#clam weekend

[tiny-buzz]

Regis Philbin and Jim from the Office (Actor John Krasinski) were not longtime friends. In fact, despite working at the same studio in New York City, it wasn't until 2011, close to Regis's retirement, that the two men's paths would cross outside 30 Rockefeller Center.

"Well I was always a huge fan of Regis growing up as a kid" [Jim from The Office is responding to a question that was presented off screen] "So it caught me off guard that he was a fan of my work as well. I remember him saying how he and his wife would watch my show every Tuesday at 9:30 pm EST on NBC. He was blushing slightly, asking the type of questions I was used to hearing at Office fan conventions, like 'Hey, how did you get Dwight's Stapler suspending in Jello like that' and 'So when Kevin spilled the chili, was that real, or just "TV Magic"?' [Jim does a startling skilled impression of Regis here]. Filming for the day had wrapped at that point, and I offered to buy Regis a cup of coffee, so we could continue our conversation further. At that point in my life, my career was ascendant, so I had stopped off in my dressing room to put on what were my usual disguises I would wear in public to obfuscate my identity (A giant scarf with a checkered pattern that reflects back the flash of any Paparazzi cameras, large dark moon-shaped sunglasses, and a plain burlap coat devoid of any logos or symbols and thick enough to hide the shape of my body). I asked Regis whether he would be wearing his disguise and he laughed a deep belly laugh before telling me that he loves his fans, and wouldn't have it any other way. I soon found this to be true when, during our walk, excited passersby would gawk and stare, fully enraptured by Regis' presence. Regis would catch their eye and ask them if they were looking for 'a photo, an autograph, or just a smile'. I remember in a clever bit of role reversal, multiple Spidermen stopped to ask *him* to pose for a photograph. I'll never forget the way Regis joked with the Spidermen, coaxing them to flex their biceps and exclaiming about how strong they were, all the while insisting that they, not him, were the real heroes."

"WE talked for hours after arriving at the coffee shop. He shared his triumphs, his regrets, and the things he wasn't quite sure how to feel about after nearly a half century on television. 'Now don't get me wrong', Regis explained, 'I wouldn't trade one second of it'. As our conversation stretched into the evening, he began to tell me stories that I had never heard, either in the trades our through gossip. He confided that he had had many children out of wedlock, about the overflowing tensions between himself and Kelly Ripa which almost made him question his love of daytime TV hosting, and how he often wondered if Meredith Vieira had the 'Zing' necessary to pull Who Wants To Be A Millionaire US franchise out of its ratings slump."

"EVENTUALLY, apologetically, our barista let us know that they would be closing soon and Regis thanked her with a picture, an autograph, and a $200 cash tip. Regis registered my surprise. 'You want to make it big enough to make it happy, but not so much to make headlines you know what I mean?' he said, gently ribbing me with his elbow. As we waited outside for a cab (this was before Uber really took off), we began saying our goodbyes, exchanging contact information with promises of meeting again someday in the future. When a driver finally arrived he opened the back door began staring into my eyes, looking for something that I wasn't sure was there before telling me that there was 'something I'd like you to see.'"

"I took off my disguise once entering the cab. Though I was initially worried that I would be recognized for my role as Jim, I should have known by now that Regis was the star, and I was merely a satellite in his orbit. Regis opened by giving his home address and then adding that it was his 'final answer'. From the rest of the trip home, our driver was starstruck. He, like me, had grown up watching Regis' glow emanate from the TV screen in his home, seemingly there, in the background of every pivotal life moment, separated by only a thin piece of glass. When we arrived, Regis let him take a photo, then handed him an autograph alongside a very large tip, thereby earning not only the drivers loyalty, but his undying reverence.

"REGIS'S manse was at both times massive, and yet still reflective of his working class upbringing in the Bronx. As we walked through to his study I marveled at all the TV memorabilia that lined the halls: the collar from the original Lassie, the intercom from Charlie's angels, a piece of the Challenger Space Shuttle, as well as an original sketch of Bart Simpson's shorts. 'This!' Regis exclaimed, unlocking the drawer to his large polished oak desk, 'This is what I wanted to show you!'. Regis slowly spread out what appeared to be an old naval map from the 19th, no, the 18th century. 'I want to go here', Regis said, pointing to coast of the colony of North Carolina, 'That's where the best clam fishing is! The problem is, the sandbars are too high for most motor fishing boats. So we're going to have to get creative!' Thinking back on it, I'm almost certain that Regis never asked me if I wanted to join his voyage. Perhaps he didn't need to. I think we both knew from the time I stepped into his home that I was with him no matter where his adventure took us and that that was my final answer."

"WE stayed up late into the night, drinking fermented clam juice, speculating on what the media would say if it ever got out that two of TV's biggest stars would soon be legendary Clam-haulers. Regis spoke passionately at length about his Irish background and the history and fortitude of the Philbin Clan. We made plan to set sail 6:00 a.m. on Friday morning to set sail on the SS Regis Weekend.

"WHEN I arrived at the docks, I immediately felt myself to be ill-suited to the task, especially when compared to the other members of the crew. There was "John" Regis Jr Ripa, a young and jovial burly man with bleach blonde windswept hair fastening a large sail with the Philbin family sigil to the ships mast, Louis Lee, John's half brother, 6 years his senior, checking the ships inventory, a mostly silent man known only as "King" who appeared very much like Regis, only more squat and muscular with large tribal face tattoos, and Regina, the ship's cook, a short and homely woman of unknown parentage. 'So what do you say? Are you ready?' Regis asked, playfully slapping me on the back. Not long after I agreed, I was put to work, and we soon set sail after, due South, where Regis's great bounty awaited us.

"IT was two days in when the storm set upon us. We were all of us, the crew, feasting and drinking in the galley, listening to Regis regale us with tales of what Oprah Winfrey was really like behind the scenes when King burst in. Hurried, he warned us that the severe winds had contracted the sail, and if it was not properly extended, our ship would be blown off course. Spry and nimble, Regis rushed to the ships helm while we Men braved the harsh winds, pulling rope and tying knots to extend the sail of the Regis Weekend. A large wave burrowed and then crept across the deck of the ship, sweeping us away off our feet, and then up and back again from the right side. Encased in a wall of rain, I lost sight of John and Louis, and only saw King again as he was pulled me up after I found myself dangling from the ships side. It was only after the storm had subsided that we realized they had been swallowed by the cruel sea.

"REGIS mourned his lost sons for all of Saturday evening and most of Sunday morning. During that time he retreated often to the captains quarters, making me question whether his entire expedition had been folly. I had grown ill as well, my constitution weakened by a lack of vitamin C after our fruit rations were depleted. I had by then resolved to confront Regis, to turn the Weekend around and return to New York City. That was when I heard it. First a thump, then a rattling, a clicking and finally Regis crying out 'Wowie!'

"On the deck of the weekend were dozens, if not hundreds of clams, leaping from the ocean and onto the SS Regis Weekend. 'Bet you didn't see this coming did ya?' Regis beamed, 'This is just fantastic! Wow!' King and I ushered the deck clams into the cargo hold, then set out nets on the port of the ship to collect the rest. When our holds were filled, Regina cooked a full feast of fresh baked clams and later that night we set course due North. Home"

"THOUGH our rewards were great, our losses were greater. Regis had finally proven that 19th century clam fishing techniques were still viable in the modern era, but in the process lost his two bastard sons. Regis would go on to host five more shows before retiring and I continued in my TV career and beyond, eventually starring and directing in feature film 'The Quiet Place' which contains a tribute to Louis Lee and John Ripa."

This was the only known encounter between Mr. Krasinski and Regis Philbin and only became public following Regis's death in 2020. Every year, on the anniversary of this event [September 9th], Mr. Krasinski will put out a public statement reading simply:

Regis Weekend Has Been Extended For The Next 24 Hours And Will Expire On September 10th.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Sometimes i'm surprised that there's adults in the whump comunity, so, as one of the pillarse of whump art in this platform, how do you manage to keep posting so much content about torturing fictional characters while having an adult Life with adult things to do without someone you know IRL finding your Tumblr and thinking you're a serial killer? /pos

so one big help is that no one I know irl is aware of tumblr's existence (or if they are, they don't have accounts)

A decent chunk of people know I make gore art, and I've show some of them my pieces, but they're usually just like "hehe blood" and don't question it

I'm not overly worried about anyone finding my Tumblr, 'cause I'm not active enough on any other social media for people to go looking lol. If someone asks what I'm working on, I often just give a vague description of Riot Kings (because when am I not working on that?) and it's usually good enough to satisfy their curiosity. (I also have plenty of non-whump art to show folks who ask me what I'm drawing ahaha)

[lemoonz]

Trick or Treat!! :D

you get a rodent

[sxcretricciardo]

The Monster They Never Saw Coming

The paddock was unusually quiet as you sat in the corner of the Red Bull garage, helmet resting on your lap. You could hear the distant hum of engines and the chatter of engineers, but none of it really penetrated the storm brewing in your mind. It was race weekend, and you were steeling yourself for battle, but not just against the other drivers—against the weight of the past, something you carried with you to every race.

Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and careful. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, his eyes filled with concern. Max Verstappen, the man the world called a monster—the driver with ice in his veins and fire in his heart. He understood. Maybe more than anyone else ever could.

“I’m fine,” you lied, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He frowned but didn’t press. He knew when to leave it, just like you did when he clammed up, the memories of his own childhood surfacing at the worst times. The two of you shared more than just a competitive spirit—you shared scars, the kind that weren’t visible but ached nonetheless.

---

You hadn’t always been the tough, unshakeable driver they knew today. Once, you’d been a little girl with dreams far too big for the small karting world you came from. Like Max, your childhood had been brutal, molded by a father who had seen potential in you and then used it as an excuse to break you down, piece by piece.

You could still remember the worst of it—the day that defined everything. It was a small karting championship, one of the many you raced in. You had been pushing yourself, heart pounding, hands aching on the steering wheel, but something was off. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the pressure of your father’s expectations. Either way, you finished second, and it wasn’t good enough. Not for him.

After the race, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His silence was louder than any insult he could’ve hurled. You followed him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for the inevitable lecture, but instead, he got in and drove off. Without you.

You had stood there for what felt like an eternity, disbelief and shame washing over you. The karting track was in the middle of nowhere, and your home? Almost 20 miles away. But you knew what this was—another one of his punishments. Another way to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.

So, you walked.

The sun had dipped low in the sky as you trudged along the side of the road, the weight of your helmet in your hands, tears you refused to let fall burning behind your eyes. You were 14. Just a kid. But there was no room for softness in your father’s world. He had one goal: to make you the best, even if it meant breaking you in the process.

By the time you made it home, feet blistered and body exhausted, the rage had taken root. Not just at him, but at yourself. You’d vowed then and there that you would never lose again. Not for him, but for you. You would be the best—untouchable, unbeatable.

They called Max the monster that Jos Verstappen created. But they hadn’t seen the monster your father had made you into.

---

As the years passed, you climbed the ranks of motorsport, from karting to single-seaters and eventually into Formula 1. You didn’t just survive; you thrived. Every race, every lap was another chance to prove that you were more than what he’d tried to make you believe. You weren’t just good—you were unstoppable. And yet, no matter how many races you won, how many records you shattered, the shadow of your past lingered.

It was during those lonely years in F2 when you first met Max. He was a rising star in F1, already turning heads with his aggressive driving style and his unrelenting determination. You’d crossed paths at a karting event, a rare break in your racing schedules. You hadn’t expected much from the interaction, but there was something about him—something familiar in the way he carried himself.

It wasn’t long before you learned why.

Max’s father had been just as brutal, just as relentless. Jos had pushed him to the edge, forced him to harden himself into the fearless competitor he was now. But while the world saw only the sharp edges, you saw the cracks, the places where the pressure had left scars.

It was strange, how quickly you two had connected. Two broken souls who understood each other in ways no one else could. You weren’t the type to let people in easily—neither was he—but somehow, it just worked. You could sit in silence, the weight of your unspoken pasts hanging between you, or you could talk for hours, venting about the fathers who had shaped you into the fighters you were.

“I’m never going to treat my kids the way he treated me,” Max had once said, the two of you lying in bed after a long day. His voice had been quiet, but there was a steel beneath the words. “I won’t do it.”

You had looked over at him, understanding completely. “Me neither. I don’t care how good he thought it made me. It’s not worth it.”

Max had turned to you then, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “We’re not them. We’ll never be them.”

---

Now, sitting in the garage, you could feel the familiar churn of emotions bubbling to the surface. Race days always did this to you—stirred up memories you’d rather forget. But that was the price you paid for being here. You couldn’t escape the past, no matter how fast you drove.

Max crouched in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’ve got this. You always do.”

You let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

But he wasn’t convinced. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, you hesitated, but then the words tumbled out. “I was just thinking about… him. My dad.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He knew the stories, knew the way your father had treated you. It made him angry, the same way it made you angry when he talked about Jos.

“He’s not here,” Max said firmly. “He doesn’t get to control you anymore.”

You nodded, knowing he was right but still feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. Max stood, holding out his hand to you. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

The two of you wandered through the paddock, the tension easing with each step. You didn’t need to say much—just being with him was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this. You had each other, and no matter what happened on the track, you knew that you were more than the monsters your fathers had tried to create.

As you approached the starting grid, Max squeezed your hand. “We’ll show them,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “We’ll show them that we’re better than they ever were.”

You nodded, the fire in your chest reigniting. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We will.”

And with that, you strapped on your helmet, climbed into your car, and prepared to unleash the beast they’d never seen coming.

[patrophthia]

Hi! Your Theodore Nott works are amazing so I was wondering if I could request something with grumpy!Theo. Maybe the reader is always laughing and just generally really happy and maybe Theo can't help but feel attracted to that sunny disposition and ends up just being annoyed by how much he likes it, idk just and idea.

Thank you for your work, it's absolutely amazing 🩷

GRUMPY X SUNSHINE IS MY JAM!!!! I GOT YOU!!

just fine | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff (duhhh), sunshine x grumpy, more of an extroverted reader

part of my 1k celebration event !

