, their earlier misery now replaced with something else.

Though no one noticed as they continued to complain to Time.

——

—————

——

The school had been closed all week, the aftermath of the chaotic paintball tournament still lingering like an unspoken legend amongst students and faculty alike. It was now the weekend, and the Chain had enjoyed the peace and quiet, until the sound of shuffling feet broke the serenity.

Legend and Wild were at the door, both looking rather pleased with themselves as they pulled on jackets and shouldered small bags, ready to head out. The rest of the group, scattered around the living room, looked up curiously.

“Where are you two going?” Twilight asked, leaning back in his chair.

“We’re cashing in on that runner up prize from the tournament,” Legend answered smugly, adjusting his bag strap.

Wild grinned. “Yep. Spa weekend, here we come.”

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed the information. Time, sitting at his desk nearby, glanced up with an annoyed but resigned expression. His face wore the look of a man who knew the full details but, for once, was powerless to stop it. He sighed and waved them off. “Just… don’t cause any trouble.”

Legend smirked as he opened the door, Wild close behind. “No promises.”

And with that, they were gone, leaving the rest of the group in a confused silence.

An hour passed in relative peace, until Hyrule, who had been absentmindedly flipping through a book, paused and frowned. “Wait a second,” he muttered, “Wasn’t (Y/n) also a runner up? She got taken out at the same time as Wild and Legend…”

The room froze.

Twilight and Four slowly exchanged glances, Warriors straightened in his seat, and Hyrule’s eyes went wide as realization set in.

The only sound in the room was Time’s heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, and Sky let out a pitiful, resigned noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sad groan.

Within seconds, chaos erupted.

“Those bastards!” Wind growled, reaching for his phone.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Warriors shouted, already typing furiously.

“They took her with them?!” Four’s voice cracked as he sent out his own frantic text.

Phones buzzed and pinged as the Chain began bombarding Wild and Legend with messages. Some sent text after text, while others left scathing voice messages, each more demanding than the last.

Twilight’s voice was barely coherent as he left his message: “Explain yourselves. Now.”

Warriors was no better, his tone sharp: “You’ve got five minutes to respond, or we’re coming after you.”

Sky, looking utterly heartbroken, didn’t even bother typing, he just stared at his phone screen, looking like someone had kicked a puppy.

Meanwhile, Legend, Wild, and (Y/n) were lounging comfortably on cushioned chairs in an upscale spa.

A warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and fresh water, and the trio were perfectly relaxed. (Y/n) sat between Legend and Wild, the three of them surrounded by refreshments and snacks on a small table between their chairs.

Legend stretched with a contented sigh, taking a sip from his drink. “See? This is exactly what we needed after all that.”

Wild grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Best prize. No distractions, no one nagging us… just peace and quiet.”

(Y/n), her eyes closed as she relaxed, hummed in agreement. “We should do spas more often.”

Legend chuckled softly, his arm casually resting along the back of her chair. “Well, I won’t complain about that idea.”

Wild’s phone buzzed on the table, but he didn’t even glance at it.

The buzzing continued, both of their phones lighting up and vibrating with increasing frequency as message after message poured in.

Still, neither Wild nor Legend made any move to check them. The grin on Wild’s face only grew as the sound became more insistent.

“Think they’ve figured it out by now?” (Y/n) asked with a smirk, eyes still closed.

Legend gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, definitely. But we earned this.”

Wild snorted, popping a snack into his mouth. “Let ’em suffer.”

And with that, they ignored the incessant buzzing, eventually muting it, soaking up every second of their hard won spa weekend, leaving the rest of their companions in a frenzy of unanswered questions.

[manheeiim]

chapter one: my last cheer

-- a ghostly love masterlist

September, 2003

I groaned as I shut my locker and adjusted my backpack. I was in no mood to go to cheer practice but really, I had no choice. I mean, I could skip, but my mom would definitely find out and she hated me missing practice so I already knew all the trouble I’d get into if I did that. I had no choice. So, despite how much I didn’t want to go, I trudged my way to the girl’s locker room.

I got out of my school clothes, into my cheer uniform and stuffed my bag into my locker, before shutting it and heading over to a mirror in front of one of the sinks to check how I looked. I attempted to put my hair into a ponytail but I just ended up failing miserably due to how distracted I was. I tried three times but it just wasn’t working out. I let out a groan, the other girl’s who were getting ready as well looking over at me as I aggressively took my hair tie off and put it on my wrist, once again, trudging out of the locker room annoyed.

I made my way into the gym where a bunch of mats were set up on the floor and a bunch of other people on the cheer squad were already here, stretching and warming up. I made my way over and started stretching, haphazardly. I had no energy to be here today, not that I ever really did, it was just especially bad today.

After ten more minutes, when everyone finally arrived, the cheer coach started talking. “Okay, guys! We’re going to start off with some tumbling. Get in three lines and I want the first people in the lines to do some cartwheels and so on.” The coach instructed us and so we all went to do as she said.

As I was standing in the front of the line, waiting for my turn, a girl on the team, Chloe, one of my close friends, tapped on my shoulder. I looked over at the girl who stood behind me in line. She was around 5 '4, she had straight medium-length blonde hair, fair skin that always seemed to glow, and dark blue eyes. She was so perfect. I was nowhere near as perfect as she was. I was 5 '7, had wavy or maybe even curly-ish dark brown almost black hair, my skin wasn’t as fair as hers, I had some acne, and dark brown dull eyes. I hated everything and anything about the way I looked. Guys at my school though, they seemed to disagree. They were always all over me and I could never understand it. I really couldn’t.

“You okay, Lucia?” Chloe asked with a small smile.

I wanted to smile back, I did, but I had no energy to do that. “Yep.” I lied as I turned forward, watching as the girls in front of me stepped off the mats, meaning it was my row's turn to go.

“Are you sure?” I heard Chloe say behind me but I just went and did the cartwheels down the mat, having no desire to talk about how I was feeling, especially not right now.

After tumbling and conditioning, we had to practice a bit for the spring pep rally that was tomorrow. I was one of the flyers tomorrow so I was a bit nervous, but honestly, I knew that I’d be fine as I had a lot of experience, thanks to my mom, and well, my teammates had never dropped me before.

When I flew and did a twist in the air, I didn’t exactly do it correctly which messed me up a little but still, as expected, my teammates caught me. I apologized as I never usually messed up. The coach yelled my name and motioned for me to go over to her.

“Lucia! What are you doing? You have to pay attention or you could get yourself seriously hurt!” She sternly told me.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry coach, I just have been-” I’m cut off.

“Uh-uh, no excuses. Get your head in the game and go up and do it again.” My coach says. I just look at her for a moment, “Go!” She then yelled and I ran to my teammates and went to practice again.

<3

The next afternoon, it was time for the pep rally. All the teams had to run across the field while the people in the bleachers cheered so, obviously, so did the cheer squad. The football team went before and us and everyone in the bleachers were screaming for them, stomping their feet, and just acting a fool. It was nice though, it meant they were having fun. I wasn’t.

“And now, give it up, for the Split River High cheer team!” The principal yelled over the stadium's loudspeakers. We ran out into the field, smiling and waving at the crowd and everyone was going crazy on the bleachers. We got to the center of the field and waved some more before running to the track to sit, watch the other teams go out, and get ready to perform for everyone.

We watched and waited for a little while before it was time for us to go out on the field and perform. Music being played from a CD started playing over the loudspeakers and we started our performance.

Things were going well, they really were. That was until I saw my mom, standing next to my coach, waving at me. Why was she even here? I didn’t want her to be here. 

After I took notice of my mom, I was distracted. I tried my best to not let it get to me though as I was literally performing in front of everyone and I had to go in the air in a few moments. I keep a fake smile on my face as I step onto my teammates hands. They lift me up and I go flying in the air. Once again, I did the twist incorrectly but instead of being caught, I fell on the floor in a bad position and everything went dark.

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 9,755

Rating: R - the general themes and tones of the previous chapters carry over, but there's no outright violence or sex.

Summary: There's no denying it anymore - something has to be done to stop the Florida Chaos wolf. Who it is only makes things more difficult, but you're surprised as just how completely Frankie's friends rally to help him ... and you.

And they all know the cost.

Author’s note:

This story is actually beginning to wind down, believe it or not. I've got the remaining parts outlined, and they just need to be written ... I'm thinking maybe two more + an epilogue after this one? We'll see.

Thank you for being patient, and for sticking around. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Wanna talk about Wolf Frankie or his friends? My inbox is always open.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

Will got to Frankie’s less than thirty minutes later, the sound of his bike audible well before he came into view. 

Frankie was pacing around the living room, one hand rubbing at the side of his head and tugging his hair into further disarray by the moment. You were curled up on his couch with a blanket wrapped around you, eyes unfocused and staring across the room at the wall next to his TV. 

Neither of you had spoken much after his declaration in the truck, and you knew that you were both trying to process the revelation that Tom was, in fact, the Chaos wolf. That means he was bitten after Colombia. That means that he somehow found someone in the Chaos line. That means - 

“It’s just me.” Will’s voice came from the kitchen, and both you and Frankie turned in that direction, even though he didn’t stop moving his feet. “Bike’s in the garage, just in case.” He stepped into the room, his eyes moving between you and his friend, and then lingering on Frankie. “You alright?”

Frankie finally stopped moving, spinning to face Will and lashing out with one arm, pointing directly at you. “No, I am not fucking alright. We’ve been giving him insider fucking information for weeks now, and because I didn’t figure it out, he almost fucking killed my -”

“Frankie.” You leaned forward, putting both feet onto the floor. “This isn’t your fault.” You knew it would take more than your words to get through to him, but you still needed to try. “You didn’t ask for any of this, and you didn’t know, so you can’t blame yourself.” 

Will crossed his arms, taking a deep breath as he leaned against the doorframe and watched the two of you as Frankie started again. “If I hadn’t been bitten in South America, he wouldn’t even have known the fucking wolves existed. And he wouldn’t have been looking for another one, which means that he wouldn’t have -”

“How do you know that one of them didn’t just find him?” Will cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes. “His bite could have been just as accidental as yours was, ‘Fish.” You understood his reasoning. Will was trying to explain what had happened in a way that didn’t put all the blame on Tom. And they’ve known each other for so long and been through so much together, it makes sense. I’d do the same thing for someone I thought I knew. “Think about all those trips he took with Molly and Tessa. Could have been on any one of them.” He turned his attention to you. “You said the Chaos line has been a problem for a long time, right? Are they only in the States, or are there more of ‘em in other places?”

“They’re all over.” You rubbed the space between your brows with two fingertips. “And my family’s research confirms that it’s been that way for as far as they’ve been able to go back.” Will nodded, breathing slowly. “How long… you said Tom stopped coming out with you for the moon about a year ago, right?” They both nodded. “So whatever happened to him, happened recently.” 

“We didn’t notice anything.” Will stepped closer and then dropped down into the armchair, running a hand over his beard. “We were all so fucking busy with our own shit that we didn’t notice a change in him, and that’s…. Fuck. That’s on all of us.”

“You might not have.” Readjusting the blanket, you bit your lip and shook your head. “Is Frankie much different, aside from that period right around the moon?” Both of them said no, and so you went on. “So it makes sense if Tom had someone helping him learn everything. The Chaos line is only visible when they’re at their worst. They’ve mastered blending in because it’s a survival technique for them. If Tom had the help of one or more of them, then … you wouldn’t have noticed anything because you shouldn’t have.” 

“You called it.” Frankie stepped closer to you and then sat down on the cushion to your right. “At the bar that night when he winced? But I said you were wong. And then he fucking … I should have listened. I should have believed you.” 

It wasn’t worth trying to convince him that you weren’t mad - or that he shouldn’t have been upset with himself. But I appreciate him admitting that. 

“What are the odds, though?” Reaching over, you took his hand. “Frankie, if he got bitten a year ago, and these attacks have been going on for months, then he started attacking people pretty much right away. And that means that he knew what to do and how to manage it. And if he knew how to manage it, then he knew how to hide it. You weren’t supposed to notice anything.”  

“So you don’t think that it was an accidental bite.” 

“No.” You looked away and at Will, unblinking. “I don’t.” His jaw twitched, eyes going hard. “Because if it was an accidental bite, he’d be in the same boat as Frankie and know nothing. You guys already have a routine in place to handle one transformation, so adding another wolf into the mix every month wouldn’t have changed much, especially if he told you that he got bitten while looking for answers.” You finally looked at Frankie, holding his gaze. “He deliberately kept it from you. He’s deliberately hurting people. I don’t know him the way you do, so I have no idea why. Based on what I do know, though? He’s … what they’d want. I’ve been looking for this fucking line of wolves for years. It fits their pattern.” 

“But what can he give them?” Will leaned closer, head tilted. “Molly’s not having another kid. He’s working alone. And none of the people that he’s attacked and bitten have survived, so it’s not like he’s furthering the line.”

“No one survived that we know of.” Frankie lowered his head, covering his face with both hands. “They found bodies of people that didn’t, and Alec made it to the hospital but wasn’t bitten. If he’s bitten anyone and they’ve lived? He might have pointed ‘em in the direction of whoever he answers to so they could get help.” He was right, and that was something that you’d never thought of. And I should have. “And Tom’s fucking loaded, Ironhead. We all are. He can offer them money.” 