There's a few faults to you. You laugh too much, you talk too much, you're too nice, smile too bright, too bubbly, too friendly and Theodore likes you too much for his own good. 

Okay, maybe the last one is his fault rather than yours but it's getting irritating to see just how much you effected him by merely sparing a glance in his direction. Let alone, holding a full conversation with him. 

It's a nice Saturday afternoon, students bustling about as they climb up to the Quidditch pitch —it's going to be an intense match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, or so he heard. Blaise is leading the way for him and Pansy to follow, he signals for Theodore to sit and he does as told; you occupying the seat next to him just minutes after. 

You're cheering for Gryffindor, solely because you were friends with Potter and you're loud about it. Your thighs brushes against Theodore's, warm against the cool breeze and Theodore hopes that his ear doesn't betray him and flush up. 

You turn to him after a bit, moving your leg away to give him room as if you're afraid you've encroached his space. "Who are you cheering for?" 

"No one." In particular. Draco asked for him and the others to watch the game to study the other team's strategy seeing as he wasn't allowed to be here. "You're one of Potter's, fan girl?" 

"Not a fan girl," you corrected him with smile. "Just a friend." 

"Right," he huffs, turning back the game. From the corner of his eyes he could see you hesitating, probably wanting to make conversation; so —for the first time in his life, he tries to make small talk. "How're you liking the game so far?" 

It takes you a second to answer him, and he wonders what even possessed him to ask you this. Curse you and your weird magnetic pull. 

"It's fun," you tell him, gazing at him as you did so. "How're you?" 

He's slow when he replies. "Fine." Then as if he only realizes that you’re asking him how he’s enjoying the game rather than how he’s doing, he tries to save himself by adding: “enjoying it just fine.” 

And when you giggle at his words, seemingly have caught his slip up —yet, not bringing him up to save him from embarrassment. He decides that he likes you (not that this was new information to him). "Really?" 

Theodore nods. 

“That’s a shame,” you say, your tone is playful and there’s a teasing tilt to it. 

Theodore turns, and he meets you head on; there’s a blinding smile on your face, bright enough to render him blind if he were to look at you for too long, he decided. 

And so he turns back the pitch, ears perked up for your next words. “You should be having fun, Theo.” 

A hum is only the response you get, trying to play it cool as if his hand wasn’t clamming up at how he could still feel your eyes on him. Look away dammit. 

“How about we play a game?” You suggest after a minute. “I promise it’ll be fun.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he asks you: “what is it?” 

You’re smiling again, thighs brushing against his in your excitement. “We’ll make a bet. If Gryffindor wins you have to take me out to Hogsmeade this weekend.” 

“And if Ravenclaw wins?” 

A laugh bubbles out of you and he hates how it was second nature for him to look at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as your eyes glaze over with a sense of accomplishment. 

“If Ravenclaw wins then what happens?” He repeats. 

The smile on your face doesn’t leave, and Theodore hopes that it never does. “If Ravenclaw wins, I have to take you out to Hogsmeade this weekend.” 

He understands why you laughed now, why you found it so amusing when he asked what would happen just mere seconds ago. No matter the outcome of the game, he’d be spending the weekend with you. 

And he doesn’t mind it one bit. 

[filthgarbage86]

I cannot stop thinking about Eddie calling you nicknames. Not even just the regular ones, like baby, honey, sweetheart, baby cakes, though those ones still make your heart race. Imagine the day he figures out you like other nicknames. And once he figures out one, he’s testing them all to see which one gets him the biggest response.

Imagine being at school, you’re sitting next to him in class and suddenly your teacher is calling on you to answer a question. You’re always fast to clam up when you’re called on but luckily this time you really did know the answer to whatever the teacher was asking. You give a clear, straight answer and your teacher commends you on your work, “Good work, y/n” and you just hear next to you, barely above a whisper “that’s my good girl”. You’re sure that you’re more red than a tomato.

Imagine you’re at hellfire club with everyone and you’re getting hyped up before a session and he is just sitting there in his chair, looking at you with big, bright eyes, noting how excited you seemed. When you take your seat next to him, he just comments “seems like my doll is ready to play. Let’s get started.” Again, you’re a mess and a half, red as can be but you’re still able to control yourself a bit.

The last straw is over the weekend, at a party at Steve’s with everyone around and you wish you could crawl into a hole when it happens. You’re having a great time, you’re chatting with the crew, Robin is sharing stories about this guy that came into the store today and was recommending the worst movies to her as though he had any taste. Everything was going really smoothly and then, Eddie comes over. He slides right next to you on the floor that you had been sat at in the circle. He’s laughing at something Robin said, placing a hand on your thigh and rubbing comforting circles to show his presence. He smells like weed, alcohol, and his cologne and you’re already gone. Then, knowing exactly what he’s doing, he just leans into your ear like he’s telling a secret - “hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?” and you all but whimper. Bunny. You don’t know why that’s gotten the reaction it did but you immediately regret it the moment it slipped. The music felt like it went quiet and you felt like you had multiple pairs of eyes on you. Eddie’s eyes look like a lightbulb just went off behind them.

“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

It’s the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. It couldn’t possibly-

“Awe what’s wrong bunny? You embarrassed? Don’t be. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. You’re so good to me, bunny, letting me know something like this”

You absent-mindedly are clenching and rubbing your thighs under his touch while he’s chuckling low and you wish you were anywhere else right now. You had been avoiding eye contact this entire time until he took your chin and jaw in your hand and with a gentle but firm touch, he turned your head towards him

“Just say the word, and we can get out of here baby. I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.”

Before you can even respond, Robin let’s out a long sigh and groan ���guys, come on, either get a room or get a clue”. You decide at this moment to finally look at Eddie. His eyes have a smirk behind them and you’re swimming in chocolate.

“Well sweetheart? What do you say?”

“i thought…” you weren’t sweetheart right now, you wanted the other name again. You needed to hear him say it again.

He lifts your chin up again to look at him, firmly

“Speak up, Princess? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a good bunny-“ he’d be pulling you out the door in a spilt second and you know it.

I just- I want to be called names like that by this man so badly. And you KNOW he would.

[formulawolff]

xi. larger than life - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, banter, teasing, flirting, mentions of sex, a teeny bit of angst, THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST DOWN BAD TOTO HAS EVER BEEN, lewis being a little shit, alcohol use, marijuana use, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“hey, there’s someone here to meet you. i think you’ll shit your pants once you see him.”

alex stands beside you, beaming as you wave goodbye to ben. it was early friday morning, around nine-thirty in the morning. since it was a more relaxed day, with the practice session the only obligation in your schedule, you had your parents stationed at the lounge area.

they were seated with lily, who was very eager to spend some time with them. after all, since alex was busy, she had no one to talk to. so, you figured it would be nice if they all had one another for company. 

however, tomorrow was qualifying, where it would determine your place on the grid. 

which, to you, that lap tomorrow was everything. 

the defining moment of the weekend. 

“who?” you raise a brow, “who could it–”

as you glance over your shoulder, your heart skips a beat as you see james engaged in deep conversation with him, the team principal chuckling, pointing to you. the visitor is dressed in a cream suit, a white button-up underneath, jet-black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroll towards him, running an absentminded hair through your hand. 

“good morning!”

the words are almost a squeak, and you internally kick yourself. 

the visitor’s lips curl upward, flashing a pearly white grin, “¡buenos dias! ¡bienvenida a miami!” 

standing before you was none other than pitbull, mr. worldwide, mr. three-oh-five. rather than shaking your hand, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm embrace. you were probably sweating from the nerves and the humidity, but you didn’t care. 

while you had met celebrities in your brief time as a formula one driver, most of them were european. so, you weren’t really quite familiar with their fame or starpower through football, rugby, television, and well, business. there were so many wealthy moguls who came through the paddock at the races, james and alex recognizing them in an instant. 

on the other hand, you felt awkward, as you usually had no idea who that person was or what exactly they did. 

so, to finally meet someone you were familiar with and recognized, in your home country, was a moment to cherish. 

and well, you were a little starstruck. 

“i’m going to admit, i don’t know much about formula one,” the singer shrugs, “but i figured i would come through and say hello.”

“well i’m honored,” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “have you met with any of the other teams?”

“not yet,” he shakes his head, shooting you a wink, “this is my first stop. mostly because there is a very beautiful woman who drives for this team. do you know her, by chance?”

your eyes widen as you realize he’s referring to you. heat rushes into your cheeks, your palms clamming up, “oh my gosh – um, –”

“my apologies señorita,” he places a tender hand on your shoulder, “i know you have much bigger things to worry about. i wish you the best of luck today! make miami proud!” 

“i will,” relief ripples as he leans in, pecking your cheek before waving goodbye, strolling away from the entrance of the paddock, security team in tow. 

“jesus christ,” alex’s voice sounds from behind you, “he would fuck anyone, wouldn’t he?”

“stop it,” you hiss, swiveling on your heel, “he was just being nice.”

“yeah, yeah,” alex scoffs, rolling his eyes, “anyways, i noticed the other day you posted another set of photos on instagram. one of them had that mystery man in it. who is he? why hasn’t he come to the paddock yet?”

“because he’s been busy,” that wasn’t a lie by any means. the team principal was quite busy this morning, merely a few paddocks over, “i will see if he come to the next race. i doubt it, though.”

“what does he do again?” alex inquires, sitting on top of some equipment, “i think you told me but i forgot.”

“he’s in management,” well, that was half the truth, “he manages a sports team.”

“what team?” 

“the new soccer team in st. louis,” firing back, you shrink a little under alex’s intense gaze, his lips pursed, brows furrowed, “since it’s only their second year, he’s been busy with promotional stuff. events, traveling, you know.”

“right,” alex sucks in a breath, “also, i know it wasn’t anything serious, but i was a little nervous when you posted those photos of the mercedes campus. i know there have been some rumors, but i would hope that you would talk to me if you were ever thinking about leaving williams–”

“oh, she’s never leaving us!” james’ voice chips in, the team principal coming up from behind you, “she’s stuck with us till 2026!”

at the sureness in james’ tone, your heart sinks. 

fuck, this was getting complicated. 

as you stood with james and alex, the topic shifting to the newest modifications on the cars, your heart thumped, pounding against your rib-cage. inside your mind, it was a tumultuous, chaotic mess. 

your heart yearned to be with toto, yet you were so comfortable with williams. you were happy here, really. you had an amazing relationship with james, alex was like an older brother, and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the support your team had given you. since the beginning, they had made it very clear that they were one hundred percent confident in your capabilities, often reassuring you that were a talented driver with a very successful future ahead. 

how could you just abandon williams like that? leaving them high and dry like that? with no warning either? 

you could only picture the disappointment, the confusion, and the bitterness that would plague james’ features as you inform him of your decision. 

god, that thought alone was enough to tear your heart into two. 

sure, there were rumors. since that post with the mercedes headquarters, fans were buzzing with suspicions that there were contract talks. that you were going to announce your departure from williams any day now. that you were going to join toto wolff at mercedes. 

since it was friday, there were only a couple of days before toto would ask about your decision. in that time frame, you needed to speak with james regarding the subject, fill alex in, focus on the practice sessions, make the most out of your qualifying lap, spend time with your parents, and most of all, focus on driving. 

with less than forty-eight hours until then, time was of the essence. 

and fuck, were you running out of that precious time. 

a few paddocks over, a team principal raises an arm, waving to fans as they shout, a driver on his left, the other on his right. 

“are you going to see her tonight?” 

lewis’ question is innocent as they enter the garage, members of the pit crew swarming and flurrying about. they chirp greetings as the three gather around the cars, examining them. 

toto exhales, inspecting the right wing, “you two are worse than the wags. i have never met people more invested in someone’s love life the way you two are.”

“well now that the cat’s out of the bag,” george crouches by a tire, “we get to pester you about it.”

the casualness of the conversation as the entire team was in earshot sent the team principal spiraling, his jaw clenching as bono approached them clipboard in hand, “you two also need to learn the importance of time and place.”

“we’ll just talk more about it later then,” toto curses as he notices lewis bearing a smug smirk, “after the practice session, we’re going to do a deep dive addressing your feelings–”

“good morning,” bono clears his throat, “did i walk into something important?”

“no, not at all,” toto shoots lewis an icy glare as george bites on his lip, stifling a chuckle, “let’s get to business. how are the cars?”

as peter began his report, toto couldn’t help but let his mind wander. 

besides, it was not like he could focus these days anyway. 

the team principal absolutely despised the hectic schedules of the race weekend. how he was constantly rotating between briefings, meetings with the engineers and mechanics, promotional events, sponsorship talks, and well, managing the two juveniles otherwise known as lewis hamilton and george russell.

then, there was the reason why they were all here. the race itself. 

now, he had another pressing matter weighing on his mind. 

three people were aware of his developing relationship with a certain williams driver. while he knew that two of the three would protect his secret, he was extremely cautious about the third. after all, the girl was only nineteen years old. she was young and impressionable. lewis’ little stunt with the cash proved that the girl was easily influenced. 

however, as much as he wanted to fire the girl, he knew that he couldn’t. 

at least, not during race weekend. that would be downright cruel. 

monday would probably be a different story. 

yet, if he fired her, would she just blackmail him? would she threaten to release the information involving him and his golden girl?

just the thought of her leaking that information to the press was panic-inducing enough. 

he could offer her a hefty sum to stay quiet. but he couldn’t do that either. down the road, she could end up exposing him for paying hush money. 

being romantically involved with a woman thirty years younger than him and offering his former assistant hush money to keep quiet on the matter? 

that would send his entire world crashing down, bursting into flames in the process.

he would lose everything. 

for the time-being, toto would just have to hold onto shreds of hope that his assistant would remain silent on the matter. maybe if he didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t either. 

he would be okay with that.

on the other hand, his drivers were adamant that they wouldn’t say anything, swearing up and down that if preserving this little secret was this important to him, then they would abide by his wishes. at first, george was hurt that he was excluded from the conversation. he was angry that out of anyone toto could have chosen, he chose her. 

yet, as toto recalled every little detail of his relationship with the williams driver, george’s bitterness dissolved, transitioning to some sort of understanding. toto thought he kept things brief as he explained his feelings, but the three were cooped up in his office for nearly three hours discussing the matter. 

besides, it wasn’t like he chose the williams driver.

it just sort of happened. 

now, here he was, pacing back and forth in the paddock, aching for even a glimpse of her. the rift between the two was driving him utterly insane, the team principal resisting the urge to take an impromptu visit, popping in for just a moment. just hearing the sound of her voice would be enough.  

yet, he knew he couldn’t. it would raise too many eyebrows. it would stir up too much gossip. 

“look at him,” lewis elbows george, “looking quite pitiful once again.”

“i feel bad for him,” george exhales, “i can’t be away from carmen for too long before going absolutely mad. i can’t imagine how he feels.”

“being so close to someone yet so far?” 

“exactly,” george nods, “do you think he’s in love? he wouldn’t say it directly, but whenever he was talking about her, i could just tell. i saw the way his eyes lit up, the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl, and the way he couldn’t help but fight a smile. and not just any old smile.”

“oh he’s totally in love,” lewis remarks, “do you hear how he talks about her? he speaks with this softness. it’s cute, really. it makes me want to throw up but it’s cute.”

“do you think he’ll tell her?”

as the driver shifts his attention back to the team principal, he tuts, “not now, but soon.”

“how soon?” george presses, “because he looks quite pathetic over there, like a little lovesick puppy.” 

“i’m willing to bet by the time we’re in monaco, he won’t be able to hold it in any longer.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“i feel the need, the need for speed!”

letting out a shaky breath, your fingers grip the steering wheel, so tightly you were sure your knuckles were white underneath the fabric of your gloves. 

this was it. 

the miami grand prix. 

as you sail through the track, surprisingly, you feel nothing but peace, james’ voice over the radio barely audible. you felt like you were enduring an out-of-body experience the way your mind raced yet your body remained still, acting on pure instinct. your foot on the gas, tapping on the brakes every so often. 

this was lap fifty-six out of fifty-seven. 

the final stretch. 

you were almost there. so close now. so close you could taste it. 

behind you was lando norris of mclaren, max verstappen closing in quickly. charles leclerc tails max, desperate for the thrill of a podium. 

the anticipation was growing as you near the finish line, the checkered flag waving in the distance. 

was this a dream? were you really here?

squeezing your eyes shut, you blink, in a desperate attempt to distinguish reality from fantasy. yet, there’s a moment of silence as you make out the stands in your field of vision, as if everyone was holding their breath at once. 

then, it all comes bursting in your ears. the roar of the crowd. the thundering of the engines. the booming of fireworks. it was almost deafening as your car slows, foot easing on the brakes.  

“and she’s done it again! we just witnessed a moment in history!”

oh god. 

you did it. 

you won. 

euphoria fills you to the brim as you scramble out of the car, climbing on top of it. pumping your fists in the air, tears flood your visor, blurring anything and everything all around. members of the williams team come sprinting towards the car, hollering and shouting. adrenaline courses through your veins, a tingling sensation buzzing from your fingers to your toes. 

cameras flash as you raise your index fingers, members of the team following in suit. 

you were one-of-one. 

and by god, were you going to show the world that you were just that. 

the world was going to know your name, whether they watched formula one or not. your name was going to be broadcasted all over sports channels for weeks to come. your name was going to printed on merchandise, jerseys, on everything and anything related to williams racing. 

you made history today as the first american driver to win the miami grand prix. not only that, but you were the first american female driver to win two grand prixes consecutively. 

and god, did that taste so sweet on your tongue. 

jumping down, you’re greeted by james’ arms, the team principal rattling your helmet. 

“great fucking job! great fucking job! you are fucking insane!”

ripping off your helmet, you catch your breath, taking in the moment. this felt larger than life. like a dream come true. 

this was one of the best days of your life. 

if not, the best day of your life. 

and god, were you going to savor every moment of it. 

each and every second. 

the hours following the race were a blur. although you typically shied away from the press, you lost count of the number of journalists who approached you, answering each one of their questions with genuine, thoughtful answers. fans of all ages snapped photos with you, congratulating you with nothing but sincerity in their words. you signed some jerseys, some caps, and one woman even asked you to sign across her chest.

how could you refuse a photo worthy moment like that? 

your parents were immensely proud, tears streaming down their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around you. although you wanted to spend the rest of the evening with them, they urged you to go out and celebrate. there was always time tomorrow, as they were flying out early in the morning tuesday.

so, when the boys offered to take you out to a few clubs across miami, you accepted it. 

now, the bass pounded as you sway back and forth, screaming along with lando, oscar, carlos, charles, and alex as the music plays. lily tagged along, hovering alex, giggling as you chug another drink, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongue.

“how does it feel to be a winner-winner?”

“pretty fucking good,” a few drops trickle down your chin, and you quickly wipe them away, “do you think i could win the next one?”

“ummm, let me think,” lily brings a hand to her chin, pausing momentarily, “yes!”

“you’re absolutely unfuckingbelievable,” lando nods enthusiastically, “you will probably win the world championship if we don’t up the pace!””

all of you were extremely tipsy, cheeks burning from the buzz of the alcohol and packed space. lewis and george came too, but they kept their distance, remaining at the bar while the rest of you were on the dance floor. 

not only were you tipsy, but someone had offered you a few puffs of a joint while you were in line outside of the club. actually, they offered you the entire joint because the second they saw you, they immediately recognized you.

at that point, you had already pregamed at the hotel with the boys beforehand. so, how could you refuse a few hits of a joint? that would have been downright rude. 

across the dance floor, lewis hamilton sits, perched at the bar, drink in hand. 

it’s not like he came along to purposefully watch the williams driver. he just wanted to ensure that you would make it back to your motorhome by the end of the night. 

cause god knew how fucked up the others were. they weren’t in any state to help you get home, safe and sound. fuck, none of you were in any coherent state to even call an uber. 

plus, god only knew if you would run into anyone from the press or media. and who knows what you would possibly say if you were asked about a certain team principal. 

“should i call toto?” george leans over, his voice slightly raised, “she looks gone.”

“hmmm,” lewis hums, his eyes following your every move as you stumble a couple of steps, “i don’t think a call would hurt.”

“now?” 

“now,” lewis’ jaw clenches as he sets his drink on the bar, “call toto and get my card, would you? i’m going to wrangle our newfound friend.”

“should we have toto come get her or what should we do?”

rising to his feet, lewis surveys the crowd. it was packed beyond belief, inches between bodies as they moved to the rhythm. toto meeting them here would be far too risky. too many eyes and ears. 

“call him and tell him that we’re going to help get her to the motorhome. or we can take her directly to his hotel room. i imagine she would prefer to sleep in her own bed. you know what? just have him meet us at her motorhome.”

“will do,” george nods, “i’m going to step outside to make the call. meet me out there once you find her?” 

“sounds like a plan,” lewis suppresses a groan as the lights in the club are dimmed, more so than they previously were. everyone blended together, forming one giant mass. 

this was going to be fun. 

in his hotel room, toto wolff lays in bed, laptop resting on his nightstand. although he was oh so happy for you and your accomplishments today, there was this aching feeling gnawing away at him, nearly consuming him whole. 

out his window, the lights of miami glitter, casting a soft glow over the city. the view from his room was oh so beautiful, especially at this time of night. however, it wasn’t nearly as stunning as you were. 

fuck, he missed you. 

more than anything. 

he longed to hold you against his chest. he yearned to pepper your forehead with kisses. he wanted you, desperately. 

actually, he needed you. 

but he wouldn’t admit that. 

suddenly, his phone buzzes, startling him slightly. plucking it off the mattress, the screen is illuminated with a photo of george. 

hmph. that’s odd. 

tapping on the green icon, the team principal brings the phone to his ear, “hallo?”

in the background, he hears a voice. not any old voice. your voice, barely audible, but enough that he knows it's yours. 

“hey it’s george. she’s absolutely obliterated right now. we’re going to call for an uber, and bring her to her place. can you meet us there? i think she really needs you.”

“is she okay?” almost instantly, he sits up, “how long will you be?”

“are you calling toto?” his heart flutters as she giggles, the sound oh so angelic, “oh my gosh! is he on the phone right now? can i talk to him? pleaseee george? can i? please?”

“put her on the phone, george,” toto brings a hand to his temple, momentarily embarrassed at the desperation dripping in his tone, “please.”

there’s a shuffling noise as the phone is transferred, her voice, so delicate and sweet, pours into his ear. 

“can you come over? i miss you so much. please, daddy. come over.” 

“oh shit,” toto squeezes his eyes shut as he hears lewis’ chuckle in the background, “i’m not letting that one go.”

“i’ll be on my way soon, schatzi. do you need anything? it sounds like you need some water and some rest.”

“ummm yeah,” god, she was going to be the death of him, “i do need one thing.”

“and that is?” he’s on his feet now, shoving clothes into an overnight bag, “what do you need, schatzi?”

“your dick.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal

as always, if you would like to be added, or forgot to be added, please let me know! thank you for all of the support on this series! i love y'all so much! <3

[redzie02]

Jongho is jealous and Wooyoung is the cause because of course he is

drabble written past midnight

warnings: jealousy/ insecurity/ jongho having one sided beef with wooyoung/ jongho being an irritated bear masterlist

Jongho knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way- he had no reason to. He knows you love him and care about him, you tell him so every day. Never once has he felt unloved by you. But today…he was feeling insecure. And being so insecure made him feel guilty for the tiny part of him that was doubting your affection for him.

You see, today, the both of you had spent the day with Wooyoung. It really wasn’t any different than any other weekend. But for some reason, Jongho couldn’t help but hyper focus on the way you threw your head back and cackled when Wooyoung would make a joke. Or when Wooyoung would steal a bite of your food and you didn’t even seem to mind or second glance.

Now there wasn’t exactly anything strange about this- Wooyoung was your best friend after all. Jongho just couldn’t help but compare himself to Wooyoung.

Of course you didn’t know Jongho was feeling any of this yet, he hides his emotions well. But as you walked towards the cafe hand in hand, you couldn’t help but glance at him, noticing he’d been a bit quiet for the past few minutes. You squeezed his hand and he turned his head to meet your eyes. You smiled at him, hoping he would be able to read the question behind your eyes. Are you okay? He returned the smile, to which you lifted your interlocked fingers to place a kiss on the back of his hand.

After entering the cafe and ordering iced coffees- and a chocolate croissant you’d been craving all day- you walked to a table with drinks in hand. Usually Jongho liked to sit across from you, but today he’d quickly taken the spot next to you before Wooyoung even had the chance to.

You quickly fell into a conversation and Wooyoung showed you and Jongho pictures he had taken the past week.

“Hey, fix your face! Why do you look so miserable?”

“Wha-“ You lifted your gaze from Wooyoung’s phone, ready to defend yourself, only to find Wooyoung pointing his finger at Jongho. Brows raised in confusion, you turned to look at him.

“What are you talking about? My face is fine.” Jongho rolled his eyes while sipping his coffee.

Wooyoung gave you a look and teased Jongho further. “Where are your manners? I’m gonna tell Hongjoong you’re being a brat.” You watched them in amusement.

“Oh yeah? And what the hell is he gonna do about it?”

“Sell you, probably.”

You attempted to laugh, but choked on your coffee instead. Jongho patted your back as you coughed into your napkin. “You guys are idiots,” you croaked.

Before leaving the cafe, Wooyoung excused himself to the bathroom. You waited for him outside and took advantage of this moment. You grabbed Jongho’s hand and pulled him closer to your body.

“Are you okay, Jongho? You haven’t really said much.” There was a look behind his eye that you'd never seen before, but it was gone as soon as you noticed it.

Jongho put on his best face, not wanting you to worry any more about him. "Hm? Oh- yeah I'm fine, I guess I'm just a bit tired." Jongho felt his hands clam up as he watched you wordlessly examine his face.

You took a deep breath and held his face. "Are you sure? Your knee isn't sore again or anything? If it is, we can go home and I can ice it for you and I'll make tea an-"

"No baby, I'm not in pain, I swear. I was just in a weird mood, I guess...sorry." His hands were now over yours.

You opened your mouth to reply only to be interrupted again. "You're always weird, man."

Wooyoung. Jongho tried not to hit Wooyoung, but failed, landing a slap on his shoulder. "If your face wasn't so important, I'd punch you instead."

Wooyoung pulled him into a tight embrace, smacking a kiss on his cheek. "Wrong! I'm your favorite." Jongho struggled to get away, but Wooyoung only held him tighter. He loved tormenting him.

"Hey, get off my boyfriend." You pouted, reaching out. Wooyoung caught your hand and pulled you in, trapping you as well and planting a kiss on your cheek. You groaned and pinched his sides, making him yelp.

"That hurt!"

Both you and Jongho replied at the same time, "Good."

-

Back home, Jongho sat on the couch while you prepared tea in the kitchen. Soft music played and you hummed to it as you pulled out mugs from the cabinet.

You stirred the tea and carefully made your way to where Jongho sat. "Careful, it's hot."

"Mm, thank you." He took a sip and set his mug on the coffee table to cool down.

You sat down and let out a sigh of relief. The apartment was quiet and peaceful, the yellow glow from the street lights subtly peeked through the blinds. You still had this one thing on your mind though.

"So, what did you mean earlier when you said you were in a weird mood?"

"Oh-uh nothing- I-why do you ask?"

"I don't know...you just didn't really seem too excited today. You barely talked either. You can talk to me about how you're feeling, you know."

"I know, I know. I just-"

DING

The sound of your phone going off startled you both. Jongho rolled his eyes when you read Wooyoung's name out loud. He let out a frustrated sigh, which you heard.

"What? Is it Wooyoung? Was it something he said?"