You gasped in surprise,  but as soon as he said it, you knew Frankie was right about that, too. Even a line of wolves that went back hundreds of years would have been motivated by money - especially in the amount that Tom could have offered. “I need a drink.” You pushed to your feet, heading for the kitchen. “Either of you want anything?” 

They both said no, and so you entered the room alone, immediately going for Frankie’s liquor cabinet. 

It would have been easy for you to spiral - to stand there and dwell on the fact that in the span of only a few months, you’d met and fallen for a wolf and found a separate link to the line of wolves your family had been after for years. Adding in the fact that the second wolf had actually attacked you - purposely - was another concern. But it’s not that separate. 

Grabbing a bottle at random and then a glass, you poured yourself a strong drink and then knocked it back in two swallows, wincing at the burn. It wouldn’t solve your problems - nor would it change the way you felt, but it would calm you. And then I can try to calm him. 

Frankie and Will were talking quietly, but both of them turned their attention to you when you walked back into the room. Frankie’s eyes brightened briefly, and Will gave you a single nod. “Better?” 

“Not better, but … I needed that.” You dropped back down onto the couch but instead of letting you sit next to him, Frankie yanked you closer, both arms wrapping around you. “Frankie, what -”

“He was alone with you twice tonight. After he did what he did. He was alone with you, and he was questioning you, and I just … fuck, it makes me mad.” Frankie laughed, the sound bitter. “He did it right under my fucking nose. All of this. And he had the goddamn balls to tease you with that wine. It wasn’t just about me, he was telling you that he’s a wolf, too.” You replayed the conversations, thinking hard about Tom’s demeanor. He’s good at hiding shit, I’ll give him that. 

“He’s getting bolder.” You turned your head and kissed Frankie’s cheek. “He attacked me even though he knew Will was there and that I’d have access to a gun with silver bullets. He invited us over. He’s actively planning things with you guys, and -”

“He’s going out to clean up the RV site.” Will swore, lowering his head as he whipped it back and forth. “I already did it, but he’s going to make sure there’s no fucking trace of himself there, at least in wolf form. And he’ll know which way he went in the woods to get rid of that trail, too.” Oh shit, that’s true. “And we fucking just … let him walk right in and do it.” Wait a minute. 

“Will.” You swallowed hard and then bit your lip. “How did you and Frankie come up with the idea to try and get him to bleed tonight?” That question actually got Will to smile, the blonde sitting back down on the chair and angling his body toward yours. “Something tipped you off. Why tonight? What was it?” 

“It was you.” He grinned, gesturing with one hand. “When you showed that video and I watched it again, I noticed something.” What? What could possibly have made you consider this? “The other night, when you and ‘Fish were in that clearing, and you saw him for the first time?” He paused, sticking his tongue unto his cheek. “You pointed out his tattoo in the pattern of his fur. The tattoo on his hand’s still there when he changes, but the one on his arm isn’t.” 

“And when you showed us the video, Will noticed something on the wolf.” Frankie mumbled your name, and then leaned down to kiss the top of your shoulder. “Something on his shoulder.” Seriously? 

“I recognized the shape of it. And it was just too convenient. So when ‘Fish and I went inside to get beers, I told him what I thought I saw, and we decided to do somethin’ about it.” He paused, looking down at the ground and taking a deep breath. “We didn’t know if I’d be able to do it tonight, but we figured it was good to try because of his sense of smell.” It was a good call - his heightened senses would have allowed Frankie to smell the wolf in Tom’s blood, which might not have been the case even a few days later. “But then you guys left, and I thought we were fucked, but -”

“But I had to take a leak.” Frankie laughed again, rolling his eyes. “And so it all worked out.” 

Tom hadn’t seemed like he knew what was happening while he was attempting to clean his hand off, but there was no way to be sure. “You’re going to have to act normal for the next few weeks with him.” You closed your eyes. “And I’m going to, too.” 

“You’re not going fucking near him for the next few weeks.” Frankie’s voice was little more than a growl, and Will agreed moments later. “In fact, I don’t want you to stay in that house you’re renting, either. He knows you’re there. He might have keys. And if he’s suspicious, he -”

“He might get more suspicious if she’s suddenly here all the time instead of there, too.” Will wet his lips, his eyes moving between the two of you. “It’s too quick.” 

“I don’t fucking care.” Frankie stood again, crossing his arms and beginning to pace between the couch and Will’s chair. “And we told everyone she’s staying in Florida because we’re together, so why wouldn’t she move in?”

“Because she hasn’t even met your kid yet. ‘Fish.” Frankie stopped moving and you straightened up, your mouth falling open. He’s right. “And if there’s one thing Tom knows about you, it’s that your daughter’s the most important person in your life. You wouldn’t move a woman in after a couple months without having her meet Carmen and Becca first.” 

“He’s right, Frankie.” You looked up at him, defeated. “Me moving in now would look bad. And I don’t want to live with you because we’re scared, I want it to be because you want me here.” 

“I want you here.” He turned to face you, letting his arms drop to his side. “You think I don’t? After wh -”

“No. But I want you to ask me to move in when we’re not dealing with this anymore.” You held your hand out to him and he took it, his fingers sliding between yours. “We’ve already skipped a boatload of steps in this relationship, I don’t want something so important to be another.” 

It was a conversation you didn’t want to have in front of Will, but at least beginning it was necessary. Because we can’t get ahead of ourselves. We have to be smart about this. We have to be smarter than him. “It’s gotta be business as usual, ‘Fish. For all of us. And we’ve got a leg up, because he doesn’t know she’s looking for wolves, and because he doesn’t know we know he is one.” 

“We need to tell Benny and Pope.” Frankie let go of your hand, turning back to look at Will. “We need to let them know what we’re up against.” 

“We’ve gotta do this the right way, Frankie.” Will leaned forward, glancing at you before he looked up at his friend. “Otherwise he’s going to know something’s up. We have weeks until the moon, and it’s not like he can change between the -”

“About that.” Frankie’s hand was moving back and forth, fingers loosely curled. “He might be able to. I can, and if he’s been learning from people that know what the fuck they’re doing, we’ve got to assume he can, too.” 

“Fuck.” You used one hand to cover your mouth, fear starting to creep back in. If he can change at will, he could get into my apartment and … there’d be nothing to tie him to it. Just animal fur. You leaned back against the corner of the couch, drawing your uninjured leg up toward your chest. “He was fishing tonight. He was asking me questions and it felt … I don’t know. It felt different. He’s always kind of smug, but tonight felt like he wasn’t trying to hide it.”

“He gets like that when he feels like he’s winning.” Will dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head back and forth. “Cocky. But he makes mistakes, like he did in South America.”

“He made a lot of fucking mistakes in South America.” Frankie laughed, and it was the first time that night that it sounded almost genuine. “We all did. But you’re right. Because when Tom thinks he’s untouchable, it makes him real fucking reckless.”

“This is gonna kill my brother.” Will stood, his sigh audible. “He idolizes Tom. And there’s no real way to prove it’s the truth until we can catch him on a full moon, so -”

“Is there really a realtor conference in Orlando next month?” You mumbled the question, reaching into your pocket for your phone. “Because if there is, that might be how he met the Chaos wolf in the first place. But if it’s over a full moon, that means he’s going to turn in Orlando, and I know nothing about that city to even begin to....” You did a Google search, eyes on your screen. Well, he wasn’t lying about that. “There is one.” You nodded, scanning the text. “And it’s the right dates.” 

“Might just be cover,” Will moved away from his chair and toward the doorway, pausing and turning his head back to look over his shoulder. “To give him a reason to be gone for a few days. Molly won’t ask questions if he says he’s doing something for work.” He reached up, resting his hand on the doorframe. “One of us should follow him there. And since I was with you this last time, ‘Fish, it should be me.” 

Part of you understood that reasoning. It was logical. It wouldn’t raise suspicions if Will bowed out of going with you and Frankie, since he’d done his part the previous month. But another part of you felt terror at the thought that Will wouldn’t be there with you. He saved me once. I trust him. I trust him with my life. “That’s a good idea.” Frankie nodded, watching his friend closely. “But we’ll need to figure this shit out with Benny and Pope, too.” 

Will agreed, eyes moving between you and Frankie before he closed them, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t going to end well for Tom, is it.” 

“No.” Frankie stood, shaking his head slowly. “It isn’t.” Will’s response wasn’t audible, but you did see his jaw lock, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he let out a slow breath. “There’s no way it can.” He and Frankie shared another look, and you saw the resignation in his eyes, his shoulders rising and falling in slow motion. I get it. It’s got to be so hard for them to think about that.

Will turned his attention back to you, lips turning upward into a sad smile. “I hope you get some sleep tonight. Both of you.” 

“You too, Will.” You set your phone down, leaning back. “Get home safe, alright?” He assured you he would, and then he and Frankie left the room, heading for the front door. You could hear them talking, but before too long, Frankie reappeared in the doorway, his posture much looser than it had been. “We need to go to sleep, Frankie. You have to be up to fly tomorrow.”

“I do.” He walked back over to where you sat, sitting down on the table in front of you and then leaning in. “I need you to look at me.” You did, lifting your chin enough that you could meet his eyes. Frankie reached up, sliding his fingers along the column of your neck so that he could curl them gently around the nape. “What happens to Tom isn’t just because of what he did to you. It’s not going to be your fault, that I take care of this. It’s his own.” 

“I know.” You moved your thumb over his stubbled cheek, nodding. “He made his choices.” Frankie agreed, leaning into your touch. “We need to talk about what happened right before Will left, but it’s not a good -”

“After we deal with Tom, I want you to meet Becca and Carmen.” He stiffened slightly, and you could see fear in his eyes. “Will’s right. I can’t ask you to come live here before that happens, but …” He sighed, closing his eyes. “We’re going to go back and forth between your place and this one for the next couple weeks. Spend as much time as you can with one of us or at Ironhead’s or even at Pope’s with Yova. And if Tom -”

“I know, ‘Fish.” You closed the distance between you, pressing your forehead to his. “And I know that you do want me here. I just want to make sure that you’ll still want that when this is over.” And you’ve had to kill someone you thought you could trust. “I don’t doubt your feelings for me, but this isn’t a normal situation.”

“It’s not.” He squared his shoulders, nodding. “But we both … we both felt this before we knew anything else was going on, so that has to mean something.” You agreed, and it made you feel better, but only marginally. “First time I met you, remember?” You smiled, eyes dropping as your cheeks heated. Yeah, I remember. He stood up, holding both hands out to you. “Now come to bed with me so that I can wake up and fly tourists over the Bay tomorrow.” 

That made you laugh, and he squeezed your hands tightly when you took them, helping you to your feet. “I was one of those tourists when I first got here.” 

“You were.” You headed down the hallway, Frankie walking backwards so he didn’t have to look away. “And I looked forward to every flight with you.” Arching a brow, you watched as he grinned. “Still do, if you ever want to go back up.” I do. I really do. 

The two of you got ready for bed quickly, and when you stood by the side of his bed, Frankie stopped you before you could grab the bottom hem of your shirt. Instead of letting you remove it, he did it for you, tossing it to the side and then reaching to unhook your bra. Once that was gone, Frankie’s hands skimmed over your skin, his eyes following the movement. 

“Bed, Francisco.” You spoke quietly, reaching out to press a hand against his abdomen. “It’s late and we’re both exhausted.” He didn’t fight it, instead nodding as you climbed into bed and waited for him to follow. 

He held you close after you both got comfortable, but you could tell that he was still tense. I am too, though. This is …  more complicated than I thought. 

Tom actually being the Chaos wolf was something that you hadn’t expected - and you knew that none of the other guys had, either. It complicated things, but more importantly it forced their hand in a way that you knew would be difficult for them to handle emotionally. And it has to be done soon, which makes it worse. 

Tom would fight back, that much was certain, based on the way he’d acted in the previous months. The real question was whether or not Frankie and the others having an advantage of knowing would be enough for them to win. It has to be. Because I can’t lose him. I won’t.

— 

It took a few days to get everyone together in the same room, but that was only because it had to be done in a way that Tom was invited - but couldn’t make it. 

Will handled that, sending out a group message asking when the guys wanted to meet for drinks at the bar. When Tom said he had no time that week because of late showings and plans with Molly, it became easier to choose a day and a location. 

That turned out to be Pope’s place, which meant Yovanna would be there. But she knows. So maybe this is the right time for her to tell everyone. You were nervous as you and Frankie drove there after he’d finished his flights, but despite the conversation that awaited you both, he kept it together. 

Will’s truck was parked in front of the house when you pulled up, and when you walked around the house and into the back yard, you saw that Benny was there, too, both of them sitting in chairs and holding drinks as they talked to Pope and Yovanna. 

You caught the look she gave you as you headed to where they were, her eyes dropping to your leg and then rising - first back to meet your eyes and then drifting to Frankie’s face, her lips twisting into a frown. You shook your head, mouthing the word no, and her eyes widened before she reached over, taking Pope’s hand and squeezing it. 

The two of you joined the group, sliding into open seats and saying hello as Benny slid drinks across the tabletop to you. Frankie took his and opened it, downing a long swig before turning his attention to Will. You watched as they shared a look, the blonde’s throat working as he swallowed and then gave Frankie a nod. 

“Hey.” Will closed his eyes, and then let out a deep breath. “There’s something we need to talk about, but I don’t know if Yova’s going to want to hear it.” You weren’t surprised that he’d called the woman out directly - that was just how Will was - but you were surprised when she pulled her hand free from Pope’s and moved to sit next to you, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I want to hear it.” She nodded, looking between the other men and then finally at Pope, who was watching her with a look of amusement on his face. “Especially if it has to do with the wolves.” 

“You knew?” Benny leaned in, his eyes widening. “This whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I did not want to.” She shrugged, scoffing. “What would it have helped? Me telling you stories? I have never met one before Francisco. But I knew there were others. I knew another one was here and it was hurting people.” She leaned forward and looked past you at Frankie. “And I knew it could not be you because you are not that kind of man.” 

There was trust in her eyes - her voice strong and even as she spoke. “Last thing I want to do is hurt people.” Frankie cleared his throat. “But yeah, that is … what this is about.” Pope sat down, too, joining the rest of you at the table. 

It was silent for long seconds, and you didn’t know who was going to speak first. But it should be me. “I’ve been lying to all of you.” Frankie stiffened next to you, but you ignored it. “I didn’t come here to write about Tampa. I came here looking for werewolves.” It helped that only Benny and Yovanna had been in the dark about it, but you were thankful that everyone at the table stayed quiet and let you go on. “Frankie figured it out because my research wasn’t hidden when he showed up at my apartment one morning. I told Will after I got attacked last week.”

“You were looking for ‘Fish?” Benny leaned in, eyes narrowed. “How’d you know it was him?” 

“No, I didn’t know it was him. That all just … it’s a weird fucking coincidence. And even before he told me what he is, I still didn’t think it was him that I was looking for. But as soon as he did, I realized that there were two wolves. And the other one was the one I’ve been trying to find.” 

“Why are you looking for wolves?” Pope cut in, scratching at the back of his neck. He’s going along with it. “What do you want from them?” 

That started your story, and you repeated it for what you hoped was the last time. Everyone listened to you without interrupting, and Frankie’s hand rested on your thigh the entire time, reminding you that he was there. Like I could forget.

“And since my cousin’s out of this for good now, I’ve got … I’ve got to finish this. Even if it’s the last thing I do with hunting, taking care of this wolf?” You looked between them, locking your gaze on Benny’s face. “I’ll make it right for Alec. And I think … I think that’ll be enough for me.” 

“Will it, though?” Pope swallowed, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “You had no plans to stop before, so why would this be enough now? It’s one wolf. You’re not going to eliminate the whole line. You never were.”

“No.” Laughing, you rubbed at the space between your eyes. “I wasn’t. But this is what I knew. It was what I thought I had to do to be considered a contributing member of my family. Even if I never found anything, at least I tried.” 

“But you did find something.” Yovanna reached over, taking your hand and linking her fingers with yours. “You found Francisco and you found all of us. You found out that it is possible to be with a wolf and not need to … hunt it.” She took a breath. “But you also found the other one. And it …” Her gaze dropped and then rose, her eyes wide. “You know who it is. You know who the other wolf is and that’s why we’re here tonight.” 

“Yes.” Your heart was pounding, but you knew that if you looked at Frankie, you’d break down - and so you didn’t. You looked at Pope first, and then at Benny before finally meeting Will’s eyes. He nodded slowly, raising the tips of his fingers from where they rested against the tabletop to tell you to relax. “We do know who it is.” 

“Tom should be here for this.” Pope leaned in, eyeing you. “He’s part of this, and he was there when ‘Fish got bitten.”

“There’s a reason he’s not here, Pope.” Frankie’s voice was low, and when you finally turned your head to look at him, you saw that his shoulders were straight, eyes bright. “There’s a reason it’s just us, and -”

“Bullshit.” Benny cut in, making a fist and knocking it against the table. “Will asked him to be here. I saw the fucking texts. Why -”

“We picked tonight because Tom couldn’t make it.” Will crossed his arms again and leaned back in his chair. “Tom is the other wolf, Benny. ‘Fish and I tested it the other night, and it’s him. He’s been attacking people for the last couple months. He attacked her cousin. He attacked her. He doesn’t give a shit who he hurts, and he’s been lying to us for a fucking year.” 

No one replied right away, and as Will’s voice trailed off, you risked a look over at Benny, watching as his face contorted between emotions. He’s hurt. He’s hurt and sad and… “How?” He licked his lips and then stood up from the table, pushing his chair back. “How did it happen? How do you know?” 

“I smelled his blood the other night, and it was the same as what was all over the clearing.” Frankie sniffed. “I have no idea how he found someone to bite him, but I’m sure as fuck going to ask next month.” 

“How? He’s got that conference. He won’t be -”

“I think it’s a cover.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “There is a conference, but I think that just got him out of having to come and stay with Frankie next moon. I think … I think he’s going to come back to the clearing and try to finish what he started because he knows Frankie will be miles away and I’ll be there.”

“That’s dumb as shit, though.” Pope’s eyes were narrow. “He knows there’s always someone there with Frankie. He knows that we wouldn’t dream of letting you go there by yourself next month. He has to know that ‘Fish wouldn’t go far, especially if he thought there was a chance the other wolf would come back.” 

“He’s too cocky.” Will spoke up, frowning as he shook his head. “He’ll think that -”

“He is an asshole.” Yovanna spat the words out, standing up and shoving her chair backwards before slapping her hand down on the table. “I have never liked him, not even meeting him that first time. And since I have come here?” She snarled, waving her hand. “He is mean and nasty and I have never trusted him, but I put up with him because he was your friend.” She pointed at Benny. “Your own brother is telling you this is the truth and you don’t believe him? Why would he lie? Why would Francisco lie when that lie means Tom has to go?” 

The rest of you were silent as her words sunk in, and for a few moments, you were in awe of the woman. She barely knew you, and had no real reason to stand up for you in the way she was. But she loves Pope. And if Tom is willing to do this to someone Frankie cares about, she’s in just as much danger. 

“Are you sure?” Benny’s eyes were narrowed as he stared at you and then at Frankie. “I mean positive, ‘Fish? Because if what you’re saying is true, then we have to -” Will groaned, covering his face with both hands.

“Watch the video, man. The spot on the wolf’s shoulder is in the same damn place as Tom’s tattoo. ‘Fish smelled the blood. Tom’s been real fuckin’ shady about helping out for a long time now. It fits. We didn’t see it because we didn’t want to, but c’mon, Benny.” 

“I’m sure, Benjamin.” Frankie’s head moved from side to side, and you heard the fatigue in his voice. “I don’t want it to be true, but it is.” It was your turn to support him then, and you reached over to settle your hand on his forearm, fingers closing around it. I know you don’t want it to be true. I don’t either. “And I’m not asking for your help with this. I understand if you don’t want to be involved with what’s got to happen, but I need you to at least … not give anything away for the next couple weeks.” 

“How the fuck are we supposed to -” Pope rubbed at his eyes. “‘Fish, man. C’mon. He’s not stupid. He’s going to know something’s up the second one of us talks to him.” 

“No he won’t.” Benny sniffed, dropping back into his seat and hanging his head. “Because this is the shit we were trained to do. We’ve got to put our emotions to the side and treat this like any of the fucking bullshit missions we went on.” You felt relief - despite his closeness to Frankie, and the friendliness Benny had shown you while you were together, you figured that he would have been more difficult to convince. “This isn’t Tom. This is fucking Lorea all over again. He’s dangerous and he’s hurting people, and we need to stop him.” 

“So we’re just going to kill him?” Pope laughed, his expression incredulous. “Just kill our friend without giving him a chance to explain? How does that make us any better than any of the people we went after in uniform? How does it make us any better than him?” 

“This is what he’s done to people, Pope.” You pulled out your phone and navigated to the hidden folder of photos that contained your research on the Florida Chaos wolf. “This is what he’s done to the people he’s killed. This is what he did to Alec. This is what he did to me.” You slid the phone over the table at him and then pushed your chair back, lifting your leg and swinging it upward and onto the table before ripping the bandage off of it. 

You heard Benny’s gasp and Yovanna’s reaction - something muttered in Spanish that was muffled by the way her hand covered her mouth. You saw Will’s wince, even though he’d seen the fresh wound. It was beginning to heal, and though it looked better than it had days earlier, it was still red and swollen and somewhat raw around the edges, the scabbing thick. 

“She’s going to have that reminder for the rest of her fucking life, Pope. You saw the video. You watched him attack her. He didn’t flinch. There was no hesitation.” Frankie’s hand moved to touch your ankle, the tips of his fingers gliding up your leg, though he avoided the wound. “We aren’t going to do anything. I won’t ask you to be a part of this, but I need you to know why I’m going to -”

“Frankie.” Pope darkened the screen of your phone and then pushed it back toward you. “There’s no fucking way you’re doing this yourself.” Your breath left you in a whoosh of relief, and as you put your foot back on the ground and closed your eyes, shoulders slumping. “It’s just a lot to take in, y’know?” 

“I know.” He cleared his throat, reaching up to take his hat off and toss it onto the table. “But we can’t let him keep going, and you all know it. He’s not going to stop. So I have to stop him, because I’m the only one who can.” 

“And what if you can’t?” It wasn’t unkind, and it was the first time Will had questioned Frankie - which surprised you. “He’s bigger than you as a wolf. He’s mean. You’ve tried real hard to hide that part of yourself during the moon, and he hasn’t.” 

“That’s my advantage. He’s never seen me as a wolf protecting someone I love.” Frankie paused and said your name, waiting for you to look over at him before he continued. When he spoke again, you heard an edge to his voice that had never been there before - and it chilled you to the bone. “But that’ll be the last thing he ever sees.” 

— 

Over the next few days, everything changed - and at the same time, nothing changed. 

You and Frankie continued your routine of spending nights together, alternating between your apartment and his house. While he was at work, you kept up with your research, using what you already knew about the wolves and adding information about Tom straight from Frankie’s photo albums and anything that the others told you - or that you could find on social media. 

You were determined to find the same link that Tom had to the other wolves, because that would mean more of an understanding about the way the Chaos wolves worked - and recruited. But what am I going to do with that? After this, I’m… I’m done. 

That was another thing that you’d thought long and hard about, both while Frankie was beside you and when you were apart. You’d told him that you’d consider ending your search for the Chaos wolves after Florida, but the truth was that you’d known for a long time that what you were doing was a fool’s errand. I just had no real reason to stop. 

But Frankie was a reason. Will and Benny and Pope and Yovanna were reasons. Carmen was a reason. You’d never be able to eliminate the Chaos line in its entirety, but removing Tom from the equation would balance the scales for your family somewhat by getting payback for causing Alec’s injury - and for yours. 

It probably wasn’t the route that prior generations of your family had imagined, but it would be enough. Enough for me, anyway. Enough to keep us safe.

Though the assumption was likely foolish, you had no doubts that Frankie would handle Tom - with or without the help of his friends. You trusted that he would do whatever was necessary to keep his daughter safe, which meant tapping into a part of himself that he’d never allowed to the surface before. But it’s not just for Carmen, it’s … to protect me, too. 

You kept up your routine and so did Frankie, his scheduled flights going off without a hitch until two forecasted rainy days in a row thanks to a tropical storm grounded everything. It was during those days that he decided to drive up to see Carmen and Becca, which took a little convincing on your end. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his daughter, but Frankie was very against leaving you alone for such a long period of time. 

He’d only agreed after you promised to find some way to keep yourself occupied for the time he was gone that didn’t involve you staying in Tampa. It seemed like overkill, but when you saw the look in Frankie’s eyes as he made the request, you realized that it was nonnegotiable. 

So the night before he was set to leave, and you were scheduled to check into a bed and breakfast in Punta Gorda, the two of you headed to Ironhead’s just to keep up appearances. 

It was busier than usual, since thanks to the rain, sitting on most of the outdoor patios was out of the question. But you still managed to find an open booth, both of you sliding into it as you lowered the hoods on the jackets you wore. 

There were drinks placed in front of you moments later, and when you looked up, you found Benny’s smiling face, the blonde nodding at you before he turned his head to look at Frankie. “Hey, you two.” 

“Benjamin.” Frankie reached for his drink, lifting the glass. “Busy in here tonight.” 

“Sure as fuck is. It always gets like this when it rains, but that forecast’s got a lot of the tourists worried, so…” He shrugged. “I’m not gonna complain and neither are my bartenders.” You laughed, settling back against the cushion as he said goodbye and headed back for the bar. 

“You excited, Francisco?” You sipped your drink, locking eyes with him. “Two days with Carmen?” 

“I always am.” The look in his eyes softened, something that hadn’t happened often in the previous few days. “She wants to go to the park, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to because of the rain.” 

“You’ll figure it out.” He nodded, his gaze leaving your face and sweeping over the busy bar. “Should I be worried about storm surge or anything down there? I don’t want to get stuck because of flooding, or -”

“Nah.” He sipped his drink again, shaking his head. “Storm’s tracking north. You might get a little flooding and some wind, but you’ll be alright.” He met your eyes again and winked, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “You can trust me, I’m a pilot. I know weather.” 