Jongho huffed and tossed his body back into the couch, crossing his arms, eyes facing the ceiling. He knew he was being dramatic but he didn't care. He mumbled to himself, hoping you wouldn't hear. "Even when he's not here, he gets your attention. God, he's so annoying."

You blinked at him. Your mug now placed next to his. Things were finally clicking into place and you heart panged for not noticing sooner. You slid your hand down his arm. "Jongho..." He didn't budge. He let you pull his arm away so you could snuggle into his side. His arm fell over your body. "Baby..." He lifted his head to find your eyes fixated on his. "I don't think I've ever seen you jealous in my life."

"I'm not jealous."

"Yeah? Then what are you feeling, hm?" Your voice was soft as you spoke to him. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed about the way he felt and the way he acted as a result of that. You leaned up and kissed his eyelids. "Jongho, you know you're the person I love most, right? And maybe this is toxic, but I'd burn the world if you told me to."

He chuckled and finally opened his eyes, "Please don't, we know you can't stand heat."

You bit back a smile. "I hate that I made you feel this way, bear. Can you please tell me what line I crossed that made you uncomfortable?"

He sighed and sat up, tightening his arm around you. "Honestly, there wasn't anything that you or Wooyoung did....I just- I don't know. I guess today was one of those days where I overthought everything...I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, I get what you mean. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, bear?"

Jongho thought for a moment, but eventually sunk further into the couch, bringing you with him. "No, just be here and-" DING "-and please mute Wooyoung."

You stifled your laugh into his chest. "Didn’t you say you wanted me to be friends with your friends?"

"I take that back."

[tiny-buzz]

Nice dinner party. Great ambiance, jazz trio, gorgeous women and powerful men. But, let me ask you this, person to person, as we sit down to sup . . .

Was this delightful capellini finished with "Brand X" clam oil?

Because, friend, if you cheaped out on the clam oil, then buddy, you're missing the point

Thankfully, I brought a flask of my own. Top shelf, the best there's ever been.

Regis Philbin's very own REGIS PHILBIN'S AUTHENTIC ITALIAN CLAM OIL. And before you interrupt me to ask, yes, friend: it's "Italian-style." Frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Take a sip, and let's pass it around the table.

See, Regis Philbin was content with life. He was a man of influence, power. He alone decided who lived and who died within a beautiful system of machinery. His body glistened in the Santa Monica sunrise. But, like all men do, he sought something greater.

A few phone calls later, and Regis was talking to the Pope, his Holiness.

"Pope, listen," Regis said, with candor and excitement. "We're gonna shake up the stodgy clam oil market. We're gonna take it back to the way things used to be, Papa."

"Holy moly," said the Pontiff, saluting everything Regis was running up the flag pole.

A few months later, the finished product was unveiled to a municipal gymnasium of earthquake survivors. "The rich velvet of the clam stands in playful contrast to everything I THOUGHT I knew about Italian-Style Italian Clam Oil!" said a grieving mother who just hours prior had lost her only Nintendo.

So, listen, friend: next time you hold a little get-together? A little congregation? A little State dinner? A little shindig? A little Tweetup? A little funeral? A little fistfight? A little soiree? A little cult orgy? A little board game night? A little solstice? Make sure not to humiliate yourself, and spring for the bottle made by Regis, endorsed by the Church, and individually kissed by Madam Wolverine herself.

Now let's all raise a bucket of the good stuff (clam oil) and cheers our imperfect host as we celebrate Regis Weekend being extended through and including the day of Tuesday, October 17, 2023.

[seat-safety-switch]

One of my more accomplished friends is an MRI operator. When we first got talking about what we did for a living, I didn't get very interested. Now, don't think I'm some kind of elitist snob. My career (freelance journalist/greasy dirtbag) is a laugh-a-minute thrill ride, where you're as likely to get hunted down by friends of corrupt small government as you are to throw up in the back of a diesel-swapped Geo Metro being used to chase cows back into the paddock. It's set the bar very, very high.

By comparison, MRIs are boring healthcare stuff, meant for taking extremely high-quality pictures of people's junk all day long. Those pictures are then viewed by doctors, who will sneer at those people for not eating enough cauliflower. Just an absolute snore, which although involving a cool machine that's very loud, didn't fascinate me in the least.

That is, until they mentioned The Quench. In case you're unfamiliar, MRI machines operate on the principles of magnetism (that's the "M.") Big-ass magnets are used to send pulses throughout the machine, and those pulses are inconveniently blocked by chunks of your body standing in the way. By recording how irritated those magnets are, we can figure out what's going on inside your shit. Of course, you need big, big magnets for this, you're not running down to the grocery store and diagnosing a brain misfire using that cute little toddler-art-retainer shaped like a frog.

Sometimes, when shit really goes wrong, you need to stop the magnetism in a hurry. Maybe a patient walked in with a fully loaded firearm, and the magnets are now using it to shoot the inside of the machine. Perhaps you just decided that you would like to end your career. Either way, hitting the "quench" button douses those magnets with several hundred thousand dollars' worth of liquid helium, which makes them stop doing magnet-y things and start racking up billable hours for the MRI maintenance guy. This kind of highly expensive mechanical failure is my jam, and I asked immediately where I could get me some of those quenched-up magnets. Surely, they wouldn't reuse anything they've beaten up in this way?

My so-called friend figured out what I was up to, and clammed up almost immediately. Almost. He gave me just enough information for my inquisitive journalistic mind to figure out that they just chuck these big-ass magnets into the dumpster out back of the hospital, and someone with an enterprising enough mindset could then un-chuck them into the back of, say, a U-Haul van with the license plate removed after being careful to avoid all the security cameras along the way. Not that I would do such a thing, especially because it involves driving through a particularly weak chain-link fence near the seniors' centre.

Coincidentally, are you coming to my unveiling of my new magnetic-levitation Volare-launching system this weekend? I promise to listen very intently to whatever bullshit you say about your boring job, you'll love it. The Mayor is gonna be there, cut the ribbon and everything. Shit. Siri, remind me to get plastic scissors for The Mayor.

[bigfan-fanfic]

The Things I Do For You (Male!Reader x Josh Washington)

@inhumanshadows Josh Washington introduces his bf to his friends and sisters at the lodge.

Set of course in an alternate universe where Josh's therapy went far better and the prank never happened!

His sisters are literally the nicest people in the world, it seems. Hannah's the one with the glasses, you remember.

Both of them were so happy to finally meet you, and instantly treat you like one of the family.

"Josh has been... so much happier lately. So... thank you. For being there for him, cause he tends to clam up around us." Beth smiles.

You grin back at her. "He's been there for me, too. We're a good team."

"That's good."

"You'll need it up here." Hannah says cryptically. Beth just rolls her eyes.

"No drama, Han. This weekend is about Josh and Y/N. Okay?"

Hannah sighs, then smiles. "You're right. I'm sorry."

It feels like some sort of choice has been made, but by then, Josh has returned and mischievously pulled you into a kiss from behind.

He grins at you. "Howdy, pilgrim." He drawls in a terrible cowboy voice.

You push him away lightly. "How dare you. Kissing me the coward's way."

"Well, allow me to try again." He winks, then moves to your front to kiss you again. Hannah mimes a gagging motion, and Beth smacks her arm.

"The others should be arriving soon. Should we just all just hang around and not say anything about Y/N until they freak out?" Hannah asks mischievously.

"You mean gaslight them out of meeting my boyfriend?" Josh laughs. "You up for it, Y/N?"

"Nah, I'm not much for pranks. Besides, you couldn't keep your hands off me for that long."

"Guilty."

Beth chuckles at your easy banter, but then the twins freeze when you look over at Josh. "Did you get your meds yet, babe? I think I heard your alarm go off."

"Oh, shit, you're right!" Josh's eyes widen and he goes to grab them.

Beth looks at you. "Wow. He used to get really sensitive about that."

"He knows I'm looking out for him, and we're just trying to work together on it."

"Well, I'm glad." Hannah grins.

The others arrive, and Josh lets the twins handle the greetings, because he took you down to the boiler to get the hot water working so you could make some tea.

"So, my friends... some of 'em can be a little... hard to handle sometimes. But deep down, we're all in a little love fest." Josh chuckles.

You nod. "They're pranksters, eh?"

"Yeah. I know you don't like em all that much, so I'll try to let em know you're not about practical jokes."

"Thanks." you smile, kissing his cheek.

An impatient text from Hannah recalls you both up from a make-out session in the basement

Emily and her boyfriend Mike are the first to arrive, having given Beth's best friend Sam a ride.

Mike shoots you some finger guns, and Sam offers a hug. Emily seems a little more reserved, but offers you a warm greeting. She makes a little joke about you finally teaching Josh some manners, and offers you some advice.

"Make sure you train them early." She winks. "These boys don't know their heads from a hole in the ground, but they learn quick. First rule: Emily is always right. Second rule, Mike?"

Mike gives her a mock-pout. "Nothing else matters because Emily is always right."

She gives you a little shrug as if to say "See?" before sauntering off.

Jess, Ashley, Matt, and Chris come next, having carpooled, Jess shows off her braided pigtails, claiming she let Ashley braid them in the car. Matt high-fives Josh and lets you know he's "totally supportive of the LGBT community, you know?"

Chris pretends to stand off with you. "So, you're the other man, huh?"

Jess giggles. "I always knew you two had a thing, Chris!"

"What? I meant, like, platonic versus romantic and-"

"Chris is jelly!" She sings, and Chris chases after her as she chants it through the lodge.

"I hope you're doing okay. Lots of meetings all at once - I'd be freaking out." Ashley chuckles, and shakes your hand.

It's lucky you're there - it's one of the last times here at the lodge for them before they all go off to college and start the next phase of their lives.

You suspect that had they not all been on their best behavior out of support to their friend, someone would've caused some huge drama.

But as it is, Josh refuses to drink cause it messes with his meds, so Mike and Chris decide to polish off a bottle in his honor - meaning Mike passes out with Chris halfway into the night and thus instead of Hannah making a move and Emily and Jess starting a retaliatory prank, the group has more of a chill game night vibe.

Josh gets clingy when the sun goes down and demands cuddles.

"The things I do for you," you playfully sigh, and the two of you settle under a blanket in front of the TV.

The gang easily pivots to putting on a movie and falling asleep, the snow falling peacefully outside.

And far across the mountain, the ancient things remain contained, another year kept at bay.

You never do get back up to the lodge. But even if a lot of Josh's friends move on after that, his sisters become your lifelong friends, and you know that Josh and you are gonna be something good...

[popponn]

so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.

but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.

of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.

and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.

(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)

#1

"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.

rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.

from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.

in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.

"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.

#2

you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.

but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.

rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.

it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.

so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"

rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."

"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.

you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.

"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."

notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.

[thewulf]

Murder at the Motel || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiii !! can you write a hotch fic where him and reader (fem or gn) is in a rs and he suprise visits her and she was playing the hunt a killer game (which is like this game where you subscribe and you get a box every 6 months that's filled with details and clues and u solve the mystery case), or just any game like that... Read Rest Here

A/N: SUPER fluffy and sweet. Wrote this pretty quick for you guys! Let me know if you like :) As always, thank you for your requests!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 2.2k

“Son of a bitch.” You grumbled after attempting the code you thought you cracked for the fourth time to no avail. Setting down the wine glass that was far too empty you looked up at the clock on the wall sighing seeing as it was already 9 PM. You’d just gotten your latest murder mystery game in the mail and dove in after work. It was a Friday night and Aaron was off hunting another serial killer. Of course, you’d hidden it from him, you weren’t sure how. The man had picked up on everything that you did. But you’d been able to hide it away.

Not being completely sure why you’d hidden it from him you got up from the couch getting ready to pout yourself another glass of Pinot Grigio while you attempted to figure out the damn code that the lockbox was hiding away. This box was challenging you. Murder at the motel. You were usually able to fly through them, but this puzzle was stumping you. By now you’d usually be on your fifth clue, but you were sitting here stuck on the second without a clue on how you were going to figure it out.

Once the glass was poured you dove right back in trying your best to pick up on something you may have missed. Being so enraptured by the fluidity of the game you were completely clueless to you phone silently buzzing off to the side.

Little did you know your loving boyfriend of just over a year was trying to get ahold of you. The team had figured out the case and made it home much earlier than expected. Aaron decided to give the team the weekend off to relax and recover as he had ulterior motives in mind, spending the entire weekend with you.

After the passing of Haley, he was in a dark place. But then you popped up. You were walking your neighbors dog through the park when a sweet boy ran up to you asking to pet the small Pomeranian that had far too much attitude. You nodded happily letting the sweet boy pet and talk to the small dog who was loving all of the attention. You hadn’t a clue at the time you were meeting the child of the man you were going to love. One thing led to another, and you and Aaron were inseparable. He found peace in the slowness that you adored, and you found chaos in the life he lived. The two of you clicked like peas in a pod. Two happy little clams that were meant to be.

So, when you didn’t answer your phone for the fourth time Aaron freaked, naturally. Were you alright? Did somebody get to you like they did Haley? What if you were laying in a puddle of your own blood and it was his fault? He couldn’t do that again. Not to you. God, that would actually destroy him this time.

Using the sirens on his vehicle, which he knew was wrong, but he didn’t really give a damn, he flew on over to your house. His heart rate dropped a little when he saw your house lights on, but it didn’t slow him down as he ran to your front door banging on it a little too hard, “Sweetheart? Are you alright?” He called not wanting to freak you out if you were just being careless about your phone.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the banging on your front door started. You scurried to the front door once you heard his voice. What was he doing home so early?

Unlocking the door in a hurry you spotted the overly stressed out man standing there in his signature suit that looked far too good on him to have completely pure thoughts, “Aaron!” You grinned, “What are you doing home so early?”

He let out a breath of air he’d clearly been holding in. You watched as he placed an arm on the door frame trying to steady himself. Was he shaking?

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He answered your question with one of his own.

You moved to the side so he could come in giving yourself a second to think. You didn’t really want to admit that you were far to engrossed in your fake killer game to look at your phone, that was too embarrassing to admit, “I was uh, busy?” You didn’t sound the most confident. You wanted to curse under your breath for sounding so unsure.