You laughed at that, lowering your head. For a few seconds, it was like things were normal between you, and that night at the bar was just a night out with Frankie. Maybe it will be soon. Maybe we can have … When you looked up, your laughter stopped as you saw who was standing in the crowd beside the bar. Oh, shit. 

You leaned forward, reaching over the table to take his hands. “Frankie.” He stiffened, shoulders going rigid. “You have to stay calm, alright? Molly and Tom are here, and -”

“That fuck can’t just -”

“He can.” You squeezed his hands, wetting your lips and trying to stay calm yourself. “We know nothing, Frankie. We have to make him believe it.” It was a pep talk for him as much as it was one for you - and you were uncertain that you could make your own words reality. “There are too many people here. Too many innocent people, and …” You trailed off when he lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go and reached for his drink again, downing the remainder in one long swig. 

“I’m good.” He nodded, shoulders relaxing. “I’m fucking peachy.” 

You wondered if maybe, with the crowd, Tom wouldn’t see where the two of you were sitting. A few seconds later, you understood that that wouldn’t be the case. He caught your eye, his brows rising before he leaned over to speak into Molly’s ear, one hand lifting to point in your direction. “They’re coming over, Frankie. It -” 

“Hey, you two.” Your blood went cold at the friendly tone of his voice, but you forced yourself to look up at where they stood, eyeing Tom as he slipped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Busy in here tonight, isn’t it?” 

“We were going to have dinner on a patio, but with the rain, everything’s closed and …” Molly rolled her eyes, drawing your attention. “We ended up here, which isn’t bad, but …” 

“D… do you want to sit?” You forced the words out, surprised to hear that your voice was steady, even though your heart was racing. “Frankie can scoot over here, and you can sit on that side.” Tom looked stunned at the offer, and so did Frankie, but before you could say anything else, he slid to the end of the booth and then stood, moving to where you sat. 

He got as close to you as he could, his arm draped over your shoulders, and as Tom and Molly took seats across from you, you realized that Frankie’s arm was positioned so that his scar was visible. It’s like he’s reminding Tom what he is but in a way that seems … oh, Francisco. You reached over, laying your hand on his thigh and squeezing. 

“So.” Tom sipped his drink, his eyes on you. “You get to be here for a tropical storm. You gonna ride it out at ‘Fish’s place, or -”

“Actually.” Frankie cocked his head to the side. “Actually, I’m going to see Carmen for a couple days. Can’t fly with the wind and rain, so it seemed like a good time.” Tom’s eyes widened, and as Molly interjected, telling Frankie how great it was that he’d get to spend time with his daughter, he stared at you. You wondered if, like Frankie, Tom’s eyes flashed a different color when he was emotional, and then wondered if that other color was the reddish that you’d seen while he was a wolf. 

“He’s leaving you alone here?” Tom chewed on his lower lip, eyes narrowing. “That’s a surprise.” What are you planning? 

“No, I’m going out of town, too.” You reached for your drink, willing your hand not to shake. “Planned it before the weather went to shit, and I’m still going to go. It’ll be good research, and I’m not really interested in trying to cancel reservations.” 

“Where you headed?” Coming from anyone else, it would have been an innocuous question, but you could almost feel the edge to Tom’s ask, and you knew Frankie did, too. 

“South. Cape Coral. Frankie promised me that the majority of the storm would skip there, so…” You shrugged, hoping that it hid your discomfort - and the lie. “I guess we’ll see.” 

Tom didn’t speak right away, but Molly did, waving her hand back and forth and rolling her eyes as she told you that you’d get a little rain and some wind. It was easier for you to speak to her, and so you did, answering with a laugh that was only half-forced as you took another drink. 

Your hand tightened on Frankie’s leg as Tom joined in the conversation, talking about one of the many storms that they’d ridden out during their time in Tampa. And his arm shifted slightly to pull you closer, his head turning so that he could press a kiss to the space behind your ear when Tom laughed about sandbags exploding, Frankie’s quiet I’m right here, I love you making you shiver. 

You had no idea how he was keeping so calm, because you were wound tighter than you could ever remember being before, and were almost desperate to get away from the table - and Tom. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid he’d try anything that night. In fact, you were convinced of the opposite, because you knew that Frankie wouldn’t hesitate to fight back. You also knew that Benny and Will kept a gun behind the counter, a stash of silver bullets in a small bowl beside it. And if you knew that, then Tom did, too. 

But you were afraid of him, afraid of how little he seemed to care about antagonizing you and Frankie. You were fearful of his cockiness, because it meant that he was overconfident, and if he was overconfident as a man, you knew it would carry over the closer it got to the full moon. And that makes him more dangerous. 

“Anyone need a refill?” Benny appeared almost out of nowhere, his arms swinging loosely by his sides. “Tom, Molly, there’s a table that just opened if you guys wanted to have some privacy. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it with Tessa at college.” It was subtle but pointed, and you felt a surge of affection for the younger Miller, your mouth turning upward into a smile at his offer. “Closer to the bar, too.”

Tom didn’t want to get up - you could see the hesitation in his eyes, but when Molly reached over to take his hand, nodding excitedly, you let out another small sigh of relief. “Yes, please. We should leave these two alone so they can enjoy their date. And I’m starving, so the sooner we order food, the better.” 

“We can order while we sit here, Mol. I’m sure ‘Fish and -”

“Actually,” Frankie cut in, his fingertips tapping on the tabletop. “We were trying to have a date before I leave, so we’d appreciate the privacy, too.” It happened then, and you were almost positive that Tom wasn’t even aware of it - but his eyes did flash, changing color briefly in the fluorescent bar lighting as his jaw tightened. He doesn’t like Frankie challenging him. He’s angry. But that confirms it. He’s … it’s… “It was really good to see you, Mol. Hope you’re holding up well with an empty house.” 

“It’s weird, but …” She pushed on Tom’s arm, urging him to stand. “We’re enjoying it.” You laughed, watching as they stood and took a step away from the table “Right, Tom?”

“Right.” He stood stiffly, his eyes moving between you and Frankie. “You two be careful driving tomorrow.” Frankie grunted and you nodded, thanking him and telling him you would. You watched as he put his hand against Molly’s lower back, turning her in the direction Benny had indicated. 

“Be right back with a refill, ‘Fish,” the blonde called back at you. “No need to get up.” 

Molly giggled at his words and you managed a small smile, but Frankie didn’t react until they were out of earshot. “You need to take everything you have on the Chaos line with you when you leave. He knows you won’t be there for a couple days. He…” He sighed. “He might decide to take a look around.” 

You agreed, and told him as much. “I won’t go back in there until you’re back, either.” He nodded. “Did you see it, his eyes, they -”

“Mine do that too?” Turning his head to look at you, you saw concern in the depths of his, though there was nothing unusual about them that night - they were his usual deep brown. “You said you’ve seen it.”

“They do. But not red. Yours are …” Reaching up, you swept your thumb over his stubbled cheek. “They’re gold. Warm. It sort of looks like your eyes under a really bright light.” He leaned into your touch, and you felt him relax slightly. Good. 

“Break it up, you two. This is a public place.” Benny put two new drinks in front of you and then stopped next to the table, flipping a towel over one shoulder. “You guys alright?” 

“No, but it could have been worse.” He gave you a sympathetic smile and looked to Frankie, taking a long breath. 

“We cant ask ‘em to leave, and I’m sorry about that, ‘Fish.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Frankie slid away from you on the seat and your hand dropped. “As long as he doesn’t come back over here, we’re all good.” He stood up and Benny stepped back, watching as Frankie moved to the other side of the table and sat again. “We might not stay long, though. Maybe finish this round and head out.” 

Benny nodded and then tapped his hand on the table, telling you that if either of you needed anything else, you knew where to find him. And when he was gone, you turned your attention back to Frankie. “After this is over…” You reached out, putting your hand flat on the table between you. “We should go on a trip somewhere.” 

“What? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” The abrupt change in subject did the trick, and you watched his posture change, Frankie’s brows shooting up as he leaned in. “A vacation?” 

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged. “It’s going to be winter soon. And I know you’ve spent almost your whole life in this humid hellscape they call Florida, but…” That made him laugh, and the sound warmed you from the inside out. Good. Good, that’s what I want to hear. “But there are places where it actually gets cold. Places where there are snow and mountains and different kinds of forests for you to run through during the full moon.” 

“But I’ve never … aside from Colombia, I’ve never ….” He frowned. “What if something happens?” 

“It won’t.” He took your hand, sliding his fingers between yours and pressing your palms flat against each other. “But a change in scenery, even only for a little while might be a good thing.” 

“I can’t miss a holiday with Carmen. I won’t.” 

“Ashley’s not due until the end of December anyway. So we can’t go out there til early next year.” You grinned, tilting your head. “And there are places out West where it snows until May and June, so we have time.” He was quiet for almost a minute, eyes locked on your face. What are you thinking, Francisco? 

“You’re already thinking that far ahead?” He wet his lips and then bit the lower one. “About next summer?” 

“Yes.” You swallowed, still staring at him and watching as the look in his eyes changed, heat filling them. But that’s not the wolf. “I hope that’s alright.” 

“It’s more than alright.” He reached for his drink and drained half of it in one long gulp, eyes half closed as he tipped his head back. “In fact,” he continued when he’d set the glass down, creating a new ring of condensation on the table. “I think we should leave and I’ll show you just how alright it is.” 

Your stomach flipped, and you shivered. Oh, Frankie. But you nodded at the same time, picking up your drink and taking a smaller - but still healthy - sip. “What are we waiting for, ‘Fish?” He squeezed your hand and then let go, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet and drop a few bills on the table. 

“Nothing anymore.” He stood again and waited until you did, too. Because the bar was so crowded, he had to walk behind you, but he stayed close, one hand on your lower back until you were outside in the parking lot again. 

It reminded you of the first night you’d met, and when you turned to tell him that, he was waiting. “I wanted you to kiss me in the parking lot the first night we met.” You blinked a few times, watching as the water began to dampen his hair and shirt. “I understand why you didn’t, but … I wanted you to.” He stepped closer, staying quiet. 

You believed that Frankie would handle Tom. You believed you’d get answers. You believed that after, you’d go to Texas and then to somewhere snowy. You believed that you’d meet Carmen and Becca and be able to take the next steps toward a future with him. But just in case… if it doesn’t happen? I don’t want anything unsaid. “I wanted to, too.” 

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love you, Francisco, so much. And yes, I’m thinking about next year and next summer and all of the nexts because I don’t want to -” 

“How ‘bout I kiss you now?” He slid one hand up the center of your back, fingers splayed. “Better late than never, right?” You nodded, closing the distance, and when your lips met, you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling. 

You’d kissed him probably hundreds of times in the few months you’d known him, but that one felt different. 

It had little to do with the rain and the breeze, and everything to do with what it signaled - the breaking of the tension that had grown with Tom and Molly appearing in the bar, processing of the conversation that you’d been forced to have with them, the realizations that had come after. But most importantly, it was an indication that you were still on the same page, and that it wasn’t just about immediate satisfaction or the fact that you’d found each other temporarily. 

He bit softly on your lower lip and you parted them for him, the tip of your tongue poking though and meeting his. It escalated quickly from there, one of your hands rising to tangle in the damp curls at the back of his neck, Frankie’s fingers twisting the material of your shirt between them as he backed you toward the corner of the building and where he’d parked his truck. 

Your back hit the cool exterior wall of the bar, and he kept kissing you, his body pressed against yours as the rain continued to fall. A flash of lightning followed by a low rumble of thunder broke you apart, and you groaned, still holding onto him. “We’re getting soaked, Frankie.” 

“And?” His lips moved over yours before they strayed to your cheek and then back toward your ear. “It’s just water.” 

“We’re going to ruin the interior of your truck.” Reluctantly, you pushed him away and then took his face between both hands. “But the sooner we get home, the sooner you can help me out of these clothes.” 

That was the right thing to say, because Frankie backed off on his own then, jerking his chin toward the parking lot and then reaching up to take your hand.

Distracting each other wouldn’t solve your problems, and you could only continue to do it for so long before the next full moon came. And we need to worry about now before we can even think about next.

But when Frankie’s hand found yours and lifted it so that he could kiss your knuckles, it was hard not to think so far ahead… and even harder to imagine that there might not  be a future for the two of you. 

—

[chronicsyd]

so I WAS going to post another long winded rant about Disney's Wish (I'll post that later) but Arcane decided to post another 30 second Teaser for us; and announcing the Trailer (yes, FULL Trailer AHHH! *ahem* sorry) is going to be releasing on September 5th! But let's get into what they showed us in this little teaser shall we? (go check out the teaser first it's only like 30 seconds and as usual, leaks will be blocked and deleted)

With this one frame they've already showed us several things. they've confirmed everything that was talked about Vi at the Annecy festival (some people were kinda skeptical if this was something that was legitimate for a while, myself included), and they've confirmed for me that Vi and Caitlyn are going their own ways at the beginning of the season (for a little while, at least). Vi tries to figure herself out in Zaun while Caitlyn's still an Enforcer up in Piltover. They also seem to be confirming the idea that there's some kind of time skip happening in s2 (not as large as s1 but there's something). And why I believe this is because Jinx is being painted in the same light as Vander, as someone that's respected in Zaun. People have already started rallying behind her at this point in the story.

Now, the bigger meat of the teaser:

I put Caitlyn and Jinx side by side for a couple reasons. Not only are these two taking on more of a leadership role this season, they're enforcing the idea that these two are the two sides of the same coin they hinted at in season 1 (they just both seem to be heading in the opposite direction the other was in season 1, if that makes sense), but they both have a figure explaining to them what they need to do for the better of Zaun/Piltover: Ambessa and Sevika. However, each of these characters are being told different things. Ambessa is a War general, she believes that in restoring peace Caitlyn needs to declare Martial Law aka military government and it seems that Caitlyn not only does this but she allies herself with Ambessa and Noxus in order to do this. On the other hand, Sevika's explaining to Jinx that she's the one that can rally Zaun together (and it seems that Ekko might actually be joining her on this). Because under both Vander and Silco there were still people opposed to how the Undercity was run (Under Vander, he was playing it safe with Piltover but Piltover was treating the Undercity badly but under Silco he was a kingpin and several people were still suffering under the effects of Shimmer and the only reason the Enforcers weren't as hostile because of Silco's allyship with Marcus, until Jinx steals the gemstone and Piltover retaliates). But with Zaun actually being at war with Piltover now, Jinx needs to be seen as a symbol for Zaun for people to rally behind, because to them Topside is the bigger enemy.

(I just had to add this pic of Sevika because like God Damn she looks so attractive here like step on me! *ahem* sorry, had a bit of gay panic there...moving on...)

Now, I'm going to hold off on giving my overall thoughts until the full trailer drops in a couple of days. just so that I can gather some more thoughts about where season 2 is going as a whole and when I'm given some more information to glean from, granted I'm SURE that the trailer won't give us any clear cut information because Arcane is great at that.

Oh one last thing:

Jinx's poster in for S2 has her being strangled by Vi's gauntlet, and Jinx is faced upsidown (with the caption "Time to turn things upsidedown") which i presume is just how different everyone/everything is going to be different compared to the last season. but i do wonder What Happens between Vi and Jinx that gets them like this? Because there Has to be a scene between the two that ends badly (probably before we see Vi with her black hair and leather, because in the earlier pic i showed Vi's already seeing Jinx pained alongside Vander)

ok NOW I'm done.

Anyways, I'll post again in the next couple of days when the trailer comes out. Bye!

[egrets-not-regrets]

After Stormbreaker: Catching Shadows and Propositions

Of Fin and Feathers AU: Mara and Warsmith Formicas discuss what had happened since the whole incident with Stormbreaker.

Author’s Notes: If the opportunity presents itself, Warsmith Eciton Formicas figures he might as well take advantage of it. He is totally not trying to rizz up the gannet harpy elder.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis

She spotted a shadow creeping along the edges of the area sectioned off for the healing ward, slowly creeping towards the colony nests. Mara heaved a sigh, walked closer, and called out to the shadow, “Ghilus, what are you doing? This is the third time I found you out of your bed.”

The shadow didn’t move.

“Ghilus…” the harpy’s voice dropped to a stern warning tone, “I see you, so show yourself. Are you sneaking out to find Kiri again?”

A large dark hand roughly scruffed the young Night Lord and hauled him out of his hiding spot, “Get back to your bed unless you want to test if Osteron can lecture you back to full health.”

Mara turned to the large venomfin mer, “Thank you, Warsmith Formicas.”

Eciton Formicas let go of the younger merAstartes. Ghilus scowled at the warsmith and the elder harpy, unhappy with being found before he could reach Kiri’s nest. The warsmith glared back, looking expectant, “So? Are you going to return to your bed or do you want to test Osteron’s lecture theory”

A shudder ran through Ghilus. Ugh. As if he hadn’t heard enough lecturing. Rest and let your wounds heal this, stop moving about blah blah that, stop being so impatient, don’t creep around the colony and scare the other harpies… Between Osteron and Zariel, he’s already heard enough of their blathering to induce another headache.

Getting exasperated by the besotted mer’s antics, Mara shooed him along with her wings, “Kiri is scheduled to come around soon. It is better that you head back now.”

Under the elders’ watchful eyes, Ghilus sulkily slunk back to the healing ward.

“Are the others giving you any trouble?” The warsmith asked with a frown.

Mara chuckled, “They were fine, if a bit restless. Thankfully, other merAstartes are there to keep an eye on their brethren.”

“My men reported that some of them have found their bonded counterparts among your harpies?”

Her smile turned slightly sheepish, “I’m afraid we may be stealing a few more warriors from you. To my knowledge, Ghilus has bonded to Kiri and Kalium bonded to her daughter, Kona. And the World Eater, Addax, is bonded to Rhitta. Addax has mentioned that Rhitta’s presence calms his nails.”

“That is a problem. Have you tested how far they can be separated before Addax goes under the influence of the nails again?” The warsmith’s thick tail swished in thought.

“At best, 500m, depending on the day. Beyond that will be how Addax normally operates with the nails’ influence.”

Eciton’s next question came as a surprise, “Have you thought about settling here permanently?”

Mara went quiet for a moment before asking, “Is that a proposition, Warsmith?”

“Yes, if you are willing to consider it.” the warsmith confirmed.

“The waters in this territory are productive and your colony will be well-protected, Your colony also already patrols with my warriors, and the bonded merAstartes can stay with their bonded harpies in the colonies if they choose to, which I suspect they will.” he added.

Mara scratched her chin with a claw, “It certainly will make things more convenient considering our current situation... However, this is a big decision that will need to be discussed among my colony first.”

“On the second matter,” Eciton started.

Mara’s voice turned serious, “I suppose you want to discuss the Grey Knight?”

“Yes.” he replied, “As I understand, young Claude was kidnapped by the Grey Knight and Erriox rallied a number of warriors to rescue him. And now one of your harpies is intensely bonded to the Grey Knight.”

“Yes, the same one that is bonded to the Alpha Legion brothers, which complicates this matter.” the harpy elder frowned.

Eciton knew the Grey Knight would make for an extremely powerful ally, and would be useful when it came to territorial disputes with other mer warbands. However, the Grey Knight, whose mood however mercurial, likely would be too proud to let himself be turned into a pawn for such matters. One thing was for certain, the Grey Knight proclaimed that this gannet harpy colony was under his protection, because of his bonded harpy. In that case, it would make sense to fully align with the colony one way or another so he can at least keep the powerful mer under his thumb.

Eciton made sure to choose his next words carefully, knowing how much the harpies value honesty and being upfront, “I want to fully align my warband with your colony. With my warriors being bonded with your harpies as well as your close compatriots, as well as the Grey Knight being part of your colony now, I would be a fool not to. However, regardless of whether you wish to do the same, the Grey Knight cannot go without consequences for his actions. Whether chaos or not, those are still my warriors that he injured.”

Mara agreed, but she had one of her own to protect, “While I agree that he must be punished or at least make reparations for what he has done, what is it you wish to do with the Grey Knight? I cannot allow you to kill or maim him, as it will kill and injure Lana as well. She is one of mine and I will not allow her to be threatened because of Stormbreaker’s actions. She had no control over the situation.” She said sternly.

“Then consider him owing a labor debt to the Steelix warband to make amends for his actions.”

“For how long and to do what?” The harpy elder looked at him, suspicious of his intentions. Mara was under no illusions that the Stormbreaker is absurdly powerful and having an ally like him is a boon to any merAstartes warband. She also doubted that Stormbreaker would allow himself to play as a pawn for long, nor did she wish that fate for him. The thought of the Grey Knight, even though he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to her, being forever shackled to any warband made her feel uneasy. He is technically one of hers now, much like the Alpha Legion brothers.

“For the total amount of time it takes for each of my injured warriors to fully recover. And if Erriox wishes, the additional recovery time for his injured scoutlings. Give or take, the estimated total recovery time if the Primaris scoutlings are included would be 15 months. Stormbreaker is lucky that the healing potions from harpy and mers are so effective and that merAstartes heal quickly. As for the labor, it will be the normal patrols plus grunt work and any assistance that we require for psyker-type issues.”

Mara relaxed at his answer. That was reasonable enough, “I have a few conditions to add if I may.”

“Go ahead.”

“Stormbreaker must be allowed to return to the colony to spend time with Lana once every ten days. Since they share an intense bond, I worry about the effects on both of them if they are kept from the other for too long. And since Lana is recovering from the wounds caused by her initial rejection of the intense bond, Stormbreaker needs to be by her side for her to recover. So his labor debt will have to start after she is fully recovered. It is possible that Lana and her bonded Hydras may have their own conditions to add. This, along with our residency issue need to be discussed among my colony before any decisions could be made. Once decisions are made I ask that a written contract bound by both harpy and mer magic be signed so both parties would stay true to the agreement. Would a reply in two weeks suffice?” she added.

Eciton hummed, but agreed to her requests, seeing little fault in her logic. Besides, if Mara saw him as reasonably agreeable, the chances of her allying her colony with his warband would increase. The warsmith gave the harpy a wry grin, “You are shrewd, Lady Mara.”

Mara tilted her head coquettishly and returned a small smile, “I do have my colony to protect after all and Stormbreaker, like the Hydra brothers, is part of it.”

[scoops-aboy86]

Not Dating, part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, parts 4 & 5, part 7, part 8 - also on ao3

Long awaited update? Or something? I've been struggling not with this chapter but the next one… Looks like there will be 1-2 more chapters before this wraps up.

By the time Eddie ventures cautiously from his room again, dressed this time, Steve has set the tiny kitchen table with two plates of peanut butter apple toast and two glasses of ice water. The mug of wildflowers sits between the two place settings. 

“I, uh,” Steve starts. And looks down at what he’s done, in Eddie’s own home. He came to admit, among other things, that he’s been feeding Eddie up, and now he’s doing it again, completely on autopilot. 

Without comment and not quite looking directly at him, Eddie drops into the nearest chair, immediately picking up his ice water and downing it. He sets it down with a tinkle of ice, and Steve takes the opportunity to snatch the glass and top it off at the sink before sitting down himself. 

“Did you… do the dishes?” Eddie asks, notes of disbelief and something like amusement warring in his tone. His still-damp hair is in a braid down his back, something he’d only started doing because Steve had told him months ago that it would help control frizz and keep his curls intact. He’s done that much, but made no attempt to shave the several days of scruff from his cheeks, his jaw, the softening roundness beneath his chin. 

“There weren’t that many,” Steve mutters, looking away before he stares more than he already has. And yes, he’s aware that this isn’t much of a defense, but it’s all he’s got. 

“Right…” Eddie clears his throat and takes another gulp of water. He eyes his plate. (Should Steve have cut the crusts off? No, fuck, they’re not little kids, that’d be weird… Oh who’s he kidding, it’s weird either way.) 

Also, there’s a little sliver of belly peeking out the bottom of Eddie’s shirt; he doesn’t seem to have noticed it yet. 

Oh god, Steve needs to talk now.

“I’m sorry, again,” he blurts out, fixing his gaze down at his hands as he picks at the crust of his toast. “When you asked what we were doing I kinda got stuck on what I was doing and I thought… you were mad about it? Because I was… Because I keep… I usually focus on, on certain things, and I didn’t realize you were asking about… us stuff. I didn’t know if you wanted all that, with me, or if it was just blowing off steam or whatever, but I guess, since you got mad, I figured that… maybe you did? And I fucked up my chance to let you know we’re on the same page, about that. Oh god, I’m rambling. I sound like Robin.”

A tiny smile cracks across Eddie’s face at that last part, just for a second, as if agreeing and laughing with him about it rather than at him. Because Eddie is good at stuff like that, at not making Steve feel stupid even when he knows he’s objectively acting the part. Even though Eddie might still be mad at him—it’s hard to tell, but Steve had needed to break in just to talk to him. 

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to rally. “What I’m trying to say is… If you want, if I haven’t totally blown it, I want to be way more than ‘just’ friends with you, Eddie. But you should also know that… I’m pretty weird. Like, I may not be a nerd, but I’m definitely some kind of freak.”

Eddie blinks, focuses on him so hard that Steve feels like he’s under a microscope, then glances down at the set table and back up. “Weird like… letting yourself in and making me a sandwich?”

“It’s… more like toast with a lot of toppings on it,” Steve says weakly. “But you could have mine and put them together to make it a sandwich, if you want.”

“Steve,” Eddie says flatly, a warning to cut the bullshit, and that’s it. 

That’s all it takes. He looks up into Eddie’s eyes and he’s caught, unable to look away from the confused wariness, the caution that he had put there, even if it was by accident. 

“I like to watch you eat,” he admits breathlessly, and he’s so, so grateful to Robin for both putting up with his shit and forcing him to write things down and practice saying them, as clear and unambiguous as he can. “And be content. I like seeing the way it shows up on you, and the way you take up more space, because… you’re here and you can, even though you almost weren’t. And watching it happen is—But it’s more than just, um, physical. I think I… No, I know I want to be with you, Eds, but I need you to know about this first, in case it changes your mind about me. 