He cocked his head once he walked in, looking right at you with those damn profiler eyes, “Busy?” He questioned.

“Mhmm.” You hummed shutting the door behind you, “Crazy Friday night in.” You grinned pushing him towards the kitchen, away from the mess of a game you had sprawled out in the living room.

“Doing what sweetheart?” He was more curious now, nothing accusatory in his voice. This was just Aaron checking in.

He was going to find out, you just knew it. You’d been successful hiding the little side hobby from him for over a year. You weren’t going to get so lucky tonight, “Oh, you know. Doing things.”

His eyes scrunched together involuntarily as he studied you, profiled you. You knew it was just a habit but being under the gaze of the man who was profiling was much different than the soft Aaron you usually got. You shouldn’t have been surprised though. You were acting incredibly weird. Why couldn’t you just play it cool?

He smirked this time almost as if he knew he caught you doing something, “What kind of things love?” Pressing further he walked towards you giving you a quick kiss on the head before heading towards your living room.

Following him like a lost puppy dog you tried your best to walk around him. But his larger frame didn’t let you, “You know! Games and things!” In your futile attempt to push the papers away from the coffee table he grabbed you by the waist stopping you from clearing anything else. You would’ve protested but he pulled you right into him.

“Murder at the Motel?” His eyebrows raised seeing the box sitting right out in the open.

You sighed knowing you were caught, “Busted.”

His smirk grew further, “Hunt a Killer?”

You nodded, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “Like I said, games and things.” Burying your head in his chest you hid yourself from the stupid feeling in your chest.

You felt his chest rumble into a fit of chuckles clearly finding the situation all too funny, “This says box number 23?”

You nodded still hiding away, “I’ve been subscribed for a while.” You had to admit to him. It’s not like you could lie to him. He was too damn good at calling you out on that bullshit. And truthfully, you were an awful liar. Far too many tells to try and get away with it.

He begrudgingly pulled you out of his chest. As much as he liked you cuddled up he wanted to actually speak to you, “No need to be embarrassed love.” He brushed your messed up hair away from your face, “Let’s play, yeah?” He sat down before reading the premise of the box.

“That wouldn’t be fair.” You huffed sitting down next to him.

He pulled you into his lap with ease, “And why’s that?”

You turned to him with that look on your face, “It’s not meant for profilers Aaron. You’ll figure it out in half a second.”

He shrugged, “I won’t say a word then.” Placing his hands up in defense he gave you a quick squeeze trying to get you to relax.

But you shook your head quickly, “We can watch a movie or something…”

“You don’t want to play?” He pressed knowing why you were likely uncomfortable with it. He was intimidating when it came to his job. The two of you rarely discussed it. He made sure to leave work at work and promised you he was just Aaron when he got home. He knew you probably felt insecure about the whole thing, he wasn’t dumb. He was a profiler. He sensed your rigidity the second he walked into your cozy home.

This time it was your turn to shrug, “It’s not that. I just… I just want you to relax?” God, why were you so embarrassing? Why couldn’t you just communicate to your partner of over a year?

He ran his hand gently down your back trying his best to get you eased, “This is relaxing. Being with you is relaxing sweetheart.” He leaned down giving the top of your head a quick kiss, “I’d love to play with you. But if you don’t want to that’s also completely fine. I just want to spend some time with you. This week has been tiring.” He admitted with a sad smile on his face, “Jack is at my moms for the rest of the weekend too.”

You peaked an eye up at him, “Promise you won’t judge if I mess up?”

He shook his head quickly. “I would never my sweet girl.” Finally, you relaxed into his touch admitting defeat to yourself. Fuck it? Why not play with Aaron. You needed help and here he was coming in to save the day.

“Alright Hotchner.” You sat up, “I’m trying to figure out the code for this lockbox.” You held the damn thing up dramatically, “I’ve already figured out that Rose is an absolute piece of shit liar, read her card. Doesn’t she just seem suspicious?” You tossed him the card of who you thought seemed to be the most suspicious.

He chuckled grabbing the card from you reading it over quickly. He nodded in agreement with you, “She does seem suspicious.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you being serious or are you being supportive right now?”

His smile finally reached his eyes seeing how seriously you really were treating the game, “Absolutely serious. There’s… inconsistencies in her story.”

“I knew it!” You grinned looking back at all the papers, “Which means we need to look into her fake ass alibi.”

Aaron couldn’t help but to watch in amazement as you worked through the puzzle with him. He knew how freaking smart you were, but he didn’t know how clever you were on top of it. He hardly made a sound as you worked through the second clue and finally pieced together the missing code. He watched in awe as you ripped through the third, fourth and fifth clues in no time at all. He had to question if you’d picked up on his profiling while he was with you for how well you were getting through the game without even a mere clue from him. While he wasn’t actively playing the game you were picking up on clues that went right over his head. If he wasn’t already madly in love his heart went into overdrive watching your brain work its magic.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when you spoke to him directly, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

His eyes glazed over your face once more. He loved the way your cheeks got a little rosy when you got excited about something. He adored the way you got animated when you asked questions or observed the world around you. He couldn’t get enough of your expressions that made him question everything. God, he was a sucker for you and only you.

He shook his head, “No reason love. You’re amazing is all.” In all your commotion you’d moved out of his lap and onto the floor spread out trying to piece together everything.

That stupid blush that always gave you away coated your cheeks once more as he watched you in awe, “Shush. It’s not that impressive Aaron.”

“Quite the contraire sweetheart. You’re remarkable. What can’t you do?” He joined you on the floor wanting to be close to you. Only you.

Looking away from him you didn’t try and stop the creeping smile that came from his continuous compliments, “Flatterer.”

“Not when it’s the truth.” He shot right back.

Ignoring his comment you continued, “You going to help me now or just continue to stare?” You pushed his shoulder lightly while shooting him a wink.

“Oh, I’m planning on staring at you love.” He threw the wink right back feeling all of the love in the moment. For the life of him he never could comprehend how he got so damn lucky with you, his girl. His forever. The best person to help raise Jack. The kindest woman he’s ever known. The full package was sitting right there in front of him and true to his word, he was planning on simply staring at you in absolute awe.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You stuck your tongue out at him before turning back to the papers trying to figure out the last clue.

“You know what’ll last even longer?” He asked.

You shook your head turning your body to look back over to him, “What’s that A?”

“Marriage.”

You nearly choked on your own spit trying to comprehend what the hell he was trying to put down, “What?”

“Marry me Y/N.” He said as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Like he had all the confidence he could ever need.

“You want to marry me?” Your heart started racing faster. Sure, you’d talked about it, but nothing ever really came from it. You weren’t expecting this. Not in the slightest.

He nodded, “Fuck baby. I want to spend every single waking moment with you. You’re it. You’re the one. I can’t do this life without you.”

You grinned scooting yourself right back into his lap, “Yeah?”

He nuzzled his head into your neck peppering soft kisses up it along your jaw line, “And I’m an ass for not having the ring ready. But we’ll go and get one tomorrow?”

Your grin gave him the answer he was looking for, “You know I don’t care about a ring Aaron. I’d marry you without a single thing.”

He gave you a massive squeeze holding you close in his lap, “Is that a yes then?”

Nodding your head quickly your eyes found his once more, “It’s a hell yes Aaron Hotchner.”

He let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding at your enthusiastic response, “Baby, you just made me the happiest man in the world.”

“Same.” You gave his cheek a quick kiss, “Now, will you help me solve this damn game?”

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[obaex]

anything but you - rafe cameron

summary: when sarah and the pogues steal barry's money, he concocts a plan to take the one thing the oldest cameron loves most to ensure he gets repaid in full

word count: 8.8k

warnings: canon-level violence, kidnapping, guns, anxiety/panic attacks followed by the sweetest fluff ever.

a/n: I had originally planned to split this up, but honestly love it as one big fic! hope y'all enjoy! Xx

Barry limped up to his front door, clutching his side as he struggled to breath through his nose, which was clogged with blood. The door hung open and as he shuffled inside he reached for the piece he kept taped under the kitchen table, grasping it firmly and pointing it around each corner as he made his way into his bedroom. He looked around at his clothes and belongings scattered everywhere before making his way frantically to the closet. His duffle bag was gone. As was the $25,000 in it.

His blood was boiling, partially at the thought of the pogues rummaging around in his shit, stealing his money, and partially at the cocaine that was pulsing through his veins, letting his mind run wild. He knew these kids, Maybank, Routledge, but he cracked a smile thinking about little Sarah Cameron. Rafe's sister. Country Club. And suddenly he knew just how he was going to get his money back.

Several Months Ago

Rafe tossed a large wad of cash down on the table in front of Barry. "We're square" he said, his tone serious.

"Damn, Country Club" Barry said, picking it up greedily and flipping through the bills. "I'll give it to you, you did come through. How much do you want for this weekend?" he asked, reaching over to the drawer in his side table.

Rafe's fingers twitched at his side before they came up to wipe his nose as he sniffled, a nervous tick. "I'm good, Barry, I'm done." His head was pounding, his mouth was dry and he was exhausted. He knew release could be found in the little baggy in Barry's fingers, the sugared crystals tempting him, calling him. He squeezed his eyes shut, driving the heels of his palms into them, forcibly rewiring his brain to focus on the only thing sweeter than the euphoria in front of him: you.

It was like a movie in his brain, he saw you running into the ocean before turning around and reaching out for him, pulling him into the waves with you as your laughter rang out. He saw your head resting on his lap, lingering between awake and asleep as he ran his fingers gently through your hair, eliciting the sweetest smile on your lips. And your lips the feeling of them dancing over his, your arms wrapped around him, the way you looked at him like he hung the damn moon when in reality he was a screwed-up cokehead. He promised you he was done, promised you he would quit and it was a promise he was fighting against every urge in his body to keep.

"We're square, man. I'm done" he said again as he released his hands and made his way quickly out of the trailer.

You had just finished your afternoon of babysitting and hopped into your jeep. You were going to run home to shower and change before meeting up with Rafe and your friends. You checked your phone to see a few missed texts from Rafe.

You smiled, shifting your car onto the road, winding down the narrow streets along the beach before calling Rafe via your Bluetooth. The phone began to ring just as you heard the sound of dirt bikes kick up behind you. Ring. Thinking it was Topper and Rafe, you slowed down before realizing that it wasn't them, and wasn't their bikes. Your heart began to race and you could feel your hands clamming up on the steering wheel as one of the drivers pulled alongside you. Ring. You tried to steer him off the road when you saw him reach into his jacket and pull out a gun. You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut as you heard a shot ring out and your car involuntarily skidded to the side of the road. You let go of the steering wheel, feeling all over your body. You felt okay? That's when you heard air hissing angrily from your front tire as your car sagged to one side. He had shot your tire. Ring. Your phone was still connected and trying to reach Rafe. You frantically unbuckled your seatbelt as the two men pulled up next to your door. You grabbed your phone, hands shaking and tears pooling in your eyes "Rafe RAFE please pick up" you cried to the void ringtone. They ripped your car door open, yanking you onto the street as your phone fell from your hands and into the grass, bouncing beneath the car.

"What do you want from me?" you cried, punching and kicking furiously, you weren't going to go down without a fight. Strong hands circled you from behind, pinning your arms to your chest as the other man began tying your hands in front of you tightly with a piece of rope. Its frays burned against your wrist, instantly agitating your skin.

"HELP!" you cried before a large hand covered your mouth.

"You've got to shut her up" the one man said to the other.

He pulled a bandana out of the back of his shorts and shoved it in your mouth. It tasted like sweat and dirt and the feeling of it on your tongue and the roof of your mouth made you gag as you continued to cry, each of you too preoccupied to hear your phone...

"Yo this is Rafe, leave a message"

You continued crying and squirming as your captor put you on his bike and then settled behind you, nuzzling into your hair and bringing an arm around your midsection. He smelled like body odor and the feeling of his sweaty body pressed against yours made you cry even louder, muffled by the bandana.

The other man closed your car door, locked it and took the keys. To anyone else it would look like a car parked on the side of the road. They revved their engines and kicked off, dust clouding your eyes.

You had spent your whole life on Kildare Island and had never once been to this part of town. No one will ever find me here is all you could think as the homes got further and further apart and gave way to overgrown marshland spotted with trailers. They pulled into the makeshift driveway of a decrepit trailer with a screen door hanging off its hinges. Your captor pulled you roughly off the bike and inside. It was dim and musky and stank of mildew and stale beer. The floor and countertops were littered with beer cans, takeout boxes and drug paraphernalia. Or, so you thought, you had never so much as smoked a cigarette in your whole life. They pushed you roughly into the back of the trailer in a dingy bedroom covered with lude posters of naked women and dirty clothing. The shorter of the two men shoved you to the floor before ripping the bandana out of your mouth. You sucked in a deep breath and coughed, your mouth dry and sore.

"You know who I am, Mrs. Country Club?" he said, grinning at you, a gold tooth gleaming in his mouth.

You took a moment to look at him, his face, his clothing. You had never seen this man in your life. You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears again.

"'Course you don't. No, your boy wouldn't tell you about me, would he? This is a dirty little secret he wants to keep all to hisself" he said as he gestured around the trailer.

"His family owes me money" he said, his demeanor shifting back to anger, "and you're going to help me make sure they pay me every last dollar.” He laughed to himself as he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The plan was underway and Barry was ready to light the match that would ignite the fire. Thankfully, he knew exactly where to find Country Club on a day like today: dicking off with his friends at the yacht club, spending his daddy's money on overpriced beer. Not working, just pissing away money on booze, boats, bikes and cars, walking around like he owned the damn island.

"Rafe Cameron!" he called, "get over here!" Rafe came sprinting out to him, clearly embarrassed that his dirtbag friend was addressing him in public, addressing him on this side of the island, the two sides of his life colliding.

"What are you doing, man? You good?" Rafe asked, quickly grabbing Barry by the shoulders and leading him away from prying eyes, though Topper trailed closely behind them.