“Because I know I can be a lot.” Feeling his face go hot, Steve ducks his head to stare down at his own hands. “I also get jealous sometimes and I’m working on it, and I can be all over the person I’m dating all the time and not everybody likes that. Robin kept hitting me with her pillow for saying ‘clingy,’ but I’ve heard it a lot, so, yeah. And she took the pen away when I wrote down that I can be stupid sometimes, but I barely graduated and didn’t make it into any colleges, so I feel like it’s worth mentioning? You know some of that already, I just want you to, uh. Be able to make an informed decision.”

That was the last line of his little speech, which he’s pretty sure he got through without forgetting anything terribly important. So Steve shuts his mouth and waits for a response, barely aware that he’s holding his breath 

“You wrote it down?” Eddie asks finally. 

“Well, yeah?” Steve can’t read his tone or the expression on his face, which is unsettling—Eddie really would make one hell of a poker player. “I had to figure out what I was going to say so I didn’t fuck up again, otherwise I would’ve come here sooner.”

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, then pauses, frowns, and shakes his head slightly as though dislodging a stray thought. “You wrote out a whole speech to tell me that, what? You like that I’ve gotten fat?”

The last word makes Steve go rigid in his chair, because… wow, he just came out and said it, didn’t he? Tone and all. “Uh, yeah, so I wouldn’t accidentally say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a bad thing! I like you the way you are, and you could get bigger or smaller and I’d still like you just as much! But I… I like taking care of you, and I really like how happy you look when you let yourself relax.”

They stare at each other for a moment that stretches on forever. The earth stops rotating, the sun explodes, and Steve still can’t move because Eddie is looking at him like that. 

This is the moment right before the one where Steve expects Eddie to tell him to get out. 

And then Eddie sits back almost in slow motion, a hand coming to rest absently on his stomach, and he looks… kind of like he had upon waking from a coma and realizing he hadn’t actually died. Like something huge and previously inconceivable is opening up in front of him, and it’s so unexpected it toes the line of too much. 

“Well shit, Steve… I can’t believe you brought me flowers and wrote a whole speech.” He stops to pinch himself, and flinches. “Ow.”

Steve is already reaching out, wanting to soothe the pinched spot on Eddie’s chubby arm because he can’t help it. Same reason he started touching Eddie in the first place, because yeah, Eddie makes his insides go all liquid hot and squirmy, but he couldn’t stand seeing him with a scrunched up face because of a tummy ache, either. 

His fingers brush over warm skin, and before he can second guess himself and pull away Eddie’s hand rests on top of his, giving permission. Holding him to the spot, even, as though trying to press his touch in like a flower between pages of a book. Pressing him into the softness of his upper arm. 

“And for the record,” Eddie says with a hint of a grin, “yeah, you are kind of a freak. I don’t think that has to be a bad thing either—speaking as the King of the Freaks in this vicinity, by popular vote and general reputation.” He bites his lip, hesitates, and adds tentatively, “Look… I think we both kinda fucked up. I didn’t think you could want… How did you put it before? Us stuff.”

Steve glances up from their hands, up from where his gaze had been straying dangerously close to where Eddie’s shirt has ridden up a little. “That’s not your fault. I didn’t do a very good job of showing you that I do.”

“Yeah, well.” There’s a hopeful twinkle in Eddie’s eye as he raises an eyebrow. “That’s right, you know. You could’ve at least kissed me on the mouth before jumping my bones.”

It’s that twinkle that gives Steve the nerve to lean forward and say, “Yeah, no, I was way too chickenshit. But I think I can fix that now.”

The small table makes leaning the rest of the way across easy. Steve has had plenty of first kisses, most of them either gentle and chaste because he was trying to be a gentleman or hard and messy because the date was just a thin pretense for getting laid, but this isn’t either of those. It’s slow, exploratory, savoring—forceful from months of wanting, letting Eddie lick his way in for a taste because Steve thinks he would rather be struck by lightning than deny Eddie anything. Might as well be, with how electrified he feels all the way from the ends of his hair to his toes from the first instant of contact and continuing through every slick motion of their mouths. He feels breathless, heart too big for his body with relief that he hasn’t ruined anything after all. With fucking joy that he gets to have this, that Eddie is kissing back just as fervently. 

It doesn’t feel like a first kiss, not exactly. It feels like they should have been doing this the entire time… because, well, duh. 

They break apart around the time Steve’s head starts to swim from lack of air but don’t go far, leaning their foreheads together and panting against each other’s kiss-bruised lips for a moment. Eddie has a head-empty grin plastered across his face, cherubic and dimpled, and Steve is pretty sure he’s wearing an equally dopey expression. He probably looks extra stupid, half out of his seat and curled over the table like some sort of shrimp, but he doesn’t even care because Eddie wants this. Him, even with all that entails. Apparently. His head is floating and entire body tingling from giddiness, something he hasn’t felt since he’d first convinced Nancy to ‘study’ with him… But that felt like a lifetime ago, and hadn’t been half as intense.

“Would you like to go out with me, Eds? On a date?” Steve breathes, because he’s a hopeless romantic and he wants to do this right. 

And it seems that somehow he has, because Eddie beams back at him brighter than the sun. There are shadows under his eyes and days’ worth of stubble gone unshaven, but he looks more alive than Steve has ever seen him before. 

Eddie bumps their noses together and brings a hand down (when had both of them ended up in Steve’s hair?) to cup his jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’d like that a lot.”

Part 7, part 8

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

@eyehartart @steviewashere @westifer-dead

[sailormoonandme]

Returning Stars a.k.a. THE SAILOR STARLIGHTS RETURN HOME 

Ao3 Collection: Sailor Moon Cosmos Movie Epilogue

Summary: A miracle has occurred throughout the galaxy. Every world ravaged by Sailor Galaxia has been reborn, including the Kinmoku star… and its four most fabled citizens.

Excerpt:

From the top of the steps, the four of them had a perfect view of the scenes of life and celebration breaking out across the city, and no doubt the whole star. And yet, Sailor Star Fighter was not paying attention to them. Nor was his princess. She had instead retreated into the crimson coloured palace, scanning the faces of the palace servants and urgently questioning whichever ones could spare her a moment

Fighter knew all too well who her princess sought.

She let out a small sigh and, almost mechanically, she retrieved one of the Kinmoku cards from her uniform and gazed upon the image at its centre. A handsome dark haired man and a beautiful blonde, bun-headed girl were gazing into one another's eyes, their fingers intertwined.

With another (noticeably deeper) sigh Fighter slinked away. Trusting Maker, Healer and the palace guards to protect the princess for an hour or so, she donned a disguise that had become akin to a second skin for her. As she had expected, the jubilant citizens swapped wild and excited stories about the princess and the Sailor Starlights saving them all. And as she had hoped, not one of them was interested in bothering the innocuous, slightly heartbroken, high school student making his way down the street.

She let out a tiny huff of laughter. "Well… at least I have plenty of inspiration for my next song."

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

In desperation Sailor Kakyȗ entered the fiery red room that was her chambers. To her dismay they were vacant and she made to leave, faltering as she was drawn in by the familiar, olive scent.

Scanning across the room her eyes fell upon the incense burner resting upon her dresser. She approached it slowly, almost more surprised that it was back here than she or her people were.

Kakyȗ took a moment to inhale the aroma, the wonderful smell casting her mind back to a tiny, brave little warrior with the kindest of blue eyes. She took out one of her Kinmoku cards and tried to summon the little fuschia haired girl's image.

For an instant she saw, not a toddler, but an adult woman with two long white pigtails that were topped by heart-shaped buns. Then the image went blank. She tried again, but this time saw a younger woman with golden blonde hair and rounder pigtails surrounded by bright light. She was nude and sported beautiful white feather wings from her back.

Kakyȗ rallied herself for a third attempt to see the girl, but found her own mind curiously blank. It was as if the girl's face, hair, everything about her was suddenly blurred and fuzzy. At the sound of footsteps behind her though, she forgot all about the little girl.

"Kakyȗ?"

She let out a sob and dropped the card, quickly forgotten next to the incense burner. As she moved across the chamber floor her Senshi uniform dematerialized, replaced instead by her royal robes. She and her dearest beloved embraced tightly, as if unbelieving that this was really happening.

"I didn't dare hope, I didn't dare believe…" he whispered, "... that we would be reborn together."

Princess Kakyȗ pondered for a moment.

"Nor did I. Not until the very very end. When someone gave me hope."

Upon the dresser behind her, the once blank card now displayed the image of Sailor Kinmoku cradled in the arms of a fellow Senshi. A fellow Senshi with long blonde pigtails topped with round buns, the kindest of blue eyes and a brave little smile upon her face.

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

Ao3 Collection: Sailor Moon Cosmos Movie Epilogue

[lightwise]

TBB S3 E12 Reaction

Alright, this was the last episode that was truly represented in the trailer. I can’t wait to see Hunter kick some Juggernaut butt (why does that sound so bad lol)

- Hemlock wipe that damn smirk off your face

- Again with the shoulder shoves dude

- No why is CX-2 just walking away? We need to follow him and find out who he is!! *low-key screaming in frustration* lol

- I love how Hemlock is so arrogantly confident and uncaring that he comes across as almost respectful in how he takes the time to explain things to other people

- Come on Emerie, you’ve come so far! Don’t keep playing into Hemlock’s hand! You know Omega isn’t safe here and neither are you

- Lol he’s too busy to even wait for the test results. Bitch

- I do wish they had given us Crosshair telling Hunter and Wrecker about Omega. BUT I was very much correct that Hunter would not waste time being angry

- Every time Crosshair says something more about Tantiss it just keeps getting worse and worse 🥺🥺 don’t make that man go back there! Dee’s vocal inflections and the way he talks about Nala Se and Tipoca City is so regretful

- The trust and vulnerability he’s willing to show though with his hand shaking and admitting he doesn’t want to go back he’s so traumatized 😭💔

- No WAY they are bringing back Admiral Rampart! Kudos to those who called that one

- PHEEEE and AZZZZ

- Cross goes from pointing his rifle in Phee’s face to straight up telling her they’re taking her ship 🤣

- Okay, it finally happened. I finally teared up. Phee and Crosshair immediately sass each other, then she drops the fact that she and Tech were close and talked a lot and he TOLD HER ABOUT CROSSHAIR (and in a good light) and we got a BROWN EYES 👁️ 👄 👁️. I was in a puddle on the floor 🥹🥹🥹

- The way she treats all of them like family and helps them and puts her life on the line for them. It is just so satisfying to see her relationship with the Batch continue to develop like this. Truly family to all of them.

- More Andor vibes with this labor camp

- Of course Rampart is still a dramatic bitchy asshole. Prison hasn’t changed him AT ALL (except for the beard. Sorry guys but I’m just not seeing it 😆)

- Aw Wrecker giving Mel a little pat. He’s so sweet

- “Oh relax. I expect you to know a stealth approach when you see one” 🤩🤩 TECH you need to come back and marry this woman RIGHT FREAKING NOW

- Gosh they were so made for each other 😭

- That entire maneuver was insane and incredible

- Hunter’s helmet float 😄 at least one of them was having fun

- As others have pointed out I also really appreciate that they animated Phee with so much aging and tiredness and lines and wrinkles showing on her face. She’s a real woman who’s seen and done a lot of things and she’s incredibly gorgeous and badass and caring and intelligent and she doesn’t need perfect skin or a youthful glow to be completely amazing

- When are we getting the “day in the life of a storm trooper” workplace comedy? I need it Star Wars!

- It’s so good to see the boys working together like this

- The textures and lighting in this episode are just so real looking

- Wow Wrecker really just sucker punched that guy

- And he actually remembers plan 55 😁 so proud of him

- The music when they saunter in 😂 and we got a “how touching” too?!

- Rampart’s face is in the dictionary next to the word offended

- “Hunter, they’re sealing off the bridge!” Hunter: drives faster

- And he was giving Phee a hard time for her flying?? Boy is approaching Evel Knievel levels!!

- I need to see Hunter in a dirt bike rally now 😧

- Pretty sure Hunter is firmly in his Joel Miller Era. He does not care what he has to do or who he has to kill at this point

- “Not exactly a stealth exit boys” such a great line

- “We’re all in this together” sure Rampart sure let’s see how chipper you are about that next episode

- Emerie and Omega’s glances at each other 🥺

- “This is your new home” yeahhh I don’t think so

[sirianasims]

I had no idea what to do with these feelings for Samuel. Now that the floodgates had been opened, I ached to touch him, kiss him, bury my hands in his soft curls.

The fact that he was now actively avoiding me only made it so much more painful. Every girl he spoke to felt like a personal attack.

At the end of the final semester, we threw one last party at our house.

I was out of control. I wanted Samuel to notice me, to want me, but I didn’t know how. He had wanted me once, years ago, even tried to kiss me. But how did I get us back to that?

I had finally asked Jessica for help. She rallied the team, and tonight I found myself wearing one of her dresses. There had been no time for me to learn how to walk in heels, but Daria had some sandals that would do. Trisha even helped me with a tiny bit of makeup.