"Nah, I ain't good man. Why is your whole family thinkin' I'm just some bitch that they can shit on, man? First I gotta deal with your dad comin' in and breakin' in and kneecappin' me in my house-"

"You got your money" Rafe said quickly, interrupting him.

"That aint the point, man!" Barry continued, raising his voice, "I'm asking you what am I? Am I just some lil' bitch? Is that what your family looks at me like?"

"No, no!" Rafe replied.

"No? No? Okay, so then why is your little sister and her little surf rat friends runnin' around stealing 25k out of my house? Can you tell me that?"

"My little sister robbed you?" Rafe said in disbelief.

"Yeah, Sarah robbed me. That's why I'm here."

"She won't pick a dollar up off the street, man, what are you talking about?"

"Do I look dumb to you? You think I don't understand what's goin' on here? Cause I'm tellin' you right now you better sort this out with your sister or else I am. 'Cause I want my money."

"Listen, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Enlighten me.”

"Enlighten you? So the Pogues are all around Outer Banks stealin' shit out of everybody's house and you got no idea what I'm talkin' about? Your sisters involved in it!"

"Sarah Cameron, home invader?" Rafe said. "Do you know how stupid?a—“ but before he could finish his sentence Barry shoved him roughly.

"How many times I gotta deal witchu!?" Barry shouted angrily. "That's 25k! Sort this shit out with your sister!"

"Alright! Alright!" Rafe said, holding up a hand in defeat.

"I'mma get my money. Don't forget I know you, Country Club" he let the threat hang in the air for a moment before he continued. "Let's just say it would be within your best interest to get me my money. Quickly. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. I'll see you boys around."

"What did you just say to me?" Rafe pressed angrily, following Barry as he walked to his car, yanking the door open and closed before Rafe could reach him. As Rafe pounded on the window, Barry threw it in reverse. "What the fuck are you talking about Barry!" Rafe yelled as the car pulled away.

"Hey," Topper said, coming up to him, trying to put a hand on Rafe's arm before getting shrugged off, "what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know man" Rafe said, the panic clear in his voice as the gears turned in his head. "No no no. This guy is nuts."

"What is it?" Topper asked as Rafe yanked his phone out of his pocket.

"Y/N" Rafe said quietly, reaching to call you when he realized he had a missed call and voicemail from you over an hour ago. He quickly opened it and hit play, putting it on speaker, expecting to hear your voice, his face scrunched in confusion as he tried to make out what was going on.

Ding, ding, ding he could hear the sound of an open car door and muffled voices

"-on the bike man-"

"-'fore someone sees-"

"close the door, take the keys"

Followed by a muffled moan and the sound of someone crying. "Don't cry, just be a good girl for me, we'll take good care of you. You like that?"

The sound of dirt bikes. Then, silence. The voicemail continued for another two minutes but as he fast forwarded through it, all he could hear was a deep, empty silence.

Rafe realized he wasn't breathing. His whole body was shaking. He couldn't hear anything except the roar of blood rushing in his head, in his ears. He could make out the look on Topper's face, he had his hands on his head, a look of panicked fear in his eyes. He grabbed Rafe by the shoulders, shaking him but his voice sounded far away, like he was underwater. "What the fuck, Rafe, what the fuck!" his voice was pitched high with worry. "What was that? Did they take Y/N? What the fuck. You have to call her, man." Rafe's limbs felt disconnected from his body as Topper ripped the phone out of his hands and called your number, pacing back and forth, one hand on his head, the other with the phone pressed to his ear. "She's not picking up dude." Rafe moved without thinking, crossing over to his own dirt bike, pulling his helmet on haphazardly without bothering to strap it in place, kicking it off the stand and gunning it, nearly spinning out in the parking lot amidst a cloud of dust.

He was pushing 60 miles an hour down neighborhood streets. He was hopping onto sidewalks and ripping across pristine lawns and flowerbeds leaving deep tire marks as he made his way to the house where he knew you had spent the day babysitting. He was hyperventilating now and his helmet was fogged with his breath, making him feel like it was closing in on him. No no no was all he could think. Not you. Anything but you. He was about two blocks away when he saw your jeep on the side of the road. He jumped off his bike, tossing it down and yanking off his helmet as he ran up to your car, hands pressed against the glass to see inside. It was empty. Locked. Your purse sat on the front seat. He circled the car, pulling at all the doors and looking in all the windows, looking for any sign of you when he heard a faint buzzing. He crouched down and saw your phone lying in the grass under the car and it was then that he saw the bullet lodged in your front tire. They had shot at you. The sight of it pulled a guttural yell from deep within him. He had been trying to get clean, had been trying to be better. You made him want to be better and he was on the right track, desperately trying to run from his dark and fucked up past. You were his light and now he had put you in danger. He had never hated himself more. Not the time he had made Wheezie cry, not the first time that he met Rose and she looked at him with masked distain, not the thousands of times that Ward yelled at him, told him he was a disappointment. No. This was his new low.

Barry threw open his front door as his phone began to ring. "Right on schedule" he said, grinning, showing the phone to his accomplice. He swiped to pick up the call.

"Country Club-" he started.

"I SWEAR TO GOD BARRY IF YOU HURT HER I WILL KILL YOU. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? THIS ISN'T A FUCKING GAME. WE WERE SQUARE, YOU GOT YOUR MONEY, WHAT MY SISTER DOES HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!"

Rafe was absolutely unhinged. Barry had him right where he wanted him.

"See, that's the problem, Country Club. She's your sister, and your family has a history of tryin' to screw me over. So, this is your problem now. We want $50k. You bring that here and we're all good bro."

"$50,000?" Rafe said incredulously. "What are you talking about? I thought you said they took $25k?"

"Interest, Country Club. For my troubles. Plus, I think she's worth it, don't you? You got yoself a fine lady, my friend."

"Barry, I swear to God-" Rafe said, his voice low, trembling.

"$50k, tonight Country Club. Come alone. You remember my cousin Marco, yeah?"

That was a threat in itself that had Rafe's blood running cold. Marco was Barry's supplier. They had only met once but Rafe could picture the thuggish look of the man he knew served two stints in a maximum security prison. A long scar ran over one eye, his neck, arms and knuckles covered in gang tattoos. It was enough to make Rafe feel like a little boy dealing with the big bad wolf.

Barry continued, "If he sees a cop, he'll shoot her and dump her body in the marsh. 'Gators will have her before you can do anything about it. If you don't come alone, he'll shoot her. If there's anything less that $50k, well, I think you get the point. Tick tock, Country Club." And with that, he hung up the phone.

Rafe called back immediately. Barry sent the call to voicemail. Now they waited.

By the time Rafe got a hold of Sarah it was too late. JJ had already spent every last dollar on a generator, hot tub and booze. It was late in the evening and Rafe was running out of time, too frenetic to expend any energy being angry at the pogues. He had to focus on you. How was he going to come up with $50,000? He refused to go to his father again to fix his mess.

He climbed into his truck and gunned it. He had gotten his truck as a 16th birthday present. He vividly remembered his dad surprising him with it as it sat in the driveway at Tanneyhill, a big blue bow on the hood of the car. His dad had smiled and clapped him on the back and they had driven around the block together, laughing and listening to music. It was one of his favorite memories. He remembered driving his truck to pick you up for your first date, he had been so nervous on the way to your house his hands were slick on the steering wheel and he had to keep wiping them on his shorts. You wore a stunning white dress and he could barely keep his jaw off the ground as held the truck door open for you, helping you into his front seat, the vision of you riding shotgun too perfect words.

It didn't matter now.

He pulled into the car dealership with 15 minutes to spare until closing and raced inside. The owner used to be his little league coach and he prayed the whole way here he would be able to negotiate a fair deal.

"Mr. Bennett!" he said, catching the man as he was closing up his office for the day, "I'd like to sell you my truck. Please" he said, trying to hide the urgency in his voice and failing miserably.

"Rafe! It's good to see you. We're closing up for the day, why don't you come back tomorrow? I'd love to take a look at it, and I can let you know what we can do?"

"I'm sorry, sir, it's urgent. I-I need the cash... and I need it now."

Mr. Bennett took in Rafe's mussed hair, the sweat stains on his t-shirt and his labored breath.

"Son, is everything alright? Does your father know you're here?"

"Yes, he, uh, sent me actually. He asked me to do this for him. Very important. It's very important that I do this for him, please."

Mr. Bennett remembered vividly how hard Rafe had vied for his father's attention and approval throughout his childhood. Maybe he could help him out.

"Alright, let's take a look."

Mr. Bennett circled the car agonizingly slowly, lifting the hood, opening each door. "It's in good condition, you've taken good care of it. I can offer you $35,000."

"OK - great - perfect" Rafe said, shooting Topper a text to come pick him up while eagerly ushering Mr. Bennett inside, haphazardly signing away the title to one of his most prized possessions.

You were huddled on the floor, your arms numb from being tied in the same position for almost 5 hours. Your wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding in some places. You sniffled quietly, run dry of tears from exhaustion and dehydration. You knew Rafe had struggled with a drug addiction, but you had never seen this side of it. The squalor, the desperation, the filth of where he would go to feed the beast inside of him. It scared you. Like the man had said, this was Rafe's dirty secret and the idea of that roiled your stomach, breaking your heart.

You saw how committed he had been to staying on the straight and narrow. It hadn't been easy for him, but day by day you had seen the life come back into his eyes. He was able to focus and manage his anxiety and his anger. After a month it felt like he was fully present with you, mind, body and soul and you had both been submerged in that feeling with one another, like you were falling in love again for the first time. He was a sweet boy at his core and that sweet center was able to shine when it wasn't ensnared by his addiction. He would leave flowers on the hood of your jeep to surprise you, tuck love notes into your drawers when you weren't looking to be found days later, knowing they would make you smile. Whenever you were out in public, his hands were on you, somehow, resting on your thigh, tucked in the back pocket of your shorts, resting on your lower back or more often than not tangled with your own. He was constantly stealing kisses, on the cheek, on the forehead, on your nose and when any opportunity presented itself, firmly against your lips, in the bathroom hallway at the Island Club, in your kitchen when your parents sat one room away, in his bedroom, tangled up in his sheets, he couldn't get enough of you. You were clinging to that image of him, fighting the urge to picture him here, doing drugs, when you heard voices pick up outside the door.

"It's 10:00 man, you said he'd be here. Where's your boy?"

"He'll be here, man, just relax, take a bump."

Marco leaned over the coffee table, sorting a line of cocaine before inhaling it aggressively and throwing his head back to rest on the couch, the drug rushing to his brain.

"Maybe he needs a little motivation to pick up the pace?" He stood up quickly, jittery from his high and pushed his way towards the back bedroom.

The door flew open, the light from the living room nearly blinding you in the dark as he yanked you harshly to your feet. "Come here, sweet thing, don't you want to smile for me, huh? Smile sweet for your boyfriend baby girl, go ahead." He held you tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around your neck, forcing your head up, the other resting uncomfortably against your ribcage as Barry snapped a photo. You wiggled, uncomfortable in his grasp, disgusted by the feeling of his hands on your body. "Aww, you wanna fight me again, huh? That's okay, I like a fighter, I like it a little rough" he taunted. You wiggled harder, willing this to be a dream that you could wake up from as he pulled you closer, his face pressed against yours, his disgusting breath hot on your cheek. You moved without thinking, a survival instinct, doing anything you could to get out of his grasp as you stomped your heel heavily onto his foot. He cried out in shock and pain before grabbing you, turning you to face him and slapping you hard across the face. You fell to the floor, the skin on your flesh burning. You could taste blood on your lip.

"What the fuck are you doing, man!?" Barry yelled.

"Someone's got to do somethin’ here! Where is my money!?"

"Come on" Barry hauled you up by your arm and at least had the decency to look sorry before throwing you back in the bedroom and locking the door.

Rafe slid into Topper's truck, talking animatedly on the phone and motioning for him to drive, "Pawn shop on Meeting Street, drive, go Top!" Topper sped off as Rafe returned to his call.

"Yes, Kelc, $5k and you can have the bike, do we have a deal?" He paused, listening to the other end. "Do you have cash? Can you meet me at the pawn shop on Meeting Street?" A pause. "What? No. Right fucking now. Meet me right fucking now, don't be a dollar short" he said, hanging up phone.

"Rafe, what the hell is going on man" Topper asked.

"Just drive, Top.”

"What's wrong with your truck?" he asked, motioning to the dealership in the rearview mirror.

"I sold it.”

"You what!? Why? You love that truck."

"Please, just drive.”

"Did you just sell Kelce your bike? Is this about money? Are they ransoming her? Oh my god, Rafe. We need to call the police. My grandfather's a judge" he said, reaching for his phone, "I'll call him, we can have this sorted out.”

Rafe grabbed Topper's wrist hard enough for him to drop the phone. "No fucking cops.”

"Rafe-" Topper tried.

"They will kill her Topper" he said, his voice stone serious. "They will shoot her and they will throw her body in the marsh and we will never see her again. These guys do not fucking mess around and I'm not taking any chances."

Topper pulled his car into the pawn shop parking lot and Rafe was out of the front seat before Topper came to a full stop. He ran inside. Topper could see him begin to wedge his Cameron family signet ring off his finger. For as long as he had known Rafe he had never seen him without it. It was extremely valuable and meaningful to him and he couldn't believe he'd be parting with it. From the look in the woman's eyes across the counter from Rafe, it didn't look like she could believe it either. She held it up to the light, weighed it and examined it closely. She said something to him and he began arguing with her. Clearly, he didn't think she was offering him a fair price. They haggled for a moment and eventually she looked resolute. Her final offer. Rafe looked destroyed as he hunched over the counter, his head in his hands before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box and slid it over to her like he was giving her the last piece of food on a deserted island. Resigned, depleted.

She opened the box, eyeing the contents closely, eyeing him closely and closed it, sliding it back to him. He pushed it back to her aggressively. Though taken aback, she carried the box into a back room and disappeared. She came back with a man dressed in a suit, clearly a manager of some sort. They talked for several minutes before shaking hands. They disappeared again and returned with a large envelope. Rafe took it, quickly signed a few pieces of paper and began to walk out to the car just as Kelce was pulling in. He ran over to him, accepting another wad of cash before getting back into the car.

"Top, I need you to drive-" he was cut off by his phone chiming. He pulled it quickly out of his pocket and slid open the text from Barry. Tick tock Country Club it read with a picture. His heart dropped into his stomach at the sight of you, your arms bound in front of you. You looked filthy, your normally perfect hair was tangled, your eyes were scrunched in discomfort, your eyeliner smudged and mascara running down your cheeks. Barry's cousin was pressed against you, his cheek on your cheek, his hands on your ribcage, dangerously close to your breasts.

"No, no, no, no, no" he said repeatedly, the only word his brain could conjure at the sight of you. He felt physically sick and he started to shake, shoving the heel of his hands into his eyes and rocking back and forth.

Topper recognized all the signs of one of Rafe's panic attacks but had never seen one this bad. He didn't know what to do. "H-Hey come on, man, it's going to be ok, she's going to be ok. Do you have the money? Let's go. Let's go get her."

"Y-you n-need t-to drive to the f-fucking cut" Rafe eeked out, barely understandable.

"What?" Topper asked.

"DRIVE TO THE CUT, TOPPER!" he roared.

"Yes, got it, driving" he said, throwing the car into gear.

Rafe pulled out his phone, quickly typing a response.

He threw his phone down on the floor, cracking the screen.

You heard a phone trill.

"You hear that, princess? Country Club is comin’ to get your ass. I told you you was our golden ticket." You heard them laugh before they turned up the music and cracked open beers.

You sat up from where you were laying on the floor. Rafe was coming here? To get you? You wiped at your eyes and gingerly touched your lip, wincing at the swollen tenderness. You couldn't imagine how terrible you looked right now. You also couldn't imagine why you were thinking about how you looked at a time like this. Your limbs ached but you tried your best to maneuver into a sitting position as your mind tried to work out what was happening. Rafe was coming here. Was he coming by himself? He would be outnumbered. What would stop them from taking the money and killing you both anyway? These were two coked out drug dealers, there was no way to know how this was going to play out and they clearly had the upper hand. You began to feel around the floor in front of you. You wanted to gag at the feeling of running your hands through the shag carpeting, sifting through dirty boxers, women's underwear and food containers. You needed to find something that could help. You weren't going to let Rafe face this alone. You reached under the bed, feeling a lot of dust and empty space until you hit a cool metal container. You paused, straining your ears to ensure the men were both preoccupied as you pulled it towards you. It was small, maybe a foot wide. As you opened it, you found a wad of cash, several pill bottles and a small gun. Bingo. You had gone to the gun range a handful of times with your dad, you knew how to see if it was loaded. It was. You knew how to check the safety before sliding it into the front of your jean shorts, the cool metal resting against your skin. Your shirt barely covered it. It would be risky, it would be risking everything, but you had to do it.

"Pull over here" Rafe instructed.

"Here?" Topper asked. They were squarely in the middle of nowhere, deep in the marshes at the far side of the cut. The only light was coming from the dim porch light of a trailer 50 feet back from the dirt road.

"Yes, park here. Cut off the engine. Keep your phone on you. Don't follow me, Top. I mean it."

"How long should I wait before...?" he let the question linger, unfinished.

Rafe looked up at him and for the first time Topper saw unbridled fear in his best friend's eyes.

"Rafe, man, look, we can still call the police. You don't have to do this by yourself."

"15 minutes" Rafe replied, ignoring him at first. "If you don't see her in 15 minutes you can call the police. And, yes, I do have to do this. It's my fault she's in this mess, I'm going to get her out of it." He scooped his phone off the floor, wrangled the wad of cash into his pockets and stepped out of the truck, using the flashlight on his phone to jog alone down the street into darkness until Topper couldn't see him anymore.

You heard him. Over the godawful rap music that was playing through tinny speakers outside your locked door, you heard him.

"BARRY! BARRY, GET THE FUCK OUT HERE. BRING HER WITH YOU. LET ME SEE HER RIGHT NOW!"

Your heart squeezed at the sound of his voice, familiar and comforting but full of a rage the depths of which you had never heard before.

The music cut off and you heard shuffling and muffled voices in the living room. Your heart was in your throat. You heard the front door open and close as Barry walked outside and you heard footsteps headed in your direction. You checked the gun in your shorts one more time before the door burst open and he rumbled over to you, pulling you to your feet, through the doorway, through the kitchen and living room to the front door. A sense of relief washed over you. You were free, Rafe was here, everything was going to be okay. Then you saw the gun in his other hand and began to shake.

He shoved you through the front door, hand gripping your upper arm so tightly you could feel a bruise already forming. A few weak lights were scattered around the property buzzing with mosquitoes, making the yard hard to see, but your eyes immediately found Rafe. He had been in a heated discussion until the door flew open and he caught your eye. It was like time ran in slow motion. His skin was slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, his shirt stuck to his skin, his cheeks red and voice hoarse from yelling, but when he saw you he stopped.

"No, no, no, man WHAT DID YOU DO! LOOK AT HER! SHE'S FUCKING BLEEDING! WHAT DID I TELL YOU!" He tried to run towards you and Barry stopped him with both hands on his chest.

"Not so fast, Country Club.”

"No, I need to-" he fidgeted around Barry's grip, "I need to see her" shove "Need to touch her" shove "Need to make sure she's OK" shove "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby, I'm here, I'm here, It's going to be okay." His eyes were fixed solely on you as he fought Barry back, clawing, desperate to reach you.

"That's enough, Country Club, where is the money?"

"I'm not giving you the money until I can see her, I need to make sure she's alright."

"Let me see it."

Rafe reached into his front pocket, pulling forth wads of cash bigger than any you'd seen in your life.

"65k" he said, shaking it in Barry's face, "interest, you know? To make sure you never do anything like this, ever again. Now let me see her."

Barry took a step back and nodded to Marco. Marco tucked the gun into his waistband and untied your hands. As soon as you were free you turned and ran, Rafe meeting you halfway as you slammed into his chest, your arms too weak to do anything but wrap around his middle as you sunk your face into him, crying anew.

"Oh my god" he said, his hands coming around you as he buried his head in your hair. "Thank God. Thank you, God" he repeated. "It’s okay, it's going to be okay.”

You pressed into him further. "Rafe" you whispered, barely audible, "gun, in my shorts, quick-"

"Money, Country Club" Barry said.

You tried to turn around but Rafe held you firmly in place, your head against his chest as he slowly pulled the wad of cash out of his pockets, handing it over your head into Barry's outstretched hands.

"Woooo, would you look at this, Marco? This is what interest looks like right here." They were both transfixed, unraveling the wads of cash. Rafe took the opportunity to slide his hand slowly down your stomach, into the waistband of your shorts as you shivered involuntarily, his hand resting on the gun, shielded by your body against his.

"This is nothin' to you, Country Club" Barry said. "This is just your daddy's money. Money means nothin' to you. Maybe we outta hold onto your lady here and see what another day buys us?"

A gun cocked behind you and you both froze. You felt Rafe's fingers work around the gun, clicking off the safety.

"Barry. We're square man" he said calmly despite the feeling of his heart thundering in his chest as he stared down the barrel of the gun in Marco's hand. "I'm going to take my girlfriend and we're going to walk away now, and you're going to let us go. And on top of the extra $15k I gave you, we won't tell anyone about the felony kidnapping you just committed."

Barry bristled at that.

"We're the one calling the shots here!" Marco said gruffly, unphased as he pointed the gun at the back of your head. Rafe put his hand against your head protectively, pulling you towards him as you squeezed your eyes shut and his hand shot out from between you, brandishing the gun at the two of them as he slowly began to walk backwards, pulling you with him.

"I said, I'm going to take my girlfriend and we're going to walk away now" his voice trembled, with rage, with fear, with both. "Give me a reason, because I will shoot you both where you stand. I'm begging you to give me a reason so I can bury this bullet so far in your heads." He was shaking, his arm crushing you to him as you took each step together.

"It's all good, Country Club" Barry said, one hand raised in surrender, the other on Marco's arm.

Rafe walked with you all the way to the end of the driveway before grabbing your hand and taking off in a sprint. You ran for what felt like miles, your body exhausted, his fingers entwined tightly in yours before you saw the outline of a truck on the side of the road.

Topper saw two figures appear out of the misty darkness, his finger hovering over his phone, ready to call 9-1-1. When he realized who it was, he quickly started the engine, his headlights kicking on, blinding you both as Rafe threw open the back door and helped you in, crawling in beside you.

"Is she okay? Is everything okay?" Topper asked frantically, working to turn the car around while also trying to eye the backseat.

"She's... okay" Rafe replied, panting, as he finally let the gun in his hand drop to the floor of the car. His back was against the window and you were curled up against him, head nuzzled into his neck, one of his hands around your waist, fingers brushing your bare skin where your t-shirt had been rumpled, the other moving to hold your head against his heart. You were shaking and the vibrations against him splintered his heart like a shattered windshield. He pulled you impossibly closer and whispered into your hair the entire ride home, "It's okay, it's going to be okay, I'm sorry baby. God, I'm so sorry."

By the time Topper dropped you both off at Tanneyhill it was nearly morning. He slid out of the driver's seat to give you a hug, holding you gently in his arms, "I'm so happy you're okay Y/N" he said earnestly. The fear and relief evident in his voice. When he let you go, Rafe pulled him into a tight embrace as well and as they let go they exchanged a knowing glance before Topper nodded and pulled away.

Rafe made sure you got food and plenty of water before helping you up the stairs and into his bathroom where he gently peeled off your filthy clothing before running a shower for you. The hot water scorched your wrists and burned against your cut lip but you were so desperate to rid yourself of that trailer that you didn't care. When you were finished, he wrapped you in a warm towel, holding you against him again. He had been looking at you in a way he'd never looked at you before and you struggled to put a name to it until you felt him exhale shakily. It was fear. You had never seen Rafe Cameron afraid in all your life, and now he was looking at you with pure fear, like he was afraid you would disappear in front of his eyes. Wordlessly, he gave you a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts and sat you on his bed as he gathered a first aid kit. His hands were shaking as he rubbed ointment on your bruised and burned wrists before turning attention to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hands, trying with all his might to avoid eye contact, feigning a deep focus on the cut on your lip. He was doing everything he could to tamp down his emotions. He could count the number of times in his life that he had cried on one hand. It had only been three times. Once, when he had fallen out of a tree and broken his wrist. Once, at his mother's funeral. And once the first time his father had hit him, tears flowing first in surprise, then in pain, then in shame and embarrassment. It wouldn't do any good for you to see him like that now, he told himself. You needed him to be strong, to let you know that you were safe. He pulled your lip gently with his thumb, rubbing something on it before letting it go.

"Rafe" you whispered as he moved to put the first aid kit away. You stood up to follow him.

"You need to lay down, you need to rest" he said, urging you back towards the bed.

"Rafe, I'm okay" you said, trying to meet his eyes as he avoided yours. You reached out, cupping his face in your hands, gently turning it to look at you. "I'm right here, I'm okay, everything is okay thanks to you."

He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, the only way he could think to avoid your gaze. The only way to stop himself from breaking. You moved to your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into him as his arms wrapped slowly around you. Here you were bruised and bloody trying to comfort him. He was such a fuck up. He almost lost you. He was almost the reason you were gone. What did you see in him? His mind was racing and you could feel him tense in your arms.

"Hey, hey it's okay" you said, your body responding to his tension as you nuzzled closer, rubbing circles in his back. "I love you" you said. And he broke, his shoulders shaking as tears flowed freely from his eyes and he pulled you into his body in a crushing grip. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Rafe, there's nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes there is!" he said, reluctantly letting you go to look at you incredulously. "If you weren't with me that would have never happened. I put you in that situation!"

"No, Rafe, you had no part in this, no idea what those men were capable of. We can sit here all day and play 'What If'. What if I had left babysitting an hour later, What if Sarah and her friends hadn't taken that money, What if I had driven faster and outrun them, or worse! What if I hadn't found that gun, What if you hadn't come up with that money. Rafe, we can both spend time beating ourselves up or we can be so damn thankful it turned out the way that it did. We're here, together, and that's what matters. I love you, and I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."

He looked down at you, eyes still shining with tears and cracked a small abashed smile. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he replied. He leaned down to kiss you before stopping and pulling back, eyeing your lip.

"Just kiss me already" you whispered, and he smirked, pressing his lips gently to yours. The feeling of your bodies and your lips pressed together made the world feel like it was put back on its proper axis. Everything that was wrong was right again. Everything was going to be okay. You deepened the kiss, pulling him into you and he lifted you up, laying you down gently on his bed as hovered on top of you, his kisses never faltering as your tongues tangled and he wrapped you in his arms. After a few moments he pulled back, his nose brushing yours. "You need to rest" he said, resigned but firm. He tucked you in and you were overwhelmed with the feeling of his soft sheets and the undeniable scent of him. You were warm and safe and loved and you were asleep before you could feel him kiss your forehead and whisper, "I love you."

E P I L O G U E

You didn't stir again for hours, your limbs heavy with deep sleep. Your back was curled up against Rafe's bare chest, his arms circling around you snuggly. You sighed contentedly, lacing your fingers through his when you noticed his ring was missing. You pried your eyes open and looked down at his one hand, then the other, turning them this way and that. No ring. He stirred into consciousness, nuzzling you and pressing kisses into your hair.

You turned to face him as his eyes fluttered open, a soft smile on his lips until he saw the look of concern on your face.

"S'wrong?" he muttered sleepily.

"Rafe, your ring is gone" you whispered. He flexed his fingers, running his thumb over his bare knuckle reflexively.

"S'fine, baby" he said, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"It's fine?" you said, flabbergasted. You had never seen Rafe without his ring. It was a deep source of pride for him.