The party had started by the time I had gathered my courage and came downstairs.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I entered the living room. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish, but I needed Samuel to notice me.

He definitely saw me, but his face remained unreadable.

An hour or so passed. I made sure to stay near him, trying to catch his eyes, but it felt like he was doing his best to ignore me.

I wasn’t getting anywhere.

Everyone else was having fun, Daria and Griffin even started doing keg stands. Slightly discouraged, I went over to cheer them on instead.

And then, just as Daria dropped Griffin on the floor, Samuel appeared next to me.

He grabbed me by the arm, not too gently.

“Come.”

“Ow! Samuel, what -“

“We need to talk. Upstairs, now.”

I followed him.

As we entered my room, Samuel closed the door and turned to me.

“Now please enlighten me, Freya. What are you playing at?”

I hadn’t actually planned this far. I was never good at talking about my feelings, but I knew that this could be my last chance, so I just blurted it out.

“Samuel… I really miss you – and I hate that we never talk anymore, and I don’t want you to… be with someone else.”

Samuel said nothing.

“I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, but I love you.”

He stared at me for a second.

“For fuck’s sake, Freya. NOW you tell me? After I spent the last seven years trying to get over you? And now you’ve finally decided that you love me? That isn’t how it works! That isn’t how any of this works!“

Once more, he turned his back on me.

“Samuel, wait…”

He slammed the door behind him. The silence was deafening.

Why did I even try? I should have expected this. The tears were burning in my eyes.

The door was torn open again almost immediately and Samuel marched back into the room.

“Dammit, Freya!”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you really are”, he croaked, closing the distance between us.

“But you’re my idiot.”

beginning / previous / next

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a series of mysterious drownings. They discover the town inhabitants a dark secret buried long ago.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions of drownings, gun usage (sort of), maybe cursing, bad flirting, death, mentions of death

tag list: @athenalive, @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld

Word count: 7,066

Dead In the Water

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

We sit at the diner part of the Inn that we’re staying at.

Dean sits in front of me circling obituaries in a newspaper to find our next hunt, Sam having left for the bathroom. My laptop is out as I type away on the new article I had to write for my work deadline, our plates of food are mostly empty, now pushed to the side as we continue our tasks

A pretty waitress, whose name tag reads ‘Wendy’ approaches our table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks with a charming smile.

And despite how attractive she is, my eyes aren’t on her but the man in front of me. Deans looking up at her grinning around the pen he’s chewing on and god I don’t know if i’ve ever been this distracted.

My mouth falls a little bit agape as I look at him, perfect smile, messy hair, a sort of 5 o'clock shadow going on, and a pen pulling at his bottom lip. My cheeks burn and I know I must look like an idiot.

“Just the check, please.” Sam answers sitting back down in the seat next to me. This pulls me out of my love sick stare, I take a sip of what’s left of my water trying to cool myself down.

“Okay.” Wendy says, walking away.

Dean drops his head, then looks at Sam “You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.”

He points to Wendy, who’s back is to us, “That’s fun.”

He looks at Sam and then at me, like he’s expecting some kind of reaction from me. But I remain quiet.

“Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” Dean gives up, handing Sam the newspaper who tilts it so that I could also see it.

“A funeral?” Sam asks

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever” Dean acknowledges.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” Sam replies, clearly angry.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean challenges.

“The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.” Sam answers.

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” Dean pushes back.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.” Sam answers.

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” Dean snaps and suddenly I feel like I'm a little kid watching their parents argue while I'm stuck in the middle just sitting there.

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—“ Dean cuts him off, “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?” Sam rolls his eyes at this.

Wendy walks by again, catching Dean's attention, full on distracting him.

I clear my throat wanting to change the subject, “Lake Manitoc. Hey! Well doesn't that just sound so interesting.”

This gets Dean’s attention back, away from Wendy.

“Huh?” he asks.

“How far?” Sam asks, catching on to my idea.

If there was an award for how quickly someone could make others uncomfortable I’d have to give it to these boys. From arguing over hunting and their Dad in front of their friend to getting distracted by a hot waitress. But if they did get an award they’d probably argue over that too.

The Impala pulls up in front of the Carlton house.

Dean knocks on the door, a young guy with short brown hair answers it.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, that's right.” Will confirms.

“I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamil, and that’s Agent Hayden.” Dean informs, referring to himself, then Sam, and then me.

“We’re with the US Wildlife Service” He goes on, holding up an ID to match his lie.

Will takes us around the house to the dock, where his father sits.

“She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.” Will explains.

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?” I ask, even though it felt inconsiderate.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

Ok yeah, definitely didn’t just drown then.

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam questions further.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will responds, clearly getting annoyed.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam asks.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.” He said, frustrated.

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean asks further, trying to cross some things off the long list of creatures who could be responsible.

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?” Will asked, pushing for answers.

“We'll let you know.” I respond simply, feeling bad for attacking him with questions when his sister just died.

Dean gives me a nod to start heading back to the car.

But Sam doesn't move with us, instead he pushes on with the questions, “What about your father? Can we talk to him?”

We stop walking, turning back to hear the response.

Will looks towards his father, Bill, and looks back at Sam. “Look, if you don't mind, I mean...he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot.”

“We understand.”

And we do, we’ve seen these sorts of things break people apart, families even. We’ve seen these things break apart our own families, and we struggle each day to not allow it to break us. Even if we never bring it up, not even to each other.

“Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” Sheriff Jake Devins asks us, having decided talking to him would be the next best course of action.

“You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam informs

“Like what?” Devins asks, leading us into his office motioning for us to sit. “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.”

Sam and Dean sit, the sheriff pulling up a third chair so I could sit too as he keeps talking. “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah. Right” Dean laughs.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still…we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.” Devins explains, taking a seat.

“You do have to admit it’s weird, I mean that's three missing people all in relation to the lake” I press.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.” Devins answers, eyebrows scrunched together with worry.

“Anyway...All this...it won't be a problem much longer.” Devins sighs.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Well, the dam, of course.” Devon clarifies.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh, it sprung a leak.” Dean guesses.

“It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” Devon explains.

There’s a light tap on the door followed by a brunette woman peeking her head in, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

We all stand up at the same time, weird, since we were done with our questions anyways.

“I can come back later.” The woman adds.

“No no it’s okay, we were just leaving” I reply with a friendly smile.

“Gentlemen, ma’am, this is my daughter” The sheriff explains, motioning his hand towards the woman.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean.” He shakes her hand.

Maybe he makes it painfully obvious or maybe I've just known him for so long that I can now easily tell when he wants to hook up with a woman. I know Sam has this ability too as we give each other a knowing look from behind Dean's back, standing on either side of him.

“Andrea Barr. Hi.” She introduces

“Hi.” Dean answers.

“They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake.” Devon informs her.

“Oh.”

That’s when a small boy with long brownish-red hair walked around Andrea.

“Oh, hi!” I greet the kid, having spotted him first, giving him a little wave.

But he gives no answer or greeting of any kind, walking away without saying a word. Andrea followed closely behind him.

“His name is Lucas” Devon states.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have.” Sheriff Devon stands going to his office door, “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

We all leave the office, including the Sheriff himself. Dean asked one final question, “Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.” Andrea answers

“Two—would you mind showing us?” Dean asks

She laughs, “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble.”

“I'm headed that way anyway.”

I look at Sam again and without words we have a conversation on how ridiculous and slightly annoying this is.

Andrea turns to her father, “I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three.” Then to Lucus, “We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She kisses his head and then turns our way to lead us.

“Thanks again.”

Andrea leads us along the street, Dean making conversation. “So, cute kid” He says.

“Thanks” she responds simply.

“Kids are the best, huh?” He tries again as we cross the street, but she ignores him. We keep walking, shortly coming to a stop in front of the Lakefront Motel.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks” She states with an awkward smile.

“Thanks so much” I say sincerely, feeling bad for Dean having dragged her here just for a chance with her.

“Thanks.” Sam says too.

She nods her head at us before addressing Dean, “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

A laugh slips past my lips before I could stop it (for Deans sake). “Ohhh I like you” I can't happen but say through laughs. I get a sharp glare from Dean but a contrasting soft smile from Andrea.

She leaves, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

“'Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam points out, turning towards Dean with a questioning look on his face.

“I love kids.” He responds

“Mhm” I hum sarcastically

“Name three children that you even know.” Sam challenges. But as predicted Dean can’t even come up with one. Sam gives him a pointed look before walking towards the hotel and I follow after.

“I'm thinking!” Dean yells after us.

We walk into the motel's office, Sam’s talking to the clerk and I can’t help but unfocus my eyes staring at the unpleasantly patterned wallpaper. I’ve been traveling with Dean for hardly a month and he’s managed to flirt with practically every woman he’s seen, and yes I know this is an exaggeration.

Each woman, each time he flirts or even winks at another girl a pain rings true in my heart, one I hate to say I'm becoming familiar with.

It was that moment, that one small moment of waiting for keys to our motel rooms that I decided it.

From now on I won’t feel jealous or even that stupid pain in my heart when he’s with another woman, even though I know that isn’t how it works.

I’ll try to forget that I love him, I'll pretend those feelings aren’t there just so it doesn’t become painful to be around him. Even though I know it’s impossible to forget you're in love with Dean Winchester.

I dropped my bag off in my room, now entering Sam and Dean’s.

Sam’s working on his laptop while Dean’s going through his clothing for I have no idea what.

I take the seat across from Sam as he reads what he finds.

“So there’s the three drowning victims this year.”

“Is there anything before that?” I ask

“Yeah. Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.”

“So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asks.

“Unlikely, considering there hasn’t been any spotting or legends around the town. Like for the Loch Ness there’s been more than a hundred eye witnesses, but for this, none.” I pipe up.

“I was thinking the same thing. Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.” Sam adds, getting Dean to stalk over and look at the laptop.

“Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?” Dean points to the screen.

“Isn’t that Andreas last name?” I ask.

“Christopher Barr, the victim in May… Yeah Y/N’s right. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued…Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.” Sam informs.

“Jesus Christ” I sigh.

“Yeah, no wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.” Dean adds.

There’s a sound of kids laughing and playing as we approach the park, reminding me of similar times. We approach Andrea who’s sitting on a bench, “Can we join you?” Sam asks her gently.

She looks up at us, “I’m here with my son.”

Dean looks over at Lucas who’s sitting down with toy soldiers and some drawing materials.

“Oh. Mind if I say hi?” Dean asks her, she nods her head and he heads over.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.” She tells us, Sam sits next to her as he answers, “I don't think that's what this is about.”

I opt to stand, leaning on the arm of the bench. I take in the soft chill breeze and the kids running around. A feeling of peace creeps into my bones and warmth within my heart as I watch Dean interact with Lucas, a mix of admiration and longing in my veins.

Barley five minutes go by before he’s walking back to us, the warmth within me still hasn’t flickered out.

“Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident.” Andrea speaks up.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry.” Dean answers, she nods.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asks and I can’t help but think if maybe this is too invasive.

But whether it is or not doesn't seem to matter as she answers, “That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress.”

“That can't be easy. For either of you.” Sam comforts.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…” She breaks off.

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” Dean offers, I know he’s speaking from experience.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—“

Lucas walking up to us cuts her off.

“Hey sweetie.”

Lucas doesn't acknowledge her, he just hands Dean a picture. One he drew himself, telling from the use of crayon.

“Thanks. Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back at the motel. Deans sitting on his bed flipping through channels while I'm sitting next to him reading a book, a sort of habit we picked up when we were younger.

Sam enters the room, “So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, putting the remote down, I place my book down.

Sam sits on the bed next to the one we’re on, facing us, “I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

“He drowned?” Dean asks.

“Yep. In the sink.” Sam confirms.

“Pardon?” I question, I mean how do you drown in a sink, of all places.

“What the hell? So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” Dean spoke.

“Yeah, but what?” Sam voiced.

“I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the same source.” Dean listed

“The lake.” Sam suggested.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.” Sam responded.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere. This is gonna happen again soon.” Dean says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed towards Sam.

“And whatever it is, it for sure has to do with Bill Carlton.” I add on.

“Yeah, it took both his kids.” Dean confirms.

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris, he’s Bill Carlton's godson.” Sam reveals.

“Then let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

Bill Carlton’s sitting on a bench on the lake's dock.

From here you wouldn’t expect anything sinister from the relaxed big lake.

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam voices as we approach his sitting figure.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” He continues, gaining Mr.Carlton’s attention.

“We're from the Department—“ Dean attempts to say, getting cut off by Bill. “I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions today.” A weak mix of tiredness and sadness etched on his voice.

“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there? Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death—we think there might be a connection to you or your family.” Sam explains, despite Carlton’s previous response.

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please.” Mr. Carlton pleads, looking down at his lap.

We all give each other a look, scrunched eyebrows and sympathetic faces. It’s within that look that we decide to head back to the Impala knowing we won’t get anything more from Bill Carlton.

“What do you guys think?” Sam questions as we approach the car.

“The poor man has been through so much…” I trail off, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“He’s also not telling us something” Dean adds, and I can’t help but agree despite how bad I feel for the guy.

“So now what?” Sam asks, leaning on the car.