"It doesn't matter anymore" he said, trying to change the subject, "why don't we go to the beach today? Just have a chill day. Topper can give us a ride."

You thought about it briefly. "Why does Topper need to drive us? Where is your car?" You didn't recall seeing it in the driveway last night, but then again, last night was a bit of a blur. Rafe's eyes shifted slightly and he started to say something and then stopped himself and instead brought one hand up to rub his eyes. You could tell he was hiding something.

"Rafe" you pressed, "what's going on?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't have my car anymore."

"What happened!?" you said, propping yourself up on your elbow, concerned. His truck was his everything, you knew how much it meant to him, one of the few gifts Ward had ever given him.

He met your eyes and took his time responding, studying your face, his hands cupping it gently, his thumb rubbing your cheek as a small smile began dancing across his lips.

"I sold it."

You were about to launch a cavalcade of questions when the lightbulb went off in your head the ring, the truck, the money. You gasped slightly, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

"Rafe, you didn't!"

"I did" he said, the smile lingering on his lips. He looked... happy? Had he lost his mind? "And my bike" he said. Your eyes were wide with shock "And-" he started, the smile on his face sinking into something more serious as he paused.

"And what?" you said, your heart clenching. That was literally every one of his most valuable possessions. His golf clubs? His watches? You started looking around the room as if you could spot what was missing, did he sell his furniture? What else was possibly left after all of that?

"My mom's ring" he said quietly.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you sat straight up in bed.

"Rafe" you said, stone serious, your hand clamped over your mouth, a look of horror on your face. "No, oh my God, no."

He sat up next to you, leaning against the headboard. He still had a smile on his face as he peeled your hand away from your mouth to hold both of your hands in his, his gaze meeting yours fiercely. "There isn't anything I wouldn't have given Barry to have you back in my arms safely. I would have given him Tanneyhill if he asked for it. Nothing matters to me more than you do. No truck, no bike, no ring, nothing. You are everything to me. You are priceless. I love you so much... Plus.." he said, pausing slightly, weighing his next words carefully as he met your eyes, "my mom's ring doesn't mean much if the girl I wanted to give it to wasn't here to take it."

Your heart thundered in your chest as the realization of everything that had happened caught up to you. He had sold every last thing he held dear, the only gift his father had ever given him, the only thing he had left from his mom. The weight of his last statement landing heavily "My mom's ring doesn't mean much if the girl I wanted to give it to wasn't here to take it." He wanted to give you his mom's ring? He wanted to propose to you? Your bottom lip quivered as you took a shaky breath.

"R-Rafe what are you saying?"

He had a lopsided grin on his face as he pulled you into his lap to straddle him. The feeling of his body pressed against you sending a warm wave of comfort over you as you took in his blue eyes, glinting at you as you pushed his tousled hair off his forehead, drinking in the face of the boy that would do anything to keep you safe as his hands rested on your hips.

He was quiet for a moment, smiling at you, looking at your face, taking you in before he spoke. "I'm saying that I want you to be my Mrs. Cameron someday. But, I've gotta get you a ring first. I had been keeping my mom's with me in the glove box of my truck for a while now, just in case."

"Just in case?" you asked, laughing sweetly.

"Yeah, just in case I couldn't wait any longer. In case there was a moment..." he paused as he took your left hand in his, looking down at it as he rubbed his thumb over your empty ring finger. "Wish I had it right now, I'd give it to you."

"I don't need a ring, Rafe" you said quietly, and the look you gave him nearly knocked the wind out of him. You were serious, your gaze transfixed on him, unblinking. And he was serious too. What this happening right now? Like this? This wasn't how he planned it in his head, he had devised a plan in meticulous detail, a thousand rose petals, a hundred candles on a moonlit night on the beach... not with him in his boxers and you with a busted lip and bruised wrists. But none of that seemed to matter now. All that mattered is that you were here, that you were safe. He had been so damn close to losing you, he didn't want to waste any more time.

"Marry me?" he asked point blank, serious, but smiling, hopeful.

You nodded slowly, laughing then laugh-crying as you muttered "Yes!"

He pulled you into him, kissing you as one of his hands came to cup your cheek. You could feel his hands shaking as he kissed you with abandon in a way he had never kissed you before, deep and desperate, loving and possessive as he rolled you over onto your back to feel you beneath him, his lips never leaving yours. You had lost count of the number of times you had kissed Rafe Cameron, but there was a weightiness to this kiss that was new. This was forever. His lips were forever, his hands on your body were forever, this feeling, like you were soaring, the pounding in your chest was forever. And for only the fifth time in his life, Rafe Cameron cried. This time, small, happy tears that trickled down his face as his lips captured yours, breaking only slightly to whisper, "I love you, Mrs. Cameron."

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[btsqualityy]

BTS Dating Series #17: Pet Peeves

Members x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, fluff

Summary: Little things that just....annoy you or him about each other.

Warnings: None to note.

Kim Seokjin

You threw your body into a chair in the corner of your bedroom, folding your arms across your chest as Jin stared at you incredulously. The two of you had been in a somewhat heated disagreement and once you started to feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you chose to just...stop talking in an effort to calm yourself.

"Are you really gonna not say anything else?" Jin wondered, huffing harshly when you only responded with further silence. "You know, that's another thing that you do that I hate."

"What?" You couldn't help but to ask.

"Any time we have an argument or even a hard conversation, you clam up and stop talking," he explained. "That makes it almost impossible to fix anything and it also makes me feel like some type of villain."

"Oh," you murmured, looking down at your feet. "I didn't realize that it made you feel that way. I just..."

"What?" Jin encouraged as he stepped over to you and bent down so that he was looking up at you.

"In past relationships, whenever I would get chastised or yelled at, I found that not saying anything helped to not escalate things," you admitted, finally looking up at your boyfriend. "I don't want things to escalate with you, Jin."

"Oh baby," he murmured, grabbing your hands and bringing them both up to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to them before he pulled them away to speak. "You never have to worry about that with me. Whenever we're disagreeing about something, it's never me against you. It's us against the problem, ok? It doesn't mean that I hate you or that I don't want to be with you because that would never be the case, ok?"

"Ok," you nodded. "I'm sorry for shutting down on you. I'll do my best to work on that."

"Ok," Jin agreed. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied before leaning down and kissing him softly.

Min Yoongi

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Yoongi chuckled in disbelief and you barely spared him a glance from your spot on his living room couch. You and Yoongi had planned to spend the whole weekend together since it was one of his rare ones off. However, he got called into the studio at the last minute and had to go handle it before you two headed out on your planned date for the day.

Now, that wasn't a problem for you whatsoever because Yoongi said he'd text you when he was heading back home. One hour went by, then two hours and by the time the third hour rolled around, you were throughly pissed off. Once he did finally make it back to his apartment where he'd left you, you had become resolute in giving him the silent treatment.

"Do you know how childish you're acting right now?" Yoongi wondered. "I know that I told you it wouldn't take me long and I'm sorry that it did but you can't be this upset over that!"

"You cannot tell me what I can and cannot be upset over," you finally spoke up.

"Oh look, she speaks." You glared at him, throwing him the middle finger before you folded your arms across your chest. All Yoongi could do was groan loudly as he ran his hands over his face, becoming more irritated as time went on.

"Listen, I do not do well with the silent treatment and I hate it when you do this so if you want me to fix it, you're going to have to cooperate and talk to me or else I won't be able to," he shrugged. "Up to you." You sighed heavily then, knowing that you were being petty and that your boyfriend was right.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I just got upset when you took longer than you said you would. Made it feel like you forgot about me."

"I could never forget about you," he cooed, bending down so that he was squatting in front of you as he took your hands in his to hold. "I'm sorry that I didn't keep you in the loop. I'll make sure to be more mindful of that, ok?" You nodded with a smile, surging forward and throwing your arms around him in a hug.

Kim Namjoon

"If you would just listen to me, I'd be able to explain it to you!" You exclaimed angrily as you stared at Namjoon, who was standing on the other side of the island in your kitchen. The two of you had been cooking dinner together when you made what was intended to be a light hearted joke about his cooking skills. However, Namjoon didn't take it that way at all which led to a full blown argument.

"You can be so flippant when you say certain things to me, you know?" Namjoon pointed out.

"Me, flippant?" You scoffed, throwing your hands up in immediate surrender. "And on that note, I need some space." You turned around and began to walk out of the kitchen but you realized that you could hear footsteps behind you.

"And that's another thing," Namjoon snapped. "Anytime we get into an argument or fight, you insist on walking away."

"Because I need space!" You shouted as you turned around to look at him. "I literally just said that or were you not listening?"

"We're not gonna fix anything if you keep doing that."

"But we're also not going to fix anything if I can't take the space I need to calm down so that I'm not escalating the situation," you explained. "I know you wanna talk it out but just....give me a little while."

"Fine," Namjoon relented and he turned around and walked away before you even had the chance to say another word.

Jung Hoseok

"It was so good to see you!" Hobi smiled to Juhyun, who grinned widely as Hobi gave her a gentle hug.

"It was good to see you as well, Hobi," she replied before turning around and walking out of the store. Hobi walked back over to you then, where you had been pretending to browse the store's selection of shoes but you had really been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"See anything you might like?" Hobi asked you and you shrugged noncommittally, biting your lip before you decided to just take the risk and ask what was on your mind.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered.

"Anything."

"Are you still friends with all of your exes?" You questioned and Hobi rose an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know if friends is the word I'd really use to describe it," he began. "Even if we broke up, none of them were necessarily on bad terms or anything like that so it's not hard for me to speak to them whenever I might see them."

"Hmm," you murmured and Hobi couldn't help but to smile at you.

"Jealous?"

"Don't know if jealous is really the word I'd use," you replied, echoing his previous statement. "But it does make me feel weird that you're.....so friendly. I don't like it."

"So, should I keep it to a hi and bye?" He asked. "And no hugs?"

"That actually would be nice," you nodded.

"Done," Hobi grinned. "Now, come on. I wanted to check out another store while we're here." You smiled to yourself as Hobi grabbed your hand and led you out of the store.

Park Jimin

You were laid out in Jimin's bed, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. You had had an extremely long day at work so needless to say, you were more than excited to see your boyfriend so that you could get all the cuddles that you could handle.

As you were browsing the internet on your laptop, you heard the front door open and close and not long after that, Jimin was pushing open the door to the bedroom.

"Hi Jimin-ssi," you greeted him happily, watching as he threw his bag down and instantly walked over to the closet.

"Hi baby," he muttered as he worked on changing out of his dance clothes and into more comfortable ones. As he did this, you closed the laptop and set it on the bedside table before you laid down on your side. Once Jimin was done changing, he walked over to the bed and laid down on his back, shutting his eyes and not saying a word.

"How was your day?" You spoke up and Jimin just shrugged, eyes still closed.

"Same old, same old."

"Did you guys finish learning the choreography to that new song you showed me?" You wondered and Jimin nodded. "Aw, I'm sure it's amazing. I can't wait to see it." Jimin still hadn't said a word and you sighed heavily. "Jimin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he deadpanned. "I'm fine."

"Baby, you're obviously not fine," you replied gently. "I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

"Well, I don't want to talk," he grunted. "Just leave me alone."

"You know, I was really looking forward to you getting here because I had a long day too and all I wanted was to cuddle with you but if you're going to be a jerk just because you're in a shitty mood, then I'll just go home," you snapped and just as you moved to rip the blanket off of your body, Jimin gently grabbed your arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was just a hard day and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"And that's fair that you didn't feel like talking but don't clam up on me," you murmured as you turned around to face him. "I'm here to help, always."

"I know," he smiled gently. "Come here." He opened his arms and you moved closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you as he held your body tightly to his. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered, smiling to yourself when you felt him kiss your forehead.

Kim Taehyung

"Oh my gosh, you know what we should do tonight?" Taehyung asked you and you looked up at him from your spot next to him on his couch. The two of you had planned on just having a date night in but apparently, Taehyung had other ideas.

"What?"

"We should get dressed and go to that new jazz club that just opened last month," he suggested and you instantly grimaced. "What is it?"

"I don't know about that," you replied. "I was kind of looking forward to staying in."

"But we've been doing that for so many weekends now," he pointed out. "It might be fun to get out, have a little change of scenery."

"Hmm, I don't think so," you shook your head and your eyes widened when you heard Taehyung sigh heavily.

"Why don't you ever want to go out?" He demanded to know. "I could probably count on one hand how often we've been out together, just to do something fun."

"I'm a homebody," you shrugged. "I've always preferred to be home to than go out to some club or something like that."

"And I fully respect that but couldn't we do it sometimes?" He suggested. "Just occasionally?"

"You know what, yeah," you agreed. "I promise, I'll try to make sure that we do more of the things you enjoy too, ok?"

"Thank you," Taehyung grinned widely before leaning over and kissing you firmly.

Jeon Jungkook

"What the hell?" You muttered as you picked pieces of clothes up off of the living room floor. "Has a man been staying with me or a fucking animal?" In an effort to spend more time together, Jungkook had been spending more time at your apartment and he had definitely made himself comfortable in your space. Maybe even a little...too comfortable.

"Baby, I have lamb skewers!" Jungkook exclaimed as he stepped through the front door of your apartment, one bag in each hand as he shut the door with his foot. He stopped right in his tracks though when he saw you standing in the middle of the living room with an unamused look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"No, the problem is what's wrong with you?" You demanded to know. "Have you never seen a hamper? Do you not know what it looks like so that you can put your clothes in it?"

"No, those are my clean clothes," he told you.

"Why are they on the floor then?"

"Because I didn't want them to get mixed up with my dirty ones," he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why not just put the dirty in the- you know what, no," you cut yourself off. "I'm not even gonna attempt to understand male logic. Just give me my skewers, please."

"Here you go," Jungkook smiled, waiting until you had dropped the clothes in your hands before he handed one of the bags off to you. "I love you."

"Yeah yeah, love you too, messy animal," you grumbled, making Jungkook laugh out loud.

..........................................................

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