Dean goes still, stiffening.

“What is it?” I ask tilting my head

“Huh…Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something.” Dean suggests. He pulls out a piece of paper looking at the Carlton house, he tilts it for us to see revealing the drawing Lucas made.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea.” Andrea speaks, closing the door behind us as we enter her house.

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes.” Dean reasons.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” She responds.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there.” Sam explains, and I can’t imagine how ridiculous that sounds to her.

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” Andrea states clearly, voice laced with grief and anger.

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son.” Dean pleads.

Andrea nods in defeat.

She leads us to Lucas’s room, he’s coloring while toy soldiers stand guard around him. Dean enters crouching down by Lucas while we wait in the doorway, “Hey, Lucas. You remember me? You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

Lucas continues to color, refusing to acknowledge Dean who pulls out the original drawing, “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.”

But again Lucas keeps coloring. Dean tries again, “You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

I remember the day he told me that story, it was the same day my mom had died and he was trying to comfort me having understood the feeling of losing a mother. I was thirteen, him being two years older, and his mom had already been gone for eleven years. But the grief that was apparent when he told me all those years ago, like it had happened the day before…I sometimes still see it now.

That got Lucas’s attention, he drops his crayon and looks up at Dean handing him a picture.

“Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back in the Impala, Sam’s holding the drawing Lucas made of a yellow house near a church with red bikes outside.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.” Dean says.

“Well it’s said that going through a traumatic experience could make someone more sensitive to psychic tendencies.” I offer, recalling some information I read somewhere.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.” Dean questions, it’s clear he cares about the kid that he’s even worried about Lucas.

“All right, we got another house to find.” Sam responds, referring to the drawing of the yellow house.

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone.” Dean grumbled, complaining.

“See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.” Sam states, looking at the drawing.

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart.” Dean mocks, even though we both know it was pretty helpful information.

“You know, um...What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.” Sam admits, the mood changing quickly.

“It's no big deal” He responds before continuing, “Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?”

“Aww, you know you’d love a hug” I tease, patting his shoulder from the back seat.

He rolls his eyes, starting the car.

After driving around for a while we finally approach a white church that looks similar to the one Lucas had drawn. Dean holds up the drawing, comparing the two. There’s the yellow house next to the church and a wooden fence near the house. We look between each other knowing that this must be it.

We cross the street, Dean knocking on the door to the yellow house.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am—but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.” He asks the small old woman that answers the door.

She lets us in as she answers, “No sir. Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.

“The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” She sighs continuing, “Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.”

I nudge both boys motioning towards the many toy soldiers lying on a table.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Dean questions.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.” The woman explains.

Dean picks up a picture from the mirror of two boys, one who I assume is Peter with a bike.

He reads the back, “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy.”

We’re back in the car, Dean driving.

“Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean questions.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.” Sam adds.

“D-Do you think Bill did something to Peter?” I stammer.

“What if he killed Peter?” Sam asks.

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean remarked, making a sharp turn presumably towards Carlton’s house.

The Impala pulls up in front of the house, we get out and Sam knocks on the door. “Mr. Carlton?” he calls out, the loud roar of an engine cutting off a second knock.

We go around the house seeing Bill out on the lake in his boat. We ran to the end of the dock, yelling.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!”

“Mr. Carlton!”

“Sir! You need to turn back”

Whether he’s choosing to ignore us or really doesn't hear us will remain a mystery as the water rises, flipping him and his boat over. Vanishing.

“Sam. Dean. Y/N” Andrea calls out as we walk into the main room of the police station with Sheriff Devins.

The Sheriff goes up to his daughter, having some sort of conversation that we can’t hear from where we stand.

Lucas looked up from where he was sitting, looking terrified. He jumps from his seat and barrels into Dean grabbing his arm.

“Lucas, hey, what is it? Lucas.” Dean speaks, looking down at the kid.

Lucas whines, looking up at Dean. Sam and I look at each other and then back to the scene unfolding in front of us.

“Lucas.” Andrea orders from where she stands.

“Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay.” Dean tries to sooth him before Andrea pulls him away and leads him outside, but Lucas’s eyes remain on Dean.

Sheriff Devins struts over throwing his jacket down as he leads us into his office.

“Okay, just so I'm clear, you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?” Devins begins.

Dean glances at Sam and then me, “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He nods.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Devins lists out, the last one making my eyes widen.

He continued, “That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you two.”

“See, now, we can explain that.” Dean says, trying to cover up our initial lie.

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Devins suggested.

“Door number two sounds good.” Sam answers simply, but I'm not so sure if I agree.

“That's the one I'd pick.”

We left swiftly, only stopping at the motel for our belongings before we were back in the car heading for the interstate.

“Green.” Sam announces, breaking the silence in the car.

“What?”

“Light's green.” Sam answers, clarifying.

Dean turns right. “Uh, the interstate's the other way.” Sam states, getting a simple, “I know.”

“But Dean, this job, I think it's over.” Sam replies.

“I'm not so sure.” Dean responded simply, really not letting anything up.

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.” Sam reasons.

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean challenges.

“But why would you think that?” Sam asks him

“Because Lucas was really scared.” He answers.

“Dean’s right, somethings not right with this ending” I chime in

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean clarifies.

“I expect this from Y/N. But you? Dean. Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?” Sam questions, looking from me to Dean.

Dean glances at him, “Shut up.”

————————————————

We pulled up in front of Andreas' house. Sam chiming in one more comment, “Are you sure about this? It's pretty late, man.”

“Better to be wrong, then to not have checked” I answered, hugging my jacket closer to me.

Dean rings the doorbell. At that moment, Lucass opens the door, breathing heavy and clearly terrified.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean yells as Lucas turns around and takes off, without a second thought we follow after him.

Water pours down the stairs as he leads us up them and to the door with more water coming from it.

Lucas pounds on the door before Dean pushes him over to me, kicking in the door. As Deans about to enter Lucas grabs hold of him, so instead me and Sam enter.

Sam half kneels aimlessly sticking his hands into the water. When she surfaces for just a moment, I manage to grab underneath her arm closest to me trying to pull her out. She goes under again but we keep pulling until finally she’s let free and we’re able to pull her out.

She coughs up water as Sam leaves her to me going to grab something behind us. I hold her to me in an attempt to block her from the boys behind me along with the cold. Sam taps on my shoulder handing me a large fluffy towel while his head is facing away. I grab it, quickly covering Andrea with it.

She sits up fully, breathing harshly wrapping the towel tighter around herself. I sit next to her rubbing her arm soothingly, the bright moonlight shining on her back.

It was a while before Andrea felt comfortable to stand, Lucas immediately running up to her in a hug. After their reunion she went to get dressed asking if i’d stay in the room with her, I knew unless her bedroom had a water source she’d be okay but I wasn’t going to argue with a woman who’s already been terrified so I obliged.

I stood in the room facing the door as she got dressed, she was slow but I didn’t care.

And when she broke down crying I held her until she calmed down a bit.

Dawn was breaking when I’d finally got her to sit down stairs in the living room. Sam sat across from her while Dean was looking through the bookshelves that lined the wall.

“Can you tell me?” Sam asked.

“No. It doesn't make any sense. I'm going crazy.” She started crying again, putting her face in her hands.

“Your not crazy” I tell her.

“Tell us what happened. Everything.” Sam adds.

“I heard...I thought I heard...there was this voice.” Andrea recalled.

“What did it say?”

“It said...it said 'come play with me'. What's happening?” She sobs into her hands.

Dean approaches us with a book of some sort in his hand, he puts it down in front of Andrea opening to a picture of a bunch of boys in a uniform that looks like boy scouts. “Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” He asks.

“What? Um, um, no. I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” She moves her finger over to another picture, kid Jake standing next to Peter.

Dean looks up at us, “Chris Barr's drowning. The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff—they were both involved with Peter.” Sam adds.

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea asks, looking between the three of us.

Dean looks to the side, “Lucas? Lucas, what is it?”

He asks the boy staring out the window. Lucas opens the door and walks outside and we follow.

“Lucas, honey?” Andrea calls out.

Lucas then stops and looks at the ground then at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” Dean commands.

Andrea pulls Lucas back into the house, Dean heads to the Impala and back, returning with shovels. We start digging, and it doesn't take long before Sam’s shovel clanked against something.

Almost in sync we drop to our knees, digging with our hands, pulling out a red bicycle.

“Peter's bike.” I murmur.

“Who are you?” A commanding voice rings from behind us. We turn around only to be met with the Sheriff pointing a gun at us.

“Put the gun down, Jake.” Sam reasons as we drop the shovels.

“How did you know that was there?” Jake questions, gun still raised.

But he does not get the answer he’s looking for, Dean instead questioning him, “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” Jake replies with venom.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.” Dean continues.

Andrea suddenly runs off yelling, “Dad!”

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit.” Dean finishes.

“It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Jake challenges.

“Because that’s exactly what happened to Bill Carlton” I huff.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane.” Jake seethes, tightening his grip on the gun.

“I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” Dean spits a reply.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asks weakly.

“No. Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.” He accuses.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.” Andrea commands and he does, “Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone.”

He doesn't reply, instead looking away. “Oh my God.” She gasps.

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.

Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.” Jake explains, lowering his gun.

“All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.” Dean orders.

Andrea turns her head, but instead of moving she gasps. We all look in her direction seeing Lucas going down to the lake.

“Lucas” Jake yells out to his grandson.

We run the dock, Lucas leaning over the side reaching into the water.

“Lucas!”

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea yells, but Lucas had a head start on us and was still too far for us to reach before a hand pulled him into the water.

We keep running to the end of the dock, the boys dive in and despite my fear of deep waters I dive in right after them.

The water is cold and murky, it’s hard to truly see in front of me but I keep going further. In the corner of my eye I see two figures that I know to be the boys breach the surface, but I force myself to keep going despite the lack of air I had left. I light one of my hands up to use as a flashlight, seeing Lucas’s small body getting dragged further down by Peter.

I try to grasp his arm but he’s just out of reach. My throat is tight with lack of oxygen, I’m about to go to a second plan when suddenly the ghost boy lets go of Lucas. I grab him quickly, before he can change his mind, I swim as fast as I can to the surface hoping i’d make it.

I break the surface with a harsh breath, the rush of oxygen to my lungs only making my chest hurt more. My wet hair covered my face but I didn’t bother to fix myself as I handed the unconscious boy to Sam, who was closest to me. Sam brought him to the edge and with the help of Andrea pulled him out, beginning cpr.

I stay treading in the water breathing heavily, my chest raising up and down exceptionally fast. Dean lifts himself out of the lake landing on his knees, facing the body of water. Dean offers his hand to me, I swim to the edge of the lake where he sits, gladly taking his hand. He lifts me out of the water with ease, turning himself in the process so that I was next to him and not on top.

I look over at Lucas, who’s okay and hugging his mother before I let my head drop down my wet hair creating a curtain around me as I hold my hands to the firm ground, trying to not only catch my breath but also calm my anxiety.

Gentle, familiar, hands hold the sides of my face. Dean. He brings my head up to look at him, my wet hair in the way, but he pushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ears, his hands immediately going back to cupping my face.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks me, breathing a little heavy too, his voice gravelly and low.

I nod my head in response, feeling as if I couldn’t form the words to answer verbally.

“No. I need to hear you say it, baby” He breathes, hands still on me if not a little firmer.

“I’m okay” I answer, my voice coming out crackly.

He seems to accept that answer as he looks over me slowly, eventually making his way back to my eyes. It almost seemed like his eyes were going to drop down once more but before he could there were sounds of sirens, always our que to leave.

————————————————————————

We walk out of the motel, Sam throwing his duffel bag into the car.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody.” He tells Dean. They caught me up on what happened on the drive back to the motel, Jake sacrificing himself. Which had made sense why Peter had suddenly let Lucas go.

“I know.” Dean responds simply.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N” Andrea calls out walking up to us with Lucas.

“Hey.” Dean greets.

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.” Andrea explained, motioning down to Lucas who looked very pleased with the platter of sandwiches he was carrying.

He looked up to his mom, “Can I give it to them now?”

“Of course” Andrea told him, smiling wildly, giving him a kiss on the head.

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean takes the plate from him.

“Lucas, this is so sweet of you, thank you” I tell him sincerely while Dean places the plate on the passenger seat of the car.

“All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.” Dean instructs the kid as he sits in the passenger seat facing outward, with the door open.

“Zeppelin rules!” Lucas yells out.

“That's right. Up high.” Dean holds his hand up for a high-five. Lucas obliges, grinning. I laugh almost uncontrollably, the moment just a little too sweet.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” He tells him.

“All right.” Lucas answers, determination on his face.

Andrea and Sam come up to the car. Andrea leans over the open door giving Dean a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away with a “Thank you”

My eyebrows raise and I take a half-step back, not really expecting her to do that.

Dean stiffens and you can see the cogs turning in his head, he scratches his head and turns his head towards me, looking at me. I don’t say anything, I mean what would I say, I’m not even sure why he’s looking at me.

He goes around the car passing me, eyes still on me as he calls out to Sam. “Sam, move your ass. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

We all get in the car, smiling and waving goodbye to Andrea and Lucas as we drive away.